A wise man (probably) once said: never promise to post a bunch of blogs on a regular schedule on July 13th when you have to work a ton, then be out of town, then move your entire apartment, and then be out of town again 'cause that is likely impossible to do unless you have a bunch of blogs prewritten which you probably should do you should really take a marketing class shouldn't you? An aphorism that seems almost tailormade for my situation, but unfortunately it fell on deaf ears. As you may have surmised, I only listen to the wisdom of dogs and they don't care AT ALL about marketing. Aaaaaaaanyway, expect us to be on a more regular schedule now that I'm in a new apartment and will be resolutely in Chicago for the near future—if the humidity doesn't make my body melt back into the earth.
Today we are covering a NEW addition to the HTH squad: Sam the German shepherd mix.
As you may have noticed, Sam is an older gentledog. That doesn't really slow him down any though. He bounds out of his apartment with a vigor usually reserved for manic Jack Russell terriers. He pulls me over to the elevator and waits with his nose LITRALLY touching the brushed aluminium elevator doors. If he could push the button himself I know that he would. Once outside, we get to 'splorin (which is dog for "exploring"). Pretty basic walkin' stuff, although we have run into these massive cicada killer wasp/flying hellbeast things nearly every day on our walks. According to my cursory Wikipedia research, they aren't dangerous to humans buuuuuut I have a feeling that mayyyybe a cicada killer wrote that entry. Maybe a swarm of them did. Their damn thoraxes are about as big as one of my fingers so it's not outside of the realm of possibility. I guess they haven't really bothered Sam and I much, but that may be because every time we have encountered one I have gathered up my housedress and ran away cryscreaming. Other than these unfortunate encounters we have had a great time mixin' it up in the neighborhood. Sam is very fluffy and thus people want to pet him at all times. I encourage/force them to use a light hand, as Sam's leg rigidity has seen better days. It's a good time, sorta like walking the neighborhood with a foreign dignitary or something. Foreign dognitary?
It's not all cicada killers and head pets though. The other day, as I entered Sam's place, I could tell something was amiss. Three things stuck out to me:
- Pieces of cardboard and paper were everywhere
- A garbage bag was flopped over
- Sam was walking towards me with his head down, lookin' like a spittin' image of Charlie Brown but sadder.
I deduced that Sam had probably gotten into the garbage. Luckily it was mostly cardboard boxes and paper stuff and it looked like he was in "shredding mode" not "eating mode" so we were good on that front. However, there was also an empty bag of soft chew dog treats. Two scenarios flashed in my mind:
- Sam ventured forth into the garbage bag in an attempt to find that one last treat at the bottom of the empty bag and stopped rooting once he indeed found it to be empty.
- Sam devoured an entire bag of treats and then tore through the garbage in an attempt to hide his gluttonous crime.
After a FAR TOO LONG period of contemplation, I remembered that dogs have no real sense of shame and if Sam had devoured an entire bag of treats the only thing he would do afterwards is probably take a victory nap and then probably produce some victory vomit. Covering up crimes is most definitely a human thing. I cleaned up the apartment, moved the garbage bag, and told Sam that we all make mistakes.
Last story! Last week Sam and I took a different route than usual and ended up at a nice bit o' Uptown property. Sam stopped dead in his tracks and stared into the front yard. There was no squirrel, no rabbit, no other dog, no living thing in his sight line. Despite my gentle pulling and pleading, I could not get him to budge. I snapped this pic:
Can you see it? What enraptured Sam to the point of immobility? Yes. Yes it is the white plastic duck. I tried to explain to Sam that it was a false duck and it would never spring to life but it was no good. Eventually he turned to me with a mournful glance, looked back at the duck, and we slowly walked on. It was bittersweet.
To summarize: Sam is the tops, cicada killers are harmless but terrifying, garbage is a delicacy, and sometimes ducks are fake. Enjoy your Thursday!