Catching Up With the Dog and Pony Show (Perfection and Jail Time)

Inexplicably at Christmas dinner, my sister Beatrice turns to me and remarks, "Jules! He is the PERFECT dog!" I agree wholeheartedly as he is my dog and I am seriously biased but coming from Beatrice? Before I could remind her of Jules delightful penchant for jumping up enthusiastically on visitors to our house or his charming urge to occasionally shove his nose deep into people's crotches, Beatrice and her partner John wax eloquent about how cute he is and how smart and how he loves to chase balls in the backyard... and did they neglect to say he's perfect? Well, there's the little dickens above. I was attempting to procure a "handsome" photo to  illustrate canine perfection, but instead I got the crazy, snarling "let's chew on the photographers leg" doggie that I know so well. (But he is perfect.)
And Maggie? I haven't posted about our Dog and Pony Show for quite a while as I've been preoccupied with the lord's work (that would be self promotion in regards to show in NYC and other seasonal sundries...) But Maggie, far from being perfect is temporarily in prison.

Looks guilty, doesn't she? Last Friday, the very day after Christmas when I was trying to finish baking yet another batch of cookies to take to a good friend's annual Boxing Day celebration, I spied a large dark shape over by our neighbor's driveway. As I didn't have my contact lens in, I could detect that it was moving and while the shape was somehow familiar, it was in an unfamiliar location so it took several seconds for me to process, "Hello! It's the horse!" I sprinted outside, despite having cookies abake in the oven, calculating that a burned batch of cookies was less dangerous than a large hoofed mammal on the loose. Maggie seemed pleased to see me and followed without any ado back to her confines, me all the while thinking how we'd probably have to repair some major break in the fence. But what I see is that Maggie has simply pushed her way through the small gate (as I neglected to pull the extra latch down), made a stop at the hay barn to break open a fresh bale of hay and then proceeded onto the neighbor's yard. I guess she was sampling the new batch of bales we had picked up early that morning and then decided to take a stroll. Funny how they figure things out!

Neigh Sayer

Poor Maggie was so distraught at the cold and continuing unpleasant weather. She seemed most unhappy so I made her morning grain cheerful in attempts to start her day off right. Hey! She has company in feeling that this winter will not end, even if it is "officially" spring. But no one put a smiley face in my breakfast cereal.
I hear there was a movement afoot to decapitate Punxatawny Phil or Pete the Ground Hog. I think his credibility is in the toilet.
On the other hand, I was forced into the bizarre task of shoveling snow into a wheelbarrow (from the still huge pile at the end of our driveway) and wheeling in to the back yard so that the ever enthusiastic Jules had snow ball material. (This was before that most recent awful storm dropped snow and slush last weekend.)

Only for the dog would I do that! Jules stand at the fence and supervises to make sure I get enough snow to keep him busy. Check out the picture below.

Jules is incorrigible! He doesn't care if it's cold, or snowing or wet or miserable, he wants to play ball. I was in my studio attempting to create masterworks and he's begging me to come out and throw his nasty ice-encrusted toys around. But he is cute and pretty hard to ignore. And look at this last picture:

He took off after another ball I had tossed and left a perfect negative print; sort of a canine Andy Goldsworthy. He probably has a career as an environmental artist waiting for him. I hope he remembers who got him started when he gets a show at the Whitney!

Life Lessons

I was attempting to vacuum the other morning and every where I turned, there were more of Jules' toys, possessions and weird talismans. (The weird things barely pass as toys but Jules seems to like them every bit as much as the presentable "store bought" ones. Like chunks of sticks and old empty plastic seltzer bottles and stuffed animals with the stuffing long ago torn out). I think he keeps count as I find him surrounded by them, seeming to take inventory. He periodically resurrects a particulary odd old bit and parades it around like its brand new all over again.

Anyway, he seemed especially pleased with himself while sunning, surrounded like a true Material Boy by all his worldly goods. I thought this was a good time to give him a lecture in The Way Things Used to Be and Counting Ones Blessings.

"I hope you realize", I said, "A hundred years ago, you wouldn't be laying here in the warm house, noodling about with your toys. No, you'd be chained to the house without shelter acting as a guard dog. or you'd be off on some remote hillside, forced to tend the sheep in sub-zero temperatures fighting off wolves!"

Jules looked unimpressed and relied, "Oh yeah? Touch just one of my things and I'll call the Humane Society! I've got there number on speed dial on my cell phone!"

Later when outside, throwing the thousandth tennis ball for Jules to fetch as he is tireless in his pursuit of anything thrown, I spied the horse.

Crispin is another ungrateful wretch. I can just see the expression on Crispin's face when he watches me play with Jules. "Oooh. There's that awful woman and her stupid dog. They're beneath my notice. And why that horrid spoiled dog thinks I'd be interested in some nasty old ball is beyond me."

"You! Crispin!" I called. "Do you realize that just last century, you'd be pulling a plow and glad to get thrown a forkful of musty hay after a grueling day in the fields? A day drawing a wagon could still be arranged!" 

I don't think either dog or pony were seriously worried about "The Bad Olde Days " returning.

Here's evidence (in the form of a picture taken of Crispin back at the horse farm before he came to live here) that Crispin has always been grumpy and seems to "have his nose out of joint".

(I am supposing that there are now laws on the books prohibiting the posting of unflattering portrayals or unattractive pictures of one's pets on the Internet... just don't tell Jules or Crispin about this entry. And I also trust that my sagacious friends know that I am only kidding about my furry friends...)