Black Dog Diaries

Deuce here.

Mom has provided me with photographic proof that my life is dull.  It resembles beige carpet.

I need something exciting to happen at the Black Dog Diaries.

Mom has been in the studio making art and taking pictures of it.  She gets up on a ladder to get “good overhead shots”.   Aside from it all being rather dull,  I can’t even get in a good nap because the minute I closed my eyes, Mom flashed a bright light in my direction.

I am Deuce. The Studio Dog.

paws,

Deuce

P.S.  I have not yet realized my dream of getting that big rawhide bone outside.  Mom did give me a Kong with a swipe of peanut butter in it.  She made me eat  that  outside.

Leslie here.

We on occasion purchase a bone for the dog.

We have had this one for quite some time, unused, because of wanting to see how Deuce’s new stainless steel tooth would work out.

Lest you think he lies down and consumes the bone, I assure you, he doesn’t. He walks around with it in his mouth, for days, drooling as he goes, looking for some handy place to ‘bury’ the bone for later.

Sometimes he buries it in my hands, knowing that I will take good care of it for him.  Sometimes he just spits it out onto my lap, or on the couch next to me.  Either way, he knows I will watch it very carefully so that no one else will run off with it.

His focus and objective with a new bone is to get it outside so that he can give it a proper burial. Underneath a creosote bush, or next to the patio plants where the ground stays moist are two favored places. His intent is to let the bone “soften up” naturally, with a nice little aging ferment caused by contact with the elements.

Deuce and I work at cross purposes in this regard.  I have no intention of letting him take his bone toy outside to “soften up”.

If it is buried in the yard for a week, it begins to get …well…STINKY.  Of course that is when he thinks it is at it’s best… like his own special recipe of kimchi.

It falls apart like sheets of stinky leather, that flop and smack against his face when he shakes them and prances around with them.  It is his version of doggy stinky slappy rawhide heaven!

That  is when he wants to bring it  into  the house.  That is when I  don’t  want the bone in the house.

Did I mention we are at cross purposes?

So, for the next few weeks, I will have to be vigilant in keeping the bone in the house.  Oh, he will chew on it some, reluctantly, grudgingly, leaving his drooly places on the carpet.

And one day I will not be paying attention, and he will sneak it outside, and the only way I will know it has gone to the ‘dogbone burial place’ is that Deuce will become deliriously happy for no apparent reason, and he will have telltale dirt crusted on his nose.

pause,

Leslie

Leslie here.

I am so sorry. I have not posted on Black Dog Diaries in a long, long time.

I have no excuse.

Deuce is getting his daily walks, getting fed regularly, bathed, brushed, played with, being allowed to jump on the couch occasionally…life is good for the old boy.

I say old, because Deuce is now Two years old.

We don’t know officially when he was born, but we are guessing some time in late July or August.

He has grown to be a very good boy. He is still stubborn, but he gives it up easier. He is still a sock thief, and generally loves any white fabric thing, like a dishtowel or a rag. He gets a funny, far-away look on his face when I fold laundry.

He watches TV when I have The Dog Whisperer on.  He howls with the sirens and the coyotes. He hasn’t caught a rabbit yet, but he keeps hoping.

All in all, life has become pretty regular for Deuce and me.

I no longer fear damage to the house when I go to the grocery store and leave him here by himself. He seems to understand that I will return, and will have food that might belong to him.

Deuce has learned that parts of the house that used to be scary are no longer scary. We have been practicing walking in the house on the leash, into the “scary places” and he’s really gotten good at it. I can almost see him “whistling past the cemetery”.

So for all his good behavior, I have posted a picture of him sucking his thumb.

Well, I don’t know if it can be considered a ‘thumb’, but he sticks his tongue out, and holds the extra pad on the back of his leg with it. I have never seen a dog do this before.

But then I have never met anyone quite like Deuce.

pause,

Leslie