Today you and I got my special scarf and special leash on and we got in the car and drove to a great big parking lot and went up in an elevator to the 24^th floor and I lay down and waited a very long time before we could see anyone. A lot of people were sitting down on folding chairs facing other people sitting behind a long curvy desk with their names in front of them and they sat very stiffly on bigger chairs. The desk said Hennepin County Government Center. There were cameras around and a lot of people took my picture.

After a very long snooze, we heard our names and we walked in to greet everyone in their dressed up clothes smelling like they needed me to make them smile and stand up over their long desk with my paws waiting for them to give me a treat. They didn’t. You told me I was a very good boy for being so patient and that no one should have to wait as long as we did to come in to receive a piece of paper and take our picture and tell us what we already knew, which is that we make people smile and feel happy. My favorite person was the one who was typing. Her pockets smelled delicious. I knew she had a dog. I smelled her pockets.

It was kindof sad. Everyone looked stiff and unhappy until we came in and I wagged my tail to let them know I was friendly. We should have come in before they started their very long sitdown. They were called Hennepin County Commissioners and they proclaimed yesterday May First Animal Therapy Animal Day.

Wow.

We are so cool.

Then I sniffed our way back to the elevator and the parking lot and our car and we drove home to see Biscuit. I needed another nap. I’m glad we don’t have to do that again soon.

Advice from Oliver: When you see a lot of people sitting down for a long time on folding chairs, get ready for a nap. 

Biscuit and I are on our favorite perch…our window sill. We see the lake, the trees, and people like you running, walking, or riding their bikes. Inside, we are protected from loud skeet shooting, something that makes me want to run and hide. These sounds happen every Saturday between 10 am and 3 pm. You try to take us for walks before and after these times. Never during. 

If we forget and try to walk during that time, I dig in all four paws, with every bit of strength I have, and in no uncertain terms, make it clear I am not walking any direction except home. Some sounds make my skin hurt, my fur quiver, my heart race, and my legs shiver. Guns really hurt the pink shells of my ears. Other bad sounds are rollerblades, skateboards, and other strange, not-walking types of wheeled animals. What hurts Biscuit’s ears are fire engines and ambulances. When he hears them, he howls like a wolf. People think it’s funny, but I don’t laugh because I’m a dog and his mother was my sister. I know how he feels. When he howls, you open the door and let him inside. He is happy to get away from siren sounds. Thank you for helping me take care of him.

On our deck, which is outside, we feel the wind and listen to the birds. The birds from all around the southern continent are coming home to Minnesota now. Today we heard sandhill cranes. In Wisconsin, they settle down for the summer on our lakeshore. Sandhills rattle-ratttle-rattle like no other bird voice. It’s a good loud, not a bad loud.

When we’re free on the deck, we can bark hello to other dogs. If our hello turns into a fugue, you bring us back inside. Sometimes I go in and out, in and out, in and out. You don’t like opening and shutting the door. You understand my two-bark “Let me in!” Once I’m inside, I let you alone for awhile and then I come to find you with a stolen sock or shoe in my teeth which you and I both know means, “Let me out!” Biscuit can stay outside much longer than I can. He has the heaviest coat of any Beardie our groomer has ever seen. It keeps him very warm in inclement weather (Remember I have an extensive vocabulary). I think it makes him very hot in the summer too. Poor little Biscuit. We have to love who we are and how we were born. You help us with that.

The world as we feel it is usually very satisfying. In the morning, we fight over who gets the paper. We get a treat if we bring it in. Daddy takes us for our very first walk. We eat our breakfast. We go for a big long walk with you. Sometimes we see our friends like Tom or Johannes. You like them and they like us. Town has treats and Johannes says, “Hi, guys!” We might get more treats from you. You let us smell all around the bottoms of trees, the grass, park benches and sometimes people’s shoes and pant legs. We come in and take a nap after all our nose work. We follow you around the house. We take another walk. We have dinner. We take one last leg lift at our closest tree and we all go to bed. I let Biscuit take his position next to you, and when he’s not looking, I hop up. We are both very agile when we sail over your legs. Actually, I am graceful as a gazelle and Biscuit is more of a galoomph. Both styles are gorgeous. But you know that already.

Advice from Oliver: Sometimes we need to be outside where we can sniff trees and sometimes we feel safer inside. We’re our own expert feelers.

Iris, our favorite girl

Iris is called a Rhodesian Ridgeback. Ridgebacks originated in Africa, but Iris doesn’t remember the climate since she was never there. Her DNA dictates that she is cold and she shivers. Somehow, she and others like her ended up in Minnesota where it is said to be very cold. It isn’t cold today, but that is off-topic. It was cold the day you took her picture. Iris may have felt humiliated in this outfit when you laughed at her, but she loves you anyway. She shows this by dipping her head and running headlong between your legs. You love her anyway even when she knocks you off-course and you try (sort of) not to laugh at her outfits, but you just couldn’t stop laughing on this particular day. Iris’ mom, Stephanie, does the best she can to keep Iris toasty despite the fact that Iris’ garb is slightly disharmonious. (No, I did not make up that word. Remember I have a very large vocabulary.)

This brings me to Bearded Collies, which is what I am and what Biscuit is and what a new little guy named Booker is. Booker belongs to Sheryl. Booker and Biscuit and I are called Beardies because we have a tuft of fur under our chins that looks like a beard. We originated in Scotland where it’s very cold. Some dogs wonder what we are because we far exceed most dogs in the hair/fur department. One dog whom we will not name tried very hard to wipe poor little Biscuit out of existence a few weeks ago, but Biscuit’s hair/fur protected him from a terrible fate. His opponent’s powerful jaws simply could not pierce through to Biscuit’s neck. You saved him and brought him to iris’ home for comfort and then to our home to me where we carried on as usual in our safe little abode. So we may look silly to some, but we manage to survive because of, not in spite of, our abundance of hair/fur. Dogs, which is what we are, have adapted to their country of origin as well as to their country of adoption. Biscuit and I could never wear what Iris wears, and she would look quite unusual if she had a beard.

Lest you think Iris only stands still, let me explain she is quite a runner. Although she looks like a kangaroo, she runs like a cheetah. And Biscuit and I are pretty good sprinters.

Advice from Oliver: When assessing someone’s attire, remember that their place of origin may dictate their choice of fashion.

PS See my beard?

It is very important to love thy neighbor as thyself. Above you see Hannah. She lives on the other side of the wall. Biscuit and I love her and she seems to love us back, but it’s a long-distance relationship. Hannah rolls over on her back when she sees us and we dance around her. There hasn’t been much actual contact, just extra-polite sniffing. We’re polite with her because despite her size, we believe she exudes delicate femininity…a certain reluctant”Paws off, you brutes!” Oh, well, if she won’t engage in our rambunctious tumult, we will continue to quietly admire her, especially in the cheesecake photo you see above.

For those of you who understand our type of energy, you can relate to the fact that we never give up hope that Hannah will arise from her slumbering pose, leap up, and charge through the door with abandon to chase squirrels with us or with our closest relative, Iris, and her dear friend, Vern, both of whom exhibit tendencies that more closely resemble our own. Every dog is different. We are very tolerant of differences.

It is finally snowing today and I just saw a rumbling truck on the lake path clearing away the minuscule layer of snowdust. Ha! We want the real stuff, but Patience and Prudence are our sisters, along with our elder sister, Hannah, the poseur.

Advice from Oliver: Tout vient a qui sait attendre. I never told you I also speak French. All (good) things come to those who wait.

Hello, all my fanbase. As you can see, Biscuit and I are creating our own fun with the good ole simple Stick Game. Obviously, I am still Champion Stick Puller. In human language, you may have called it Keep Away or King of the Hill or some human name like that. Our game in Dog is simply: STICK. Points are determined by Style and Physics. There is some intimidation involved, I admit. A deep growl helps. What I lack in operatic basso-profundo voice-quality I make up in prance.                                 

Look right. See how effective I am? I like to show off awhile. Then I allow the Biscuit to precede me in our road parade. He is joyous and I am ever so casual. We both know our roles in this game.

We wouldn’t mind a little snow because we really like to run around in it even though it collects ice balls between the pads in our paws and keeps us from running fast, but it feels so lovely in our fur.

Biscuit and I and our non-furry humans wish everyone who reads this HAPPY NEW YEAR!!

Let it snow and stick. Stick is a homonym. (Remember my large vocabulary.)

Advice from Oliver: When things don’t happen the way you expect, make up your own games. Let the other guy lead you at the end to preserve her/his ego.