Day Drinking and Dino-Attack!

Today I indulged in another of my favorite holiday traditions. Day drinking with my Portland-Based BFF. We started this tradition years ago, sometimes the drinking is at my house, sometimes hers, one time we got hustled off the stage (where we were playing darts) at the Kenton Club by a transvestite gospel singer, who wanted to start his show. Today, I got to play host, there were dogs, booze, a silly movie, nachos and cake.

There was also an incident with Cruncher. The awesome impulse buy Christmas gift I got for my handsome friend. I literally saw a commercial for it on Amazon and decided that he and Ruby needed it for Christmas. Handsome friend loves it. Ruby not so much. Sam considers the whole thing beneath him.

It's not nice, but it's funny.

Best intentions, blah blah blah

How can you not love this face? I mean besides the fact that Sam has decided that he is now officially old and therefor doesn't have to ask to be let out to pee. No, no, why do that as a curmudgeon he thinks it is his prerogative to go in whichever corner is close. Like the one right above the furnace intake....gross.

In this particular picture Sam is wearing his festive holiday sweater and laying on the memory foam dog bed purchased for him by a certain sucker, who is most assuredly not me.

Beasties!

They are on guard. Michief makers beware!

A conversation...

...with a man who didn't immediately like my dogs. (GASP!)






Me: Ruby, move!
Him: Oh, she's okay. I'll just scoot over.
Me: Ruby, move it!
Him: I told her she could get on the couch.
Me: You told her?
Him: Yes, I told her she could get on a couch if she was a good girl.
Me: And not a bad girl?
Him: No, she had to be good, and not annoying.
Me: She's always annoying.
Him: She said she'd be good.
Me: Hmmmm, okay, but she's in my spot.
Him: Well, I'll just move over.
Me: So, I'm moving, and you're moving so she can sit beside you on the couch?
Him: You can sit on the other side. There's room.

For the record, she was a perfectly behaved girl and I'm pretty sure she likes him better than me...this might be why.

writing to enlighten this morning

it is gross outside....I know, I know. It's October 24th and I live in Camas. It was inevitable, but it seems the fall/winter weather has finally overtaken us. Even worse, it's one of those mornings where an hour after you get up the weather is darker, blustery-er, and more spirit dampening. Hummph.

Although, by all rights I should not complain. The first three weeks of October were a fantastic gift, possibly mother nature attempting to make up for our summer that wasn't a summer.

So, here's my story. This morning about 5:30, the annoying girl dog decides that since I won't let her on the bed and under the covers, what she really MUST do is to go outside. I know that to ignore the whining is to do so at my own peril, so I got up. Walked downstairs and let her out. At the same instant she went out I noticed a white thing disappear under the arborvideas. Or I thought I did. Ruby sniffed quickly but needed to do her business. As I waited to see what would happen she wiggled over the the edge and sniffed. All of a sudden she jumped back and ran around to get a sneak attack.

Grrrr. So, here I am standing, topless, at my back door hoping my stupid dog doesn't decide to go after the stupid opossum in the back yard. I'm yelling at her and she's ignorning me. I see the little bugger walk out from under the trees and look at her. She gets down in a crouch and sniffs.

I'm still yelling, now outside topless, and unable to grab her... no collar, she makes too much noise with it at night. Finally, she seems to notice I'm yelling and looks at me like, "What's the big deal? Do you see that thing, it's crazy."

However, she who vibrates with excitment over the smallest thing is basically unfazed, interested, but unfazed. She lets me guide her back in the house, we return to sleep and I'm thankful that near miss with rabies is over.

Arcadia Beach

The view looking north from my favorite day trip spot on the Oregon Coast.





It's a dramatic combination of rock and sand a few miles south of Cannon Beach, which makes it approximately 104 miles from my front door.

I have been here three times this month.

First, with the best friend I found during first semester of college: she and her 4 year old bundle of excitement and energy and joy were visiting for "girls weekend". The little one had never been to the beach. As a side note, both dogs and kids react the same upon first exposure to the beach...they wiggle around with uncontrollable glee and run. We poked things, climbed rocks, dug holes and discussed how even though it wasn't sunny we needed to remember to wear sunscreen. We know better, we declared with all indication of learning from past mistakes. Apparently, we do not and I burned so badly I peeled.

Second, with the best friend from high school: she and I once were part of a three day beach backpacking trip out of "gasp" Forks, Washington. (The trip was so long ago we weren't even aware we should be looking for vampires) At seven months pregnant her reaction to the beach was remarkable dissimilar to dogs and little girls. She dug belly sized hole in the sand squealed because she could finally lay on her stomach and then slept for an hour. I walked south with the mutt.

Third, with my brother, sister, mom and step dad, and three dogs: We picked up rocks, and took turns acting (and sometimes being) impressed by on another's finds, we waded, the mutt suffered a strange bout of dementia and was running in the opposite direction, sure he would find me. My brother practiced acrobatic feats. It was beautiful and the tide was out exposing rocks and life and beach upon which the crazy girl boxer could practice her thoroughbred impersonation. A good day.

As another side note, all three days were cloudy and fueled by peanut butter and jelly.

They don't like eachother yet.

Or more corectly, Sam doesn't like her.






Actually, when I took this picture and the flash went off, Sam looked at me, and made an annoyed, "Humphh." He then realized where he had fallen asleep, who had joined him on the bed, and walked across the room to sleep in his own bed, where I'm sure he felt much more distinguished... you know not consorting with riff-raff such as Miss Ruby.

Oh my! Kittens!

I’m allergic to cats. They make my eyes swell painfully and I can’t breathe. But, my allergy is nothing compared to that of my brother and my father. All of us, mother and sister included are allergic to cats. That does not mean I don’t like cats or am not reduced to cooing and stupidly sighing at kittens like the ones playing in my back yard.

A momma cat has set up a home between my house and my ancient neighbors. She was living in their wood pile until Vicky, sweet though ancient, decided to barricade the pile to hopefully force them all to leave. It hasn’t worked, momma cat simply moved herself to my side of the fence, taking refuge under my arborvitaes and kept the kittens in the wood pile.

She made the move a few weeks ago and Sam actually first made the discovery. I let him out and then heard an angry hiss. More than a little convinced that he had stumbled across a raccoon or opossum I rushed out to see if I could interceded before my dog got is ass kicked. All 10 lbs of the momma cat (she is a slight thing) was reared up in panicked ass-kicking mode and Sam was motionless. I shoo-ed him inside and gave Momma cat run of the back yard. For about two weeks she’s been guarding the back entrance to the wood pile and Sam has been giving her a wide berth.

Until I looked out the back yard this morning, I wasn’t sure how many were living in that space. There are three, currently playing between the potted plants on the tables in the back yard. And I don’t know what to do about them. I’m sure they won’t survive the winter and Vicky is sure they are too feral to be taken into the humane society. Animal control offered to catch them, fix them and then bring them back. I have no idea what that would accomplish, I mean besides preventing further litters. I’m not sure how it’s going to keep them alive, as it gets colder. I have an old dog crate, I’m thinking of seeing if I could waterproof the thing and add a blanket. Ugh. These babies are too cute and too skittish.

(This one ran back to the fence as soon as it heard me at the window.)

dog sitting

I just got through dog sitting this super cute pooch, Ru. He and Sam spend so much time together they basically ignore one another's existence. Occasionally, Sam will realize that Ru is much cooler than he, and get pissy and try to tell him what to do. Ru for the most part will just back off and Sam is again content with the world.


Here are the two dogs, Sam in adventure dog mode on the jetty in Astoria and Ru covered in sand after obsessively chasing a stick.

dog photo....

lame excuse for a post, and not what I had planned but spending the afternoon watching movies and drinking wine has sapped my creativity. But, it's okay, it was a social activity. If you plan on drinking all afternoon it's much better. This is a photo from a few days ago. Sam was actually invited to the laying around activities, but the command decision was made to leave him at home. His normal place was taken by a border collie puppy named Geoff. This was probably a good thing. Sam isn't particularly fond of puppies.

Less anger, more mud

I love this place, two years after moving up here I consider myself blessed to call it home. Most days I don't even mind that I live on the north side of the Columbia and not in Portland.

It's amazingly beautiful and summer here is generally mild and warm.

Today, it's sunny, warm and down by the Columbia, muddy. We took the dogs out to play. Sam is black and white, poorly behaved and mine. Ru is a red healer who belongs to my friend, he is better trained and much more intent on the frisbee. Sam just basically got in his way.