Playtime Dreams

Today is showery, with the sun occasionally peeking out, so we're spending the day inside.


Charlie's asleep, probably dreaming about how much fun we're going to have when the weather turns nice again, just like we did last week:

Garden Helper

For some reason, gardening with Charlie as a helper is more work....

"Wha'cha doin'? Want me to help with that?"

"I'll take care of those!"

"Hey, I said those are MY weeds!"

"And what are these? I can help with these, too!"

"Grrrrrr, you nasty weeds!"

Approach Avoidance

There are workmen in the house mounting a new TV on the wall, and Charlie is alternately intrigued by them...

... and freaked by the sound of their reciprocating saw making cutouts in the plywood shear wall.

Whenever I leave the room, he stays close by my side, jockeying to keep me between him and the scary noises, for example, as I try to work in the kitchen.

Poor guy -- it's probably time for some extra treats!

 

Charlie's New BFF

You'll recall how much Charlie likes his mailman. Well, I don't remember exactly when and how it happened, but things have changed since October.

No longer does the mail carrier leave treats outside the door for Charlie to retrieve with the mail...

...nor is Charlie babygated upstairs at mailtime, anymore...

... because Charlie and his new best friend now do a daily greeting ... one-on-one.

"Hi, buddy!"
Charlie lies at the head of the unbabygated stairs or at a nearby window, watching and listening for the distinctive *snap* of the mail slot, whereupon he races to the door, barking ferociously. But now, when he sees it's Jeffrey, the bark turns from ferocious to demanding, or even quiets entirely, while Charlie waits for us to come open the door, so he can squirm through and let the greetings begin.

Of course, the very best greetings involve both snuzzling and treats, and these are no exception.

Catching a treat in mid-air.
So Charlie now has the mailman eating out of his hand. Only it's the other way around, really. Thanks, Jeffrey -- all of us around here think you're "paw"some!

 

Time for a Trim

I love Charlie's featherduster feet, but after watching him lose his footing today and almost fall off the terrace wall (when admittedly he was annoying a sun-lounging Pouncer, which he oughtn't to do and perhaps served him right...) I decided it was time to take action.

I'm no expert groomer, but I watched a couple of YouTube vids, got out my scissors, and we headed outside.

"You want to trim my paws? You and what army?!!"
Charlie, as you can see, was not too keen on the whole thing.

"Leave my paws alone."
He's all about being in "control" plus I think it must have tickled a little when I cut the underpaw fur.

The feathers are as long under the feet as on top of them!
Eventually, though, he relaxed in the sun and we got through it.

Trimmed and sure-footed!
I don't think I would ever be hired to do this, but fortunately Charlie agrees that it's more important to be able to catch the kitties than to wow them with your good looks!

"Where'd that Pouncer go?"

 

Slow Walking

Charlie and I, it seems, have different ideas on what constitutes a good dog walk. For my part, I want it to be long enough to burn off excess canine energy that otherwise might will be directed toward me (and probably involve teeth), slightly brisk, and far enough away to see new neighborhoods and experience new things.
Charlie, however, completely disagrees. In his mind, the purpose of a walk is to check pee-mail, score love, and, who knows, maybe find some dropped food. One should not go past anything scary, like the schoolyard, or the house with the whirlygigs, anywhere there are workmen, or anyplace new. So his preference is to just go around the block. Slow. Real slow. Sniffingly slow.

So we compromise. I make him go farther than he wants to, because he needs to be desensitized to the idea that new = scary. But we go slow, and we smell the flowers.

Spring Has Sprung

And Charlie must be growing up --- he's lying in the sun instead of tiptoeing through the tulips.

 

What's Wrong With This Picture?

I guess he thought Joey needed to blow his nose.
I try to be careful not to leave tasty kleenex within Charlie's grasp and usually don't know I've failed until I clean the yard, but somehow this one escaped...

 

Ready For Anything

Wordless Wednesday

Superbowl Sunday

First you have to get your snacks together.
Then loosen up, because it's going to be a long game.
Find a good spot in front of the TV.
"On-side kick?! 2-pt conversion?!! Interception?!!! Ohhh... I can't WATCH!"
"OK, you Colts; next time you have to let ME play!

 

Missing Jessie

I'm sorry to report that Charlie's kitty sister, Jessie, passed over the Rainbow Bridge last Friday. She was a beautiful tortoiseshell with brilliant green eyes. And she had a personality that was somewhat temperamental.

If she knew and liked you, she owned you. If she didn't, then she was a terror (the vet can confirm this part).

And, although she had no front claws (not our doing), Jessie successfully trained 4 generations of golden retrievers...

Jessie, with Harley and Charlie.
...all of whom successfully learned that cats are not to be toyed with.

With puppy Charlie.
Charlie was probably her pièce de résistance... her training triumph.


He was the only one of our goldens who first met her as a puppy, so he required the most work.


Jessie and Charlie not only achieved detente, but seemed to actively like each other and sometimes played together.

"Let's go in the bathroom, Jessie..."
"Wanna share some of that?"
RV buddies
"What's that? No, you check it out."
Happy Christmas friends.


Rest in peace, Jessie, until we all meet up again over the bridge.