Speaking of Wally…

On another one of our midday walks recently – lets say two weeks ago, but who really knows as these COVID Days run into one another with only the changing angles of sunlight and color of the tree leaves to mark the progress of time – we had almost gotten down to where some of the humongous dogs live* (and a wee corgi who can’t see over the stone wall but puts up a good show none-the-less) when out of some bushes appeared that little tan and white friend of ours: Wally!

Dad, knowing about the creative Houdini-like escape powers of the little guy, coaxed him over to us with a well timed “Come Wally”, which brought him over to us and we all got to sniffing one another, our leashes (Zoe and mine – Wally being leashless) becoming intertwined resulting in a minor skirmish that caused Wally to bolt. But given that we are good buddies, he returned to us shortly. This time, Dad got him by the collar and hung on. Fortunately – maybe – his collar has a phone number stitched into it (likely due to his Houdininess) which we quickly dialed…and got a voice mail ?.

So with no cavalry on its way to save poor little Wally, Dad picked up the little guy in one arm, and Zoe and I were on our leashes attached to his other hand. And thus began our trek back up the hill toward our house. Of course if we got a whiff of something our noses followed the trail – pulling Dad in that direction…and maybe a little more squirm from Wally. But onward we marched. About half way from where we “picked up” Wally and his home, Dad noticed that the little guy didn’t smell so fresh (not that he had soiled himself but that he spends a bit too much time in the wild without an occasional bath). Zoe and I thought he smelled pretty good. And if he was laying on the ground we may have rolled in (on?) him to get that scent on our coats. Instead of dropping the little guy, we hightailed it home where our 30′ leashes were laying on the porch drying our from a recent romp in the local river. Once leashed up, the three of us continued on toward his home (with Dad in tow).

Given that our normal leashes are only 6′ long, we trailed Wally most of the time by about 24′ give or take.

We finally got to the home of his pack and rang the doorbell. Nothing.

I suggested knocking on the door as maybe the doorbell was out of service. Dad obliged. Nothing.

Then Zoe got a whiff of one of those huge dogs. So after a little side bar, we decided to approach the paddock where we came across a woman who was washing her horse and knew the owners of Wally. When Dad explained the situation, she said Wally was “a little shift” (?). Not sure I understood what she meant as I don’t think he is apparel (?) but she was kind enough to lead us back to the front door and dispel us of our package. Wally was safely at home! We had done our civic duty without any injuries or ill will.

As we were walking away, Zoe and I were saying how much we liked Wally and were glad we were able to help him to get home safely. What a good feeling!

Then we heard the pitter-patter of little feet. And there was Wally headed to the woods. Dad tried the “Come Wally” again but apparently his street cred was gone with the little guy.

The “horse” (which is what the big dogs are called) woman who had helped us came out of the house and we informed her Wally was off again and was no longer interested in our pack. She returned to the house to let his owner know he was off again. The owner ran out and asked if we had seen Wally, at which point Dad pointed in the direction Wally went and the “horse” lady said “they are the ones who brought Wally home.” I guess a back door was left open.

No Houdini tricks were apparently necessary for this escape. HAHAHAHA.

The Tempest

The Historic Concord

On our morning walk today, we ran into Mr. E and Mrs. A of the Chance pack. Instead of the usual “there are the girls!” Mrs. A and Mr. E were in an intense discussion of what to do. When we caught up to them Mom learned of the decision to be made and said “we will follow you!” We then were lucky enough to get close to Chance’s gorgeous abode! And then the treat just for us! Mr. E He called us over and handed Mom a handful of papers and a couple of bandanas. The papers were documents certifying that both Zoe and me were Minute Man National Historical Park B.a.r.k. Rangers!

Once my parents check off the boxes after B., A., R., and K. then sign and date the document, we’ll be official…hopefully this will be done no later than this evening. It probably will be, as they are pretty good partners with us about these things. Mr. E said the FBI will check on us soon, so we will be again the stars of the place!

In the meantime, instead of our normal walk around the neighborhood around lunch time, Dad piled us in the dog car and off we went. Unbeknownst to us, we were headed to the MMNHP – something we pass every time we go to the vet but have never stopped to visit. This is in part due to the fact that during the summer it tended to be teeming with people and thus not something we would consider during the pandemic. By the way, Walden Pond, which I am so interested in sitting beside and forming some deep thoughts, was WAY to busy this summer for me to get the chance…maybe soon. If you wonder what Zoe would do if given the opportunity I think this New Yorker Cartoon captures it:

Is George Zoe’s Father???

As I was saying, we piled into the car, and since Mom wasn’t occupying the passenger’s seat with Zoe, this meant the sunroof could be open – apparently if she is there and we are given access to this opening she ends up with a lot of scratches and bruises. Why? Don’t ask me. My head is outside and my senses are overwhelmed by all the smells as the air blows my ears backward and my eyes dry out as a result of my eyelids being forced open when we hit our top speed of 30 MPH. But today the sky was our limit even though these pics are while we were stopped on account of safety (according to dad).

As we got nearer to the park, Zoe started getting all excited – making all sorts of different types of vocalizations before settling into her normal “I want X” bark. She is kinda in to whatever she wants, as you may know… And without Mom to calm her? Outta control!

When we arrived at the park you’ll never guess who we met.

Mr E!!!! Could it be that Zoe knew this before me? He volunteers there and was trying to recruit dad since Mr. E wants to eventually become an official park ranger so he can wear the fancy uniform and hat:

Park Ranger Uniform

The discussion between the two took a while so I just hunkered down and relaxed in the shade. I guess the conversation was something about how with an official hat Mr. E could let Mr. and Mrs. W know they didn’t have to worry anymore about us barking; no dog officer needed type of thing, given we were official barkers now. I mean, they would still have to worry about the other 3-6 barking dogs in our hood (the German, Micky, Wally, the short dog with the dog walker in cowboy boots, the little guy, and the newbie), but us? NO worries! We are bark rangers, people!

When the conversation did end, Zoe and I found a couple of benches to perch on for a photo op in our new scarfs:

OK. The scarfs were not quite big enough to fit around our necks – but this had nothing to do with our Covid1.9 but that we are big muscular dogs. I guess the normal Bark Ranger is one of those tiny little things that call themselves dogs…like Wally!

As we walked through the park we saw the Minute Man Statue, walked across the Old North Bridge, and saw many plaques with text about the significance of certain areas. Dad started thinking about the idea of using some of his “retirement” time doing some volunteering. This, of course, would require him to learn the history of the area which may be a stretch for him given his advanced age. So when I was given the chance, I made sure to read all the inscriptions so, in the event he chose to sign up, I could help him through some of the historical facts.

Zoe couldn’t focus on any of these markers, even as I tried to read the fine print of the Concord Fight which identified the author. Even on the Old North Bridge, all she could focus on was the fact that there was water below us and not on the significance of this bridge in the eventual freedoms the Minutemen won for what was to become the United States of America:

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Laughing at Zoe’s water obsession

The Concord Fight and Grave of the British soldiers were on the other side of the bridge so Zoe was going to have to cross the bridge again on our way back. To her credit, despite the water – low as it was due to our current drought – running below us, she sat next to me as a couple passed us. The man looked at us and was very complementary of our behavior and good manners. In fact, I think I heard him say, with what sounded like a slight foreign accent: “Such good dogs. Truly amazing. They are more polite than most of the people here.”

If I knew how to salute, I would have, and said: “At your service sir. I am an Official* Bark Ranger!”

The Tempest

* Mom/Dad – don’t forget to sign and date our certificates!!

A few more pictures from the park in the town that the whole world no doubt knows is THE famous Concord that one reads about in history books.

And a beautiful morning sight – the re-blooming of one of our roses after a much needed rain…hopefully it is a harbinger of good things to come – a rebirth of the democracy the Minutemen helped initiate nearly 250 years ago (or 1750-ish “dog” years):

Water, Part 1: The Story of the Evil Eye at the Cranberry Bog

Recently, the whole pack piled into our “dog” car and we headed off to what was sure to be another adventure – if I understood correctly this one was at a bog. Not that I have extensive experience with such things, but there happens to be a long forgotten one on one of the trails in our neighborhood. We’ve visited this place twice now, and on each occasion the smells and mud in the bog were fantastic…not as mouth watering as the smells at the ice cream shop but still pretty exciting. But I guess it left my Mom disappointed, as she somehow was thinking a cranberry bog would be more than a mud pit.

And I became even more excited to realize we were going to the bog after reading the Carlisle Mosquito Police Report (the one that featured US) and seeing that the Dog Officer was called as someone could not get their Golden Retriever to stop swimming so they could go home. Good times were surely ahead of us, people!

Cranberry Bog of Carlisle

As I predicted, this was a great adventure even if it wasn’t as muddy and murky as the one near our house. However, there were lots of water, geese, and even some woods we were able to walk through. We even made it all the way into Chelmsford – a neighboring town! Which must mean we walked a very, very long way.

For most of our expedition we were on our normal 6′ leashes even though the signs said we didn’t need to be leashed at all – and there were a number of others running around free from any constraints. Interestingly, when their owners called them, these dogs stopped what they were doing and returned to the side of these people. What’s up with that? No way Zoe or myself would ever be so subservient. We’ve gotten pretty good listening to “commands” when we are on leashes thanks to our training with MaryAnne in Illinois – but off leash is FREE TIME. Apparently, dogs in Chelmsford are more like Zoe and I, since they had a sign posted that ALL dogs must be leashed. Fortunately for us, when we got to a certain section of this conservation land that had water, our parents broke out our 30 footers! And just across this small expanse of “bog” were a whole bunch of geese just sitting there like…like…sitting ducks? Strange. But true.

So into the water we charged, sure we’d get us some fresh bird meat for dinner. However, after a few steps, the ground underneath the water disappeared from beneath my feet and I was full on swimming – which is something I can do without any problem but I prefer it when my feet are firmly on terra firma (note: although by definition, terra firma is “dry land” it is also distinct from water or air – therefore, I still contend that even if the ground is wet and under water, it is still ground that my nails can dig into and thus “land”…where I am more at ease). Zoe on the other hand loves swimming. Apparently, she almost appears to to like when her feet aren’t on dry land…which may also explain her interest in flying (?). So despite the deep waters, she kept paddling away through the cold, depth-less, water, her total being focused on the goal of goose flesh. She put her head down, feet churning faster and faster but the birds remained out of reach – as though the chasm of water was ever expanding. Unrelenting, she kept it up – water splashing and eddying all around her but she still seemed as though she were making no progress. At which point, I may have uttered some ultrasonic words of encouragement to her to keep going and to never give up on her dreams. But in doing so, her head turned toward me and discovered that her lack of progress was because our mother was still holding on to her leash – 30′ only gets you so far (especially if it isn’t all unfurled).

Zoe…going nowhere

In case you missed her look at the end of the video here is a freeze frame of the moment she was on to Mom’s game. I of course was rolling on the ground laughing until I almost couldn’t breathe – off camera of course.

Evil Eye

After a few more dips in the water as we made our way along the path that paralleled the bog, we took another stroll in the sun as dried off while we made our way back to the car.

When we returned home, the latest addition of the Mosquito was in our mailbox with this short bit on the bog:

I am hoping next year, it is in the same condition as the one near us – because truthfully, the smells are much better when the place gets all muddy…and just imagine the odors that would emanate from something that covered that much acreage!?!

The Tempest

After this adventure, I came across this map of our new state of MA. I must say I hope we get to visit the area where the orange area is pointing since that is MUCH larger than even the Car-lie-lee bog!!

Back Fire

As I documented recently, for the second time, Zoe has some mad hops. In addition, she is very accomplished in kicking up all sorts of debris after she pees on our walks. However, she is also very unpredictable about when she decides that a good “scritching” is required. Being the dog that is usually in the rear of our pack on walks, I always give her puddle a quick sniff to see if it needs a “mark-over” – which is one of my special talents. Therefore, I have recently come to the conclusion that a little patience in making my assessment of her spot would be wise so as not to catch a bunch of twigs, dirt, grass, little small rocks, random parts of mushrooms and leaves in my muzzle.

This comes after a recent “allergy” attack in which I really scratched up my nose and gave myself a few scratches around my eyes. I blame the debris from one of Zoe’s back fires for my reaction. The vet wasn’t sure what the cause was but gave me one of those so called Elizabethan collars – otherwise know as the cone of shame. However, this one was clear so I could see everything and it kept Zoe out of my face – especially at night – so I was fine with wearing it. I get the need for certain personal protective equipment when the situation calls for it. I guess that makes me more enlightened than a lot of the humans walking around at a party, a rally, or other event where social distancing isn’t possible…just saying.

After a visit to the vet, the E-collar, and a quick trimming of my dew claws, I was pretty much back to normal in a few days as documented (in no chronological order) by the above pictures. The trimming of my toe nails is not something I tolerate well, but since they only focused on my 2 dew claws I handled the operation like the pro I am. Had they decided all my nails needed to be clipped to prevent further wounds to my face there would definitely been some words between my parents and myself – mostly with my teeth barred and words that I don’t feel appropriate to repeat here. Although I have recited it many times in my head – you know how that is? It is kind of like “writing” my blog. I often come up with the perfect phrases, story lines, and insights and then when I finally get The Scribe to pay attention, it turns out differently. But that would not be the case if they ever get out those nail cutters out again – those words are FINALIZED.

Best,

The Tempest

Runways and Landing Strips

As you may recall from previous blogs, Zoe can absolutely FLY!

Zoe Jumping the Dog Gate Leading to the Lake

Her ability to fly over things is remarkable and may have led to that incident with the car in Michigan over a year ago that resulted in an extended visit with “Pa” (our Ann Arbor grandfather) – which I am sure I told you about in prior posts. This is why we ended up getting a 6′ fence surrounding much of our backyard at our new pack house in Massachusetts. However, there may have been some episodes of dogs escaping…but that is a story (or stories) for another time. Because I am perfect, of course.

Of course, there were times when she pretended to learn that jumping over the fence at the dog park was verboten – unfortunately in this instance, she was on the other side of the gate prior to my parents arriving. Thus, using my deductive reasoning, I surmised that she must have already jumped the fence so her ruse of having “learned” not to jump was an obvious lie – the fact I saw her jump over may have also helped me come to this conclusion.

Then there are the times indoors that she just shows off her flying ability. In this instance, one of our aunts in Michigan held up a toy above her head which we both tried to get:

Blocked out

Obviously, this wasn’t a fair contest since she was granted inside position prior to the jump, so I was determined to not participate if they continued this “competition”:

Sitting this one out

Of course, yours truly can also fly as evidenced by this photo:

Accelerating through the air – no paws on the ground

And there is even photographic evidence that in a fairly conducted trial, I can even fly with my sister:

Two Dogs Flying

So, why the title for this blog you may be asking yourself? Well, given our parents have two dogs that can fly, they should not be surprised that our new backyard has at least one runway:

And then the (currently) two landing strips near the edge of the fence:

So be on the alert for the arrival of Zoe and I at a landing strip near you.

The Tempest

Don’t think this is pure fiction, Snoopy did it vs. the Red Baron on more than one occasion!

We Made the Club!

We were on our morning walk today when Mrs. A (of Mrs. A and Mr. E who are owned by our friend Chance…not Chase which I wrote in a previous blog but which my editor missed) gave Mom an appropriately physical distanced virtual high five and said “Welcome to the Club!”  I couldn’t figure out what my Mom had done, unless there is some club for people who Zoom constantly, and then Chance clued me in that it was me and not Mom at all (maybe really Zoe, but she does what I tell her to do except those times when she doesn’t and we end up in a fight).

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Halloween Faces

Let me first take a step back and explain something about this place we now call home.  I think I told you about our town blog (The City in the Woods), but I don’t think I told you about our town rag, the Carlisle Mosquito.  Which as an aside, really helped to explain a note left by the previous owners that they would buy fire wood from the Mosquito ad – which originally left us scratching our heads thinking there was no way for mosquitoes to deliver wood…them being real tiny and not something you would invite over to your house intentionally.  Mom had been trying to figure out what ad for mosquito treatments mentioned firewood but now that we know it is a newspaper – everything makes much more sense.  Anyway, it was clear from all of the numerous recommendations from neighbors as well as the previous owners that my parents needed a subscription.  The reason for all this excitement?  Every two weeks the Mosquito is printed – after a short COVID-19 hiatus – with a day-by-day rendition of the activity of the local police and fire departments.  My parents never liked Police Blotters before as they were always about someone getting hurt.  Not this one people!  We get highlights like:

• 7:18 am.  Multiple officers and a passerby helped to return wayward sheep to their pen on Bedford Road.  The owner was notified.

Or

• 8:26 pm.  A biking family of 5 was escorted home from Kimball’s farm to N.F. Rd by the police when it got dark sooner than they expected.  Btw, Kimball’s is where we got that awesome ice cream, and the family lives right behind us!  Our neighborhood was famous!

But my Mom’s favorite so far was when every day for two weeks the following was mentioned:

• 7:15 am.  Police were informed a rooster on Autumn lane was crowing.  Police investigated and confirmed the rooster was crowing.

Ba ha ha!  I love this place.  So, clearly, it was time for us to be featured!  And so it happened that one day a car drove in our driveway (we have a rule that we never bark at police cars) and we didn’t warn Dad.  Mom was on a Zoom call.  Dad was surprised to see someone at the front door, and an unmarked car in the driveway, and went out to speak with the man who said he wanted to come inside to meet the dogs.  We were angels, I tell you, so well behaved and gave the man kisses and didn’t bark once.  It turns out this guy was the Dog Officer and there had been complaints about us barking from a Mr. W.  Luckily I am so smart and knew he was a kinda police dude even if his car didn’t show it (maybe the smell of cruellers?), and well, did you see us bark mister?  Heck no!  My parents were surprised it took so long for Mr. W to call as they were warned Day 1 from Mr. E and Chance that this would happen.  They were also warned shortly thereafter from another neighbor who is owned by another one of our friends Mickey – who I don’t think we’ve mentioned before.  Because it was the Dog Officer who stopped by, my parents weren’t sure if they would make the Police Blotter until the first congratulatory text from neighbor K (of K, A, W and their two dogs who we haven’t become friends with yet on account of some disagreements between Zoe and I about if we liked them or not):

Our Entry in The Mosquito

Dad bragged that we made it in the blotter and hadn’t even been here 6 months, but K burst his bubble when she said they made it in before they even moved here.  They are awesome, although since we haven’t decided if they are our friends or not we do maybe bark at their dogs Lucas and Lucky when they walk by.  We love their daughter W.  Anyhoo, I guess they were preparing to move here and were driving through the neighborhood checking it out and someone called the cops on them as suspicious.  Once they explained to the officer the situation they couldn’t get the cop to stop talking about how awesome Carlisle was, how great our neighborhood is, how he got there in under 6 minutes, how he wished he could live in our neighborhood, etc.

When Mickey’s parents heard about the complaint (and subsequent write up in The Mosquito) they a) said they were surprised it has taken so long for the W’s to call the cops on us, and b) we have been much better with barking since Mike the K-9 trainer dude stopped by (a story for another day), and c) they were waiting for their first visit from the cops courtesy of Mr. and Mrs. W.  I guess once Mr. W stole their kid’s scooters, so he really is not very popular around here.

Neighbor N, the house down the road, told Dad our dogs are not annoying, unlike the moron kids in the house behind him (the kids of the family who had the police escort back from ice cream).

Then the virtual appreciation this morning from Mrs. A and Mr. E was just the best.  I guess one time when the cops were called, a neighbor saw the officer coming and gave them a heads up.  Mr. E took Chance in the basement and told him to be quiet while Mrs. A explained to the officer that they were having a disagreement with the neighbors Mr. and Mrs. W.  Essentially, the W’s don’t think dogs should exist and Mrs. A & Mr. E love Chance.  Suddenly the officer said “wait – I don’t hear a barking dog?”  ha ha ha.  I guess the W’s used to honk their horn at Chance the way they now honk at Zoe.  One time the local cops had an open house where you could get your dog tested on their behaviors.  Mrs. A took Chance, and Chance was a pro.  He got a trophy at the end saying that he was a wonder dog, and after receiving the trophy Mrs. A said to the all the cops “you do realize this is the terror of L.R. Road, don’t you?”  ha ha ha.  We wonder if this is why it took so long for the Dog Officer to stop by.  The complaint was on a Sunday, and he didn’t stop by until Wednesday…  I guess the W’s have a bit of a reputation. 

And now we do too.

Stay healthy, sane, and safe people.

The Tempest

Court artist rendering of Zoe’s mug shot (apparently they couldn’t afford a good artist – being a small town in the woods and all):