Posts Tagged ‘park’

Heartbroken Hound

July 29, 2011

When Alpha Dad woke me up this morning and asked if I wanted to go to the P-A-R-K this morning, I leapt out of bed and ran straight for the shoe bin.  I’ve been a good boy– I’ve kept the bagel that I’ve been saving for Cassie there all week, and only licked it a couple of times.  I conceal the bagel in my closed mouth so that Alpha Dad won’t see it, and follow him out to the car.

We arrive at the P-A-R-K just as the “No Dogs Allowed” time begins, but I can’t read and neither can the other dogs.  Besides, I’ve never been much of a rules person.  Across the parking lot I spot Cassie walking with her Alpha Mom.  Her Alpha Mom is carrying a frisbie!  Ordinarily, I would rush over to sniff it, but my mouth is too full of bagel to do so today.  Instead, I walk slowly across the parking lot, doing my best to come off as a dignified gentleman.

“Wff!” I attempt to greet Cassie, but it comes out a little muffled.  Cassie doesn’t seem to hear me.  I begin to wabbit run across the parking lot.  I simply can’t contain myself any longer!  I roll dramatically to a stop in front of Cassie and drop the bagel at her feet.  “Woof!” I announce triumphantly.

Cassie eyes the dripping bagel cautiously.  She gives it a little sniff.  C’mon Cassie, pick it up, it’s for you!

“Cassie, come!” orders Cassie’s Alpha Mom.  I’m starting to think that Cassie’s Mom is the Alpha Mom of all Alpha Moms.

Cassie pushes the bagel back toward me with her paw.  “Woof,” she says softly.  Thanks, kid, but I don’t want your doggy bagel.

I sit in the grass, dumbfounded.  Suddenly, I’ve lost my appetite for the bagel.  I watch Cassie and her Alpha Mom proceed through the dewey grass.  I want to take a nap right there by the parking lot, but Alpha Dad is calling me.  I turn to glance at Alpha Dad just in time to see a huge great dane jump over me!

“Arroof!”  Hey, buddy, who do you think you are?  I’m trying to catch some zzzz’s here!  The great dane ignores me, and I watch, horrified, as he runs straight toward Cassie.  “Ahhrooo!” I howl, Look out, Cassie!  But the great dane slows down when he reaches her.  He greets Cassie’s Alpha Mom, who scratches him behind one of his ears.  And then he gives Cassie a gentle nuzzle.  She licks him back.

I can’t believe this.

And this is not over.

Digging for Buried Bagel

July 22, 2011

I have to do something to impress Cassie.  She’s started walking her Alpha Mom around my town, but even though our paths cross all the time, she won’t give me the time of day!  Maybe if I gave her something really exceptional, she would realize that our relationship is simply meant to be.

Once, after I had been to the P-A-R-K with Alpha Dad, we stopped for bagels before heading home.  Bagels are a personal favorite of mine, especially when they have cream cheese on them.  (Shh!  Don’t tell Alpha Mom!)   Unfortunately, it’s a rare occasion when someone gives me a bagel.  Apparently bagels are classified as “People Food,” a term that my family uses to describe food that they don’t think dogs will like.  But they’ve got it wrong– I love People Food!  I wish my family understood that they don’t have to go through the trouble of procuring “Dog Food” for me, because I would be perfectly happy on a diet of People Food.  Ah well, life is tough.

Anyways, back to my recollections.  That day, Alpha Dad got a bagel just for me.  It was a little harder than a regular bagel, and a little smaller, too.  Plus, it smelled suspiciously like kibble.  But it was shaped like a bagel, and I figured, Hey, good enough, my family is finally coming around.  I figured I would put the bagel somewhere special, because after all, it’s not often that a hound gets the good stuff.  So I dug up a patch of grass in a cozy corner by the fence, buried my bagel, and kicked some dirt on top of it to keep it safe.

Apparently I did too good of a job hiding my treasure.  Now I’m in my backyard trying to remember where I left the tasty snack.  Oh Cassie, if only you could see how hard I’m trying.  I dig up a couple of plants, sniff around the edge of the driveway, and–

Ohmygosh I smell it, that’s it, oh gee, to the left, no, to the right, no, forward, I’m on the scent!  Oh Cassie, Cassie, Cassie I’ve got it it’s over here somewhere yes that’s the corner ahhhh the excitement is killing me!  Under the plant, under the grass, dig Woody dig dig dig!  Oh boy ohboyohboy this is it!  Yesssssss!

When Cassie sees this treasure, she won’t be able to resist.

Sweet Dreams

July 1, 2011

I spend lots of time sleeping, which means I also spend lots of time dreaming.  Usually I imagine I’m snatching a hot dog or a steak, but as soon as I’ve knocked it off the kitchen table I wake up.  But today I had one of the most incredible dreams ever:

I was at the P-A-R-K with Alpha Dad.  The grass was green and dewey, and I rolled in it for good measure.  There were all sorts of dogs at the P-A-R-K, and I frolicked with some golden retrievers.  When I glanced back for Alpha Dad (even in my dreams, I like to make sure that he hasn’t wandered off and gotten lost), he was deep in conversation with my friends’ Alpha Parents.  I figured he could keep himself occupied for a while, so I started to trot up the hill… and that was when I saw her.

She was the most beautiful dog in the P-A-R-K.  She was slender for a basset hound, with long tan ears that dangled gracefully to the ground.  Her tail wagged a bit when she saw me, and I waddled toward her, thrilled and petrified all at once.  She turned to look at me with her big brown eyes, and I couldn’t resist–I ran up and licked her.

Just then, her Alpha Mom called to her from across the P-A-R-K.

“Cassie!  Cassie, come!”

Cassie!  Ah, if only I could speak!  Cassie, Cassie, Cassie is her name!  My tail was wagging uncontrollably and I was drooling like crazy and then, to my horror, Cassie turned and glided obediently back to her Alpha Mom.

And then, of all the inconvenient moments to wake up, I was pulled back into reality.  Brother Pooch was trying to give me a belly rub, but all I could think about was my stunning new acquaintance.

Hounds of All Shapes and Sizes

May 16, 2010

Earlier today, Alpha Dad took me for a short walk.  I had been complaining all morning about the injustice of his not taking me to the P-A-R-K, and I suppose he felt guilty when he agreed to take me around the block.

I have lots of doggie friends who live near my house.  Okay, they aren’t all my friends.  Like the german shepherd who thinks she is so much more intelligent than the rest of us (and probably is), and the poodle who barks and yips and scares me half to death every time I walk past.  And she always smells like peaches ‘n cream.

I always look forward to seeing my friends, the golden retrievers.  I’m not sure what sort of golden I prefer- the puppies because they’re more my size, or the adults because they don’t jump all over me.  Alpha Dad always says that golden retrievers are the nicest dogs at the P-A-R-K.  Clearly, he is not taking basset hounds into account.

My perspective on beagles is neutral.  They are loud and obnoxious, and they aren’t as handsome as basset hounds.  They’re inferior knock-offs of distinguished hounds like myself.  That being said, I’ve heard that when others copy you it’s best to take it as a complement.  I suppose that since there are so many beagles running around town, they must think quite highly of me.

What Bassets Aren’t Allowed to Do

April 17, 2010

When I arrived at the P-A-R-K today with Alpha Dad and Sister Martian, there was a policeman trying to give people tickets for having their dogs off-leash during No Dogs Allowed hours.  Since I couldn’t read the No Dogs sign, I walked right into the P-A-R-K and luckily wasn’t caught be the policeman.  Unfortunately, some of my friends got busted by the strict cop.  I don’t understand why they won’t let dogs off-leash at the P-A-R-K after 9:00- nobody is ever there during the day and we’re not bothering anyone!  Some rules Rules in general don’t make any sense to me.

When I was entering the P-A-R-K, I ran into my friend and fellow basset: Chip.  Chip was heading back toward the parking lot with his parents.  In his mouth was a headless wabbit.  Chip was looking mighty pleased with himself, and he even let me take a sniff of his prize.  For some reason, his parents weren’t thrilled about Chip’s find.  Chip’s Dad kept trying to get him to drop the wabbit, but of course Chip wouldn’t do something that stupid.  What sort of basset hound would drop such a prize just because someone asked them nicely?  Unfortunately, Chip’s Mom proved to be a real Alpha Parent.  She grabbed the wabbit by the hind legs and yanked it out of Chip’s mouth, and then flung it off the trail.  Chip and I both gazed wistfully at the dead wabbit lying in the grass. 

The good news: there is always next time, assuming that Chip and I aren’t kept out of the P-A-R-K by some policeman who doesn’t like dogs.

My Bad Day was Fur-tilizer’s Fault

April 12, 2010

Yesterday was a very very sad day because a certain hound dog (ME!) didn’t get to go to the P-A-R-K.  I whined and ran in circles and even knocked the kibble out of my dish, but Alpha Dad wouldn’t take me.  He tried to explain why I couldn’t go, and it had something to do with a funny-sounding word: “fur-tilizer.”

Today, Alpha Dad agreed to take me to the P-A-R-K.  As soon as I put my paws in the grass, I could see what he was talking about.  Fur-tilizer looks like cat excrement but it smells even yuckier.  I tried to roll in it, but I didn’t like the way it felt on my fur.  When I was done playing with the other bassets, I was really stinky- and not in a good way.

Here’s the worst part: when I got home, Alpha Dad gave me a bath!  He said that playing in fur-tilizer isn’t good for dogs or people and that it could make me sick.  The only thing worse than a bath is going to the vet, so I didn’t put up too much fuss when he poured half a bottle of “Soothing Lavender Lilac” shampoo on my back.  Even my tail got a good scrubbing.  I was cold and wet all day.

I hope that they never put fur-tilizer on the grass at the P-A-R-K ever again.  I don’t want to have to endure a bath after every trip to the P-A-R-K!  Weeds have never bothered me, but fur-tilizer sure does.

Friend of the Birds

April 9, 2010

Recently, Alpha Mom took me to the P-A-R-K.  The P-A-R-K is supposed to be a place where dog lovers can let their dogs off the leash, but the village isn’t so big on this.  Someone set up no-dog hours, and if a Basset tries to go for a walk during these hours, he has to be on a leash.  Whoever set up the no-dog hours is first and foremost about as low as Cat in my book.  He or she is extremely foolish, because they forgot one key detail about Basset Hounds: we can’t read the “No Dogs” signs.

It was a lovely Saturday evening, mildly warm with a thin breeze.  And of course, I couldn’t read the “No Dogs” sign.  A wedding reception was underway on the P-A-R-K patio, and while the scents were delicious, I knew better than to interrupt the party.  Innocently off-leash, I trotted through the grass. 

BIRD!

Only the scent of a WABBIT is more captivating than that of Bird.  I buried my nose in the grass, searching for my nearby playmate.  And then I saw him, wandering around in the grass.  He was just a little thing, with light brown wings and beedlike eyes.  I gave him a warning “woof” and the chase was on.  The bird hopped around to the other side of the patio, and I followed at rabbit run speed.  I wanted to catch the bird as soon as possible, lest it fly away.

Reader, you must understand, I am a playful hound.  I do not eat birds like some malicious breeds, rather, I corner my playmate, take a big whiff, and I move on to other scents.  The bird must have known this, because it stayed on the ground, hobbling around in front of me.  I took a few steps forward, and soon I had the bird trapped between my paws.

“Someone stop him!  Stop the dog!  He’s hurting the injured bird!”  A crowd of wedding-goers was watching me from the patio now.  I couldn’t understand what they were saying, but I figured it must have something to do with cheering me on.  Just to get the crowd going, I let the bird go.  He raced off into the grass, and I followed.  After a few laps around the patio, I cornered him again.

“Come here, doggie doggie!  Leave the bird alone!”  I glanced at the bird between my paws.  He was a timid little guy, and petrified with fright.  I took a step back, but he just stood there like some sort of lawn statue.

“Woof,” I said.  “I won’t hurt you.  I just want to sniff you.”

“He killed the bird!  Oh my god, someone stop that dog!  Wait, the bird isn’t dead yet!  Somebody save the bird!”  From the increased volume of the cheers, I figured I must be some sort of celebrity amongst these wedding-goers.  Perhaps they had all read my blog?  I decided to take the opportunity to show off my muscular build and glossy coat, so I began to strut around the bird.

I was enjoying my moment in the spotlight, but just then Alpha Mom marched out onto the grass and grabbed my collar.  Apparently she could read the “No Dogs” sign.  I squirmed backwards and tried to pull off “no go,” but I was too late.  Alpha Mom steered me down the path and into the P-A-R-K, where a plethora of scents awaited me.

Treasure Hunting at the P-A-R-K

March 30, 2010

I was out for a trot at the P-A-R-K when I caught a whiff of the most incredible scent!  I buried my nose in the grass and followed the trail to a chicken bone rotting on the ground beneath a bush.  I lay down beneath the bush and began chomping on my treasure.  Unfortunately, just as I was starting to devour my delicacy, Alpha Mom called me from the path.

It’s not every day that a hound dog comes across something this yummy.  I couldn’t just leave the bone until the next morning.  What if another dog found it?  I grimace at the thought of a poodle taking my chicken bone.  This left only one solution: I would have to take the chicken bone home with me.

I heard Alpha Mom approaching from behind me.  For some reason, she doesn’t share my enthusiasm for buried treasure.  But this chicken bone was special and I wasn’t going to let her take it from me!  I gulped up the bone and managed to bury it in my mouth.  The bone didn’t quite fit between my teeth, but I figured it wouldn’t matter because the bone still fit inside of my cheeks.  With the bone safely wedged in my mouth, I spun around and ran back toward Alpha Mom.

Alpha Mom reached down to pet me, and I thought that I might be lucky enough to get a belly rub right here in the middle of the P-A-R-K!  Unfortunately for me, Alpha Mom had her own agenda.  She pulled me toward her and placed her hands on the sides of my face, just behind where I was sure the chicken bone was safely concealed.  Alpha Mom pulled her hands forward across my cheeks and out popped the chicken bone!  I have no idea how she saw it.  I mean, I guess my cheeks must have looked pretty funny with the bone wedged inside, but I thought I had been pretty sneaky hiding it in my mouth.

Here’s the good news: Alpha Mom made me leave the chicken bone behind in the P-A-R-K, but I’ll bet that tomorrow I can get back on the scent and find it again…

Alpha Track Dog

March 28, 2010

Once, I saw a movie about a dog who was a total loser until he joined a basketball team and BAM he was famous!  If that’s all it takes to get some attention, I should be in the newspaper for joining the girls’ track team this morning at the P-A-R-K.

I was hanging out with some of my Basset buddies this morning.  You know, sniffing together, taking power naps together.  Basset Hounds are the most dignified breed at the P-A-R-K, but sometimes they just aren’t active enough for me.  This morning, I was up for a challenge.  And then I saw just the opportunity to show the world just how speedy a Basset Hound can be!  The girls’ track team was sprinting across the park, and I sped over to give track a try.

Girls’ track is harder than it looks.  I plunged into the middle of the pack, only to have my tail stepped on with someone’s muddy shoe!  Plus, my ears aren’t very aerodynamic.  But as I discovered, I have a real talent for running downhill.  I was Alpha Speed-Demon Dog, especially when I led the pack across a pool of mud at the bottom of the hill.  (Can you believe it?  Girls don’t like to play in the mud!)

Just as we were approaching a steep hill, I thought about my Basset Hound friends who were enjoying their power nap.  Who needs up-hills, anyways?  I took a cool-down trot back to my friends and collapsed in the grass.  The way I see it, if a Hound has to run up-hill to be a celebrity, then fame is definitely not worth it.

W-A-L-K Expertise

March 24, 2010

Okay, so as I mentioned the other day, Alpha Dad thinks he’s really clever for spelling words that he doesn’t want me to hear.  I’ll admit, when he started calling the Park “P-A-R-K” and referring to the walk as “W-A-L-K,” I was pretty confused.  But Basset Hounds are scholarly (even though we don’t look it), so now I know to look forward to my W-A-L-K every evening.

When I’m happy to be going on a W-A-L-K, I take off down the sidewalk at a trot.  This is just a little faster than a walk.

Sometimes, I get really really excited about going on a W-A-L-K!  Like the summer when there were cicadas everywhere and life was like an endless snacktime.  Or maybe there’s a wabbit in the neighbor’s yard (look out wabbits, here I come!)  For this reason, I like to call my second-fastest speed rabbit run.

You might think that Basset Hounds are always slow and lazy, but the truth is that we’re only slow and lazy when we want to be… which means we’re almost always slow and lazy.  But on rare occasions (like when I smell a pretty Lady Hound across the street), I like to show off a speed that I call bullet dog.  Basset Hounds have a very aerodynamic shape (with the exception of our ears, of course), and when I get caught up in the scent of the neighbor’s barbecue, there is no stopping this Hound.

Like I said, it’s rare that I ever pull off “bullet dog.”  The speed that I use more than all of the aforementioned is a speed that is best described as no go.  That’s when I park my butt on the sidewalk and say “Alpha Dad, I do not want to go to the vet, and I am going to sit here and refuse to move until you give up and take me home.”

You’ve heard it here, from Sheriff Bluepaw.  Alpha Dad may think he knows everything, but he’s underestimating the Assistant Protector of Bagels Everywhere if he thinks I don’t have a few tricks of my own.


%d bloggers like this: