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Dog, please let me sleep

Friday, January 15th, 2010

YUCAIPA, CA – I love my dog, I truly do. She’s smart, pretty well mannered, and a great walking partner.

But she has one trait that is trying my patience. She’s an insomniac. Anywhere from one to three in the wee hours when I’m blissfully snoring away, Tassie will be pacing in the living room, or she’ll come thumping her tail against my bed.

Telling me, hey I can’t sleep, how about you? How bout getting your sleepy butt out of bed and let me outside?

Tassie’s sleepless nights don’t come all the time, maybe two or three nights a week. And once she’s dragged me out of bed, guess what? I’m sleepless too.

She woke me again last night. I heard her pacing in the living room. Maybe her sixth sense warned her to stay out of the bedroom; that I was in no mood to be awakened. Or maybe she thought the vacuum cleaner was in the bedroom. She tucks her tail and runs whenever it’s in use.

Anyway, with a groan, I threw off the covers, stumbled into the living room to let her outdoors.

She just stood their grinning at me, her tail wagging, and her brown eyes smiling.

“Come on, let’s go,” I mumbled as she trotted to the door.

I’m sure some of you are tugging on the leash to give me doggie advice. But I’m smarter than you think. I empty her water bowl long before bedtime, and I let her outside just before crawling under the covers to encourage her to do her business.

If I were a sound sleeper, I wouldn’t mind her waking me long before the sun’s up. But once I’m awake, I stay awake. And that means on days like today, I’m tired and sleepy. And a bit cranky.

I’m sure I’ve fooled some of you with my Sean Connery, Paul Newman, or Clint Eastwood-like good looks (in their younger days, of course), but I am getting up in years, so my tired, old body needs all the sleep it can get.

But Tassie? Once I let her back indoors, she curls up on her bed and is fast asleep in no time.

Hmmm, I wonder if Motel Six has a vacancy tonight.

Talking dog for sale

Saturday, October 31st, 2009

A man answers an ad for a talking dog.

When he shows up at the owner’s house, sure enough the dog can talk about any subject – religion, politics, sports – anything.

“How much you want for him,” asks the interested buyer.

“Ten dollars,” says the owner.

“I’ve got to ask you,” says the dumbstruck buyer, amazed that anyone would sell a talking dog for $10, “why are you selling your talking dog so cheap? He should be worth a fortune.”

“Well, because the dog has one heck of a problem,” said the owner.

“What is it?” asks the buyer.

“You can’t believe a word he says!” says the owner.

DNA test for Tassie

Wednesday, October 7th, 2009

YUCAIPA, CA – I’ve read about a DNA test for dogs that can determine their pedigree. I’m thinking of ordering one for Tassie. But I’m afraid of the results.

A little Golden Retriever, definitely. Some Springer Spaniel, no doubt.

Beaver? Quite possibly. Woodchuck, maybe that too.

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Goodbye Cassie

Tuesday, July 7th, 2009

YUCAIPA, CA – My family and I have owned a lot of dogs over the years. There was Duke, a small, black, short legged Terrier mutt, who loved to race around me in circles when I was about eight years old. And I’ll never forget King, a protective German Shepherd.

King adored my twin sisters Marlene and Darlene when they were just babies. I can see him now on the front lawn of our Zumbrota, Minnesota farm home. As the twins toddled unsteadily about the yard, King stayed by their sides, never letting them out of his sight. A guard dog in the truest sense.

If my brothers or sisters, or I were running and roughhousing too near to the twins, King growled, letting us know we had better play somewhere else.

Yes, King and Duke were special. But Cassie, oh Cassie stole our hearts.

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