Stayin’ Cool When Things Heat up

We are getting a little heat up here in Michigan today.  And humidity!  That’s close to “humility”, but not the same, I guess.  Being from Brussels, I get a little confused with these English words.  Well, I was born in the US, moved to Canada for a bit, and am now in the US again, so would that make me a Brussels sprout?  I feel like I could be from Brussels.  Oh, Crikey!  I always get off on the wrong foot in these posts.

Where were we?  It’s hot.  And humid.  We are trying to stay cool in the best way we know how.  Mom hung fans over the horse stalls a few nights ago.  They can go in their stalls, eat, drink, and be cool and fly-free.  I’m sure they are happy little campers (if 1000+ pounds can be considered little).

We dogs stay in the cool house.  Air-conditioning is a wonderful thing.  I endorse it wholeheartedly.  And if that’s not enough, every time I get a drink (and I drink a lot of times in a day), I get it out of Atti’s dish.  For whatever reason, Atticus has the water dish to beat all water dishes.  It’s for a really big dog.  Which makes sense, as Atti is a really big dog.  But for a little guy like me, it’s not just a drinker, it’s a swimming pool!

Every time I need a slurp of water, I walk to the dish and continue right on through until I’m standing stock in the middle of it.  Oh, man, but that cool water feels good on my paws and legs.  No one driving by our house would know we have an indoor pool!  What an invention.  The person who thought to make large bowls like that is to be commended.

It helps Mom out, too, since she doesn’t have to wonder if I’m drinking enough.  She takes one look at the trail of wet going out of the dish, through the house and, yup, she knows I’m getting plenty to drink!

Mom is looking more exasperated each time I drink.  Must be the heat getting to her.

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Mini Pearle, the Two-Faced Bitch

A Griff can be having a perfectly normal day (of course that all depends on your view of “normal”) and suddenly the most benign thing can rock his world.  I speak from experience.  And this can happen quite frequently.  Actually, it can happen a few times a day- several times a day if you are me.

There it was on the front of the refrigerator.  I know, I know, it’s been there for weeks.  I guess I just got a look at it from a new angle or a ray of light fell upon it, or something, and I’m telling you, it was CREEPY!  Right there, on the fridge door was a picture of a dog, two pictures of her to be precise.

It was Mini Pearle.  Yup, that’s right, Mini Pearle, daughter of my girl Pearle, the pug-like-Griff.  All the way from Russia.  Now how that picture got to my house, I’m not sure and I’m not asking.  There are things even I do not want to know.  Russia is not where I live, not even close, I cannot see Russia from my deck; and there was a dog (from Russia) on my fridge.  It was too much for me on this particular day.

I freaked.  Mind you, I’m not a freak, but I will admit that I freaked!!!  I lost my marbles, went completely bonkers, loonie tunes.  I know you’ll ask, “Why?”, and “What’s the big deal about a picture of your Pearlie’s daughter from Russia?”, and other inane questions.  Why???  Really, WHY???

This is Rambo talking here.  I have never yet needed a reason to go bonkers, it’s what I do.  Some would say I’m a bit neurotic, eccentric, over-the-top, but, well, yeah, OK, maybe.  And I happen to be very good at acting the nutcase.

I couldn’t stop.  She had to go.  What was she doing up there?  Was she LOOKING at me??  I was just a-barking. whining, spinning, and jumping up trying to reach her.  I’d tear that thing down, make short work of it, shred it and then maybe even eat it, just for good measure.  Mom picked me up and explained it was just Mini Pearle.  Just Pearle’s baby girl.  Yeah, uh-huh, so that means what to me when I’m on a tear?

Mom wasn’t taking it down, and I could not let it go.  Finally we compromised.  Mom can keep Mini Pearle’s picture on the fridge and I won’t have to look at her-Image Well, I’m feeling so much better about all this now.  What picture on the fridge?  Don’t even notice.  I’m really not so difficult, am I?

And we all lived happily ever after.  Until tomorrow.  Or later today.  I’m making no promises because life moves fast when you are One Cool Griff.

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Changin’ It Up

You all know that I’m in a bit of a quandry about the stuff on the fridge.  Taking a look at it from a new perspective, I thought maybe I needed a change of pace.  A different take on life.  A new hobby.  Something to take my mind off that dog-gonned fridge and it’s secrets.

I took a little look around.  There is actually a lot out there to grab the attention of the average dog, let alone a Griff with a mind like steel trap.  Everywhere I looked there was a “thing” that I had never noticed.  Well!  This was just incredible.  All this fun just waiting to be had!

The decision was made. I was going to ride one of those big horses.  Mom always enjoys it.  She likes it so much that she will actually LEAVE ME ALONE while she rides.  If I learn to ride, we could go together.  Side by side down a sunny country road, wind in my ears, the squeak of saddle leather, the smell of a slightly sweaty companion (I mean the horse, not Mom), and my mom beside me to make it perfect.  *Sigh*

Image     I thought I should just get used to the feel of it first.

ImageTrying to assume the position.  Hmmm… Maybe I should take a lesson or two?

Mom will be so proud!  And so happy that I will join her in this.  Here she is- What? Get down?? No, that is not right.  Rambo is NOT too small to ride the big horses.  She’s had too much sun or something, she’s spouting jibberish.  I am hearing the word “no” way to often in this one conversation.  WAY too often.  My dreams are being dashed.

So I did what I know works in a situation like this-  I threw a fit.

Image I WANNA RIDE!!!!!!!!

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Out of Sight, Out of, Well, Let’s Start Over

Refrigerators are notoriously tall.  To a little guy who’s in the 12″ range (Hah!  That’s another kitchen appliance.  I just kill myself!!), the top a fridge is like the tip of Mount Kilimanjaro.  It should be way beyond my wildest expectations to reach this wild and untamed area of the kitchen.  But I, of course, am Onecoolgriff and know no bounds.  No ocean too deep, no brush too dense, no dog too big, no bedding too soft, no lap too warm… ah, but I digress.

The refrigerator- there’s stuff up there.  Might not be interesting stuff, maybe not good stuff, but stuff.  And it could, by all means, be some really great stuff.  How would one know, who is only 12″ tall? 

But it intrigues me.  It occupies my mind, this stuff up there.  I have a burning desire to know.  I eat, drink, and sleep top-of-fridge-stuff.  OK, so you got me there., When I’m eating, I’m thinking about eating.  But the rest of the time, I am absolutely obsessed with the stuff up there.  

The things I could do with that stuff: Is it something to eat?  A toy to be played with?  An important receipt to be chewed up and spit out?  The possibilities are almost endless.  And yet I remain clueless.  About the contents of the fridge top, I mean.

I’ve politely asked to get a look.  Just a peek, please?  But the cute little monkey-faced-dog-thing-with-the-big-sad-eyes is going nowhere.  And annoying?  Can I ever do annoying.  Whining, pacing, spinning, jumping up on the door, whining while spinning, panting while pacing, I’ve exhausted my repetiore.  And almost impossible to believe, my people seem impervious to my antics.

So I’ve decided to put on my big boy pants and do this on my own.  Being small in stature, I sometimes forget I have big boy pants. My charm usually sways any difficult situation my way.  But Mom isn’t being real helpful, and Dad is really acting the dense guy part.  Who needs your peeps to help you get into trouble anyway? So far, I’ve figured out how to jump up onto the dry sink in the corner.  Between the dry sink and the fridge is the water cooler.  Now this is the tricky part because it’s a little wiggly and top-heavy.  I’m still working out the details before I bust this move.  But I will get up there and then it’s the last frontier.  An epic moment in the life of this slightly compulsive-obsessive Griff.  I will have reached the summit.  All the secrets of the top of the refrgerator will be mine to behold.  I’m so close- I can almost taste victory.  It is almost within my grasp. 

Whew!  All of this reconnoitering and positioning is exhausting.  I need a drink and a comfortable chair while I mull this one over. 

The stuff on the fridge may have won this battle, but the war’s not over yet.  I’ll keep you posted- the sweet victory will be shared by each and every one of us.  And we know who we are- those dogs who need to defy reason (and probably gravity, in this case) to get a bigger bite of the pie.  We will prevail.         



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Beggars Bazaar or Bizarre Beggars?

There’s this thing about pet food in our house.  Mom carefully measures the food for each of us at every feeding.  I never see her do this when the people are feeding, but maybe that’s why they are way taller than me.  And for some reason, people food just tastes so much better than my dog food.  Or even the cat food (Yup, you read that right.  I sometimes sneak a bite of cat food from the barn cat’s dish!  I am just sooo devilish!) 

So it is, that every morning, afternoon, and evening, when Mom starts to cook it’s a happening thing.  There is a mass exodus from dog donut beds to the dining room.  Places!  Places please!  Foolish as it seems, this is what we look like:Image

Not one human in sight yet, but we have the cheap seats, uh, I mean choice seats.  The best in the house.  Narry a crumb can fall on this floor without one of us grabbing it up.  This is what dogs do, right? 

Most dogs anyway.  Oh, Atticus, you are such a not-so-dog dog.Image

You are really ruining the image here.  But then again, a look on the bright side says that there would be a lot less for us if you were to rouse yourself long enough to beg. Um, I mean, be vigilant during dinner. 

I really love my Atti but he has a lot to learn about being a dog.  I keep explaining- it’s after the peeps meal that you take the nap.  Just like Dad.  But Dad’s not a dog- oh, man, dog, whatever, I’m so confused now.  I have to go mull this one over.  At least until the next meal.           

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Eight Seconds

Life is so good to me!  Last night the PBR cowboys were on TV doing bullriding.  Gosh, I get so excited when that stuff is on!  The bulls, the bucking, the blood (sorry about that for you faint of heart).  Lights are flashing, music playing, the commentators are yelling.  Whoa, I gotta slow down.  I’m getting all crazed up here.

As soon as I noticed the bulls on the television I was spellbound.


I was right there bucking with Silvano, jump for jump, twist for twist.  Go ahead, give us another bellyroll, we can handle it!  My little heart was about to jump out of my chest.  I did what I could to help him hang on for the whole eight seconds, getting right in the melee-


He made it!!!!  I felt so powerful- absolutely the toughest cowboy-dog on the planet.  I can’t wait for tonight’s round.  All night I dreamed of riding high up there.  *Sigh*  Someday it’s going to be just me and a 1200 pound bull.  And I’m going ride that eight seconds… 

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Office Temps

Everyone’s heard the saying “Another day at the office.”, right?  Ok, so this is a story from my mom.  From her lips to my ears to your eyes. 

Mom was at work the other day, checking her e-mail before she started her day.  She was alone, or so she thought.  There was a bunch of ruckus out in the maintenence garage.  Things were being knocked over, papers all over the floor, and the noise- well, I guess it was pretty loud with all that going on.  Mom steps out to see what the problem is- who’s thowing things around and making a nuisance of themselves. 

But nobody’s there.  She thinks it the wind, maybe.

Mom goes back into the office and is again going through her e-mail, when things in her room start getting tossed around.  And then the culprit comes right after my mom!!!  He tried to hit her in the head!! And then the wayward imp tried to escape out the window.  Well let me tell you something about my mom- this isn’t happening on her shift- oh no!  She grabbed a coat and threw it over the escaping trespasser and brought him down, gently.

 Ain’t he just cute???

Since he looked young and under legal adult age, Mom didn’t want to press criminal charges for the unlawful entry and destruction of property, so she let him go with a warning. 

 Good bye, you little trouble maker! 

And they all lived happily ever after.  The End.

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