A Dog’s World

RDP Friday: HIKE

Hiking with your dog, no matter where you go, will always be the best hikes that you will  EVER take

It is a fact, it is science.

To bolster my position on this matter, here are some fun things I saw with my dog Hamish Macbeth when we were out and about.

Photo by Mat Brown on Pexels.com

Hamish is a rebel, a rule breaker, a kitchen counter surfer extraordinaire and he does NOT care

about your stupid signs:

Photo A.M. Moscoso

We found a DB once- well, he thought it was and I let him have his moment.

It was Halloween after all.

Hamish is still my BFF even after I took a picture of a dinosaur trying to bit his butt.

Well, it was a chalk dinosaur but we were in the moment so it was real and he really was not thrilled to have to sit when we could be WALKING!!!

Photo A.,M. Moscoso

We found a dog park where Hamish could run around in the woods and play wolf.

At this time Hamish thought he was a cat, but I don’t think the other ‘wolves’ caught on to his secret-

and neither did  the few people ( NOT pictured because they  thought it was funny Hamish wears pink and WHY would I want a reminder of them? ) who seemed to be distracted by the fact that Hamish wears pink and he is a boy dog.

Boo! Mean people, you blow.

Photo A.M Moscoso

After he saw the eyeballs, he tried to eat the eyeballs.

Then he peed on one.

It wasn’t one of his finer moments and they weren’t our eyeballs.

Whoopsie

We took Hamish on a hike in Olympia, Washington and there wasn’t anything he didn’t love about that day. He also slept straight through the night, but that’s probably because he trotted the entire 2 miles.

Silly Hamish!

Just a boy ( well, Hamish and Luis aren’t boys anymore, but you get it )  and his dog and a bay on a warm afternoon.

Hamish was ready to hit the water and swim away.

Swim away to where? You might ask.

Anywhere Hamish would say.

Anywhere in the entire world.

Brave Heart Hamish!

These are pictures of my dog

Hamish Macbeth

thumbing ( or is it pawing? )

his nose at the rules.

Not only does it take courage to do that-

it takes a sense of humor as well.

Photo by rawpixel.com on Pexels.com

Hmmm no pets allowed?

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Yo!

Does that include no belly rubs too?

Photo A.M. Moscoso

No you say?

Where? It’s written WHERE?

Photo A.M Moscoso

BOL… I don’t care, I can’t read!

Photo A.M. Moscoso

RDP Tuesday: courage

Goodnight My Micey

My little Shadow and Hamish Macbeth’s big brother, Micey, died today.

Micey was 16 years old and also leaves behind his brother Darwin who is also 16.

Darwin and Micey were litter mates and have never been without each other.

We love your My Mice.

Mommy.

Hamish’s Artwalk

RDP Tuesday: CHALK

Here is my dog, Hamish Macbeth, enjoying some sidewalk chalk art in our neighborhood.

He seems to enjoy some pieces more them others, don’t you think?

 

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Photo A.,M. Moscoso

Photo A.M. Moscoso

There Were Dogs In The Trees

My childhood friend died a few years ago.

She lived around the block from where I lived and we used to do the normal stuff that kids do.

We rode bikes, climbed trees, played with our Barbie dolls and roller-skated to the corner store for Slurpees and penny candies.

The other thing, the biggest thing we had in common was our love for dogs.

We had our own dogs, but we didn’t stop there.

If we saw dogs, we asked to pet them. We’d play with the neighborhood dogs and walk them. We would go to the library and check out books about dogs.

We collected toy dogs and wore t-shirts with dog decals and long before it became fashionable we used to wear our dog’s old collars around our wrists or even around our necks.

Then my friend died- it was unexpected and it was a cruel death- I can’t say more then that. Not because I don’t want to, but when I think about how to describe it I can hear dogs howling.

And my heart breaks all over again.

 

My friend’s childhood home was sold and the profit went to her sons and I guess life moved on for us all. It just moved sort of sideways in my case.

One day I was out walking my new puppy. He was a little guy at the time, so we didn’t go far. Just around the corner and that’s when we met the family that had moved into my friend’s house.

The Mom was a nice young woman, she was around my son’s age and her children were very small. They asked to pet my puppy and we chatted about her new house.

” I think the family who lived here were really into dogs- ”

It seemed best to not say anything about my friend or the fact that her back yard had been designed for her dogs- there was a dog run, a well built dog house, trees to lounge under. It was pretty much a great place to hang out if you were a dog and you owned a few children.

Besides, this family was on the edge of making a life and my new neighbor was so excited to share her story with me.

Me and my friend and her last dog to live in that yard didn’t need to be part of that story- or so I thought.

She went on, ” they must have been big dogs, but it’s great. We promised the kids we’d get them a dog when we got the house and look at that yard. It’s going to be wonderful for them!”

I’m sure of it, I said with real  enthusiasm.

 

About a month later I saw my now familiar neighbors out walking their two new dogs and we stopped to chat just at the end of their driveway.

She asked the boys to take the dogs in for water and they sort of turned into this mass of fur and barking and laughing  kids bodies all mushed together and they burst across the yard and I flinched just a little when I hear the gate to their back yard click open and then bang shut-still,  it was great.

” I was wondering, ” my neighbor asked ” what you know – I mean if you know anything about my house or maybe knew the people who lived there.”

” Well. Yeah. I do. What’s up?”

” We love it here, don’t get me wrong. But when the people you know lived here- did they ever see anything, I mean, this is going to sound-”

” I know the house is old, so I was wondering if there were any stories about it. ”

It was an old house, but it wasn’t that old. I was curious. ” What kind of stories?”

She took a breath.  ” Did, I know this is going to sound awful. But did any children ever die here?”

” No. And I know that for a fact.”

” Well. It’s just that sometimes in the evening when I let my dogs out for their run in the yard- over there by the trees. I saw, I think I saw a little girl. And then she wasn’t there.”

She could not say it. She could not say the word ” ghost “.

I couldn’t either. I was distracted. I was hearing something- dogs barking- but of course the dogs I was hearing weren’t the ones in her yard or my yard or any of the yards around us.

They barking, I think, from a long time ago.

 

My friend had passed away in her early late 40’s. She loved her sons she loved her new home which was 60 miles away from her childhood home. I couldn’t imagine her as a ghost coming back to this house.

And let me tell you, me and my friend had very active imaginations where anything was possible. That was an attitude we took into adulthood with us.

” I think, ” I said ” that this was a great place to play and grow up. I think a lot of kids used to come over here with their dogs and they played with the kid who lived here. See those trees where you saw the, um, the little girl? There was a tree house there and somehow the kid who lived here and her friend got a full grown Malamute up there and a year old Retriever. They never told anyone how they did it. The problem was they couldn’t get them down and the Fire Department had to help them all out of the tree house.”

” You’re joking.”

” No. It was actually a big deal. And the four of them were really stuck and I think even the dogs were embarrassed. So they never brought it up with anyone except with each other.”

” So the girls in the tree, the  one who lived here- they both grew up. They didn’t, they grew up. Right?”

” Yep. They did. ”

” I know what I saw.” she said firmly this time.

” You know, I believe you. But whoever or whatever you saw- it’s not a bad thing. I think you’re seeing something…I think you’re seeing a happy moment for someone. That’s what I think.”

” I can live with that. We can live with that.” she told me.

And as far as I know- they still are.

Photo A. Moscoso

I Am Officially One of ” Those People “

Photo by rawpixel.com on Pexels.com

Last year I took my dog to the vets and the Vet and her staff  were great.

Hamish adored his Vet- he didn’t even stress at his examination and didn’t care when she gave him his shots- he was just super happy to get those cookies  that the Vet liked to give to her patients after giving them their shots.

Once I tried to explain  Hamish spends some of his days fending off his 16 year old Cat brothers who stick him with their claws at least once a week and because they are old sometimes they cat pull their claws back out and I have to unhook them from each other.

I told her I don’t think a quick jab is stressing Hamish out at all but he likes cookies and she likes to give them to him so I dropped it.

Then she asked me, ” So, is Hamish a Daddy yet?”

I was stunned.

” He’s only three years old. ” I said in absolute shock. I fought the urge back to reach down and cover Hamish’s ears for fear of what she would ask next.

She looked at me in my leather jacket and ripped up jeans and somewhat fearsome makeup job and to her credit she didn’t  do that fake cough you fall back on when you don’t want to laugh.

We chit chatted about dog foods and Hamish’s follow up appointments  and that was that.

It took me awhile- like maybe an hour or ten to realize what I had said and then I realized:

I am one of THOSE dog owners who forgets her dog is a dog and not a human child in a fur jacket.

I don’t know when that mindset took hold of me or when it happened.

I could speculate the why  of it all  but on the other hand- I don’t think that is such a bad thing. I kind like this quirky person that I’ve become since Hamish came into my life as a 11 week old puppy.

I know this much, nobody seems to mind.

Especially Hamish.

Photo of Hamish Macbeth
A.M Moscoso

RDP Monday: SPECULATE