The Dog and I went to the dog park this morning, or maybe it was afternoon. I have a hard time telling these days. While we were disappointed there were no other dogs — on a beautiful Saturday? — the big fella still had a lot of fun chasing balls in an area three times bigger than his private dog park in the backyard.
The Dog extends an invitation to his friends to come play in his private park here at Chez Wildmoon anytime. I think the human involved should call first to make sure we’re here.
Anyway, there was much running and romping and ball chasing. You’ll be pleased to know he’s gotten much better at putting the ball down when he brings it back and not insisting on playing Tug the ball out of the dog’s mouth.
When he took breaks from chasing down the ball, he meticulously gathered all the other balls in the park and brought them to the spot he’d chosen for his rest. He was particularly delighted to discover he could carry two regular sized tennis balls in his mouth, something he can’t do with his own oversized ones.
This was also his first official ride in the ragtop with the top down. I think he’s finally believing that’s really our car, although it seems to bother him that there’s no back doors. And I think he might have been a little timid with the top down. He’s a good passenger, although one of the few dogs I’ve met who doesn’t like to stick his head out the window. Instead, he generally lies down and gets up to look out when we stop.
During our recent road trip, though, he did take a likin’ to leaning on the back seat and watching out the back.
None of that with the top down though. He stayed down for the whole trip. Whether that was a little bit of concern or the fact that I had the other end of the leash, I’m not sure. But he survived.
After the dog park, we went by the pet store for his favorite treats. The dude was so tired he just dropped to the floor right there in the store. In hindsight, he did seem a little reluctant to get out of the car.
Back home, he’s still resting.
I took advantage of the calm to brush the Big Fat Cat. That boy has way too much fur. This time of year, when it’s gettin’ warmer, he’s kinda like Pig Pen from Peanuts, only instead of a cloud of dirt following him around, it’s a cumulus formation of fur.
We use The Furminator. He loves being brushed, and I love The Furminator because it gets at the undercoat. By the time we’re done we can make several coats for poor hairless cats in the cold north, and tomorrow we can do it again. And the next day, and the next day, and every day until it gets cold enough to tell his shedding DNA it can stop for a while. I honestly don’t know how one shorthaired cat can have that much fur. I have to use The Furminator on the sofa when we’re done.
The Big Gray Kitty barely sheds at all, and despises being brushed. The Little Bitty Kitty sheds a little and thinks of The Furminator as just another toy, which makes brushing her difficult.
Speaking of LBK, she likes to fetch, which you know if you’re a regular reader. Her current favorite toy is any one of a number of brightly colored, foot-long pipe cleaners that I got while at a seminar (the instructor brought them in for us tactile learners), but she’s very fond of any light, fuzzy, small cat toys that she can easily carry, bat around and toss up into the air. I’ve found them on the top of sash windows before.
Imagine my surprise, then, a few days ago when she trotted up to me carrying a pen in her mouth. She hopped onto the arm of the sofa where I was sitting and dropped it in my lap, as she generally does when she’s ready to play.
LBK is scary smart, though, so I couldn’t be sure if she wanted me to throw it or sign the house over to her. To be safe, I just put the pen away and found a pipe cleaner.