Wednesday, August 10, 2016

Bath is a 4-letter Word


It’s been 11 days since “the Incident”. I wasn’t allowed to talk about it before because 1) I couldn’t get the laptop away from Mom undetected and 2) my attorney, Frank T. Pug advised me not to say anything until the settlement came through.
Well, the settlement came through. I’ll be dining on the finest cuts of chicken and steak for the foreseeable future. And the choicest of vegetables. Basically, no more dog food… ever.
You’re probably wondering what Mom did that required Frank T. Pug to file a dogsuit on my behalf. (That’s like a lawsuit, but filed by dogs. It can happen, so you better make sure your dog well taken care of!)
It all started a week ago Friday night. The parents were out, again, leaving me home to babysit their stupid puppy because Bella refuses to babysit him. And there was a storm and the puppy is afraid of his own shadow (haha, see what I did there?).  So he’s crying “Where’s Mom? Is Mom coming back? I want Mom” and I’m like, shut up or I’ll make you watch that Puppy Monkey Baby video.
FINALLY, the parents come home and I want out. I’ve done my duty and now I demand a walk. With Dad this time. So Dad and I go out to the park. It’s after the rain, so the cool wet grass feels awesome on my paws. I’m exploring, checking out my usual spots, and of course I had to poop in the park. I walked down to my pond, to gather intel on troop movements from the Geese. I still report to Oscar as often as I can. He cuts me some slack because I’m an old geezer.
The pond was the problem. It was booby trapped by the Geese and I didn’t see it in time because of the cataracts. They flooded the pond! I was just supposed to go in up to my belly, but the water was too deep and I ended up doing an unplanned underwater investigation.
By the time Dad fished me out, I was completely soaked, filthy, and my paws had zero traction on the rocks. I fell a few times. It really hurt, too, but I’m tough, and this is war with the Geese! But Dad said it was time to get home so I could get cleaned up.
Silly me, I ASSUMED that by “cleaned up” he meant Mom would dry me off and I’d just rub up against the walls until the dirt came off. I should have known.
So Mom goes in the back and grabs a big towel. But instead of rubbing me dry, she PICKS ME UP AND PUTS ME IN A BATHTUB!  Oh, the indognity of it all! She actually had a nice warm shower for me, which kind of felt good on my sore back, but then she had to ruin it by putting dog shampoo ALL OVER MY FUR! And then she scrubbed me. TWICE! And of course, she had to rinse out my fur. I’m standing there, my back hurts, I’m WET and she’s still putting water on me?! At this rate the walls will fall apart before I can use them to dry off. And she’s still at it! Rinsing off the suds, she said… she even picked up my paws and washed and rinsed them. This was like, the longest year of my life! I’m a dog; 5 human minutes is a year in dog time. By the time Mom turned off the water and carried me out of the tub, I wanted revenge.
I went straight for my phone and called Frank. My own human WATERBOARDED me. I’m convinced she’s in league with the Geese. I spent days on the phone on conference calls with Frank, the ASPCA, my grandma, and Oscar for moral support. I even called my new pal Xambies (more on her later). She suggested I take a tramadol and relax. I don’t need to see imaginary penguins. I need justice! 
I just want you all to know about the horror that has been my life for the last week and a half. I was traumatized, and that’s just not good for an old dog in my condition. But Frank really came through for me this time. Mom settled out of dog-court and agreed to my meal requests rather than have me press charges of 3rd Degree Cruelty to Dingoes.
So now that it’s all resolved, I’m waiting for my agent to get back to me on the book deal.  
That’s all for now. Remember, Dogs Are Awesome and the word “bath” is profanity!

Love,
Shadow.

Wednesday, July 27, 2016

Imaginary Penguin Pills

A Memo from the desk of Shadowpup:
I’m tired of the human taking over my posts. I’m a dog with limited time left and a LOT to say about my almost 15 years of doghood. So I’m just going to start posting stuff to her blog and see how long it takes her to figure it out. Hehehe… I’m such a smart dog!
I suspect the human has been spiking my food with drugs. Now, I know I’m on medicine to help me breathe, and whatever it is that’s in the needle she pokes me with twice a day. But the past week or so, I can’t help but feel like there’s drugs in my food.
And I like ‘em. Kids, never take drugs. They’re bad for you. But I’m a dog with a prescription, apparently. I confronted the human about this after my walk this morning.

Me: HUMAN! What was in that handful of treats you gave me this morning?
Mom: Your meds. You have a few new ones since we saw the doctor a week and a half ago. We’ve talked about this.
Me: Yeah, I know, but what’s IN the meds? Something’s weird.
Mom: You have tramadol now.
Me: WAIT A MINUTE…. Isn’t that the stuff you gave Bella when she hurt her back?
Mom: Wow, I’m surprised you remember that, but yes.
Me: I FORGET NOTHING. I KNOW ALL. I AM SHADOWPUP! But seriously, she was seeing purple penguins lurking in the corner when she was on that stuff. Imaginary penguins. You’re giving me imaginary penguin pills?!
Mom: Yes, Shadow. Your doctor says they will help with your pain from the arthritis. Does your back hurt less?
Me: Yeah, kinda.
Mom: You’ve been taking more walks now. Is that because you feel better?
Me: Well, no, I have reports to file, things to investigate, people to sniff, and I have to poop in the park. But I have been able to do all that a little more comfortably.
Mom: That’s a good thing. Your dad and I just want you to feel better and be happy.
Me: I’d feel happier if I had steak for dinner.

And here I sit, knowing she’s not going to give me steak for dinner. Could be worse. I could be forced to eat kibble like Captain and Bella. Haha! Suckers!
But anyway, I solved the mystery. Mom really did get me some medicine to help me feel better. I’m not feeling as spry as I did in my Dog Ball days. But it’s a definite improvement.
Uh-oh! I hear Mom coming. She’ll ground me for sure if she finds me on her laptop. Stay tuned for my next post!
Love,
Shadowpup


Tuesday, July 26, 2016

Conversations With Shadowpup, Part 1

I’ve mentioned my dogs before. In fact, if you know me at all, you know I never really stop talking about my dogs, the way the parents of human children never really stop talking about their kids.
Our special needs dog, Lucky, passed away from heart failure in June, 2014. We miss him every day. We weren’t going to get another dog after we lost him. I just wasn’t ready. But 10 months after Lucky died, we found a little boxer/pit mix who desperately needed a home. He was being discriminated against because of his face shape. He was labeled a dangerous breed and his family’s HOA gave them 10 days to rehome him or they would send Animal Control to arrest him. I couldn’t let that happen. We decided to arrange a meet & greet between this pup and our two living children, Shadow and Bella. If all went well, the pup was coming home with us and we would be his forever family.
The dogs got along, we fell in love with the pup, whose name is Captain, and we brought him home.
Shortly after we got him home, Shadow realized something was amiss. He became very vocal about the fact that he was NOT consulted about this addition to the family. He’s always been vocal in his opinions, but he’s getting crankier in his old age. And funnier. I’ve been relaying conversations we’ve had via Facebook, and although friends and family laugh and think he’s just the cutest thing ever, they’re only getting a small soundbite of this dog’s personality.
In January, 2016, we came very close to losing Shadow. Instead, he was diagnosed with diabetes and arthritis, in addition to his chronic obstructive lung disease. He’s also developed cataracts. So, he went from a young, very active dog to a cranky old dog very quickly. And given what he’s dealing with, his wit and humor has held fast throughout.
I know we won’t have Shadow with us for long. He’s going to be 15 next month which is extremely old for his breed (Carolina Dog). I want to publish some of his musings to entertain others, and help me remember how awesome this very rare and precious dog has been for our family.
The first of many conversations Shadow and I had after his diagnosis in January concerned his legacy.
Shadow: Mom, I want to write my memoir, but you need to do all the typing. I have no thumbs.
Me: I didn’t know you were working on a memoir. What brought this on?
Shadow: I’m getting old, Mom. I can’t play Dog Ball anymore. And everyone knows that when you get too old to play your sport, you write a memoir about how awesome you were.
Me: Or they become coaches. You could coach Captain.
Shadow: No way. The kid is hopeless. He doesn’t even lift his leg to pee! He’s afraid of the couch pillows. How am I going to teach him to be an awesome Dog Ball player? I’m not even convinced he’s a real dog.
Me: He’s just a baby. He grew up in an apartment. He could learn so much about being a dog if you’d just teach him.
Shadow: OK, fine, I’ll teach him how to lift his leg to pee as soon as you get started on my memoir. Start it with, “Ever since I was a puppy, I knew I was destined for greatness. My Dad brought me home and gave me a ball. For years I didn’t know what to do with it, so I just chewed them up as soon as I got them. After my Mom moved in, I finally got the hang of it. Dad would throw the ball for miles, and I’d go catch it. I was FAST too! I was the fastest Dog Ball player in the Northwest. And I had fans everywhere. Mom would take me for walks and the humans would gush over me, my talents, my handsomeness. I had to sign autographs…”
Me: Shadow…
Shadow: Yeah?
Me: *raises eyebrows*
Shadow: Too much?
Me: You sound like the Kanye West of dogs.
Shadow: Ouch. OK, scratch that part about the fans and the autographs.
Me: Is that all?
Shadow: Yeah, for now. Type that up and I’ll let you know if there are revisions.
Me: Aren’t you forgetting something?
Shadow: What?
Me: Your brother?
Shadow: What about him?
Me: You promised to teach him something.
Shadow: Right. OK, get me the pages to revise; I’ll take Captain out back and show him how to pee.


**Stay tuned for the next edition of Conversations with Shadow**