I'm in love! (I am?)

"Look, Gracie!" shouted my human mum. "They're here!" a big white van pulled into our driveway and parked.

On these occasions, instinct (not training) kicks in. I bolted out the door and barked and barked and barked.  Two humans and a huge white dog got out of the car.  I didn't give a rat's ass about the humans. (I picked up that expression from my dad.) All I saw and smelled was Bailey. Bailey is a drop-dead gorgeous Old English Sheepdog with huge eyes and a winning smile (only visible right after he's been trimmed).

I first met Bailey a year ago, when Liz started tutoring his human brother, Harrison. At first, we did the usual "sniff-the-tail, etc." routine humans expect of us. Sometimes we "played" (e.g., fought over my bone. Bailey usually won 'cause he's bigger.) But, most of the time we ignore each other, or so the humans surmise. 

Now Liz refers to Bailey as "Gracie's boyfriend."

What's a "boyfriend"?

Grace (confused as usual)

Bailey at home in Alexandria, Virginia

Aunt Abbey

I wasn't always the only Airedale in our house. For most of my life, I had Aunt Abbey for company.

When I was a little puppy, she showed me the best places in the woods to do our business.  She taught me how to look adorable, so Liz would give us treats. She was my role model for "sit, stay and heal."  We ate together, slept side by side, and flew in an airplane without our humans all the way to London.

Sometimes, we got into trouble, like the time we chased rabbits in England and upset Liz. (Dad told her it was "just instinct.") Abbey tried to teach me how to climb up on the kitchen counter and steal pork chops, sandwiches and whole loaves of bread. But, I was never as quick as she was. 

Abbey died while we were living in England. She was almost 14. Now, I don't have anyone to play with, except for my human mom and dad. I want a puppy!

Grace

Aunt Abbey (right) and me in Cornwall, UK

Grooming

Why do you groom your dog? Let me guess. You don't want your house to smell like a kennel. You don't want your dog to look "scruffy" ("woolly" is the one I hear). You think your dog is more "comfortable" with a neatly trimmed, clean coat.

Well, speaking for myself, I don't notice the difference. I don't care if I look like a lamb before the shearing season. I don't mind when my coat gets all knotty. Most important, I love smelling like a dog. It's who I am.

So, don't waste your money on high-cost groomers and herbal shampoos. Just be happy that your dog is healthy and friendly and doesn't attack the UPS delivery guy or gal.

Grace

Pet Birds

Yesterday, I happened to follow my mum, Liz, up to the third floor. I follow her everywhere. I can't help myself. That's what dogs do.

While Liz was sorting out old clothes, I sniffed around. You'll never guess what I smelled -- not one, but two small cages. I knew they weren't for me (I weigh 50 lbs.) Not even my cousin Sadie Rose (she's a Miniature Schnauzer) would fit into those cages. Besides, the cages smelled like feathers.

"What are those cages for?" I asked.
"They're bird cages, Gracie," said Liz. "I used to have pet birds. That was before your time."
"Pet birds?" I was confused, as usual. I had never met a pet bird. A pet bird would make a great companion for me.
"I don't think so," said Liz, reading my mind. "I wouldn't trust you with a little bird."

I can't imagine what she's thinking.

Grace

Fish & Chips

Anyone who has a dog knows that we crave human food. Speaking for myself, I'm bored with the same old dog food, day after day. OK, in all fairness to my human mum, Liz, she only gets me that top-of-the-line Biljack Select. But, let's face it, the stuff tastes like cardboard. (Sorry, Mum.) Of course, she tries to vary things a bit -- with our morning yoghurt, of course, carrots, apple cores, chicken scraps, etc.. But, like you humans, I need some slack, in the food department.

Now, Dad, on the other hand (my human dad), is a different story. When Mum isn't looking, he shovels all kinds of treats into my food bowl -- French fries, stir-fried beef and veggies, chunks of pork. Yummy!  I still dream of that weekend when Mum was out of town and Dad and I shared (and I mean shared) a meal of fish & chips.

This weekend Mum is visiting her family in New England, and Dad and I have the place to ourselves. I'm in food heaven. I'll save the details for another time.

Grace

Yoga and Yoghurt

English is a strange language, at least for me. Take the words, "yoga," and "yoghurt." To my ears, they sound like the same word. So, when Liz tells me it's time for yoga, my mouth starts watering, my stomach growls and I can't stop wagging my tail.

But, instead of bouncing down the stairs, opening the refrigerator and grabbing my favorite morning snack, she sits down on a blue mat and gets into these stupid poses. 

 A half hour later, I'm still waiting for my yoghurt.

Grace

Cat Alert

The other day my human mum posted a picture of a her "new friend" on her Facebook page. I figured it was just another dumb human. But I snuck a look. It was a cat! A cat!

Rather than sulk with my tale between my legs, I confronted her.
"What's that cat doing on your Facebook page?"
"That's Willy. He lives in Phillie."
"And he's your friend?" I couldn't believe it.
"Yeh. He's cute, for a cat."
"I thought you hated cats."
"I don't hate them. I just prefer dogs." She laughed and rubbed my neck. But I wasn't fooled. What if she adopted a cat to keep me from getting bored? What if she invited Willy to visit us?

Later I took another look at Willy's picture. I had to admit he looks pretty cool. But, I won't tell mum.

Grace