Tag Archives: dog

Frequent flier

Thirteen years ago, Rory and I made our first airplane trip together — from Kansas City to Craigsville Beach on Cape Cod.

image

As we arrive home tonight from Kentucky — on what is easily Rory’s 30+ flight as an ‘in-cabin pet,’ I never take for granted his zen presence and sunny predisposition that make him an easy, breezy traveller.

Good dog.

I can see clearly now

Central Park is green.

No more pastel buds of spring, no more varying shades of color — just a solid canopy of green.

 

As I was walking Rory Dog this morning — and gazing upward at all those green leaves — I was reminded of the day I got my very first pair of glasses.

I was in the fourth grade.  My teacher Ms. Laws had noticed I was squinting at the chalkboard, and ratted me out to my mom.  When the optometrist did the eye exam, it turned out —

I was pretty blind.  Who knew?

I wasn’t very excited about getting glasses; I was the first in my class and would be teased for months.  But I still remember wearing my new glasses on the ride home from the eye doctor, and staring in wonder up at the trees.

“You can see individual leaves?

 

 

Hot time

So, this happened.

I worked at home yesterday and had just sat down to eat lunch when someone rang my front door. Assuming it was UPS, I buzzed him in and stepped into my coop’s hallway.

My dog Rory ran ahead to greet my visitor and brought back…

HIM

Okay, not this particular fireman.  The firefighter in my building had black hair and was tragically wearing his shirt uniform.  But still –

He was smoking hot!

I said, “Are we on fire?” and he flashed a perfect smile.

Well, I was.

He explained he was conducting the building’s yearly walk-through, and proceeded to ask some questions about the basement and elevator access while he petted my dog Rory.

To soon, he was on his way.  But my heart was happy.  You see, the firehouse is only one block away.

Rory, it’s time to try a different walk route!

Yawn

Wimbledon is a racket.

I look forward to it every year, and watch every moment of tennis that my schedule allows.

But this year?

My actual body clock reset itself to make sure of it.

I normally wake up around 7am every morning — without an alarm — to walk the dog.  But this year during Wimbledon, I have been popping out of bed between 5:30-6:00am

I know that the first hour of Wimbledon coverage on ESPN is bogus chit-chat, and the matches don’t start until 8:00am.  But my body doesn’t.  And I especially know that the weekend coverage doesn’t begin until 9:00am.

Go back to sleep.

(I’m not listening.)

Good boy

If you absolutely have to remember something, tell a dog.

I’m serious; they’ve got your back.

Yesterday Rory Dog and I flew to Boston.  I’m working there this week, and since we lived there for seven years, I brought Rory along to visit with friends.

Now, it’s been over four years and two apartments since we lived in Boston, but as soon as we arrived at my friend’s place, Rory was trying to walk me around the city.  This morning, he immediately took off on our old route through the Public Garden, Boston Common and our old neighborhood, Beacon Hill.  No doubt his nose was pointed toward the shops we used to frequent, the friends who used to give him treats along the way.

And Rory is no spring chicken, either.  My puppy turns 12 this December, but his mind — and memory — seem as sharp as ever.

I went online to see just how impressive this behavior was.  Turns out that, although Rory is the bestest dog ever, his memory skills are fairly typical for a dog.  They all have spatial memory of places, especially if food is involved.

And since Rory got a treat from somebody on pretty much every walk he ever took in Boston, I’m guessing these streets are burned in his doggie brain.

Hmmm…wonder if food will help my memory?  I’m certainly game to try.

Living large

I love this photo.

That’s my dog Rory… crashed out on the couch.

It was a particularly hot afternoon, and he was enjoying his regularly scheduled nap in the air conditioning.

But he’s doing it with such style….such abandon!

There is a dog who is really sleeping.  And who doesn’t care who watches him doing it.

The Cheetos bag in the foreground?  That’s mine.  But I think it adds a certain something-something to the composition.  (Felt like I needed to explain.  Didn’t want everyone to think I was the worst dog owner on the planet…although Rory has had a Cheeto or two in his day, I’ll admit.)

The moral of this photo essay?

Choose to do something today, and do it with gusto.  Live like nobody’s lookin’.

Live…like a Rory Dog.

Who’s the boob here?

It was horrific enough that model Jasmine Fiore was brutally murdered, her teeth pulled, her fingers cut off at the knuckles. But then police identified her body by the serial numbers on her breast implants…and told the press, who told everyone else.

Ugh.

I know Jasmine and her family would prefer her alive today, but I’m personally glad she isn’t around to experience this further degradation. While I’m happy the police were able to identify her body, this unnecessary public humiliation is a gross violation of her person, living or dead.

She’s not some micro-chipped dog. Revealing these details of the investigation to the media treated Jasmine like less than one.