Fuzzy Black Dogs on Ice

It seems that the newest fuzzy, black dog, otherwise known as Bob, hasn't noticed that the ground has changed colors. I put the three of them out the back door and into the yard to do their business. As I opened the door, Bob barreled out just like I'd expect a spaniel to do. Generally, the only thing he notices is when there is a gale force wind driving torrents of rain sideways. He doesn't care for that.

On the other hand, Ace and Lilly, were just a bit more reserved about the cold, ice-slushie bathroom break. Ace generally does what I ask him to do. Generally. He slowed down considerably on the deck and looked around before going down the steps to the yard. Lilly, however, stopped half-way out the door.

One paw touched the cold, slippery stuff and the almighty princess, as my son sometimes calls her, stopped dead in her tracks. Now she's standing in the doorway with two paws inside, one paw in the vile, inhospitable ice-slush and one paw held in the air. She held this position and looked up at me with an expression that could only be translated as follows: "You pulled me off the comfy sofa to do this to me?! Wait'll you see what I've got planned when you go to sleep..."

Meanwhile, Ace has learned a new trick. While Bob is out running around the yard like it's a fine spring day, Ace is sitting nearly out of sight at the bottom step, waiting. After a certain amount of time, he runs back up the steps and to the door like he's done his business. Then I have to walk out into the elements and point out into the yard telling him to "go." Sometimes I even have to walk to the bottom step and "catch" him sitting there, as if he thinks I don't know.

In the meantime, Bob, having done his business came barreling back up to the back door. While incredibly cute, Bob is not the most intelligent or coordinated dog of the bunch. He hit the top step at top speed. He gave the appearance of trying to stop, but managed to slide completely across the deck and in through the back door. One down, two to go.

Lilly followed with her head and tail down, slowly and carefully placing each foot in the mess. She flashed an indignant look at me as she passed. Then came Ace, who had finally ventured out into the yard. I know I saw him do number one, but I didn't remember seeing number two.

As I finally made my way inside, I heard my son's voice just inside the door...

"Oooohhh...  Da poor doggies! He's so mean to da poor doggies! Forcing da poor innocent doggies to poop and pee out in da howwible howwible weather..."

Perhaps I can train him. Then I can stay toasty and warm inside while he takes them out in the howwible, howwible weather!

A Brief Moment with Bob

[loosely translated from the newest fuzzy, black dog:]
Hello. My name is Bob. I'm a really cool, black spaniel. I have three people who live with me. And two other dogs. I don't know what they are, but they sure do bark a lot. Life here... Hey! A squirrel!

What was I saying? Anyway, we each have our job to do. Mine seems to be to clean the house. I take it seriously and have eaten lots of things. Some of them might not have been food. But they tasted good. I used to lick the tallest human -- Phillip, I think -- to wake him up. He got a real bad attitude and I stopped that. I still lick him to tell him to feed me. Sometimes he... That squirrel again! Woof!

Ummm. These people are crazy. The other dogs don't do anything. Me? I protect the house. I sleep by the door. That way, nobody can open it and come in. Also, if things get too crazy, I can make a quick getaway. I also sleep there because it hasn't been taken. Ace gets Phillip's lap. Lilly takes the high spots. I think she's half cat. Grrrr. That leaves me the doorways. The mailman!

Sorry! False alarm. It was one of the big, brown trucks. Lilly and Ace barked really hard and I thought it was the mailman. Phillip says I have ADD. He says life distracts me. I say there's simply too much neat stuff out there. Like that squirrel. And that black and white cat. And that pizza box right there. And that... Smell? Do I smell bacon? And that pizza box. I don't think that was there before. I'm hungry. Do I smell pizza in it? And the mailman. And... I'll just take a little look in that box...

Dog poo to your writer's block. You yelled at me. I won't help you any more. I'll be laying by the door when you want to scratch my belly and apologize. And I WON'T forget... The mailman!

Fuzzy Black Dogs Take Over

Don't let the cuteness fool you...

The fuzzy, black dog count in my little house has grown. In addition to Ace (the Jack Russell, schnauzer and poodle mix on the left at top) and Lilly (the schnauzer, yorkie mix which people like to shorten to schnorkie--on the right at top), we now have Bob, who for all practical appearances seems to be an American Water Spaniel. Unfortunately, Bob (who has really been named Bob Barker) seems to have created friction in out little household as to how we should proceed.

A friend of mine found him and another spaniel running around by the side of a road. Neither dog had a collar, so she did what she always does. Having an overly large heart and a soft spot for stray dogs, she managed to subdue the dogs and bring them home. She is currently trying to find a good home for only one dog. And therein lies the problem.

My theory contends that Bob was abused. His behavior seems to verify this theory. My theory also states that we, my family, are but a mere halfway house -- half way between a rough, rotten life and a new happy one with a family to love him. My solution is simply to find a happy home for the adorable little pup.

My son also has a theory. His theory states that when the dogs outnumber the family members, then we have a serious problem. Unfortunately, according to his theory, we don't have a problem yet since Bob puts the number of animals even with the number of humans. If you've ever tried reasoning with a teenager, you'll find it's easier to hit your head against a wall.

My wife has developed her own theory which can be summed up in four simple words -- &%*! out of luck! She says that we are just fuzzy, black dog magnets. She's also noted that our teenager and Bob have, in less than 24 hours, become inseperable. And it's becoming obvious when they have been seperated as a low, mournful howl begins echoing through the house...