It's been a long time since I've sat myself at this keyboard and watched my thoughts take form. I think the autumn chill in the air gets my chatty juices flowing--I know it does for the Lady. Or, it does when she isn't quiet and sad. Her dad died last month, which means when we go to Montana, he won't be at the kitchen table resting his hand on my head and calling me a "dignified gentleman" or slipping me tasty items under the table when no one is watching. The Lady and Mister and Girl and Boy did not take me with them to Montana to tell him goodbye. Just as well. I do not like goodbyes--unless it's the vet saying them. She told me his funeral was an event he would have loved to attend--and she believes he did--complete with a horse parade, stories, laughter, food and drink, and many hours spent on the front porch talking and watching the little people play.

The lady told me she has 46 years of great and often funny memories of her dad. He was a veritable buffet of personality traits, just a few being--kind, generous to a fault, affectionate, emotional, hot-headed, stubborn, and her favorite, he had an enormous love of silliness. She's going to make it a point to tie unsuspecting guests jacket sleeves in knots from time to time--as well as whatever other forms of silliness he inspires in her along the way--just to carry on his joyful prankiness.

I realize I haven't blogged for some time. I've had a lot on my plate what with taking my people for walks and keeping them on an even mental keel. This is a very busy time of year for people with active pups. There are end of course exams, a shrinking amount of time to turn in unfinished work, not to mention overlapping sports, graduations, concerts--none of this means much to me, as I am uninvited. However, I hear them talking about this stuff, and I do my best to ensure that they get quality dog time when they return from these various activities as well as while they are home trying to complete their projects. It's important for them to feel needed. Also, I've heard the Lady tell the Mister that seeing how happy and in the moment I am while at the park or swimming makes her feel lighter, like she's able to absorb my buoyancy. She's a work in progress, that one. I'll have her rolling in the grass and chewing on sticks before she knows it.

Yesterday someone tried to eat me alive. The Lady and the Girl and I were out for a walk to the park. Have I mentioned how much I like the park? So much green space, so many good smells--and water fountains! I love water fountains. Anyway, when we were walking past a particular house not far from ours, there was a lot of growling and crashing behind a tall wooden fence. Then all of sudden something flew over the top of the fence and came at me snarling and barking and biting my back legs.

The Lady kept trying to put herself between me and it, but it kept running at me from new angles, and I admit I don't move that fast and I'm a biggish target. The Lady was yelling like I've maybe never heard her yell, out in public anyway, and she shoved me back against a car and stood in front of me with her foot up and aimed right at the thing's head. I would not want to be on the receiving end of that kick, let me tell you. She was angry and scared, not a nice combination. That's when the owners of the thing came running out and grabbed it, all apologies and soft voices. As we walked away the thing got away from them and came after me again for a few more bites to my back legs--I admit I got a little snappy back, but who wouldn't? Then, after that, I didn't want to go to the park any more. So we went home, and I went to bed. Today the Lady says she will take me someplace nice. . . And also buy something called pepper spray to nail that monster should it decide to come after me again. . . I just hope she doesn't miss.

What is up with the human need for fences?

It's the darndest thing. They get a perfectly nice house, with comfortable couches, good food on the counters, water in every bathroom at the perfect drinking height, and then not only do they put doors on the house that my kind cannot open, but they go on to enclose the house and outside happy space with a fence. If I were of the nervous ilk, this might be enough to make me snappy. Nearly every time I go outside there is something much more interesting going on on the other side of the fence.

Today the boy next door was hitting balls with a big stick. I love balls! And sticks! Me grabbing his stick and playing tugawar with him might have been the highlight of his day. And normally I would say I like that boy too, but his lack of interest in my needs today was disheartening. I believe I'll start drawing up a plan for a swinging-door house and a fenceless yard. A dog should be free to roam at will. If he's treated right he'll come back . . . eventually.

I've been thinking about vacations. It's cold and gray here right now. It can be beautiful too, but look at this bird. Doesn't he look like he's dreaming of summer to you? When the fishing is good, the sun comes out regularly, when his legs don't get trapped in ice if he stands and ponders for too long . . .

Seattle in winter is often a dank place--my elbows are a little more stiff during this season, and I have to seek out the warm tiles in the downstairs bathroom. And risk getting stepped on in the middle of the night when my people do a bathroom run.

The Lady and her friend rowed this morning, and she said a couple sailors invited them to cruise down to Mexico and then Argentina with them. She says those are warm places. Warm water to swim in. Warm sand to lie on. Fish tacos. I could do that. Next time she rows--tomorrow, I think--I'm going to see if I can climb aboard her single and receive an invite of my own. Wonder if I should do anything about my drooling or long toenails first . . .

Today is not a good day to die. Turns out the bump on my foot is not something terrible. It's just a bump. I have a few bumps, and every time my people discover a new one, the Lady tries to pretend it's not there until the boy's insistence that she "take Amos to the vet" and get him "checked out" finally wears her down. The Lady knows I hate the vet, and she doesn't like to wrestle me in there and have to answer the questions that she says make her feel like an irresponsible pet owner. As if she owns me--hah! The vet is so weird about poking things into orifices that don't belong to him--why would he do that? Clearly I don't like it. And when I let him know I don't like it, he puts something on my face so I can't bite him. Talk about taking any likelihood of fun out of the picture--sheesh. Thankfully, I don't have to see him again for six months. Maybe he'll relocate during that time, and my people won't find a replacement. There's always hope.

So, in the meantime, I will carry on, trying to teach my people all they need to know about getting the most out of life while I'm with them. Lesson for today: be grateful you have an old dog who loves you. And don't forget to let him know you're grateful. He will accept cheese as your expression of appreciation.