The Week in Review

Another week of work with Friday deadlines so Ray spent the week at daycare, making new friends every day. He met an American Foxhound named Marshall that looked amazingly like Ray but was about one and a half times the size of Ray. Marshall had the same coloring and long legs as my hound but no "ticks." He was a huge hound dog.

One morning Ray walked into daycare at the same time as Clover, one of the regulars. In the ensuing melee of greetings, Ray lunged and caught Donny full in the crotch with his snout. The air whooooooshed out of Donny as he doubled over in pain and staggered to the counter.
He pried himself upright and collected himself for a moment then said, "Good morning, VIETNAM."
I apologized for Ray but Donny, just as resilient as the dogs he takes care of, had moved on.

Later that week, I told Kristen, "I need some dog treats."
"We just got some new one's," she said, "Freeze dried liver."
We walked over to look at the liver treats. Ray sniffed the beef liver, then the beef steak, then the chicken liver. He started licking the tub, then picked it up in his mouth and took it off of the shelf. I took the tub from him and looked at the two puncture marks in the lid.
"We'll take these," I said.

I managed to finish up my work on Thursday and took Friday off to clean the house. It was a wreck. I got up early so that I could take Ray for a walk. I wanted to wear him out so that I could clean the house without having him getting into things all day and me having to clean up after that too.

It was a gorgeous, cool morning so we set out for the lake. Even though it wasn't hot, I brought along his "Outward Hound" bowl and a bottle of water. The minute I filled up the bottle, Ray knew where we were going. He was EXCITED. We hadn't been to the lake for at least 3 weeks. He bounded out of the house and cannonballed around the front yard. Then down the block. Then around the corner. I was laughing and "bah"ing and trying not to get hit. He calmed down somewhat and I tried to get him to heel, but he fought me all the way to the lake and half way around.

His energy knew no bounds.

I don't know where we are. I thought you were leading.

We took a path that went off into a townhouse cluster. I hadn't been that way before and didn't know where we were going but I knew Ray needed more exercise.

Which is prettier, me or the flowers?

We fought down that block which ended up on the street that borders the lake, opposite to where we had walked in. We started up that street and stopped for a refreshing drink. At least, Ray was refreshed. My hands hurt and so did my shoulders. I found myself wishing for a little heat and humidity so that Ray would tire just a wee bit. We soldiered on.

I kept turning down streets to take us farther from home. We fought and fought, Ray dragging on the leash, me trying to get him to heel. By the time we were done, we'd gone about four miles. It felt at least twice that. It was 10:00 and we'd been gone two and a half hours (lots of stopping and starting and back-and-forths to try to get him to heel).

I let Ray in the house and he immediately curled up on a chair. I'd been successful in wearing him out but, in the process, had worn myself out. I started cleaning. Ray, who doesn't like the vacuum cleaner, headed out to the backyard. He stretched out in a sunny spot and stayed there. I cleaned, wishing I could go lay in a sunny spot too. All of a sudden, "It's a dog's life" took on new meaning.

At about 5:00, I snapped his leash back on and took him for a walk around the block. He was golden aka 'dog tired.'

The next morning, Gregg got up early and took Ray for a walk. I slept in until 7:00. We had a relaxing morning but I had to be out of the house by 10:00 to get to a baby shower (my first one - I don't know how I've managed to dodge that bullet until now, but I was grateful). I was upstairs getting ready when I heard a clunk clunk clunk clunk clunk clunk....
I yelled out, "Gregg, are you downstairs? Gregg? GREGG?"
This can't be good, I thought. I headed down and found Ray enjoying a cup of coffee in the kitchen. He was standing on his hind legs, one paw leaning on the kitchen counter. Every time he lapped the coffee, the mug tipped and clunked back onto the counter. The cup had been half full, but it must have been good to the last drop because that was all that was left.

This week I got a card from my friend, Joanne.
It's a Hugo look-alike with a Hugo sentiment.