Category: dogs

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Get A Long, Little Doggie

Friends,

I’ve been struggling lately. This pandemic has been wearing heavily on everybody, so much so that some individuals have decided on their very own that it’s over. Of course, the pandemic isn’t over, but a more liberated fiction is appealing. It’s dumb and dangerous, but appealing.

I thought that it’d be nice to travel this summer and get away for a little while from the sadness of losing parents and pets over a short few months. My sweet bride’s suggestion to go see Giant Sequoias and Redwoods was very appealing and easier to envision without having to mind a fleet of furry ding-a-lings.

But Phoebe happened.

We’re her fourth home (perhaps, maybe more) and she’s had a bunch of puppies. She’s now enjoying a new comfortable home, a couple squares a day, and all the attention she can stand. In return, she’s ready to offer her belly in case you’d missed the opportunity to give her a rub only minutes before. Free of charge, she will chase away neighborhood cats with a serious, but understated growl.

Now let’s see how she travels.

Your pal,

– bob

UPDATE: Here’s the right song to listen to while you enjoy this post.

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What Are You Doing? Irwin Allen Edition

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Friends,

It’s been a while since I checked in, and the universe has dealt one punch in the face after another after another. Rather than work in chronological order, it might be better to work in order of impact and import.

We went on something of a summer holiday to Southern Oregon towards the beginning of July. At first, when the trip was planned, we were going to go see the in-laws and stay at a little fly fishing resort on the Umpqua River to celebrate their 60th wedding anniversary. This sounded great and presented a wonderful opportunity to try out the new camera. The updated plan had us spend a couple days at the in-laws’ house first, divvying up their possessions to prepare for their move to a retirement community near our house. More on the retirement community in a bit, but this haggling led to a talons-extended wariness that would filter into the time spent in the forest.

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So we ate the meals and slept in the cabin and hiked around a bit, but it felt like the last half of the third sequel. Going through motions. That was until we started hiking out of the trail leading to the largest falls we would visit. I spun my ankle on a trail-colored rock, and spent the next week hopping around and complaining to whoever would listen.

Did my complaining matter? Not one wit.

Once we arrived back home, where complaining continued to not matter, I noticed that the leak under the Wrangler hadn’t got any worse in our absence. I put in a new serpentine belt to replace the one that was starting to go before we left, and headed off to bed. My first day back to work would be in Temecula, so I wanted to make sure I was good to go.

The drive was uneventful the next day. The arrival in the parking lot was not. I knew that thrip-thwap-thwip noise was another belt flying apart. Time to consult experts…

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Well, it should have been time to consult experts, but I consulted gifted psychics instead. How do psychics become gifted? They cheat, of course. In this case, the mechanics at the nearby service center had seen this before and knew what to look for. Excessive runout of the thrust bearing causing the crankshaft to move in and out too much. The pulleys go out of alignment and cut the new belt to pieces. Plus, the crankshaft seal is damaged in the process, thus the oil leak I couldn’t identify. The motor was cooked save for the seizing, the smoke and the fires. I still had time to find this old dog a new home and the local Jeep dealer gave me a reasonable price. An auction price, but that’s okay. I’d rather not see it driving around town.

I cast around for a replacement while driving around a rental from Avis and was reminded that a) Avis sells their cars after a while at pretty decent prices, and b) I still have a Grand Cherokee that isn’t running, and c) I miss the interior room and utility of a midsize SUV like the Grand Cherokee. So I bought one that’s a year and a couple months old from them in the weirdest sales transaction I’ve ever conducted (and I once bought a Volkswagen Beetle in the dark).

So much for not having a car payment, eh?

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All this time, something’s been wrong with the dogs since we brought them home from the kennel/spa/cages. Food’s not staying down, or not getting consumed at all. Lots of pacing. Lots of trips outside overnight. The puppy pad bill is going to break the bank and after coming home after work to a couple mortifying shitstorms, it was time for the little one to go to the vet.

She hadn’t eaten in a few days, even though we tried to coax her with the most expensive ground up things in tins we could find. The veterinarian drew some blood and took an exceedingly lengthy time to call us with the results. Extraordinary because her health continued to deteriorate over the long weekend. Finally, we took her in to maybe get a feeding tube or something, but the prognosis was grim and final: pancreatic cancer. Looking back, I should’ve kept her head in my hand as the drugs were administered that would end her life. As she stopped controlling her neck, her head flopped over, giving Teresa a start, “Oh god! That’s horrible,” she gasped through the tears.

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Mocha was the littlest one, the bravest one, the one who had been through the most. She was a one-doggy puppy mill and had been put through the ringer. She had the scars from being tied up all day and the nervous demeanor of a dog who’d never been socialized. I had an affinity for her that I can’t really describe. She’d been through a lot and deserved to have a nice safe life. I’d like to think that she enjoyed her last three years with us. And just like that, she was gone.

So, how’ve you been?

Your pal,

– bob

UPDATE: Here’s a better picture of the little dog. She’s pictured here on her preferred tower, where a girl can get away from it all, like another dog seven times her size who’s constantly menacing her.

Mocha and her tower of throw pillows

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Everybody Needs A Hobby

A lovely centered picture of a dog on a mission.

Friends,

I’ve been spending a lot of time at lower elevations lately, since the new gig is in a tilt-up concrete architectural afterthought near the Pacific Ocean. That means that Lola gets to spend quality time in the tiny back yard at a sweet girl’s house.

Lola likes to have a job and up in my piney paradise, she kept squirrels away while also fending off incursions by attackers disguised as joggers and hikers. I just assumed that her new vocation involved a coordinated attack on the grass to eliminate gophers.

A lovely centered picture of a dog with a tiny car.

Actually, she’s been mining for Hot Wheels cars. And it turns out that she has impeccable taste. A Hot Wheels #167 Austin Healy is worth some decent cash when they’re in good condition.

A lovely centered picture of a tiny car.

They might be worth a tiny bit less in this condition…

A lovely centered picture of a dog with a car.

It’s a good start though. What a good girl!

Your pal,

– bob

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Happy Successful Orbit Day!

A lovely centered picture of an exhausted puppy dog.

Friends,

We’re starting the new year with a whimper, and why not? Someone unhelpfully decided that the Christmas and New Year holidays would be in the middle of the week, messing with everyone’s schedules including Mme. Puppy Dog’s. Of course we’ll regroup over the weekend and provide more content. More! Content!

That’s another way to say, “words.”

It’s going to be a fine new year, everybody.

Your pal,

– bob

UPDATE: Apparently, lots of people hate the term, “content,” so we’ll be using “words” from now on. “Words” and “pictures” and some “video” and some “audio.”

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Wait! Come back!

A lovely centered picture of a girly dog spying something very interesting and smelly.

Friends,

I’ve hit my head very hard this evening on the kitchen cabinetry and I’ve surely earned a concussion for the effort. There’s every reason to believe that I’ll be fine, but I’m a little worried that the dizziness and confusion I’m experiencing at the moment signal something much more than a little bump on the noggin.

But that’s boring, so let’s get on with a little housekeeping!

Since I last uploaded something here over a month ago, we’ve had two fire scares. One that prompted the mobilization of over three thousand men and women to beat down the furious blaze that eventually consumed over 27,000 acres, and a smaller one today that was put out fairly quickly through our own corps and the quick attention of neighbors in Fern Valley. In the words of internationally noted photographer Jenny Kirchner on Facebook, “Yard abatement is important.” Indeed it is.

I don’t really have a headache exactly. Truth is, my head feels mostly okay. There’s going to be a bump for sure, but the biggest worry is that I don’t really have a good idea where I am right now. Well, never mind that. On with it…

During the Mountain Fire, I evacuated myself, papers, photographs, and Mme. Puppy Dog to the desert. From our emergency evacuation center in Cathedral City (whose city council has never met a boondoggle it wouldn’t agree to fund in full), we could watch the flames charging along the ridge towards the Palm Springs Aerial Tramway’s Mountain Station. Horrifying. I took pictures, but they’re kind of terrible camera phone shots not worth posting. This one is nicer.

A lovely centered picture of a meadow.

Let’s see, what else happened? I got a new boss at the Far Eastern Outpost of a charity from out west somewhere in a city with a mayor. You know, that mayor. Mayor Headlock, they’re calling him. “Mayor Fingers” is creepier, so I’ll stick with that, since all signs point to him being really creepy.

Sorry, a little confused at the moment. I should get back on topic. Crickets are interesting, aren’t they? 78 degrees in the house, shouldn’t be sweating. Sweating might be bad.

I started installing a new french door on the weekend before guests were to arrive a couple weekends ago. Here’s a tip, all of the locksets you can buy at the hardware store have a defined offset. The offset is the distance between the edge of the door and the center of the lock and most are between 2 3/8 and 2 5/8-inches. You can get shorter deadbolts if you trim down the side of your door to be a lot narrower, but they’re blindingly expensive. You are hereby warned.

Very sleepy all of the sudden. Goodnight everyone.

Your pal,

– bob

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The Time Stealer

A lovely centered picture of a silly costumed man.

Friends,

It’s the interstitial between THE CHRISTMASTIME and THE NEWYEARTIME and I had many grand plans for this weekend. So I wake up late, as you do on the weekend, and realize that my rat fink traitorous lower back betrays me and thwarts any plans to walk, install brilliant gifts on my slab-sided pickup, or even carry laundry to the washer. Dammit.

You’re surely thinking, “Well then, why are you sitting in a chair writing this instead of laying down?” Because this is the only comfortable place and position to be in at the moment. Even then, it’s not great, but I really do love Ikea’s jesus chair (that they don’t sell anymore, but is kinda like this one) at the moment since it’s very nearly the right height.

Is it the cold, snowy weather? A dog huddling up into my lower back overnight? The fates? Broken osteothings? Maybe something else entirely?

Surely yes.

More tomorrow on the thrilling consequences of these circumstances!

Your best pal in the world,

– bob

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Smile.

A lovely centered picture of a dog.

Friends,

The way the day started was perfectly fine, save the alarm going off at 4:00. Cozy flannel sheets, breakfast with Mme. Puppy Dog, getting on the road a little late but making up the deficit and getting to work on time. I wasn’t even too concerned when my first press release went out with bizarre characters mucking up the formatting. At least I was ticking off boxes on my bloated end of the year task list.

It’s a poorly kept secret that I applied for the newly relaunched automobile columnist position at the Orange County Register a few months ago. This is my dream job, the sort of gig you’d drop everything to do. I dreamed about it. I wrote stories in my head about taking an Aventador to Albertson’s. Stories about canyon carving in a Corolla. And stories like the distributor post from a few days ago to explain why these may be the best times so far for reliability and economy in our cars and trucks.

I found out today that I didn’t get the job over the internet.

Then the phones at work went down.

Then the live Verizon tech support lady told me in a chat window over the internet that I’d need to file a report over the internet.

A lovely centered picture of another dog.

Then my colleagues forgot how to work stuff. A global, universal tech stroke, if you will.

So what do you do with a plate of late-afternoon picnic potato salad like that? Do you smile in the host’s direction while choking it down? How much worse could the stomach ache get?

I took a different tack and wrote jokes about moon monsters instead.

It’s therapeutic.

– bob

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The Most Vile Human Being In Idyllwild*


Friends,

There’s another dog poisoner running around on the hill at the moment. His latest victim is not expected to survive the night and I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t freaking out about it. The news came to me on Facebook and I wrote a comment, as you do (even though that may be the dumbest way to work out your feelings about an event ever in the history of human interaction, or non-interaction):

I would very much like for this person to be found. An arrest made, wherein this person is provided all of the legal protections that the law allows. For a psychological evaluation to be conducted, and lawyer to be at this person’s side for his defense. Don’t get me wrong, I do also wish bodily harm on this miscreant, but a conviction might send a stronger message. Hopefully.

But this isn’t what I initially wrote. I was a teensy bit more furious…

I would very much like for this person to be found. An arrest made, wherein this person is provided all of the legal protections that the law allows. For a psychological evaluation to be conducted, and lawyer to be at this person’s side for his defense. Then I would suggest that he be presented in a coliseum where mountain lions might remove his limbs in a terrible and violent fashion, but while he is delirious from the pain and loss of blood his final wish is granted – a last meal…

But I was worried about what the broader audience might think. They might judge! On social media!

– bob

UPDATE: From Facebook, “Jack’s dog was up walking, and ate something this morning, temperature spiked last night. Good news, but not out of the woods yet, since he was told that they did not think the dog would make it.” Did you know that keeping a mountain lion on retainer is surprisingly affordable? Must be the off-season.

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The Squirrel Stole My Baby!

A lovely centered picture of a thief.

Friends,

There was a little commotion outside this morning and I sauntered out to see what all the fuss was about. Mme. Puppy Dog was having a fit as a local squirrel heisted her least-loved toy and scrambled up a tree to her nest. I would’ve sympathized, but I was too busy laughing.

– bob

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I’m So Sorry

A lovely centered picture of Penney the puppy dog.

Friends,

I may have killed your computer.

Things seem to have gone horribly wrong at bobtherieau.com and our home site has been used since August to peddle bad juju to you, our glorious and good-looking readers. Some evil chump had taken it upon herself (see what I did there? I mixed up your expectations of the gender of hackers, didn’t I? now look at yourself. go on. look.) to glom onto the friendly shoal on these internets where you can find the rest of my stuff to send you bad things. That’s the simple version, but for you, I hope you learn from my mistakes:

  • Don’t use public WiFi to fetch your mail from a computer or a smartphone because your passwords tend to be sent in the clear, without encryption.
  • This is especially true if your email user name and password are the same as your site admin user name and password (or even close).

Everything seems to be fine now that we’ve changed servers, passwords, user names, likes, dislikes, aftershave, everything. Well, everything but the goodness that you can expect every single day here.

And again, we’re really sorry that once again you’ve had to go to Best Buy and ask some geek to explain why your peecee is running really slowly. Maybe it’ll be better next Thanksgiving.

Your pal,

– bob

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High-Energy Update!

A sleepy Monkey Boy.
Friends,

We’ve had a week or so to work out the dynamics here at the Damp Dog Lodge and some things have become clear; dogs are protective of their food, even if it’s not their own, and will start fights. Dogs who can’t hear very well are easily startled by other dogs approaching from outside of their diminished peripheral vision, and will start fights. Dogs who are not in any physical condition to play will try to murder dogs who try to start playing with them. Take away these conditions and no fights, right? I feed one over here and the other behind a locked door. Problem solved(-ish). One sleeps here, the other sleeps over there and the startling ends. Sorta. Playtime dog learns a lesson and stops initiating play. Easy to implement (of course not).

We’ve reached detente. An uneasy peace. There’s a floating demilitarized zone between the two, with each camp cautiously monitoring the other across this imaginary line. No loudspeakers or binoculars needed.

Now if we can figure out a way for the old guy to make it all the way out of the house to the doggy restroom area before the transaction commences…

Wearing slippers for safety reasons,

– bob

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The Other Big Announcement

Friends,

The Monkey Boy has landed. He’s elderly, a little shaky, not as mobile or flexible, but still as majestic as ever. He still has the command of the room that he’s always had, but is certainly slowing down. At thirteen, he’s pretty old for a German Shorthaired Pointer to be sure, but even though his back legs fail every now and again, he’s still up for chasing a squirrel. For staring at the Stellar’s Jays for an uncomfortably long time.

Sure, I’ve already broken up a couple fights between him and the girly dog who knows for certain that she owns this place, but I think they’ll settle in for the next month. What I’m not sure about is whether I can deal with cooking up old guy food in my largely vegetarian kitchen. Chicken neck hash? Cripes.

I’ll have pictures soon, when my camera arrives from Canon repair.

Your pal,

– bob

P.S. I know you wanted to hear the real big announcement, but I wasn’t allowed to talk about it then. I think I’m clear to discuss it on Monday though…

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The Rise Of The Monkey Boy

hey! what's that thing over there?
Friends,

The old man of our doggie universe, Bruno the monkey-brained boy, will be summering at the Damp Dog Lodge this year and I have to say that I’m thrilled. He’s not feeling so hot lately and is having some fairly serious neurological problems, but I’ve gotta say that I hope he’ll really enjoy the next month or so up here in the pines. The fresh air, the critters scampering about, the birds to stare at…

Will he actually manage to live through the month? We can hope.

At least he’ll have a lovely time.

– bob