Results tagged "Bluedog"

For those of you that aren’t aware, I loathe the post office.

And I know, my image selection doesn’t seem to go exactly with my initial proposed theme here… But stick with me for a few seconds and everything might start to make sense. You see, the other night, Bluedog (the handsome beast featured above… just look at those eyes) was passed out snoozing in the living room. I was cooking dinner while Mr. Sal and Will were out driving around in the snow. And I don’t want to make it sound all YEEHAW, SNOW SPORTS, because we’re totally not, and this weather blows.  And, while it is hard to give an accurate description of the circumstances of events without going into major detail regarding our living situation, I will try my best to be appropriately vague. In short, Mr. Sal and Will were on a biweekly chore of delivering our household garbage to a dumpster located in the woods near our house… Near — meaning that it takes a few minutes to drive to. So when they called to tell me that they had gotten a little stuck and needed my assistance, albeit – a ride home – I was quick to turn off the oven burners, grabbed my coat and found the Bluedog standing at full attention by my side.

Blue doesn’t move for just anything — especially when being summoned from his pre-dinner nap. Had he somehow overheard our phone conversation? Or is it simply that he is THAT GOOD… something triggered the sixth sense… someone needed help — and he was damn near sure that I wasn’t going out there, by myself in the near dark… all the way to the car… all the way to the woods. Completely and totally NOT listening to me tell him that everything was alright, to go back to sleep and not worry… he didn’t even hesitate to push the door open for me… all 100 pounds… how could I argue? And would you just LOOK at his face!?! People are usually afraid upon meeting Blue for the first time… that is until they get past the robust “I’m Going to KILL YOU” bark… that, or when he rubs his ears up against you and then melts into a puddle of love at your feet…

And so, when I was leaving the post office this morning, placing massive child into massive vehicle, I really could have used Bluedog’s presence as the car parked next to us decided to pull out of the parking spot — hitting our open door with the mirror of their Civic… slamming my legs into the running board while throwing me into the backseat — only giving me seconds to grasp what had just happened as I watched the guilty party speed hastily out of the parking lot and out of sight. And I know — the two incidents have very little to do with one another… but even if Blue had been sitting in the front seat, waiting for us — he would have been an intimidating factor glaring the other driver down.. thus causing them to THINK AGAIN before misjudging the space between our vehicles. Either that or he would have been a great attack dog – launching himself onto the roof of the tiny car — barking and frothing at the mouth in a wild attempt to get them to slow down and, at the very least, APOLOGIZE, for hitting us.. ON PURPOSE. Ahhhh… The calm blanket of safety that exudes from Blue’s Alpha-Dogness.

And, yes, I am aware that the whole door slamming incident could have happened in any parking lot in the UNIVERSE, but it just happened to occur in my least favorite place… (just in case you think I’ve stopped hating, fyi).

Because how can people be so horrible while dogs and other loved pets can be all knowing and protective? I wish we could all sit down and take Bluedog classes… ‘Glare 101′ followed by ‘Attack Stance, When to Break the Point’… Right? Because wouldn’t life be a lot more pleasant if we all took the time to look out for one another?

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Bracing ourselves for 70 mile an hour winds… bracing.. bracing..battening.. Yawn.

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It is really hard for me to believe that this pup is 10&1/2 years old. He’s been through quite a bit. Numerous injured paws–he once even caught a stick in the fashion of a sword swallow and had to have stitches down the back of his tongue. He was a mess, but he woke up the next morning raring to go. Two years ago he landed in an odd way after a catch, injuring his back left leg. We thought his days of serious play were over, but he modified the way he holds his leg and acts like nothing ever happened.

He’s completely stretched out on our couch right now–not wanting to move until the rest of the house wakes up. Bluer than the bluest calm, bluer than the bluest swoon and bluer than the bluest breeze. The Bluedog.

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It’s all changing way too fast around here.

Last week I took a look at Will and thought MY GOD, he’s huge! I swear that during the night he grew about 2 inches. Suddenly he was reaching up to turn the faucet on… Suddenly he is making up his own mind–From out of nowhere deciding that nap time–The regular every day 3 hour-plus nap was not for him anymore.. He’s sleeping now (10:41am) so his body and mind are at odds…Yes, definitely my son.  

He’s talking now, or should I say YELLING. Says Hi-BLUUUUUUE when the Bluedog saunters into the room… Dad. Mom. MOOOOM.. BYEEEEE-eeeeee… And everything is hot – he hovers his hand over objects before touching, looks at me and questions… Haute? Guests that have been around — he calls out to them… KAAAAAATTTEEEE KAAAATTTEEE — Anneeeeee–and the infamous, My & G. He couldn’t care less if I use the hair-dryer–an act that used to cause devastating results, what was I thinking.

He’s beginning to get it. Yesterday I suddenly had the opportunity to design a logo. I looked at Will, who was starting to vibrate due to being in-doors via inclement weather. I said, under my breathe–mostly speaking to myself, “Will I just need to sit at the table to get this done, are you going to let me?”.. Glancing in my direction, I sensed that he was annoyed by my suggesting that he would object. He pulled himself from the pile of toys he had been mildly entertained with, picked up his pad of paper, walked to the table and put his hands  in the air for me to lift him into his seat. Once I had peeled myself from the floor I decided to let him try out some watercolors. I sat next to him and the work began.

Is it too soon to talk to him about controlling the internal artistic angst that comes with being creative, or do you think he knows already?

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