Writer's cramp...does the Scion need washing?

Writer’s cramp…does the Scion need washing?

OK, OK…Last night, My Dad was watching PBS and I was feeling neglected.  My most effective method to get some attention, some petting, some scratching behind the ears, is to calmly walk over to the human in question and slowly push my head into their thigh…persistently pushing into their thigh.  Sooooo, I’m am pushing into My Dad’s thigh and I am getting some attention, some loving, some scratching and petting, but My Dad was way more interested in this program about glass than paying attention to me.

“I’m going into the office, post on the blog, any ideas?”

“You’re Mister Creative, Mister Author, Mister Popularity. You’re out of ideas?  We changed your meds, want to talk about that?”

“Do I need HIPAA clearance for that…sign a release…isn’t that sort of personal?”

Mmmm…I just got a look, the “you’re kidding” look.  OK, OK, just trying to be funny.  Watch your program about glass.  17th century telescopes are VERY exciting.

I will be thirteen years old, sometime soon.  Nobody seems to know what my real birth date is…happens with rescue dogs.  My Dad keeps telling everyone my birthday is in January but I’ve seen my adoption papers from Great Lakes Border Collie Rescue – there are THREE dates of birth for me.  No big deal though, I know I’m getting to be an old guy.  My Dad keeps telling me that I still have a very sassy personality, I love to go bye-bye in the Scion xB.  This morning, we’ll be going to the Vet to get my Adequan shot.  My Dad has been transitioning me from Rimadyl to another drug for pain management.  My hips are arthritic.  My Dad is very good about lifting me onto the bed, into the Scion, up stairs….and down again.  He is very gentle with me.  I’ve been on Rimadyl for several years and when you are taking Rimadyl, you need to get your blood tested, something about liver enzymes, the liver working correctly.  I had a blood draw last week and the important enzyme level is elevated, so no more Rimadyl.

Weather here today is sunny and cool.  Being in the Scion will be very comfy.  Post Office, the vet, barking at delivery trucks, LET’S GO!

Here is a photo of me taken by Mindy, my foster-mom in fall of 2003.  Am I NOT cute?

Here is a photo of me taken by Mindy, my foster-mom in fall of 2003. Am I NOT cute?


“Do you want to GO to the Border Collie picnic?”

Whenever I hear the word “GO,” my ears prick up and my head tilts to the right.  Of course I want to GO!  Bye-bye in the car, right?  I am going with My Dad to the Border Collie picnic IN THE CAR…right?  Early yesterday morning, I was assisted into the back of the Scion xB – RIGHT INTO A CRATE!  What is this?  No barking out the window?  Who will be looking out for the nefarious delivery trucks…no, not Chris.  Wait, wait, wait…re-think this approach.  FEDEX, UPS, U.S. Mail, those long trucks that carry new cars, going OVER bridges, going UNDER bridges, railroad crossings…sigh.  How can I alert My Dad to all of these dangers?  How BORING for a Border collie…sitting in a crate.  Hours and hours of BORED, BORDER, BOREDEST…  And, My Dad stopped at McDonald’s TWICE – NO HAMBURGERS.  Complaints will be filed!


Well, I didn’t have to stay in a crate during our time at the Picnic.  A lot of Border collies were there, maybe 50.  Each Border collie wore a bandana color based on their temperament.  Mr. Calm, Cool, and Collected (that’s me) was given the “good with everybody” color.  I am an expert at minding my own business.  A quick hello with most of the Border collies will suffice, although a red Border Collie, MUNCH, was very amiable and had a lot to say – about everything.  I liked him a lot.

This is my buddy, Munch.  He had a lot to say about everything.  He was very respectful of my stature as a subtle alpha male.

This is my buddy, Munch. He had a lot to say about everything. He was very respectful of my stature as a subtle alpha male.


No hamburgers meant that I was getting pretty hungry at lunch time.  My Dad and Chris were eating Subway sandwiches and I was being ignored.  I stood up, shook, gave My Dad “eye” and started barking.  Where is MY food?  How about some of your sandwiches?  I can really push My Dad around, easy stuff for a determined Border collie.  Subway sandwiches are pretty good.  Even Chris had me eating out her hand.  Dad, we really have to re-think car rides in the crate…


My loyal followers are well aware that I have been a Certified Therapy Dog most of my life.  The years are catching up with me, though.  I am moving a little slower, my hearing has become a bit more selective, but I can still spot a squirrel in a tree from 50 yards…HA!  I can be very sassy with My Dad, especially in the morning when he is trying to make coffee.  ARE WE GOING OUT?  I’VE BROUGHT SOME TOYS IN, PAY ATTENTION!  WHEN ARE WE GOING IN THE SCION?  DON’T FORGET A BUSYBONE!  HEY, I HAVE TO GO OUT, DON’T FORGET!  However, I have a VERY sweet personality and I have always been very gentle and very respectful.

Friday evening, My Dad started asking me, “Do you want to work, tomorrow?”  That question will always trigger the to-the-right-head-tilt.  “And then we can go bye-bye in the car to Marengo.”  Wow, working and a long bye-bye in the Scion xB…life just can’t get any better!  So, Saturday morning we were on the road at 9:00 a.m. to visit with the mother of Chris.  Chris is really working me hard…politicking me.  I must admit, she is very talented at rubbing the areas around my ears.  OK, OK, just stick to the story.  I think the Scion windows need some cleaning…hint, hint.  Promptly at 9:30 on Saturday morning, My Dad and I arrived at the Cedar Lake Senior Facility, My Dad attached the leash to my Therapy Dog collar and we head off for some work.  You know how I operate – just walk in like you own the place.  The staff and several residents were talking in the great room entry area and as usual, when I appear, time stops and all attention is on me.  And then come the questions…  Is that a boy or girl?  (duh, I’m a boy) What kind of dog? (I’m a Border collie, here, take one of my business cards)  May I pet him?  (Of course, and please pet me like you mean it)  What is his name?  (Cody, I’m Cody, here is a card).  My Dad, Chris, and I took the elevator to the second floor.  Chris’s Mom, Dorothy, was working a puzzle with two of her friends but she was very happy to see me and took time to visit.  My Dad, the wizard that he is, brought some treats, so everyone had the opportunity to see how gentle I am.



And after visiting Dorothy, My Dad and I took off for Marengo, Illinois for some “investigative” assignment  – strictly confidential.


We drive all the way to Marengo, spend three hours there, and then drive back to Lake Zurich.  NO HAMBURGERS!  I am filing a complaint with…somebody.  And to make matters worse, My Dad leaves me at Chris’s house with Melissa (Chris’s daughter) and two cats, although I was given the opportunity to meet only one of the cats, a flighty Siamese named Willow.  All of my loyal followers are well aware that I am OK with cats – no chasing, barking at, threatening – herding dogs like cats.  Soooo, check out the YouTube video of Melissa coaxing Willow to walk past me – while I am trying to sleep.  Yes, I raised my head to look at Willow, but that was more to to show her I was aware of her presence – not to startle her – I think.




What?  My Dad said I have about a half-hour to finish this post.  My Dad has a soccer match to officiate in Grayslake this morning…something about an AYSO coach who needs to be monitored, who needs to be enlightened.  So, we will be leaving about 10:30, the key word being “WE.”  I get to go bye-bye in the Scion xB this morning!  The weather has cooled down, so I am getting more car rides.  My rough coat is fully grown out, the last cut was back in April, so I am ready for any kind of weather.

When I am out on walks with My Dad, I really enjoy eating grass…not just any grass, not from cut lawns, but from the long ornamental grasses and the wild grasses that are uncut.  I eat this grass because it tastes good – not because it makes me throw-up.


But as long as we’re on that topic of throwing-up, let me tell you about re-cycling a BusyBone (registered trademark) that My Dad had given me last week.  My Dad has noticed that when I consume a BusyBone, I can usually finish one off in about five to six minutes.  My Dad keeps telling me that BusyBones are to be savored, they’re supposed to last several hours.  Well, I can enjoy a BusyBone very quickly.  My loyal followers are aware that I have a large throat and when I am eating, a lot of chewing is not necessary.  So BusyBones can be compared to a thick branch, and my rear teeth can be compare to pruning shears.  The BusyBone is snipped into 3/4 inch segments and swallowed whole.  But sometimes this can cause (My Dad refers to it as) gastro-intestinal distress.  I am very good about waking My Dad up if I have a “let’s go out NOW” emergency.  But last week, My Dad had given me a BusyBone that he had placed in hot water for about 10 minutes, to soften it up a bit.  But, unbeknownst to My Dad, I had swallowed a piece of BusyBone that was about three inches long, and later that day, My Dad saw me throw-up on the carpet, and guess what was part of that material?  Yes, the three inch section of BusyBone.  Stop making faces!  This is when a BusyBone is at it’s best…soft, sort of fermented, a bit more chewy.  I had that mess cleaned up in about five minutes.  My Dad even said, “Good boy, Cody.”  Go figure.

So, remember the gorgeous, beautiful, wonderful Brandy?  Yes, our neighbor’s black female, the tall, lanky one, gorgeous golden brown eyes…blah, blah, blah.  So My Dad, the wizard that he is, has been walking her and then BRINGING HER OVER HERE thinking that I am going to entertain her.  Think again.  Sure, a couple of times she walks over to me, gets in the LETS PLAY position and then starts running around my place like a crazy female.  She soon realized that she was not my type, I just look away…boring, so boring.  Then, Brandy figures out on the second day that it is OK to sleep on My Dad’s king-size bed.  Yeah, perfect, just make yourself at home. Oh, yeah, Brandy’s nickname is “stretch.”  Weird position.


Two days ago, Brandy found an empty BusyBone bag in the garbage and carried it into the living room.  My Dad saw her starting to eat the bag and he casually reached down to take it from her as he said, “Brandy, you can’t have that.”

Well, much to the surprise of My Dad, Brandy obviously did not understand the “can’t have that” portion of My Dad’s comment, and she went after his hand, tried to bite him!  (Laughing) I have NEVER done anything like that with My Dad or any other person, so I knew Brandy was about get lectured.  But every time My Dad put Brandy in a sit-stay (such an easy command for a Border collie), she would go right back to the empty BusyBone bag and bark at My Dad – and she meant it!  I’m watching this interaction (still laughing) and My Dad trying to match wits with Brandy.  So, My dad finally realizes that a diversion technique is going to work best…”Brandy, come here, let’s get a cookie.”  So, Brandy eats her cookie in the kitchen and My Dad retrieved the BusyBone bag without any additional drama.  My Dad then repeated the sit-stay command, gave Brandy a briefing on NO BITING.  I must commend Brandy for then approaching My Dad, nuzzling his hand and giving him a kiss…obviously a “sorry ’bout that little misunderstanding, Cody’s Dad.”

What?  OK.  Gotta go, soon!  My Dad took me a park last Saturday morning.  I got to say HI! to a bunch of people who were running some sort of Walk-Run for a Literacy Group – people who mentor and tutor those who have trouble reading.   Mmm…maybe I can get in on that activity, I have some experience with children reading to me.  What?  OK, gotta go.  Later.