Recently, the much loved, much worn soft frisbee that belongs to our year old Golden Irish, Quigley, went missing.  It was so much a part of his daily existence, from 6 am wake up until the last potty run of the night that he was almost unrecognizable without it clutched in his mouth.  We looked everywhere for it.   Despite a giant collection of toys he shares with the other dogs, his Frisbee GPS was always on and he could locate it in a minute if he sensed someone was available to play.   He was visibly sad and at a loss when it came time to play.  The other balls just didn’t have the same appeal.  It couldn’t have just disappeared into thin air, we reasoned.  We searched in every nook and cranny he could possibly have dropped it, discovering some new areas to add to our vacuuming list along the way.

Recent storms made me think that it was carried away like Dorothy’s house in a Kansas tornado.  I spied over the wall at our chronically absent but impeccably landscaped neighbor’s yard.  No sign of the soft, pink 8” saucer of love.   Then, by chance, I discovered it floating in the pool skimmer drain trap.   I was delighted to see it but unprepared for the level of joy when Quigley spied it too.  Without hesitation, he snatched it up and immediately went into a frenzy of legs and paws and much head shaking, to the point where he lost his balance and fell into the deep end of the pool.  This was like a little “Snap out of it” slap but only for a second.  Bounding out of the pool, he proceeded to do the dog equivalent of a ‘happy dance’ and then viciously shook it, as if to say “You bad Frisbee, where have you been?”.  It reminded me of the time my daughter recklessly sped down a bike path, crashing into the bushes.  Her dad, watching helplessly, was both mad at her poor judgment and tremendously relieved that she was OK.

Quigley, ready for action!

So excited, can't wait for the toss.

If you Google dog addition to toys, you will find hundreds of testimonials of dogs who drag around the same toy for years, have specific preferences for certain toys, and sometimes the bizarre and funny lengths dogs will go to keep their BTF (Best Toy Forever) close to them. They spend a lot of time on their own and it’s natural to think that they would bond with something that doesn’t go to work, leave them for hours -unless it’s lost – or make them do silly tricks for treats.  It’s the equivalent of having that favorite Barbie or G.I. Joe when you are little.  And we all know that dogs never really grow up.

Life is good again

We could have, and almost did replace the frisbee.  It wouldn’t have been the same but would have been accepted in time as it sailed through the air to his waiting catcher’s mitt of a mouth.  The worn edges, frayed areas from his teeth, and good doggie smell – all would have been missed and noted.  He took his prodigal frisbee to bed with him, sleeping with it tucked under his paws.  In the morning all was well with the soft pink disc flying across the yard at 6 am.  Like comfort food, a favorite toy soothes the psyche and restores a dog’s faith in man.

John Oliver, go fetch!

Here in Arizona we have critters of a different kind.  Besides being Brewmaster,  I have a responsibility to guard and protect Muggsy and Casey whenever they go outside.  Being little, they are afraid to venture very far into the yard on our nightly potty runs.  Scary cats are out there, known as bobcats (no relation to 3BusyBob) and mountain lions.  Usually, they shop at the Rabbit Mart for their weekly specials but they still like to come around and see if our yard has anything to offer.  They leave their ‘business’ cards as if they think we’re having a drawing for a free lunch or something… just more work for myMom to clean up.

The ones to watch out for, as my friend Starky calls them, are loco en la cabeza.  I don’t speak Spanish but I think I get the idea.  Here’s one of them locos in the video below.  I’m not looking forward to meeting  ’em but I will go into full throttle Rottweiler “Get outta my yod” mode if I have to.  Yeah, you know I’m earnin’ my Bowser Beers!

Next time, we’ll talk about the coyotes.

Yours Drooly,

Dax

It’s raining so we can’t go out to play.  Two of us are transplanted Easterners and used to being snowed in but Muggsy is just a puppy and he doesn’t like being cooped up all day.  In our neighborhood, bunnies and birds provide endless entertainment for Muggsy.  He fantasizes catching them and I laugh as I watch the little tyke – he has so much to learn.  I, on the other hand, once caught a fox in my yard in Maryland.  It was pitch dark and he was downwind of me.  I went into stealth dog mode – no sense in waking up the neighbors with unnecessary barking.  He was bothering my family and posed a threat to my littlest brother, Casey.  I ‘shook’ some sense into him and it seemed to do the trick.  I never heard another peep out of him and MyMom had him removed from the yard the next day.  ‘Nuf said!

Now, I watch over my two little brothers when we all go out to potty, in case sneaky coyotes stick their noses in my yard.  There are other dangers in my neighborhood, but we’ll cover that another day.

In my neighborhood, we have really nice neighbors.  I live with MyMom and 3BusyBob, my ‘dad’.  They adopted me when my owner died and I’ve had it pretty good ever since.  My kennel mate, Maggie, passed away last summer at the ripe old age of 14 – pretty old for an English Mastiff.  Chewy, the ever-smiling Golden Retriever, also left us at age 13 ½.  Now Casey, a pudgy Westie, is getting on in years.  He is blind and has lost most of his hair due to a medical condition.  It’s so embarrassing to admit but he has to wear a t-shirt to stay warm!  He even got a Snuggie for Christmas – he looks like Yoda in it.  Frankly, the grey OSU shirt from alum 3BusyBob is rather smart looking on him.  You wouldn’t catch me in clothes – I go commando like all good Rotties.

Then there’s Muggsy – he’s a pesky little brother.   Jumps all over me and takes my toys.  But I miss him when he’s over at his friend’s house.  That would be Starky, the goofy Golden Retriever across the street.  Like all Goldens, he’s everybody’s friend.  He greets us at about 6 am each morning because we are up before his family.  Cheezzzzzz, it gets Muggsy all worked up and they are so darned happy to see each other.  Oh, and we have horses and other people – it’s a pretty good life.  That’s my introduction to the neighborhood.  More later…

Yours trooly,

Dax