Happy Halloweenie

Great googly moogly, that is an ugly baby. I have to say that this site has some of the better pet costumes, including but not limited to a dog mullet wig and rabbinical garb. This link was totally ripped off from Cute Overload.

Meanwhile, Pappy is dressed in his birthday suit for Halloween. My wife noticed he was nosing around the bags of candy this morning, and she forgot to move it out of reach after warning him off. He's pretty good about not getting into stuff, but I'm seeing the recipe for disaster in this situation-- blow pop overdose.

Heh?

Soggy Dog

After a drought-stricken summer, I thought I'd never complain about rain again. Then we had four solid days of rain and I started getting trenchfoot from wet boots. Pappy developed a new beard of Spanish Moss.

Though we had some trouble getting him to go out in the back yard in the rain, Pappy was pretty stoic about going out the front door for a walk. I had my immense golf umbrella along, which has the upside of having huge coverage but the downside of being entirely in the way when trying to pick up after Pappy. I was trying to keep Pappy under the umbrella, but he didn't seem overly concerned. He was consumed with the clatter of water running into the storm drains.

Finally on Saturday the storm cleared out. I was convinced it had washed away all my remaining grass seed, but after the rain we actually have traces of a new lawn.

Double-Posting All The Way

This gig where I get to cross post the same image to Pappy's blog and the painting blog is fantastic. Double credit. I should have thought of this years ago. Well, a year ago... well, maybe I've only had the other blog a month. Whatever.

Exit Stage Right

Prior to our evening stroll when I am trying to put on his leash, Pappy keeps turning in circles trying to work out what I am doing. Then he blocks the door to ensure that I can't leave without him. This isn't as highly efficient as it sounds.

Sir Dog

Clearly I shop at the wrong pet stores. Gizmodo Link

Prepping for Nablopomo

I'm doing Nablopomo next month, doing a posting each day of November over in my art blog. In this, I am joined by Finnegan's mom, Andrea. For my effort, I wanted to come up with a subject for a series of paintings-- not that I'm going to do a painting every day, but I'd like to be working on them continuously. What the heck... rather than neglect this blog, if I have my dog in the paintings I figure I can cross-post them here. Efficiency, thy name is Pappy.

Bringing in the Hay

Well, I'm trying to patch up our lawn along Pappy's path of destruction. After talking to some sod guys who seemed to have little interest in toting supplies up the big hill in our front yard, I took another shot at reseeding last weekend before the leaves begin falling in earnest. I've been trying to keep Pappy off of it by tossing the ball along the one alley of intact grass. The new grass is coming along pretty well, except that Pappy keeps going out and rolling around. After mopping up enough hay and seed he comes into the house and spreads it around, which is kind of missing the point.

Sleeping Dogs Not Lying

These are some of my favorite videos involving dogs and sleeping. There's something even more lovable about a tired dog.

DeGeneres Flap

Like everybody else, I respond to Ellen DeGeneres' heartfelt plea to the dog rescue agency to not reclaim the dog she gave away to her hairdresser. In case you live on the shady side of Antarctica, DeGeneres adopted a dog through an agency, the dog started eating her cats, so she gave the dog to her hairdresser's kids. The rescue group took the dog back from the new family because DeGeneres had signed a contract stating that she wouldn't rehome the pet without consulting the agency. DeGeneres is sad and wants the dog returned to her friends, and the public consensus is that the rescue agency is being stubborn and mean.

But, after thinking it through, I've decided that DeGeneres is playing dirty pool with her television appeal. She knows what kind of influence she wields, and she should have known what kind of impact this would have across the board. She has guaranteed the vilification of that rescue agency no matter what they do, and how is that going to affect their situation? How is this going to affect other rescue agencies that are being similarly diligent in placing their dogs? According to this, the people behind the rescue have been receiving insulting emails and worse since DeGeneres' appeal. If they have become entrenched or stubborn as a result of this national notoriety, all I can ask is who wouldn't? They didn't deserve this.

I've expressed mixed feelings in the past about the seemingly bureaucratic prequalifications and applications used by some rescue groups, but I know enough to know that the problem is more complicated than my limited experience would allow me to evaluate. As nice as DeGeneres seems, trying to settle the matter on national TV was ultimately manipulative and excessive and doesn't do credit to the efforts of this or other rescue groups.

Zen Koan

If it can no longer be attached to a hose, is it still a sprinkler? If it is plastic and in the back yard, is it not a chew toy?

The Offering

As we were walking Pappy through our town's street fair, we were approached by someone promoting our food coop. She handed us a flyer, then surreptitiously offered a pressed rawhide bone trying to conceal it from a nearby wolfhound. "It's my last one" she said, and Pappy was clearly more deserving than any other dog in the vicinity.

I was almost loathe to take the bone since I knew what was coming. Our little Hamlet was going to whine and groan and angst and carry the bone everywhere without taking a single bite from it. For days he was going to stand by the door to take it outside, then stand by the door to go get it to bring back inside. And then the coup de grace. Every time I would sit down, he was going to come up, drop it in my lap, and stare at me. I can never figure out whether he wants me to keep it, throw it, or just suck on it a while to soften it up.

I did take the bone, and after two days of this I finally got tired of the ordeal. I took a gobbet of peanut butter and smeared it into the creases at one end, then I held it for him while he set to work. He likes it when I hold a chew for him because he can really bear down. He finished about a third of it over a couple of nights when it mysteriously disappeared. It's probably buried in the back yard. Pappy is a pathetic burier. He scratches a little furrow in the mulch and then scatters a couple of leaves over the top, so it will turn up when we rake.

Sharin' Th' Love

Gus was kind enough to grant Pappy's Dog Blog a blog love award. I, in return, love Gus not just because he is constantly threatening to send his housemate Teka to live with us, but also because he is the pasha of posting. The doctor of diligence. Every time I open my Google home page there is always an update from Gus waiting in the news reader, guaranteed. But I can't really give him an award because then we'd get into a feedback loop.

In advancing the love, my appreciation of the core group of the Dogs with Blogs community can't be left unsaid, including Finnegan, Ferndoggle, Fleasgang, Jackson, Joe Stains and Doofus Tanner, Murphey, Nugget, Sophie, these Texas Dachsies, those Texas Dachsies, and about a billion others that I'm too worn out to link. (Hope everybody got a little Technorati boost from that.)

But there are a number of blogs that lurk further out on the fringes of the dog blogging community and beyond that I'd like to recognize. I always follow the exploits of Minou and Birdie, mostly because I am trying to figure out what the heck Birdie is saying. I figure she's sort of like the Rosetta Stone for dog communications. Then I have always admired the wry satire and entrepreneurial spirit of Ayatollah Mugsy and the Pug Life Ministries. Finally, in the human realm, I am a fan of Momopeche since last November's Nablopomo when she carved a goldfish out of salami. I like to think my Pappy obsession resonated with her, contributing to her later getting a dog, Cisco.

Quick Explanation

Some of you may have noticed the abrupt change of my tagline on posts and comments from "Pappy's Fella" to "Nat". It's all related to the new blog, where I am surrendering any semblance of web anonymity. I tried using a separate Blogger account to maintain that blog for about a week, but it quickly grew tiring having to switch back and forth.

If you'd like to continue to think of me as Pappy's Fella, go right ahead and do the mental substitution.

The Perfect Walk

While Pappy and I were on our morning walk, two cats were chasing each other around some parked cars. They rounded the corner between two cars and came face to face with an equally unsuspecting Pappy. He gave a growl and a lurch before the cats scattered. It would have been his idea of a perfect morning if I had just been holding the leash a little more loosely. He was on high alert all the way home.

Plea

Britney Loves Her Dog More Than Her Kids

How can they dare make fun of Britney after all she's been through. All you people care about is readers and making money off of her. SHE'S A HUMAN. JUST LEAVE HER ALONE!!!

Seriously, apart from feeling a little sorry for her I'm getting really sick of hearing about it all.

He Flies Through The Air With The Greatest of Ease

The latest Pappy movie. Just something simple... my animation days may be behind me.

Missed Photo Op

Today at the dog park, Louise, a twenty pound beagly mutt with perhaps a bit of rabbit mixed in, was wrestling with a Bernese Mountain Dog that might well have outweighed me. Louise was all flashing fangs and flashy moves until her nemesis lined her up and flopped down on top of her. This was repeated until Louise was thoroughly filthy, as is her way. Later, to reestablish her bona fides, Louise took a shot at mounting his head. Ridiculous.

The Anti-Houdini

When we first brought Pappy home, for a few weeks our back yard was only fenced on three sides. I tried tying him out on a long rope, but he just managed to wrap his legs into a cat's cradle. Eventually I figured out he just wasn't going to run off if we were around, and since then that's the way it's always been. He's just not interested in escaping.

Then this morning I went outside to play ball with him after he had been out for a while, and was faced with an empty back yard. I figured he was just behind the shed or in the bushes, so I bounced the ball a couple of times. Nothing. I checked the gates and they were locked. Then I saw a flash of movement between the bushes in our rear neighbors' yard. Pappy and Charlie, the neighbors' standard poodle, were racing in circles. The last time we got those two together, Pappy wouldn't give him the time of day. Suddenly they're best friends. As soon as he saw me Pappy was desperate to come over the fence, clawing at my dress shirt with dirty paws trying to get back. It seems it was as much of a mystery to him how he got over the fence as it was to me.

The Horror

As we were scurrying through the park in the dusk growing to dark, Pappy suddenly pulled up short. He wouldn't take another step forward, and you could see the terror in his eyes. A row of the dread leaf bags were lying in wait ahead, like a gauntlet of grim malformed toads carelessly left by some maintenance crew. I was finally able to coax Pappy past the villains and get back underway.

I knew Pappy had a bit of a neurosis about leaf bags from way back when we got him, but I thought he had gotten over it. Evidently not.