And I Thought Greyhounds Were Prissy!

For years I've been listening to Mr. Taleteller sigh over the thought of having "a real dog" even though I know he's crazy about the Greyhounds.  I figured that entailed a dog who could go to obedience class with him, and possibly get down and dirty sometimes in outdoor activities.  In my mind, he was talking about a dog who could go out and do things without worrying so much about some of the quirks that come with sharing your life with Greyhounds.

I believe I've mentioned before that Greyhounds are made of spun sugar.  They will melt in the rain, hence the need for accessories like raincoats.  I was assured by Mr. Taleteller that Morgan, being a real dog, would have no need for such frippery and that was the reason I didn't find any websites that catered to such a need.  I shrugged my shoulders and accepted that as a fact of life.  She doesn't have the heaviest Shepherd coat that I've ever seen, but she is certainly covered a lot more than the girls are.

So, the other afternoon as turn out approached, I could see that rain was almost upon us.  I decided to try and hurry, taking Morgan, Bunny and Blueberry all out to the pen, noting as we went out that it was starting to sprinkle a few drops of rain.  I hurried back inside and got Lilac, taking her out under our big maple tree to do her business, since I didn't want to risk putting her in the pen with the three younger dogs.  It didn't take her long to decide to take care of business, but by the time she was done, it was pelting down rain.  I could see Bunny and Blueberry were already drenched.  Lilac was quickly escorted to the back door and let inside.  I propped the back door open and turned to go get the girls out of the pen. 

I knew that Blueberry was reliable, so I quickly snapped the leash on Morgan, grabbed Bunny's collar and let Blueberry make a run for the safety of the back door.  It's a short distance, across the front of our two car garage, and I know Blueberry well enough to know that she'd go right in, and she did.  It was at this point that I had a flashback to words my husband had spoken after giving the girls a bath the weekend before.  "Morgan really doesn't like getting wet" is an understatement of unparelleled proportions. 

As Blueberry shot into the back door, I found myself involved in my own German Shepherd-Greyhound rodeo.  I hope you understand, due to the rain and the spontenaeity of the event, there are no photographs or videos, nor do I care to reenact them, although I can look back and laugh about it.  Morgan went on full out rain avoidance mode, running a circle around Bunny and me as she tried to follow Blueberry into the safety of the back door.  The next thing I heard was the Greyhound scream of death as the leash went around behind Bunny and she was tied up.  I pulled on Morgan, fighting for leverage and space for Bunny to get untangled, about a half a car length from the door and realized I'd have to let her go.  She took off through the back door as Morgan bucked and twisted in her panic to get out of the rain.  I held her back at the foot of the stairs to let Bunny come inside before I unhooked her leash and let her run in the house.

I followed them in and grabbed an old dog towel.  I put it over Bunny and she curled up in it on the floor and let me dry her off, turning the doe eyes on me in appreciation for taking care of her.  I saw some small leash burns on the insides of her back legs and felt badly because I hadn't realized how hard Morgan had pulled on her, but they were minor and she was fine.  After a nice rubdown, she went to the couch and curled up in princess mode.  Blueberry was toweled off next.  Then I found Morgan in the kitchen and she was barely damp, but I dried her off anyway, and she gave me a look of the utmost appreciation and gratitude.

I guess Mr. Taleteller got a prissy dog after all!

We're participating in the Saturday Pet Blog Hop.  Feel free to join in if you'd like to link your pet blog!

Rain, Rain, Go Away

Well, it's been raining here a lot lately.  That makes it pretty hard to get out and do a lot with the girls.  Most of our forays outside have been quick dashes to the turn out pen.  Sadly, that's not terribly exciting to write about.  It did remind me of another rainy season and an experience we had with our first greyhound, Treat.

To say that Treat was a diva would be an understatement akin to saying that Mount Everest is a hill.  She brought being a diva to an artform heretofore unrivaled in dogdom.  I could give a long list of all the ways that she was spoiled, but I'll spare you that.  There were a lot of things that Treat loved -- Strawberry Cheesequake Blizzards, going anywhere in the car, running on the beach, taking long walks and being treated like a princess were all on her list.

However, there was one thing that she definitely did NOT like and that was rain.  She would get in wading pools, lakes, oceans and any other body but she did not like taking baths or getting rained on.  She hated it so much that I bought her a raincoat to try to help her to hate it less, but it didn't make things much better for her.

One October we had an unusual amount of rain.  It was the sort of deluge that made people consider building arks.  The rain just didn't let up.  Treat had one way of dealing with the rain.  She went out into the turn out pen, scrunched her eyes closed and stood like a statue.  She refused to go to the bathroom when it was raining.  Normally, it wouldn't be a problem if she skipped a turn out.  She might just ask to go out a little earlier the next time. 

The rain started on Tuesday and she refused to go.  I could actually see the wheels turning in that little needlenose head of hers.  The people have a place to go in the house.  The cats have a place to go in the house.  Why should I the superior life-force, be expected to go outside in the rain?  I will not stand for this outrage!  I am a princesse!

The week went on, and Treat refused to go.  Her protest against the forces of nature were worrying us, but no amount of waiting her out would convince her to go.  Finally, on Friday, Mr. Taleteller and I decided to go out to a movie.  We took Treat, Hawk and our current foster dog out to the dog pens and gave them time to do their business.  I should have seen the gleam in her eye when they came back in, but I guess I was thinking about our night out.

When we got home from the movie, a much happier Treat came prancing up the basement stairs.  I was in shock at just that alone.  We'd taught both of them to do the stairs because we often have to retreat down there for storms, but neither of them had shown any interest in being down there.  We kept the cat food and litter box down there because the dogs never had an interest in going down those steps.

 However, that night, Treat decided to venture down the stairs.  She decided that since things weren't to her standards outside that she would use the cat facilities.  It was a grand plan, except that after holding it for several days, she peed enough to completely flood the litter box.  I can't even relate to you the looks of disgust and horror that were on the cats' faces as they saw how their box had been contaminated by dog urine.  I wish I'd had a camera for the whole scene.  It's one of my big regrets.  I couldn't even be mad at her!  It was on a concrete floor, not upstairs on the carpet.  It was a much easier clean up down there.

I can still see the look on her face in my mind, too.  She was so very pleased with herself that she'd solved the whole problem.  I can only say that I'm thankful that we kept a baby gate up so that she couldn't go into our bathroom.  Of course, the rain let up on Saturday, too.  Some dogs really are too smart for their people's own good!

Soggy Saturday Shopping And Strolling

Bunny here, writing about my adventures from this morning.

Generally, I feel that Saturday mornings are for sleeping in.  I noticed this morning, though, that Mom got up pretty early for a Saturday and started getting ready to go somewhere.  I decided to sleep with one eye open and just watch to see if something might be up that involved me.

Sure enough, after she got ready, she got out her backpack and put a few things in it.  Then she put on my name collar and my harness.  I was tap dancing on the floor with excitement.  Blueberry wanted to go, too, but Dad told her she had to stay home with him.  My little tail was wagging as Mom took me out the door and we got in the car. 

I wondered where we could be going.  I like trips to the dog park, but they aren't much fun without Blue.  Curiosity was getting the better of me, but it looked like a long trip, so I laid down and took a nap.  The next thing I knew, Mom said we had arrived.  I looked around and saw a puppy getting out of another car.  It was starting to rain just a tiny bit, but it was mostly fine mist.  We got out of the car and it turns out we were going to the first riverfront farmer's market of the year.  There were lots of other dogs walking around and fascinating things to sniff.  I especially liked the strawberries at one booth and Mom bought some.  I hope she plans to share!  Lots of people stopped to pet me, too!

After we bought some things, we decided to take a walk along the riverfront trail.  It's made for walking and bike riding and is really beautiful.  I thought I'd share some of the sights with you.

As we walked, it started raining harder.  Bless Mom for always being prepared.  She had my raincoat in her backpack and she stopped to put it on me.  That was a definite improvement.  We took some pictures of some of Preston Jackson's sculptures.  He's a local artist who does some really cool artwork. 

We also stopped at the Gateway Fountain.   Most days, there are people playing in the fountains, but the rain had most people staying away today.  Mom says she was there on Thursday with her class for an end of the year field trip and they all got very wet playing in there.  She also said that she used to take Treat there and that one day when it's nice and warm, she'll take me to play in the fountain, too.

Next, we walked down on the parking dock.  There are lots of restaurants and other events down there, so often people park their boats and walk up to enjoy things.  Today it was pretty deserted. 

There's also a paddleboat that takes people on tours up the river that docks there.  It's a pretty neat boat.  I wanted to ask if they take greyhounds on tours, but Mom said we weren't pressing our luck today and we didn't have time.  We also saw the Veteran's Memorial and that was the last part that we walked to today.

As if all that weren't exciting enough, we also went to the Fine Arts Fair in another part of town.  It wasn't too crowded, so we walked around and looked.  Lots of people asked to take my picture and pet me.  Of course I let them.  We didn't get any pictures there because we were getting talked to so much and it was raining pretty hard, so Mom had to keep a tight hold on her umbrella.  She stopped a booth where a woman makes jewelery that Mom has a few pieces of and she was talking to Mom about me a lot.  People kept  coming by to pet me and talk to me.  Finally, I couldn't take it and I just laid down on the rug she had in her tent.  Mom promised we'd go home soon after that and we did.  I laid down in the back seat and rested all the way home. 

I thought Dad might have to carry me inside, but I made it in on my own.  I was very thankful for that raincoat today.  Now that I've told you all about my adventure, I'm going to take a nice, long nap!  I hope you all have a great Saturday!  We're also participating in the Blog Hop, so we hope to find a few new blogs!

The Nose Knows...But It Doesn't Want To!

If you're a dog owner, most likely at some point you've experienced something like the scenario I am about to describe. If you haven't, just wait, your opportunity will arise at some point. To set things up, I will just say that we've had an extremely wet year here, and the fifth wettest October ever. I've almost forgotten what the sun looks like. Our hounds have not been happy about the weather. In case you didn't know, greyhounds melt when they are exposed to the rain. On top of that, it has converted our turn out pen to a slippery mudhole. My husband has laid straw out, but it's not much of a match for the deluge. You may also gather that cleaning up the pens after certain deposits have been made is particularly difficult. We usually take the four greyhounds out to the turn out pen, come back inside and get their food ready, leaving them a tad of privacy, then return to bring them back inside. Generally we are greeted by four shivering hounds with their eyes scrunched up and a look of disgust on their faces, even though they've been out there for less than five minutes.

(Bunny here, setting the record straight -- it feels like MUCH more than five minutes to me!)

When I go out, I try to do the humane thing and rush them back inside before they waste away to nothing out there in the mist of rain. I've never heard of a greyhound actually melting outside in the rain, but mine are convinced that they may become the first victims. Anyhow, in the back door we go and the hounds hurry in to the living room. Hawk has trouble with the back steps in his old age, so I help him maneuver up the steps and then enter the house and close the hallway door behind me.

(Bunny again, I think he fakes it! He jumped up into the back seat of the car with NO problems!)


As soon as I get in the house, it hits me! If you've ever smelled the fragrant aroma of freshly mashed dog turd, you know what I am talking about. It's a smell like no other. There is no mistaking it and even the most hard of smelling can't help but gag a little as it assaults the olfactory nerve. After turning around and going back out for a moment to clear my head, I reenter the house to find the offending foot which will need to be cleaned.

I check Hawk first, because often it is him. In his unsteady elderly state, he doesn't have a lot of grace about where his feet go. It's not him. Next, I check Lilac, since she has moments of instability herself. She's clean. Bunny has discovered a new outdoor recreation at turn out time, which is digging a hole to China, where I'm sure it's not raining. Often she comes in with clumps of mud stuck between her dainty little toes. She's not the guilty party.

(Bunny, once more -- as if I, dainty little puppy that I am, would ever step in poop! I am royalty and I tiptoe around out there to avoid such embarrassment, unlike some OTHER hounds!)

So, I call Blueberry. For some reason, she's curled up in the dog crate, her feet tucked underneath her. I call her again and she tucks her nose under her chest and sighs. Finally, I demand that she come. She looks up and gives me the serious stink eye before bedgrudginly standing and exiting the crate.

Me: Let me see your feet!

Blueberry: They're right here...

Me: (bending over her like a horse shoer, trying to lift a front foot which happens to be solidly planted on the ground.) Pick...up...your foot!

Blueberry: (shifting so that all her weight is on that foot) Which foot?

Me: BLUE!

Blueberry: (sighing) Oh alright!

Me: My stars! That smells foul! How can you stand yourself? I think I'm going to pass out or be sick! We have to go back outside!

Blueberry: Oh, no! I don't think so! Just use a paper towel like you do for Hawk!

Me: He's old and he doesn't mash it up between his toes! Let's go!

Blueberry: (turning back towards the crate) It's cold out there and the water in that hose is even colder! No way!

A short wrestling match ensues with me holding on to Blueberry's collar and trying to keep her from walking over any more of the carpet. Blueberry struggles to get back into the crate. I know if she gets back in there the battle is lost and so I take a risk, letting go of her with one hand and closing the crate with it. She glares at me and then allows me to lead her reluctantly back outside. I turn on the hose and wash her foot off, spraying between her toes and lifting her foot to make sure that she's all clean. Finally, we return to the house where she promptly stalks off to the couch, since the crate is still closed, to have a good sulk and give me the serious stink eye.

Blueberry: I'll get you, my pretty, and your little dog, too!

Bunny: I'm her little dog!

Blueberry: (sigh) Just watch your shoes! And you watch yourself, whippersnapper!

Bunny: You won't hurt me! I'm too cute!

And so it goes that neither of us has really won this round. I'm not looking forward to winter and cold weather, but at least there won't be mud pie surprises anymore. There has to be an end sometime!

(Bunny, post script -- obviously, I won this round since I didn't have to go back outside!)