It's been a very difficult few days here for the Lady and her family . . . and then this. Not the outfit I had planned for today.

Nuff said.

It's one of those cold, damp, gray Seattle fall days, the kind that makes my elbows hurt. Still I took the Lady for a short walk this morning along the canal--she needed it. She served at Farestart last night with her rowing team, and she seems kinda pooped and a little spacier than usual this morning. She said that the people she worked with--all the volunteers and the guests--were lovely, but it was BUSY, she said. Now, she's working on a copy edit for Martingale, and I'm lying on the heated tiles in the bathroom, blogging. Who knew I would enjoy this so much (both the blogging and the heated tiles)? Or have so much to say? Today, I thought I'd give the Lady a little plug for her Etsy site. She loves making that stuff and loves selling it too. The gift-giving season is approaching. There, plug done. Now, on to my campaign for a new Christmas swimming hole and a cookie jar I can actually access. If any of you have any ideas about this, please let the Lady know. She is very good with her hands and if she were sent a diagram and a nicely worded letter in favor of her sweet old hound's Christmas wish, she might be persuaded to make one or both. Also, the cats still need relocation. The one that takes my bed is especially cute. She'd make a very nice Christmas gift for someone. Amos, signing off. . .

Turns out playdates are not really my favorite thing. We have a neighbor dog--he smells good and I'm usually happy to see him, but he's very bouncy...very bouncy. Yesterday the neighbor man and the Lady thought ol' Amos and the next-door dog might like to "play." Well, I was thinking it might be more fun to go into the neighbor dog's house and find out what kind of treats his people give him. Instead, he came out and commenced bouncing. He bounced on me so that I fell into a hole he'd dug--I think it's a playdate trap so his friends can't escape when they're done being bounced. Anyway, when I crawled out, I discovered my elbow hurt a little more than before; hence, I was done with "playdating." Weird human term, that.

Today my elbow is better, and the Lady took me for a nice, blustery walk so she could come home and make more Etsy stuff. Wanna see what she's been getting up to?

These are for the holes people get poked into their ears. The Girl has said--and I am in complete agreement with her--that poking holes in your body to dangle things from is bizarre, but the Lady has two holes in each ear so she can dangle lots of stuff. She smells good, and she rubs my belly and gives me treats, and I know she's a little crazy about me, but she does have her weirdnesses. They all do.

At dark-thirty last night we had uninvited guests. They were wearing masks, but I could still tell they were of the uninvited ilk. And I know it's not ring-the-neighbor's-doorbell-for-candy day yet, because the Lady and the Mister put that terrifying talking man/doll by our door when it is. So, needless to say, I got a little irate when the uninvited appeared. They were banging around in my food bin on the deck. Why is that my food is kept on the deck, you might ask? Well, I've wondered that myself. The people have their own reasons for things, it seems. And their system seems to have lured the uninvited to partake of my stuff. So tonight I'm getting my mask on...

...and I'm going to their house to partake of their stuff. I hope they have good stuff...[fade to Mission Impossible theme song]

Today's the girl's birthday. Seems like she was our little girl yesterday, and today she's our big girl. The lady is making a massive amount of birthday cookies I can't eat for the girl and her rowing mates.

I think she's not showing much consideration for the guy is who is with her here through thick and thin, the very guy who loves cookies and has been sniffing around her hopefully for the past hour and a half. These cookies are the girl's (and her) favorite kind, mudslide cookies. I haven't seen any dirt go into them, but I have seen her licking her fingers and eating leftover bits of chocolate. Actually, it's a little worrisome. I can now see the whites all the way around her irises, and her eyeballs are starting to vibrate a bit. Also, it appears she can't sit still or stop talking. Hmm. Perhaps I should take her out for a walk. Walking off some of the chocolate might be good for her. Then she'll have a little nap, and I can have a cookie:-]

So the people did a road trip . . . a long road trip. . . without the dog.

 Even though they know how much the dog likes road trips. The dog got to "go on his own vacation" at a "dog ranch." How is it really a vacation for the dog when the people only left dry kibble with the dog ranch folks for the dog to eat . . . knowing the dog does not much care for kibble? Food and vacation go together like bacon and eggs. I bet they didn't eat kibble. I bet they ate all sorts of stuff from all sorts of places.

I will say this for them, though. When the Lady and Mister picked me up at the "dog ranch," they were dismayed by how skinny I got. Well, the Lady was. The Mister said, "He needed to lose weight, Marc." Hmph. Fortunately the Lady didn't agree, and we've been having treats together since we all got home. Yahoo for pancakes!

Swimming season has returned--yahoo!! The water makes me feel like a pup again. Webbed feet and no weight on my ridiculous elbows allows me to fly in a way I never can on land. I'm a seal come home--the water is my absolute most-favorite place. Yesterday the lady took me swimming at Green Lake--she is such a good lady when she wants to be. Apparently there is some person-in-uniform rule that dogs are supposed to wear leashes and not swim in people lakes, but God love her, my lady says those rules are meant to be broken. Of course, the people in uniform have made her get out her wallet on two occasions, but now she says "I'll run and you swim, Amos, maybe they won't catch us. And if they do catch you, how could they resist your charms?" I do know how to be charming, it's true. I'm going to get off this computer and go see if I can charm my way into a repeat of yesterday's marvelous-ness. Happy swimming season!

The lady and the mister are having a little, um, difference of opinion about the backyard. The lady loves plants and green things--okay, she will admit that she does prefer sort of untamed-looking spaces to what she calls "manicured plots." The mister loves basketball, so much so that he wants to build a basketball court in the backyard. With a big pole and hoop. Cemented into a big concrete slab. Because "the kids need to be able to practice their 3-point shots." For this to happen, a very old cherry tree, a hibiscus, and a small flowerbed that the lady planted when the girl and boy were small will need to be removed so that concrete can be poured...on top of the grass, and moss, and life that is now "backyard." And backyard is not very big to begin with--it is a city backyard after all. The lady says concrete is very hard to get rid of when you wake up and realize you now hate it; hence the term "concrete." She says maybe big flat stones? The mister says the trajectory of the ball would be affected when it landed on stone corners. Today the mister brought me into the discussion, which is why I feel compelled to weigh in. He told the lady that I would like to have a basketball court in the backyard. Honestly, I don't know what he was thinking when he said that. I am nothing if not earthy. I do not like the way my claws drag and scrape on concrete. When we walk, I veer to the grassy strips, away from the sidewalk, and when we go to the park, I never run to the basketball or tennis courts. I head to the field, the grass, the mud, in search of olfactory delight. If the mister asks for my vote, rather than trying to give me one, I will vote no concrete. A pond, however, now that's something I could get behind.

 .

Oh happy day--we have sunshine here today. The lady has promised to take me someplace fun--she made sure to clarify that it's someplace I think is fun. Because last week she took me to a not-fun place--and the week before too. But who's counting. I can smell the vet from a block away, and even though I make it clear to the lady that I do not intend on visiting the vet, she pulls me out of the car and into the clinic anyway. Where they try to bribe me with cookies before they poke me and look at my teeth. And I think to myself how can this possibly be a good thing? Last week, they poked me with something, and when I  woke up both my wrists were shaved and my teeth felt funny. And they tasted different. And for the rest of the day I felt weird. The lady wrapped a blanket around me and brought me cream cheese--oh, epiphany! Looking droopy and shivery equals cream cheese. Sorry to leave so abruptly, but suddenly I'm feeling a little peaked.

Yesterday was this kind of day in Seattle. I took the lady and the mister for  a walk anyway, though. It's good for them to get out. The lady had to bang her umbrella on the ground several times during our walk to get it to go right side out. She hurt her back several days ago--which makes her mutter things she won't allow the girl and boy to say--so we've been doing short walks, and then we go home, and she sits on the heating pad and makes the darndest things. These are for children to wear on their fingers. Seems like the rest of their hands will still get cold, but she hasn't asked my opinion. Another recent creation, yep, seamonster earrings. These are meant to go in the holes people poke in their ears. 'Nuff said? Anyway, it seems to make her happy, making these things. And she does often hide cookies all around the house to "give Amos something to do" while she makes stuff, Dog bless her. She's a good girl. I'll give her a rest and let her make more things . . . as long as she keeps up the occasional cookie hunt.

So, I'm still waiting by the phone for those calls from people looking to give the evil monsters cats a new home. In case you've forgotten about the cats, I'll post a couple more photos of the marvelous creatures.

He always sits like this, like someone most in his comfort zone on the couch with a bag of chips and a liter of soda.

And her with the spooky--I mean luminscent--eyes.

As you can see, they're excitedly waiting to hear about their new opportunities. We needn't bother the humans with this--I'm allocating time in my schedule to handle all adoption proceedings. I look forward to hearing from you.

I've developed what the lady calls "a slight trepidation"--like that word?--around very small humans. She tries to understand it, but I do catch her giving me a baffled look when she sees my reaction to them. And she sometimes says, "You never used to be afraid of them. You're bigger than they are." Well, she's bigger than a lot of things I've seen her shy away from, snakes, for example.

The truth is that small humans are unpredictable. And the older I get, the more unpredictable they get. I seem calm by all outward appearances, and so they react by going all squirrely, trying to climb on me, following me around, pulling on my tail and ears. And they shriek--kinda like the lady's teapot--going all squealy for no discernable reason. They didn't used to do that. The lady thinks maybe because when I was younger, I was jumpy and playful, so they were nervous. Now the tables have turned. I hear them coming, and I chart a different course. The lady can just deal with it and detour with me. Self-preservation is not a bad thing. She can change direction with me when a small human appears, and I'll do the same for her when a snake appears. And I won't poke fun at her, although, really, you oughta see her. She's like 5'10" and wears heavy boots. A snake wouldn't stand a chance.

Oh boy, it's been a long time since my last post. Looks like my guest blogger only blogged once. If I were a human I'd make some kind of judgement about that and maybe call her a slacker--but since I'm a dog, slacking is not a term I use. What humans call slacking, I might call being. I can be philosophical, you see. So anyway, I hope everyone who reads this had good times together during the bring-the-tree-into-the-house season. We went to Montana. Lots of trees in Montana.

The lady and I would live there if we could get the rest of the people to follow suit. The lady loves the stars. We both love no leashes...and the space...the quiet...the smells. She doesn't love it when I roll in my favorite smells, though. Go figure. Humans are an enigma.