We decided that on this, the end of monsoon season, we would take advantage of our free tickets (thanks Grandma!), and take a ride on the M/S Mt. Washington, a large passenger ship that sails on Lake Winnipesaukee in New Hampshire. This ship has been sailing in one form or another since 1872 when it was a side-wheeler paddle boat. For as long as I’ve been going to New Hampshire, I’ve been riding on the Mt. Washington, and given the fact that I collected coins during this country’s bicentennial celebrations, that’s a long time. (more…)
I once heard someone say that Irish people like the rain. I’m Irish, and when I was younger I did enjoy a long walk in the rain with my sweetie. But this rain was making my sweetie grumpy, and I’m here to tell you that this rain was not appreciated by anyone except the dogs, both of whom would have been perfectly happy sitting outside in the rain all day long.
Once again we could do nothing interesting outside, so we did what anyone in our situation would do: we went to Walmart. (more…)
Miraculously, we were not abducted by aliens in the night. New Hampshire has a rich and storied history of alien abduction, and I imagine it’s because there no friggin’ cell, Internet or long distance phone service. The aliens know that you couldn’t even send a text message for help, so the deep woods make for ripe picking of human probing subjects. I credit the dogs with our lack of midnight probing that first night. The way I see it, even interstellar travellers would not want to deal with Annie nudging their arms, or tentacles, or whatever it is they use while operating the probulator. Annie got extra head pats from me that morning while I thanked her for keeping the pesky aliens at bay. (more…)
If, after a reasonably long time—say, one-third of a second—you haven’t begun to pet her, she will then take her pointy nose, jam it under your arm and flip your hand up on top of her head where it belongs. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll commence with the petting, or it will just get worse. Actually that’s not true; it always gets worse. (more…)
I blame myself, since I am the chief hoarder of stuff. From guitars to fountain pens to computers to Lego kits, I have some pretty fine stuff. Really though, when it comes right down to it, it’s all just stuff. That’s how Annie sees it all, I’m sure. Maybe she has different categories for our stuff. Perhaps Tasty, crunchy, soft and pointy might be some of her descriptions for our stuff. Maybe she sorts it by smell instead. In any event, she doesn’t seem to understand that it’s not all her stuff. (more…)
There is one toy that she hasn’t destroyed, and her apparent respect for the toy fascinates me. The toy in question has been given the clever name of The Dog Catcher Man. Why? Because it’s shaped like a little man and has the word “Dogcatcher” on the front. I told you it was a clever name.
The Dog Catcher Man is a rubber squeaky toy like you’d find in any pet shop. It’s not a robust toy, and it is no way special except that it was purchased some thirteen years ago. Why do we have a 13 year old dog toy? This toy is special; this was Cozy’s toy. (more…)