Portia approached me with a problem of a personal nature.
I can't reveal what it was, but as my friends know, when someone asks me for help I'm on the case immediately.
Initially it was hard to get our other friends' attention, but I had promised Portia that I'd get them involved.
As soon as Henry was available, I took him aside and he agreed to help. That's the kind of guy Henry is.
Portia seemed relieved that we were all there for her.
Would I be a better dog if I tried to engage a little more?
Pookie came by while I was at the bluffs last week.
We caught up for a while.
.
.
Then we were joined by a large black dog named Lily.
I was intrigued to see that Lily seemed bathed in a ghostly green spotlight.
Then, all of a sudden, she disappeared, although the ghostly green light remained.
What had happened to Lily?
Pookie and I investigated, but did not turn up any leads. Lily had simply vanished.
We are still pondering various hypotheses. I'm convinced Lily's disappearance had something to do with that green light she was bathed in.
Maybe it was supernatural.
I was drawn to Sam from the first time I met him. His blue eyes reminded me of my friend Seymour from the old days living under the dumpster.
Sam and I have a complex relationship. One or the other of us is always more enthusiastic to see each other, although which one it is varies. But we're never equally excited about each other at the same time.
The last time we met, Sam was very happy to see me, while I was a bit, shall I say, ho-hum about seeing him.
Probably the next time we get together our positions will be reversed. That's just the nature of our push-pull relationship.
It was a lovely autumn evening at the bluff, with a stunning winter-type sunset.
I was out and about, on the prowl, alert to my surroundings.
When I saw my friend Kim, my step quickened.
I ran over to see her and catch up.
We enjoyed the sunset together.
As I had my kitchen sink bath last night, my thoughts turned to a disturbing video that I first became aware of a couple of months ago. It features a French invention called the Dog-o-Matic, which is essentially a carwash for dogs, involving jets of water and then blasts of hot air directed at a terrified animal captive in a noisy piece of equipment.
Who would put a dog in a washing machine? Apparently, plenty of people. Dog-o-Matic is already established in France and has plans to move into the United Kingdom. They are also pushing a cat-washing machine built along similar principles.
In response to unfavorable online comments on his invention, Romain Jarry -- the entrepreneur who came up with the idea -- posted a defense noting, in part, "In case of dog's panic, owners can push the stop button or open the door." To me, the concept still sounds like dog abuse.
My cousins Leo and Ella sent me this photo of them canoeing on the Connecticut River last week. It looks like Ella hasn't yet mastered the concept of balancing her weight in the canoe. Good thing they both know how to swim.
At Dolce's party the other day some of the dogs were running and jumping and splashing about madly. And then there were more bashful dogs. Me, for example. I found a little corner where I felt safe, and I mostly just stayed there.
I'm just not a hale-fellow-well-met kind of guy. I'm more comfortable in small groups, with dogs like Ella and Fred, who have temperaments similar to mine.
We're not really party animals.
It was a typical bluffs gathering. Everyone gathered around chewing the fat, so to speak.
The nuclear family of Winnie, Trudie and Ollie was there with their owners.
I started to think about what it would be like to have dog-siblings.
We could play and wrestle together, and cuddle up and sleep next to one another at night.
I wouldn't want them horning in on my territory on my owner's bed, though. That's my special spot.
We could share rawhides. Or possibly compete over rawhides.
Hmmm. Clearly, there would be pluses and minuses here. My human-brothers never try to take my rawhide.
Chet is a guy whose tough background bears similarities to my own. Before we each made our way here, I was living under a dumpster downtown and he was living behind a Mexican restaurant in East Los Angeles.
Now we both live nestled in the lap of luxury. But you can always recognize a brother from the 'hood.
