Apr 282014

I was standing in front of this beautiful watercolor.  The watercolor was of poppies in a vase, on a table with things all around it.

To the right was an open door, which led to our back yard. It was a sunny day, as you can see from the light shining on the carpet to the right.

Behind me was my mom.

I was tempted to go outside, but interested in being with my mom, too, but she wasn’t saying “Joey, come” or anything.  I waited, there, listening to behind me, and waiting for her to call me and say “Joey, come” but she didn’t. Still, I waited. I stared straight ahead, and I waited.

And this is what I was thinking at this time.  I was waiting for her to say “Joey, come”, which she never did, at least not then.

 Posted by at 8:45 pm
Apr 182014

Even at 14-1/2, I’m having new experiences, going new places, seeing new things. Here I am in an ocean. A very big body of water. It was different – nothing like I’d ever experienced – but I love it.

babies_visit 110

 Posted by at 1:12 pm
Mar 082014

Scrabble is a favorite game for dogs. 

It’s a family game.

Here, my Dad is taking his turn, and I’m watching him for clues as to his letters.  He’s taking his time.  To me, it’s not about winning. It’s about quality time with my family.

We come up with some pretty good words.

 Posted by at 8:51 pm
Jul 212013

We took a long drive, Mom and I, in her hot car. Once she stopped the car and we went to a store and she came out and fed me a bagel. I was shaking while I ate the pieces as she was handing them to me. Then she went inside and got me one more. Same thing. Best bagels in my life!

Soon we drove, and stopped again. This time she asked me to get out of the hot car, filled my water bowl and laid it on the ground by the car, and I drank, we rested, and then got back in the car. More driving. I was so hot and tired.

Then one more stop. It was a nice place, I could tell lots of animals were there, lots of dogs. It was a wonderful place. Friendly people. But soon I had a very new experience.  Mom says, “Dad just sent you a message, Joey. He says “Show ’em you’re a man!”” What’s that supposed to me?  Soon, into a room Mom brought me – and right there in the room was a female dog! Oh my, the two people there let me smell her and boy was this an exciting experience.  Honestly – I hadn’t expected this!image_1_cropWell, it was a pretty  new feeling.

Things were happening so fast. I’m not really sure what was going on.  Then they separated me from my little female friend, though she seemed to be interested in playing with me:


Pretty soon I was just being held by one of the people, it was very strange. I’m not sure what the point was. It seemed like a long time, and Mom was there too, but she wasn’t helping me very much.

image_3_crI can’t really say that I’d like a repeat of this experience, though everybody was very nice and Mom seemed to be very excited, saying we could have Joey puppies and all.

The drive back home seemed to be faster than the drive down. No stops, no bagels. Back home, I was just plain exhausted, and followed Mom’s instructions when she said, “Joey, drink.”

 Posted by at 12:58 am
Jan 172013

Everybody’s wondering about why dogs eat tissues, why dogs are so fascinated with used tissues. I’m not. I’m wondering how to obtain them. I used to have a source.  My source was the trash basket. There was one trash basket in the 2nd floor bathroom and one in the 2nd floor bedroom and one in the far and darkened corner of the basement room.


The basement one was the easiest to obtain my used tissues because there I had a lot of privacy and because the carpeting absorbed the sound of my walking. If the door to the basement was open at all, I could just push it open a little more and go down the stairs, over to the corner of the room, and pull out used tissues without anybody knowing where I was.  If I was walking around on the 2nd floor my parents could hear my footsteps and rush up and intercept.

I did my business with the tissue right there, and left. That is, I left the tissue, the evidence, on the floor beside the basket.


When my Dad would see it laying there, he would have a fit.

It’s not like I didn’t know what I was doing.  If I was in the middle of my crime and Dad or Mom came home, I would beat my tail behind me in small and rapid whipping-like motions and slink my way upstairs or downstairs. They knew, even before they saw the evidence.

One day I came home and there was a change, an extreme change, to our home in three places.


My parents are pretty smart. I’m going to just have to accept this for the moment or to try to find another source of used tissues. But of this I’m sure: If there is another source of used tissues, I will find it!

 Posted by at 2:50 pm
Aug 232012

I’ve always been excited about going away, getting in the car and driving away. I’ve never been excited about the sight of the suitcases that my parents place on the floors and beds – though the ones sitting up in the attic don’t phase me in the least. But recently my parents started packing suitcases and also carrying my bed to the door. Carrying my bed to the door trumped the depression I feel when I see suitcases out and about. With my bed, I know it’s going to be a good time.

This time my parents made me crazy keeping me waiting. They had my bed at the front door, but we weren’t going into the car. I had to wait and wait and wait until they were ready. They Mom carried my bed into the car, as you can see, but wouldn’t let me sit in the car with the bed. “Come out, Joey,” Dad said.

Was there a point to my having to come out of the car, when my bed was inside the car?

Eventually my parents let me back into the car with my bed.

And that began my overnight(s) adventure at the home of my Labrador Retriever friend Jenny, with her big family.

I’m still a bit confused about the part where my parents walked outside our friends’ home onto their porch and didn’t let me follow; and then stood outside our friends’ front door and  faced me, inside the home, my not understanding why the front door was closing little by little on me, and said “Bye, Joey. We love you. We’ll see you soon” and then the front door closed completely between them and me.  But that’s okay.

And just like my parents do in their home, in the evenings my friends placed my bed at the foot of their bed, and how well I slept.

Occasionally during the day I slept on my friend Jenny’s bed and made her sleep on the sofa. But that’s okay. Those are the rules!

 Posted by at 10:18 am
Jul 262012

I look pretty bad here. What’s worse is how I felt. I couldn’t run, I could barely walk, my parents thought I was dying. And I guess I was. I felt sick as a dog, and I was. My mom wanted me to see my favorite doctor in the world, but she wasn’t there. So I saw the next doctor, then another, and finally I ended up where I should have started out, with my favorite doctor in the world (aside from Dr. Kiko, but I saw him too), who was now back from being away, and my favorite doctor in the world figured out all my problems and made my parents very very happy.

And I’m no longer as sick as a dog.

Here in this photo you can see my shoulder bones, you can see my vertebrae, you can see my sits bones and you can see my hips, bone by bone. You can see my skin flapping around. That’s when my mom said “enough.” Or maybe she said, “This is ridiculous.”

A while back, when my mom took me for a checkup, she noticed that I was losing weight but that doctor didn’t think that was important; he said “He has arthritis and it’s good to carry less weight.” He missed the sign. Then my mom took me back a while later and the next doctor missed the sign too. But my mom kept worrying about me and knew that the doctors were wrong.

So what was the problem?

The good news is that my favorite doctor in the world has me on an antibiotic and I’m gaining weight and you can’t see my bones bone by bone or my skin rolling off of me any more!

And, yes everybody, I’m able to run again!!!

Jun 282012

I don’t think about it, actually.  In the mornings when I’m out walking with Dad, and I’m not clipped to my lead, I really enjoy a quick trot. Maybe a quick dash from tree to tree.  It’s joyous.  In the afternoons when I’m out with my Mom, and she lets me off lead, I’ll do the same. Usually she gets up ahead of me and I’m lagging behind, smelling whatever I can find, and then I see her up ahead and sprint to her. A few times she’s made a game out of it, and she’ll start running, “Come on, Joey. Let’s run” and I do. It’s a nice game.  I get an infusion of energy and life.. “Come on, Joey. Joey’s running!” she says, all the way, maybe one block, maybe less, to our front door. Sometimes she arrives first, and sometimes I do. Either way, she makes a big deal out of it.

Yesterday she took me to Cat Rock Park. It was a nice day. I got to run and toss myself about, gayly and there were a lot of other dogs there and we really galavanted about, swimming and socializing.  but have I had my final run?

Dad doesn’t run with me any more.  After a while I just can’t make it up that big long hill any more.

 Posted by at 8:54 am
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