Here Comes the Rain Again

Falling on my fuzz like a memory

Falling on my head and my paws and my stump...

Love,

Bogart

Flexi-bility

This morning, my Flexi leash broke. For all of you humans out there, mama describes the breaking as such:

When your doggie pulls the Flexi to it's maximum and you hear a sickening crack that is NOT coming from inside of your hand but from the large black plastic thing in your hand - that's the Flexi going to that Flexi-place-in-the-sky.

So it was off to the store to get a new one. Mama bought the special "comfort" version that she says isn't THAT much more comfortable, even though it is slightly more expensive. Ah well, she had a coupon.

Here I am modelling the new Flexi. While it seems like I don't care, honestly that's not the truth. I care DEEPLY about my Flexi leash, and my life changed the minute I got my first one. Especially when we walk in the park or forest, no need to wait for the slow 2 leggers.

But of course it's mama who loves the Flexi the most - she can keep track of me and keep me out of trouble while still keeping control. Win-win.

You know, so I don't run in front of the streetcar or anything. Not that I have ever done anything like that or even ever think of doing anything like that. But just in case.

Walking on the sidewalk suits me just fine. WITH MY NEW FLEXI.

Love,

Bogart

Squirrel Patrol

Ah, a break in the clouds, no rain for a little while. Midday walkie time!

Ah, pretty leaves. So many colors.

They're EVERYWHERE. Soft on my tootsies.

But wait... what's that?

Perhaps with your human eyes, you cannot see him. But I could feel his presence, see him, smell him. A squirrel is in this tree, and he's throwing things at me.

He's here, I know it - I can smell his frisky little nose and his twitchy little tail. And those acorns are still hitting me in the head.

LET ME AT HIM MAMA!!! I CAN GET THAT PESKY SQUIRREL!!!

Perhaps you have won this battle, my little furry friend, for I cannot climb this tree and whoop your squirrel butt. But if you venture down, YOU ARE MINE

Love,

Bogart

Going Aireborne

Hey, it's Monday and mama is home - what's up with that? Oh... it appears that her schedule at work has changed, so now she will be off on Sundays and Mondays. Works for me... where are we going?

We always try to walk around different neighborhoods. Today we took a swing through the Belmont area.

And guess what I managed to find - a lovely park full of GIGANTIC FREAK PINE CONES

First I thought that I must taste these odd specimens, you know, to make sure that they were alright to play with...

Looks good - tastes good - THROW ONE TO ME MAMA!

COME ON COME ON COME ON COME ON!

THROW ME THAT CONE!!!

Oh, that was TOO easy. Is that all you got?

Woo-hoo!

I'm aireborne!!!

Come to me oh gigantic pine cone...

Soooooooo close...

GIMME GIMME GIMME

Caught!!!

Sooooo close!!!

Oh yeah. Not just one, but TWO gigantic mega cones. Let me enjoy them for a minute, will ya?

Gonna make me run AGAIN!!!!

I'm gonna get it this time!!!

Hehehe - no pain no gain!

I'll take that cone now, please.

And after these fun photos were taken, I got to watch mama do something hysterical.

She made the mistake of throwing a pine cone a little too hard (that's violating Rule #1 of Pine Cone Throwing, which is NEVER throw the pine cone really far). And so I took off across the grassy park in hot pursuit of that fine cone. When this has happened in the past, she is able to let go of my Flexi leash, which slows me down (it usually hits me in the butt at which point I lose focus on whatever I'm chasing and we both stop quickly). But not today...

For some reason she could not unhook her hand from the Flexi. I have four legs, she only has two. I can run fast. She never really runs at all. So as I ran faster and faster to try to get at that sweet cone, she was first running, then pulled, then flying behind me. Yes, I said flying. Her hand attached to the Flexi, she literally flew off of her feet and landed on the ground flat on her belly. Now here's the really funny part - she was wearing a nylon-y jacket so once she landed she actually was moving along like she was on a slip-and-slide in the wet grass.

Luckily there were a lot of people around to watch this fantastic feat of fearless flying. Not to come over and help, oddly, but to bear witness. Mama looked around (once she'd come to a stop, of course), looked at me, and burst out laughing. Only then did all of the other people start laughing too.

And yes, I did get to that cone.

Love,

Bogart

I Had a Dream...

Early this morning. I was trying to enter a Wal-mart-type store with a large black cat - and I was in a wheelchair. This cat was Onyx, an all-black cat, one of the dearest animals I've ever had the pleasure of being owned by. (Onyx passed away a few years ago. I keep Onyx's ashes in a box - along with Alobar, his all-white contemporary who has also passed on - near Klaus). I was told by a snotty young woman that Onyx wasn't allowed into the store. So I left, and then apparently returned and wheeled right in because I found myself looking for the fitting room.

I was waiting, and waiting, and waiting.

I must have lost patience with waiting because I wandered outside of the store into a large, plain room full of people. They were all listening raptly to a woman speaking at the front. Was she a salesperson? A preacher? I have no idea. There was no interaction with me, I just sat in the back in my wheelchair with my cat.

And then I got up out of the chair and walked - stepped out of the wheelchair and walked - outside. It was an outdoor deck. I saw a man looking around, obviously looking for someone. I called out for Klaus - and it was him - and he came running over. He said, "I love you, I love you, I love you" as he held me tightly and then...

I was cruelly awakened by the alarm clock. So sad to watch everything disappear. But it was an absolutely fantastic dream, the very first in which Klaus was the leading man, and in which I heard his distinctive voice. I cried all through the morning walkie with Bogart, luckily early mornings on the weekends here in this part of town are relatively deserted, and add some rain into the mix, and lets say that no one found out my little secret that was written in trails of tears all over my face.

Ah, but the day must go on. Bogart and I are always intrigued by the falling of the leaves here in Portland...

Bogart obviously got "inspired".

Then the sky opened and the rain began to pour. Bogart barely noticed.

I, however, do not have a semi-waterproof double coat. Only a single nylon-y one. And I look awfully silly doing the "aire dry" that Bogart does when his fuzz is soaked.

Love,

Lulu & Bogart

Cone-age

Mid-day walkie - seemed like it was going to be uneventful, until...

What is that in your hand mama? The one you're holding onto behind your back?

PINE CONES!!!

Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!

Check out my STYLE!!!

But why oh why must I always have to WORK for my cones, mama?

Not that I'm complaining, you understand, I'm just curious...

And you know that I'm perpetually curious...

KISS THE BUTTON - You KNOW you want to!!!!

Love,

Bogart

Local Flora

Sometimes mama gets an idea. It usually involves me posing with something that has caught her eye. Today it was these red bushes.

Do you want me over here? No?

Ah, I'm supposed to come around this way? No?

How about if I just walk through them? Sort of interesting and ok?

Well then, how about a butt shot? Awesome!

After the marathon posing session, we saw this little guy in the window of a doggie store. Yes I really, really wanted to go inside but mama said that until I get a job I have to stay out of the doggie boutiques. Anybody hiring?

I'm sure that there is a high-paying job out there for a handsome Dale such as myself who can do some interesting tricks (when I feel like it), gets along with other dogs (when I feel like it), and looks adorable (on command). In the meantime, I just really wanted to go inside and sniff this little Frenchie.

A stick is a poor substitute - but substitute it shall. I'm working on that job thing mama, while you're at work...

Love,

Bogart