Merry Christmas!

From our family to yours:

May you have a very Merry Christmas and a joyful New Year.

“After listening to the king, the magi went on their way. And behold, the star that they had seen when it rose went before them until it came to rest over the place where the child was.   When they saw the star, they rejoiced exceedingly with great joy.   And going into the house they saw the child with Mary his mother, and they fell down and worshiped him. Then, opening their treasures, they offered him gifts, gold and frankincense and myrrh.”  Matthew 2:9-11

Wise men still seek Him!

Cooper says….

"Spread Christmas Cheer!"

 

Cooper says..

"Unwrapping is FUN!"

Need Extra Holiday Help?

After a long day at work

 

 

 

 

Dedicated worker desperately desires position as holiday gift opener.

Much experience with the ripping and tearing which accompanies vigorous unwrapping.

Will gladly open all gifts at once early Christmas morning for you to find

or

will participate in the ‘gathering round the tree’ group celebrations.

Your choice.

Unwrapping at your command; watch the paper fly!

Call 1-DONT BLAME C

See you under the tree!

Random Wanderings

With the neighborhood  blanketed in a soft covering of snow that seems to mix with the air above making a misty veil that insulates us, Cooper and I take our daily constitutional.  Both welcoming us into its fold and at the same time separating us from the surrounding world, this veil offers a solitude not easily found during this time of year.   It seems as if no one is stirring.  We don’t see car, dog, or fellow walker.  It is as if we are disconnected, suspended if you will, in time.  The only evidence I have of the rush and bustle for this the week before Christmas are tires rubbing against wet pavement on the nearby thoroughfare.  Tires taking people off to do errands, and to go shopping, and to be at get togethers.

But for now Cooper and I are taking the road less traveled.  Our goal is achievable, our task simple  We alternate between our usual steady aerobic pace while stopping for a few strategic sniff breaks.  Animals have cut trails through the snow and the tracks they have left behind crisscross one another.   Their presence testifies that we are not really alone after all.  Once on a trail, Cooper with nose to the ground and tail wagging jogs from track to track following the meandering path.  His movements make infinitely more sense to me today because I can follow his purpose.  Instead of his nose bouncing with seemingly random jumps, I can see the tracks that guide him, and those random wanderings transform into purposeful pursuits.

Although not a bloodhound by any means, Cooper approaches a track much like a connoisseur approaches a table of fine wines or delectable entrees.  He delights in the prospect.  He relishes the opportunity.  Three to five small sniffs, maybe a couple of more if he likes what he smells, then one long, slow exhale to clean the nostrils before moving on to the next track.  Of course this process can occur in the blink of an eye, if he’s hot on the trail.

Bits of Burgundy Fuzz

(Cooper would like to state for the record there is no evidence connecting him to this holiday casuality.   It is all based on the here say testimony of one so-called witness: Sarah.)

 

Last night Sarah relayed her sad story amid many sighs of exasperation, wild arm movements, and forceful accusations of your dog this and your dog that.  Upon walking into her bedroom after school, she found the small velveteen box which she had recently purchased in pieces–shredded shards strewn all over the floor.   It was, apparently, quite a mess of burgundy bits against blue carpet.  What she didn’t find were the contents of the box.  She looked everywhere: on the bed, under the bed, in the cushions.  They were nowhere to be found and are still missing.  More sighs, arm movements, and accusations ending with ”this  is Gram’s Christmas present!”

In response, Cooper insists he is being framed.  Getting a bum rap.  Being judged simply by past behavior.

Just look at this face.

How could he be the culprit when everyone knows he is not allowed into Sarah’s room?  No one found him in Sarah’s room.  No one saw him with bits of burgundy fuzz around his muzzle or wrapped in his toes.   No one saw him walk through the unguarded door that had been left wide open.

Why blame him?  Just because last year he did get carried away with the box of Franco mints (also Gram’s gift).  He can explain that.  He thought one of us had mistakenly wrapped his food and put it under the tree.  How was he supposed to know Grams is the one who loves Franco mints…or that chocolate is toxic for dogs?

Why blame him?  Just because the velveteen did feel amazingly like Piglet’s fur.   Soft and inviting.  Remember Piglet was left undisturbed.  Do we really think he could go into Sarah’s room and not remove Piglet?

How could it be him?

Cooper is willing to let bygones be bygones.  He loves Sarah and has no intention of dragging out this nasty situation any longer than needs be.  He really thinks if I would only purchase a replacement velveteen box, all would be well.  I give it to Sarah; she gives it to Grams.   Just like with the Franco mints. In fact, he contends, this could even become a new holiday tradition.

Walking the Gauntlet

Sometimes walking through our neighborhood is like the ritual running the gauntlet punishment observed by a variety of groups for various purposes since Roman days.  Instead of a volley of clubs raining down on us, we have a cacophony of barking and sometimes charging dogs.    Many times the only thing buffering us from

Is he running toward me?

these assaults is a thin buried wire.  Our neighborhood like many others has a covenant prohibiting most fences.  Certainly any fence that would keep a charging dog in his own yard.  Consequently there are an abundance of electronic fences.

The scraping noise you hear is my soapbox being dragged onto center stage. Thump.  Thump.  That is the sound of my feet being planted securely on said box: reader beware.  Electronic fences, in my humble but experienced opinion, do not consistently work.  More often than not the charging lab on the next block blows right through his electric fence in his quest to reach Cooper.  He barrels around the side of his house barking  as loudly as he can.  He doesn’t stop before taking a stand in the center of the street blocking Cooper’s path.  Where are his owners?

Or what about the Jack Russell terrier who whips through his electronic fence with barely a falter.  He usually harasses Cooper by running circles around us, darting in and out trying to take a nip at his heels.  This little imp continues the badgering as we move down the street in tandem.  Many times I would just stop until his owner came to retrieve him that is until his owner said not to worry about him, he would come back home on his own.  Come back home!  What about his harassment to Cooper!  So one day I decided just to continue on my way not caring that he got safely back in his yard.  His owner finally showed up in her jeep to collect the annoying bug.

We have been charged by labs, Irish setters, other pit bulls, and boxers.  Usually their owners, if they show up at all, say something like: “Oh don’t worry, my dog is friendly.”

“She won’t hurt you.”

“He’ll come right back into the yard.”

Or my favorite “She’s only chasing your dog, because she knows he’s a pit bull.  Other dogs don’t like pit bulls.”

They are all missing the point.  Maybe I don’t want to mess their dogs at all; I just want to walk my dog.

So Cooper and I have learned, like boy scouts, to always be prepared.  One way we cope with this is to walk early.  If we get out there early enough, other dogs are generally not in their yards yet.  Another way is to continue Cooper’s training and really work on the command LEAVE IT!  To him all these charges are invites to play.  The real torture is walking past the opportunity.  Finally it’s a good reason to go the nearby forest preserve for a longer, more leisurely walk.

Thump.      Thump.       Scraping noise.

Rant over.

Not Even a Crowbar

Rain, rain go away!

Nothing takes the perk out of Cooper’s step like raindrops plunking down on him when he is headed out for a walk.  He immediately makes full use of that bull doggedness part of his personality by braking at the door.  You can’t pry him beyond the deck even using a crowbar.  To say Cooper is averse to getting wet is an understatement.

It deflates him as quickly as a balloon with a steady leak.  His tail droops.  His head drops and that perk  transforms into a shadowy hulk skulking along the eaves of the house in an effort to stay dry.  Drop free.  His eyes say, “I’ll wait.  I don’t have to go that bad.”  And wait he does, until there is a break in the dripping or necessity demands a quick yard run.

I’m not sure what the real source of his aversion is.  It could the nasty sensation of rain dripping into his cropped ears, or the thousand pin pricks all across his skin, or maybe it’s just the horrifying reminder of bath time.  Whatever it is, Cooper will NOT walk in the rain.  He will only RUN back to house.

If I insist on just a short walk, he will comply… sort of.  He tries to make circles back to the door, or the eaves, or just about any place he can get under to get out of the rain.  So instead of walking on rainy days, like today, we wait, usually at the window, for a small break in the clouds.

Will it ever stop?

Magical Words

Where to first?

“Cooper?  Want to go for a walk?”

These words bring an instant gleam to Cooper’s eyes and a proud prance to his step.  “Do I want to walk???  I’m always ready for a walk!”  Aside from chewing, snacking, and napping, a walk is the best fun ever in Cooper’s book.

He’s got the routine down pat.  We promenade to the laundry room where Cooper gets decked out in his walking attire–dog backpack and pinch collar.  His pack is weighed down with six pounds of dried beans: three pounds on each side.  Like most APBTs, as well as other high energy breeds, Cooper needs, needs, needs at least one good walk a day.  Many days we take two.  A tired dog is a happy dog.

When I first decided to have Cooper wear a pack, I was going to use it only when we were hiking at a forest preserve and wanted to take along snacks and water.  Cooper was going to have a job, a purpose, a task!  Okay, he was going to be my pack mule.  Earn his keep.  (Now…does a spoiled dog do that?  I’m just sayin’)

Eventually I came to a grand conclusion why not let him have a task every day; a way to earn kibble and time on the La-Z-Boy, and so he carries the beans. His purpose is simple: he carries the beans because I want him too.  Since Cooper wants to please me, he dutifully waits while the pack is slipped over his head and snapped around his belly, then happily schleps those beans all around the neighborhood.  Carrying the pack also gives him the added benefit of a more complete workout by burning off excess energy, and he makes quite a dashing figure if I say so myself.

The pack has also brought yet another unintended benefit.  The people we meet on our walks are friendlier to the frisky little pit bull when he’s packin’.  Apparently he does not look as blood thirsty.   I guess a dog with a job can easily be seen as an upstanding canine member of the community.  Either way Cooper revels in the lime light of all the attention.

A dog with a purpose