Dog Thanksgiving

Dad says this week is a special week for humans. A lot of them are here at the RV Park because of a holiday called Thanksgiving. (We are now at one of my favorite parks, Silent Valley Club near Banning, California). Dad says Thanksgiving is a time that humans remember all the things they are thankful for and the other humans they are thankful for. They do this by stuffing themselves with lots and lots of food. Sounds like my kind of a holiday.

Silent Valley RV Club is a happy place for me.

Often I have to remind Dad that I’m not so familiar with some human words. “Thanks” is one word that I have little clue to the meaning. So he tried to explain it to me. He says it is an emotion or a feeling that you get when someone does something nice for you or when something nice happens to you for no reason at all. Then, you tell that human or any human how you feel about what they did or how you feel about the good that happened to you. He says that you want to give that human encouragement for being nice. It’s sorta like getting a treat when you do a trick well. The human wants to “thank” you for doing the trick well, so he gives you a treat (the only way he has to tell you how good he feels about it). Now I see why food is involved in this holiday. He says it’s also like when I lick someone that makes me happy. He says licking is a dog’s way of saying “Thanks” to a human.

He says that this holiday was started almost 400 years ago by humans called Pilgrims that were moving from their den in England to find a new and better den in America. They were thankful to the Indians (those are the humans that already lived in America) for helping them find food and to their Father for providing good food to them. (From what Dad told me humans didn’t continue to thank the Indians, but they did in that first year.) He said that they ate squash, beans, stewed pumpkin, wheat and corn and Turkeys and deer. So some of these things are now eaten each year to remember that first Thanksgiving.

So, now I kinda understand it, so I want to tell you about what I am thankful for.

First of all, I'm thankful that I'm a dog and not a TURKEY! Thanksgiving is a bad time for them!

The very first thing I am thankful about is that I’m not a turkey. I think turkeys have it pretty bad at Thanksgiving, being caught up in a human tradition like this. So, I am very thankful that I am a dog and not a turkey. I’m sure glad they didn’t eat dogs that first Thanksgiving. Life would have been a lot different for us. Having the family pet served on a platter each year would not be a very happy thing for dogs.

Dad deserves my thanks for all the special places he takes me. Thanks Dad! I'm especially thankful for Mom (Donna) who runs and plays with me when I don't have my dog friends.

I am very thankful for Mom and Dad on this Thanksgiving holiday. These humans are my adopted parents and they do a lot to care for me. They sacrifice their time, spend their money for my food and health, give me lots of love, take me on long walks and pick up my poop for me. Those things make me feel good. They also argue with each other over what is best for me. I guess I’m thankful for that, but it would be nice if they would agree more often. I guess the result is that I get the very best of care with two humans always giving me such attention. (I would thank you more next year if you would consider letting me stay outside without a leash on. It’s so confining!)

I also want to thank and be thankful for the man that makes my treats. He must be a really good human because I’m happy every time I eat a treat. I have never met him, but I think his name is Mr. Iams because that’s the name on the treats box. (I would thank you more if you would make the treats larger though.)

The human that makes our motorhome must be a very good man. I am thankful to him that I have a safe and comfortable place to live and ride. Thank you Mr. Alfa. (I would thank you more next year if you would make it less expensive for Dad to drive the motorhome. I like to see a lot of places in this country and it takes too much of Dads food money to drive so far.)

The humans that make my water bowl and food dish have to be thanked. Those are things I use every day and they make me happy when I use them. I don’t know their human names, but if you are reading this, thank you very much. (However, if you could make my food dish bigger I would thank you more next year.)

Oh, yes, the humans that make the RV Parks where we stay have to be thanked. They make dog walks, make it possible for me to meet other dogs and make us safe and comfortable. (A few more places to run without my leash would be appreciated and I could thank you more next year.)

I'm thankful for Casey (my girl friend) and her Mom and Dad Karen and Steve.

I thought I would never say this, but the Vets that take care of me when I am sick are really good humans. They are nice to me and only occasionally poke me with long sharp needles. Dad says it is to make me healthy, so I forgive you and thank you for being there to help me when I am sick. (Could you make that needle hurt me less next year? I’d thank you more if you could do that. Oh, and more treats when I come to visit, but I’m thankful for what you do anyway.)

I'm thankful for all my dog friends that I've met over the years, here's Saylor (the dog) and Cindy.

I especially want to thank all the tiny humans that stop to play with me. Without you, my days would be boring. (I would thank you more if you wouldn’t take so much of my fur with you. It’s called petting, not pulling, thank you.) I am especially thankful for my new “niece” Chloe. She is a beautiful little human and I’m thankful she is so healthy and smart.

I'm thankful for all the small humans that stop to pet me and play. Here's Benny and Garry tickling me in Silent Valley Club.

I am thankful for all my dog friends. Casey is one of my favorite girl friends that I’m thankful for. I see her in the summer at RedRock RV Park. I like to run and play with my adopted sister Genevieve’s dog Megan in North Carolina, my Uncle Johnnies new Golden Retriever Mia in California, and Lucy (my little human friend Jennie's dog from Silent Valley RV Club) and all the dog friends that I have met all over the country. You have made me happy as a dog and I hope you get a whole lot of table scraps at Thanksgiving. (If not, once the humans fall over and fall asleep from eating so much, you should be able to eat as much as you want. (But don't eat too much.. see the article below on how you can eat too much on Thanksgiving if you are a dog!)

I'm thankful for my sister Genevieve's dog Megan and the fun I had with her.

Finally, I want to thank all the humans that have made my life happy and who call me by my name (Reggie) and stop to pet and talk to me. Thanks to Johnny Rocket (who takes me on walks when Mom and Dad leave the RedRock RV Park for a little while), Gordon at RedRock RV Park (who always teases me with his wolf calls), Steve and Karen (who are the parents of Casey my girl friend), Uncle Johnny, my sister Genevieve, and so many more humans that give me some of their time. I hope you all fill your guts with lots of good food on Thanksgiving and thank all those humans (and I hope dogs) that make your life happy too!

I'm thankful for my friend Lucy (the dog) and her sister Jennie, my friend from Silent Valley.

I love my sister Genevieve, and Dad. I'm thankful Genevieve graduated from college cause it makes Dad happy.

I guess finally I’m thankful about who I am. It’s fun being a dog and I’d hate to be a human with all of those frightening responsibilities. Its good to like who you are and I do.

I'm thankful I'm me!

Happy “dog” Thanksgiving to you.

Arf

Reggie

What Does Size Matter?

Dogs are faced with size issues all the time. Whether something is bigger or smaller than us gives us a clue about whether we should be afraid and do something, like run for it or attack something. Sometimes you find out that running from something that has no intention of harming you is a wasteful exercise. For instance, our motorhome is gigantic and yet I don't run from it, at least when it is still. In fact, it is home to me and I like it. But a smelly and noisy diesel truck that pulls in next to our RV site is something worth standing up and moving away from. I've been told it has the ability to squash an unaware dog. I don't want to be that dog.

Little birds don't frighten me. Small is good in birds.

Birds are smaller than I am and I don't fear them, except the occasional white bomb they drop on me. So I just keep on sleeping when one walks my way. I do give a bit of consideration to a goose. They stand taller than I do. Geese (that's more than one Goose) don't seem to like you sniffing them and they have a habit of pecking at you pretty hard. There are a lot of geese around us here at this RV Park (Wilderness Lakes in Menifee, California). They live here and walk around like they own the place! I try to avoid them.

On the other hand, beware of large Geese. They can peck you to death!

Humans are different. They don't come in large size differences (like us dogs do who can differ by at least 10 or more times in size.) You can't really judge their ability to harm you by their size. The tiny humans can do a good job of making your day go sour when they grab a wad of your hair and pull real hard or when they decide your eyes are really marbles to be played with, or try to mount you like a horse.

Tiny humans can turn on you in an instance, running away with a fistful of your golden fur.

Really BIG humans are often very friendly to us dogs. For humans you have to listen to their voices and watch their body language and see if they are carrying a big stick over their head, or a fist-full of rocks. If they are yelling at you, starting to throw something at you and running towards you, or if they lift their foot at you, that's the time to run away, and fast. Luckily that doesn't happen much, and never has to me. I guess humans just naturally like me.

Other dogs pose an interesting problem with regard to size. Us dogs vary a lot in size from the smallest Chihuahua at 2 inches tall and 6 pounds, to the English Mastiff at a record 343 lbs, 8 feet long and up to 36 inches tall (to the shoulder).

Did I say that sniffing small dogs can get to be a problem?

You would think that really small dogs would not pose a problem to me. I look down at them and feel like I could either take one bite and swallow them whole, or at least finish a good portion of them. (I hope you know I wouldn't really do that!) However, they are often ferocious and will attack ME (the bigger dog) without any reason. They use their small size to an advantage to put me off my guard. I think they have the feeling that just because I am bigger, that I will hurt them and they want get the jump on me and be the first to attack. So.. when we walk around the RV park I tend to avoid the runts. They usually bark and make a big fuss, but lucky for me (and my nose) they are usually tied to a stake or on a leash with their owners straining to protect me from them. Oh.. and let there be two of them (they usually come in pairs for some reason) and they can really be frightening. One is going for your face and the other for your rear-end. Also, even if you can get close to them without losing a body part, it's frustrating to greet them. They are jumping up trying to sniff your rear and I have to bend down so low to do the same that it's sometimes painful to my back to do so. It's just not a match. The Yorkies are especially cute and yet ferocious. Someone needs to tell them to loosen up!

Dogs my own size are usually OK. I can play with them on an equal pawing. Everything matches front to rear and they understand how things should be between dogs. I especially enjoy playing with the Golden ladies. They are slightly smaller and smell very nice. But I digress.

Dogs larger than me are a bit frightening. Luckily, I don't see too many larger dogs in RV parks. I'm usually the biggest one. All the humans want to know how much I weigh and how old I am. They say they are impressed that I can live in a motorhome without either tearing it apart it, turning it upside down or tearing up the entire inside. It kinda hurts my feelings that they think I could do such a thing, but I discount it by the fact that they are human and by nature don't really consider my feelings or other dogs feelings are as important as their own.

I kept my distance from these Newfoundlanders at the dog park.

If I go to a dog park I'll sometimes see dogs larger than myself. The Great Dane, the Mastiff, the Saint Bernard, the Newfoundland and the Irish Wolfhound are ones to watch out for. They are not usually mean, just clumsy and well, if you get in their way when they are running with the pack, you can get a nasty fall or bruise. You also want to avoid stepping in their poop. It's usually pretty big. They also drool a lot more. They can put you down and stand over you and drown you with their drool. It's a rare occurrence that I see these big guys. It is always a special experience to look UP at a dog instead of down. Makes a guy a bit humble.

So what's the point of this blog on size, if there is one? Dogs come in many sizes, and besides deciding whether to look up or down you need to figure how much harm they can do to you. They all have the same number of bones, muscles, and similar smells, but each bone or muscle is larger or smaller depending on their actual size. I guess you can't always tell much about the dog by its size or even its color or shape or hair length. You have to get to know it, sniff it, and try to play with it before you really know whether the other dog is going to be your friend or foe.

I don't imagine this applies to humans, but don't judge a dog by its size (or shape or color or hair length). Get to know it, love it, spend some time with it and above all respect it and you'll get a lot of the same in return and usually much more.

Arf,

Reggie

Happiness of Puppyhood

This blog won’t tell you much about RVing, but maybe we can take a rest from that this week. It’s more about doggie feelings and a little about what life is about for dogs. I’m not sure humans can relate to memories of puppyhood or tiny humanhood, but maybe you’ll know us canine’s a bit better when you read it. Knowing us better can be a good thing, for both of us (canine and human).

Happiness can be re-lived and maybe extend your life. Try it.

I believe that memories help define our lives. Us dogs have short lives I’m told so I think it’s important that we remember things in our past and re-live them as much as possible. Maybe remembering the past makes it seem like our short lives are really longer by repeating the experiences in our minds. If you just remember the good times again, you can double your happiness. Makes sense to me. You can’t deny that more happiness is a good thing, can you? So, I’m sharing some of my good memories of being a puppy.

Nothing like running free in the weeds to make a dog happy! (unless it's chasing a rabbit too!)

Puppyhood is a happy time because you don’t know all the rules and you can break a lot of them without getting yelled at. They give you a lot of room for making errors and say “he’s just a puppy, he will learn, don’t be so hard on him.” And they should, because it’s true. Us puppies don’t come into life knowing everything, so we have to learn. We get a break when we are puppies that we don’t get later in life. We should take advantage of it!

I remember my first few weeks of life (I’m told that humans can’t do that…) with my five brothers and sisters. I didn’t stay with them long enough to know their real names (I think we were called by colors of the nail polish on our heads, I was red), but I got to know them pretty well since we shared a small box together for several weeks. Close physical intimacy can count for a long amount of “knowing” time (especially with the smelly breaths and bottoms of 5 dogs stuck so close to your nose.). I remember my brother that always nipped at my butt (I think he was called “Blue”). He’d pretend like it wasn’t him that did it, but I knew better. “Blue” got great pleasure from waiting until I was fast asleep and then he’d nip me in the butt with his two sharp teeth (that’s all he had then.) It kinda hurt, but I’d jump up and turn around and he’d be pretending to sleep. I got my revenge though, I was adopted before him!!

Laying around all day in a blanket lined box could be boring, but we had lots of games to play that I liked. One of my sisters, I think she was “Yellow”, (I had 4 sisters), liked to jump out of the box and hide. We’d all peer over the side, yelp and look for her. Our mom would go get her and carry her back by the scruff of the neck and drop her on top of us. Ouch! I tried it once but the whole box dumped over and all of us scrambled away looking for places to hide. Mom had a great time rounding us all up. I was always the last one to be found. I used to hide in the shoe closet. All those strong human smells masked my smell from my Mom (her name was Rachael)! I usually had to yelp to get her to notice me.

Can you remember the first time you chewed on a pine cone?

Once I was adopted and said goodbye to my real mom the happiness didn’t stop. Oh, it was sad to leave Mom and Blue and Yellow and Green and Orange and Black. But I had a new life to live now and got to go live with my adopted human parents. They lived up in the mountains in a place called Colorado and what I remember most was the all the snow and big trees and pine needles. I really liked to jump and run in the snow and roll over a lot. The snow was cold and it was funny tasting. It tickled my tongue when I licked it. When I ran fast, sometimes I fell on my nose and it was covered with white snow. (It didn’t stay there long, for by some magic it quickly disappeared.) I guess I was a bit clumsy then. Mom and Dad laughed out loud when I did that. (I admit I did it on purpose a couple times to get the attention and laughter.)

I've always loved being in the snow. As a puppy I could play in it a lot.

I loved to play outside in the pines. I ran in circles and chased my tail.

Being a puppy in the mountains was a cheerful time. I could run in circles and chase my tail and roll over and over and make Mom and Dad laugh. It made me feel like an important puppy to have all that attention. I could put my head on the carpet and put my butt in the air and wag it back and forth to make Mom laugh. I learned to jump up the stairs real fast and then tumble down. I didn’t get hurt on the soft carpet and it was fun. Puppies have really limber legs and necks and don’t get hurt very easily.

I could chase my new sister Genevieve’s favorite shoes when she threw them on the floor and bring them to her. It was fun to fight for the shoes. I’d pull and she’d pull and I’d fall on my butt when they slipped out of my mouth. She would laugh and I’d be happy. (Dad didn’t laugh too much at this activity.)

My sister Genevieve laughed when I stole her shoe. (Dad didn't), but it was also fun!

I could run outside and run in large circles until I was so tired I would fall down exhausted and plopped down on a bed of thick pine needles. Later, I would sleep in Mom and Dad’s bathroom and curl up behind the toilet. I fit there real tight and it was quiet (a little smelly though at times.)

Curling up behind the toilet was a favorite place after I ran all day. (It was smelly though.)

I remember our first walks. Dad would put a small collar on me and a leash. I just turned around and backed out of the collar and ran. It was a fun game. Dad would chase me and he would almost never catch me. I’d let him get close and then I’d turn tail and run. Of course, all he had to do was offer me a treat and I’d be there quickly. He’d grab me and put on the collar again, but this time he made it tighter around my neck and I couldn’t pull out of it. So, I learned to let the collar stay on and he loosened it for me. Another important lesson of puppyhood!

Oh do I remember my first sight of birds. Little jumpy things, kinda cute as small animals go; so fearlessly jumping around my head when I was playing outside in the pine trees. I would lie down and try to sneak up on them, but they just ran into the air and disappeared. I was shocked. How could something just disappear. I rubbed my eyes to make sure they weren’t covered with something, and tried it again. Same thing. They would run into the air and disappear every time. One time I saw them in the distance and decided to get a real fast start on catching one. I ran as fast as I could and as soon as I got close they all just jumped up and disappeared into the air. I tried jumping into the air myself, but ended up on my nose in the pine needles. So.. I learned early what Dad finally told me was called flying, that I couldn’t do it and birds could and that’s why I’d never catch one. But the memory of doing that makes me smile and happy that I’d been so young and innocent that I didn’t know what I was seeing.

I ran after birds until I figured out they could fly away. It was fun though!

One of my fondest memories of puppyhood was when I was very small. I had just come to my new adopted home. I had to pee about every hour and it didn’t matter to me where I did it. But, Dad decided it mattered to him, so all through the night Dad would get up, put his shoes on (while I nipped at his toes) and he’d pick me up and cradle me in his big arms, say unintelligible but comfortable sounding things to me, walk down three flights of stairs in the dark and let me down gently in the snow so I could pee. I remember seeing the snow disappear as I did my thing. It was magic. There was even steam coming up from the snow. This didn’t last long because I figured out I could please Mom and Dad even more by finding my way down the stairs and out the little outside door they had built for me and out to the patio to pee all by myself. I was proud that I could do that by myself. (But I missed Dad’s caresses as he carried me down the stairs. I think he missed them too!)

Being held and cuddled made me happy as a puppy. I'm too big for Mom (or Dad) to hold me now. A shame!

My point is that being a puppy was fun, and happy and yes, carefree. You had no troubles, no responsibilities, no aches, no pains, just plain happiness. You didn’t have to worry about deadlines for blogs, or where to poop, or which trail to take in the forest, or which place to lie down to avoid Mom and Dad’s feet, or not chasing cats, or anything like that. When you get older, humans expect you to protect them, to act maturely, to pee and poop outside (and not on the grass), to stay near Mom and Dad (not run away) and obey all the rules of the RV Park. All of that takes some of the fun of life away from you… and the happiness too. I guess I would prefer to be a puppy again. Actually, I’m not sure I ever changed from being a puppy, other than from getting bigger. I still enjoy all those things, but, well, big dogs just aren’t supposed to act like puppies. Isn’t that a shame? Especially when it creates so much happiness.

The colder the better for me. I was born in the Colorado mountains. It was natural for me.

So, now, after re-living these happy memories with you, I feel twice as happy as I was before I started, and maybe have extended my life a bit longer by the memory of it all. I’m sure this doesn’t apply to humans, but it sure works for me.

Do you know a better way to be happy than to repeat your happy memories? Try it.

Arf,

Reggie

Dog Music

Have you ever wondered whether us dogs pay attention to the human made noises you call Music? I bet you have. At times we join in by singing (Dad calls it howling.) and then you notice that we are paying attention. Sometimes we wag our tails or jump up and down when you play a good rip-roaring country western piece of music (like Boot Scootin' Boogie, or as I like to call it, Butt Scootin' boogie (Yeah, heel, toe, docie doe come on baby let's go Butt scootin'). If you've ever seen me wag my tail, you'll know I have the rhythm for music. (Dad says my tail should be registered as a lethal weapon! But I'd prefer to think of it as a big drum stick.)

We have good hearing, but do have a different range of hearing than humans. Mostly higher frequencies that you can't hear. That means we like some of your music, but not all. Mostly however, when you play music, we hunker down and either cover our ears or find a place far from the sounds. Dog and human tastes are far apart. Come on, how could any animal like the loud noises that come from some of your sound making boxes?

I personally like at least two kinds of music to go with my different moods. When I'm trying to relax or sleep I don't mind a soft classical piece of music, something by Brahms for instance. I know. I must sound smart, but Dad told me it was Brahms. (Whatever that is.) I can sleep with the soft sounds of a violin or a soft piano playing.

But when I'm awake and want to play, bring on the doggie songs. One of my favorites is "How much is that doggie in the window". I think I like it because Dad plays it occasionally. He said it was one of his favorites when he was young. I also like the words and the fact that the little girl fell in love the dog in the window. A sad one, but still a favorite is, "Where has my little dog gone?". It's sad to know it has left its owner. Of course, I can really wag my tail to "Hound Dog" by Elvis Pressing, or whatever his name is. Have you heard the song "I found my best friend in the dog pound". Or the tear jerker, "Dad gave my dog away"?

Some songs just make you happy you're a dog, like "Scratch my back" (Songs to Make Dogs Happy by Lauren Canyon Animal Company), or "I'm an Adventure Dog" (Songs to Make Dogs Happy), or "You're a Good Dog" (same group). Makes me want to jump and sing (er.. howl). If you haven't heard the hit, "Squeaky-Deakey" go to Amazon and download it. It makes sounds like my squeaky toy which I love.

I like to fall asleep with Brahms Sleep Softly My Child playing on my iPOD.

Dad puts the songs I like on my iPod and I can listen for hours. He has a wireless version that fits on my head and I don't have to worry about the cords getting in my way.

Mom and Dad like songs that make us all happy, like "On the Road Again". They like to play that when they start driving the motorhome.

Us dogs dance to music too! When Mom and Dad dance, I push my nose in-between their legs and follow them around. Sometimes Dad will let me jump up and put my paws on his shoulders and dance with him. (Not too often.)

You don't think I can dance. Look at this move!

I found a book at Amazon that teaches you and your dog to dance together (Dancing with Dogs, A step by step guide to Freestyle) , or Clicker Dances with Dogs). I guess in the fancy dog shows, dogs dance Freestyle with their owners for treats. (See I told you we have musical ability. Look on YouTube.com and type 'freestyle dog dancing' for a lot of videos. I haven't quite mastered that yet.)

Dad's teaching me to play guitar. My claws are great picks! Although I'm having a small problem with paw chord positions.

I am working on playing the guitar. Dad says my claws are perfect for strumming the guitar. I just don't quite have the paw positions down yet. It's fun to strum the guitar and make music on my own. Dad has a piano in the motorhome, but he hasn't let me use it yet. Somehow I think I'd be a good piano player. (If you don't mind a 'paw chords' as Dad calls what my style would be.)

Well, music brings a little fun and joy into my life and into most dogs lives. So don't take us for granted when you think about what to play. We generally don't like "heavy metal" or real loud music (it scares us), but choose something soft or jumpy (I like boogie woogies).

Dad has a little internet store that has a bunch of musical CDs just for dogs and dog lovers that you can buy at Amazon.com. Visit it and see if something interests you.

Arf, arf,...arf,.... Arf... (just a little tune for you)

Check out Dad's store: http://tinyurl.com/dogMusic

Reggie

Things Break

You might think that when I'm appearing to sleep as I lay outside the motorhome for hours on end that I'm just sleeping. You'd be wrong because I do a lot of thinking. With so much free time I think a lot about what I see and hear around me. Something I've been thinking about lately is the "things" that humans have.

I'm not sleeping. I'm thinking about things.

Us dogs come into life with only the hair on our backs, go through our life with scarcely any more than that and leave with that same hair firmly attached. Humans come into life without that hair, leave with slightly more hair and in-between accumulate tons of “things” that appear to them to be necessary for life. What have those “things” done for humans that us dogs don’t have or don’t get to experience? The “things” come at great expense to humans. They spend most of their day working hard to get the money to buy those “things”, and most of the rest of the day using the “things” and the remainder sleeping.

When do humans have time to think about life? When do they have the time to really enjoy a beautiful sunny and scent-full day? (that’s a day with nice smells all around)

“Things” are made of materials that humans dig out of the earth, or cut off the surface of the earth and are made through various magical ways into different shapes and sizes to make noises, dig deep holes, make smelly messes, move around fast, fly through the air, and did I say, make noises? In addition, all of these “things” are continually breaking. They work for a little while making humans amazed at their own intelligence at making something so wonderful, but then they break. Then, humans swear, and scream and fret about getting them working again. They spend more time working to earn more money to get them fixed. Then, they break again, and again.

It seems that the more “things” a human has, the more time he spends working to get them fixed.

Noise making things that break.

Some examples are in order. Dad has many “things”, including many computers, lots of cameras and stuff to go with them, noise-makers (Dad calls them music-makers which include iPods, or radios, or TV’s, or stereos), things that plays what Dad calls movies, strange looking things to cook with, even something that makes a lot of noise that makes frothy liquids, things with levers that you sit on to go poop (what’s wrong with squatting where you are?) , things to tell Dad where he is that he calls a GPS (I don’t start to understand that. I’m right here and don’t need a complicated bright shiny object to tell me that!). Anyway, you get the idea. He has lot’s of “things”. And they are always breaking.

The Segway breaks.. and then where are you (on your butt).

Dad has “things” that move including, the motorhome, a car, and a thing that he glides around on called a Segway. (It’s broken right now. As it was last year this time. Dad will spend Monday trying to get it fixed and many days working to earn the money to pay the man that fixes it.) The car needs to be fixed a few times a year and so does the motorhome. Anything that moves seems to want to stop on its own and refuse to go further without Dad having to spend more money on making it go again. (What’s wrong with using your four legs to go where you want?)

All these things eventually break.

The motorhome is filled with “things” that are always breaking. Something to cook food called a microwave breaks (Why do you need to cook something anyway? It tastes best when fresh.). Something he calls a refrigerator to store food and make it cold breaks. (Cold food just doesn’t have the good smell as warm food and what’s wrong with just digging a small hole and burying your food to store it. Humans make the simplest things so complicated!) Something Mom calls an ice-maker that makes water cold and very hard breaks. Mom is always upset that it is not making ice. (To me, water tastes better when you can lap it out of a bowl and have it splash in your nose. Why make it so hard?)

My point is that Dad and Mom spend a lot of time making money to buy “things” that never seem to last for long before they have to replace them with new things or get them fixed again. Dad is always stressed about something breaking. At any one time, Dad is preparing to go somewhere to get something fixed, or is working on fixing something broke or is on the internet trying to buy something to replace something that is broke.

Just stop and smell the flowers (without any "thing" to help you).

It seems to me that humans are so busy buying “things”, using “things” and fixing them that they are missing the point of life. I don’t think life is about making a large cave filled with “things” that move and make noise. I think life is about sniffing the flowers, raising your leg on a beautiful tree, smelling the dirt, and the grass, looking up at the birds flying in the sky, digging a nice hole in the dirt, rolling around in some nice cow poop, running after cats, barking at cows, barking at the other dogs that pass by your motorhome and running with them at dog parks, lying down and relaxing and then relaxing some more when you get tired of relaxing. Humans just don’t seem to “get” life.

Stop and dig a hole. It's relaxing.

My advice to humans is to stop buying so many “things” and look around you at what mother nature has provided to you for free, without much work required other than to avoid destroying them with your “things”. All your “things” mask the natural smells, and sights and sounds, so stop using them and just be happy with those things that mother Earth has provided for you. You’ll be happier each day (and so will I).

I hope I haven’t offended too many of you with my critical assessment of your daily lives and your “things”. I know I’m a little guilty of it myself.

My one little "thing" sin. I use a laptop to write this blog.

Using this laptop computer to write about “things” doesn’t seem right, does it? But it’s my one little sin in life. Forgive me. At least I don’t have to fix it when it breaks. That’s Dad’s job.

Arf

Reggie

Sacramento Delta

We are staying for a month in an area I thought you might like to know about. It’s one of my kind of places, full of smells and lots of water. Right in the middle of that big place humans call California is the Sacramento Delta. It’s a place that most of the water from the mountains comes together before it collects in San Francisco bay and then finds it’s way to the big pond Dad calls the Pacific Ocean.

Dad and I on the river at sunrise.

Humans are animals that don’t like to waste the land they find and this place is a good example of what extremes they go to make sure every inch is used for something. They have built large mounds of dirt along all of the rivers to keep them where they want them, drained the water out and then used all the dried up land in-between for growing food. Dad says humans call the dirt mounds levees. Usually humans make road on top of the levees and you can walk along them.

This is the road we walk on around the levee.

The food plants (Dad says they are called farms) are sometimes 50 to 70 paw lengths below the rivers, so the levees are real important if you don’t want to get really wet. Dad and I have walked around here and even down into the farmland. They grow really tall green stuff Dad calls Corn and he says it’s grown for dogs! Yes, my food has lots of corn in it and a lot comes from here. They grow it, then let it dry to make dry kernels of corn which get hard and are then ground up for non-human animals. They also grow hay for cows, and lots of other stuff for humans. The entire Sacramento Delta looks like a big maze from the air (well, Google Earth). Levee and rivers all over.

Little white boxes with loud smelly engines move up the river.

Humans also use the rivers for making lots of noise. They put big noise-making engines on little white boxes.. When they turn on these engines, the little white boxes vibrate and then move real fast over the water as they make the noises. Dad says these are called pleasure crafts or boats. (They aren’t very pleasurable to me!) He says it costs a lot of money and the larger the noise they make, the more the engine costs. When they stop the engines, they look around to see where the boat brought them and then some of them hold little poles with string on them over the water and just stand for hours with this string dangling in the water. Dad says they tie hooks on the end of the string and sometimes a fish comes along and accidentally swallows it. Poor fish. It must be some weird human ritual. Maybe a tribute to the engines they make.

All along the levees there are lots of places where the humans store their noise making engines and white boxes. Dad says they are called Marinas. Boat after boat waits for their owners to come once a month or so and make noise. Dad says they pay lots of money to keep their boxes in the Marina. Again, some weird human ritual I’m sure.

Houses sit on large legs next to the levee to see above the river.

The houses that border the levees look weird too. They resemble big monsters with long legs. The houses are built below the levees but peek out over the river because of their long legs. Dad says they do that so they can see if the water is going to leak through the levees and be above it when it does. (Humans don’t like getting wet like us dogs do.)

We wait for the sun to rise on the river.

Dad and I walk up to the river every morning and, of course, Dad brings his camera. We wait for the sun to rise up from sleeping and he takes lots of photos of the sun rising over the river. Dad has this thing about photographing when the sun rises and sets. Again, I suspect its another human ritual. They are probably thankful (like I am) that the warm sun comes up again each morning. Taking so many photos is way of showing respect to the sun, maybe??

The sun makes pretty reflections on the river.

There are lots and lots of bridges here that allow our motorhome to cross the rivers. Some are really funny looking. Dad says they call some of them Draw Bridges. They rise up to the skies every so often when one of the really big noise makers come by in the river. They look like giant hands reaching out to the heavens. Again probably some human ritual to honor the big noise makers. (Humans are pretty proud of their engines I’ve noticed. They have so many of them. I still don’t understand the point of them. They are smelly, they are loud and they make things shake so hard they move all around. )

There are lots of bridges over the river around here that draw!

With all this water around us there are lots and lots of birds. Small ones, large ones, noisy ones and quiet ones. Dad says he has seen cormorants, herons, ibis, Canada geese, black birds (thousands of them), and all sorts of ducks. We see large flocks of geese flying in funny formation in the sky. Dad says the geese fly home each night after a day of hunting for food.

The geese fly in formation in large numbers around here. Don't look up!

In the early morning, when we walk we hear big booms all around us that Dad says are gun shots. He says human called hunters are killing the birds. I suspect they are the big dangerous birds that attack humans. Why else would they want to kill the beautiful flying creatures other than to defend themselves?

Sometimes its foggy when we go out. But Dad still takes a photo.

In the evening, when the sun goes to sleep I’m outside (while Mom and Dad are watching TV), and I lie down and listen to the sounds around here. The birds start to quiet down or leave and every so often I hear coyotes yipping. That gets me excited and I bark, but only until Dad gets up and reminds me that it is impolite to bark in the RV Park, so I stop.

Dad likes to photograph the rising sun over the river here on the Sacramento Delta.

So, if you get a chance to visit here look for me. I’m usually at the Delta Shores RV park in Isleton, Calfornia in October. I’m the golden dog with the lap top under his paws under the big tree.

Arf,

Reggie

Tiny People

Little humans or tiny people are an interesting group. Dad calls them children but I prefer tiny people.

I bring this up because yesterday we visited one of them. Dad has a grand-daughter named Chloe. (Dad says she is my human niece.) I’ve never seen Dad and Mom so excited as when they see Chloe. She’s a small package that Dad and Mom carry around in their arms a lot. I’ve seen her walk (although only an approximation to walking) but she seems to like to be carried like a package. Dad says she is only 2 years old. Heck I’m a lot older than her!

Chloe is my human niece. She's "cute" (as humans get).

One of the advantages of traveling in the motorhome is that we can see humans all over the country as we drive near them. Chloe and her parents (my human brother, Damon is her father) live in Northern California and we are staying in a place Dad calls the Sacramento Delta so we can visit with them. There is a lot of water here and fun places to walk, but more about that some other time.

Tiny people pose interesting problems to us dogs. For some reason humans don’t trust us dogs around them. So, I get to stay in the car while Dad and Mom get to visit Chloe. Dad says I have to stay in the car because Damon’s apartment owners don’t like dogs to be in their apartments, but I think it’s because big humans are afraid that us dogs will hurt little humans. Oh, they come out to the car a lot to see me and walk me but still, I’m in the car for a long time.

I had to stay in the car while Mom and Dad visited Chloe. But she came to see me.

I like it when Chloe comes to see me. She’s a little afraid to touch me, but I’m friendly to her and lick her hands and face. She giggles when I do that. I must admit I like Chloe. If a human can be cute, she’s it. She even took me on a walk, holding my leash and petting me. Dad asked me to be gentle and slow, so I was. It was fun to have Dad and Chloe walk me together.

Chloe in her Apartment (without me!)

But, us dogs are confused about tiny people. It’s a love and hate relationship. Let me explain. (Us Golden Retrievers really don’t hate anything or anyone, but it is not always fun to be “loved” by a little people.)

We are often larger than they are and that’s good. It gives us a feeling of being “top dog” and somewhat superior. I know it doesn’t last long because they all seem to grow larger than us over time, but for a bit of time, it feels good. Also, the really little ones don’t talk, something we have in common, again making us feel equal, if not superior.

Chloe likes to be licked by me. She giggles.

Tiny people usually don’t scream commands at us and that’s good. Their little sizes make for little voices. HOWEVER, they do have a form of their voice that only us dogs can appreciate as being extremely painful when they use it. Their scream, while not directed at us, activates all the nerves in my skin and all at once. Dog whistles should be so good!

Tiny people move quickly and are quite difficult to relax around. They jump and run and fall on you. That’s not good. They haven’t mastered the trick of stepping over my tail, but usually step directly on it. Of course, as I jump up in agony, the big humans think I’m attacking the little human. Far from it, I’m just trying to get away from it. If I try to play with them in the same way, watch out.

Little humans haven’t figured out where my head is. They like to grab whatever part of my body is closest, which is often my tail, and then pull. If they try to touch my head it is often my eyes they go for. I realize they are not intending to poke out my eye, but it is a possibility. Give them a stick and cover your head with your paws! They seem to like my floppy ears because they are always lifting them up to see what’s inside. You are lucky if they don’t stick something in there!

Chloe has a bear friend named Teddy Ruxpin. I'm jealous!

Their little hands, as small and “cute” as they are, are dangerous gripping weapons. They can pull out a whole section of hair before you know it. Of course as we yelp out in pain, the big humans think we are attacking their little human and we get scolded. Somehow the big humans think it is cute that their little human is holding a handful of golden colored hair and babbling something like “good doggie”.

Alana is another tiny person that I know. She's one of my human cousins in San Diego.

Please don’t think I don’t like little people. I do. I just want a chance to defend myself when I’m with them. I’m not a Barbie doll (er..Ken doll) that can be picked up, poked at and stepped on. I do have my dog pride!

I’ve also heard that life changes when a little human suddenly appears out of no where. For a long time, you are the center of all human attention in your house, getting all the table scraps, having long walks, playing ball with Dad, laying down at Moms feet while she watches TV, sharing a great moment with them while they are watching “the Dog Whisperer”, and so much more. But as soon as one of those small people appear, it’s into the back yard with you, short walks, no TV, forbidden rooms, and quick pets. Luckily, I’ve not had that experience. Dad says that being a Grandfather is great because all the “stuff” you have to do to care for a little person goes to his son and his wife and Dad gets to have time with Chloe when she is fresh, and on her best behavior. He said it was called something like “sweet revenge”. I don’t understand, but Dad knows best.

I meet some nice tiny people in RV Parks too. This one is named Ginny and I like her.

Chloe is here to stay. I’m sure I’ll have time to play with her on my own terms, but I will have to wait until she gets bigger. We will visit a lot more and I’ll be glad to see her. I’m hoping she will come visit me in our motorhome and take a trip with me. I’d love to show her the cows and she can hear me protect Mom and Dad (and her) from them.

Arf,

Reggie.