Living With Oreo

Growing Old Together

2011-11-27T19:05:00.000-08:00

Here's an Oreo-related column from today's Ottawa Citizen:

Oreo is our family dog. He’s a six-and-a-half year-old black and white Portuguese water dog with a pleasant disposition and a penchant for eating sticks.

When it came to acquiring him, I was the lone holdout. My wife Cheryl and my daughter Sarah were desperate to get a dog. Although I like dogs, I didn’t want the responsibility.

Needless to say, I capitulated and Oreo has long since become a valued member of the family. In fact, with every passing year, I find that he and I have more and more in common and we are now becoming fast friends.

I think this has something to do with the aging process. Based on the very rough guideline that one dog year is equivalent to seven human years, Oreo is now about 45. When he turns nine on March 24, 2014 and I turn 64 a day earlier, we’ll be almost the same age in human years.

Keeping that in mind, it’s perhaps not surprising that we are starting to live very similar lives. To wit:

Diet

Oreo has allergies and has to eat special dog food made from salmon and potatoes; expensive special dog food, I might add. Although I don’t have any allergies, I now also have to restrict my food intake to those things which do not cause any digestive upsets. However, we both still enjoy the occasional treat.

Weight

Both Oreo and I are convinced that we are the perfect weight for our breed. The family vet, however, disagrees and suggests that our portly Portie could stand to lose a few pounds. I have heard similar comments from my family doctor. We choose to view the glass as half full as well as the bowl and the plate, and figure there’s just more of us to love.

Sleeping habits

Like most dogs, Oreo likes to sleep. I used to marvel at his ability to put in a full night’s sleep and still bag tons of zzzs napping during the day. Now that I’m retired, I am no longer in awe of his sleeping regimen and often manage to match him nap for nap.

Exercise

Despite our slight excess weight, we are both firm believers in exercise. I like to work out by taking group cycling classes. However, more and more often, I find that my exercise regime mirrors Oreo’s as we now take frequent walks together.

Hair

As I mentioned, Oreo’s fur is black and white. As more grey sneaks into my head covering, my hirsute status might now be described as brown and white. Oreo, too, is starting to show touches of grey here and there although his fur is not thinning like mine. We both choose to classify our hair appearance as distinguished.

Health

Up until recently, I would have placed Oreo’s health status a tad ahead of mine. But, like me, he has been diagnosed as having osteoarthritis of the right hip. I’ve got it in the left hip, too, but we both manage to bounce around pretty well for our respective ages. Like Oreo, I still have most of my original teeth.

Sex

Oreo was euphemistically “fixed” at a very young age. Yet he still seems to have some sexual urges as he occasionally attempts to hump the odd dog or human leg. I, too, have had some minor surgical alterations but, so far, I do not hump other dogs or legs.

Drugs

I take a couple of medications for acid reflux and mild hypertension. Thanks to his osteoarthritis diagnosis, Oreo is starting to catch up with me. We both take Glucosamine and the occasional Aspirin for our arthritis but neither of us indulges in recreational drugs unless you count the odd beer.

Rock ’n’ roll

Although we both liked to party when we were younger, thanks to advancing years, neither of us is now fond of loud music including rock ’n’ roll. If we have to have music in the house, we prefer something peaceful, like soft classical music or nature sounds, especially those featuring birds and squirrels.

As we age gracefully together, Oreo and I are finding more and more activities to join in together. Activities like eating, napping and watching TV. If current trends are any indication, I anticipate the two of us happily spending our golden years together. I just wish the old guy had a pension to help out with his vet bills.

Memo to Oreo - CBC Radio

2011-06-13T12:21:00.000-07:00

Now that I've finally figured out how to access an MP3 file from my blog, here's a link to my CBC Radio "dogumentary" called "Memo to Oreo." Just click on the MP3 icon and it will take you to the OpenDrive site. Click on the play arrow and the audio should start in a few seconds.

The Pup is Sick

2011-03-29T17:44:00.000-07:00

Well, he's not really sick and he's no longer a pup. In fact, last week Oreo turned six. But things are not going well for the now middle-aged fellow. Before we went south on our March break trip, Oreo was having some difficulty getting up. It seemed to come on too quickly to be arthritis so we didn't give it too much thought. But by the time we got back, he was worse. This lead to vet visits, pain medication and watchful waiting. Today he had x-rays, a traumatic event for dogs since they have to be put out. The effect on my bank account was also a bit traumatic. When oh when are we finally going to have socialized medicine for dogs? The good news is that the vet doesn't see any signs of arthritis, fractures or hip dysplasia. Hopefully, Oreo just has a soft tissue injury that hasn't healed because we didn't keep him quiet. For the next two weeks, we have to keep Oreo from climbing stairs, jumping on furniture and lengthy walks in hopes that his injury will heal. Here's hoping that come spring, he'll be his old active self.

Oreo Gets Skunked

2010-12-05T11:43:00.000-08:00

Oreo hits the news again, this time for his encounter with a white-striped creature of the night. Check out this link to see how the poor guy fared:
http://www.ottawacitizen.com/entertainment/Skunked+Pepe+LePew+Oreo/3930463/story.html

Once again, Oreo makes the news

2010-09-26T19:55:00.001-07:00

Check out today's Ottawa Citizen to see the continuing adventures of Oreo the PWD: http://www.ottawacitizen.com/opinion/Dogged+canine+expenses/3581075/story.html

Memo to Oreo

2010-06-13T17:16:00.000-07:00

It looks like the archived episodes from CBC Outfront are no longer available. But if you go to http://www.prx.org/pieces/34693-humans-and-animals, log on and search for "Memo to Oreo", you will find it as the fourth piece of a series on animals. "Memo to Oreo" starts at about the 39 minute mark of the file.

Sleeping Beauty

2009-10-16T10:28:00.000-07:00

In reply to Julia from Ottawa, check out the earlier posts for some Oreo pix. I notice, however, that there are no recent pictures of the pampered pooch. For your amusement, I'm posting one today of Oreo in one of his more common poses. And Julia, you may think cats are nice but Oreo still doesn't agree!

Portie Alert!

2009-09-09T06:40:00.000-07:00

This is not the first time it's happened but it may have been the scariest. I'm speaking, of course, of one of Oreo's infrequent dashes for freedom.

This one occurred in the parkland near our house last Sunday morning. Cheryl sometimes takes Oreo there for his morning walk and occasionally even lets him off the leash. Big mistake.

While Cheryl bent down to retrieve some of Oreo's poop, he took off. By the time she stood up, he was nowhere in sight.

Cheryl wandered up and down the field yelling Oreo's name and undoubtedly waking any late-sleeping neighbors whose houses backed onto the field. Meanwhile, Oreo had headed across the field and onto the adjoining street.

Luckily, some kind people who live on that street spotted Oreo racing around looking for an entrance back into the field. They grabbed him, tied him up and phoned the number on his dog tag.

That's when I got the call to come rescue our nomadic dog. I drove to the rescuers' house, thanked them and headed back to the field to look for Cheryl. By this time, of course, she had given up and headed home.

Eventually, I was able to find both my wife and my dog. A happy ending although Oreo had no clue as to the danger that he faced.

Porky Portie

2009-09-01T12:50:00.001-07:00

It's been some time since I've updated our life with Oreo. But an article on Oreo's younger, more famous cousin in today's Washington Post reminded me that Oreo had a summer, too. Only Oreo's summer was hardly in the same league as Bo's. No galavanting in The White House, no evening walks with the President of the United States and no Martha's Vineyard getaway.

Not that Oreo can complain too much. For the most part, he got to lie around the house getting fat. Which brings me to the subject of today's blog: the porkie Portie.

Somehow, between sneaking in extra feedings and us being a bit slack on giving him table scraps, Oreo managed to pack on a few extra pounds. His mid-summer haircut-cum-shave revealed that our dog had a bit of a belly.

This discovery resulted in a new dietary regime for Oreo. No more table scraps, no inadvertent extra feedings and a slight (albeit noticeable) reduction in his daily portions of dog food.

Did Oreo notice? Definitely. He was not happy about this involuntary reduction in his caloric intake and tried to make up the difference by ingesting more than his usual share of grass, sticks and God-knows-what.

Despite his initial reluctance, Oreo has adjusted to his new mealtime regime. And the results are starting to show. He appears to have shed a couple of pounds and may soon regain (re-lose?) his once trim appearance.

Stay tuned for more progress in the PWD slimathon that we hope will turn our porky Portie into a dapper dog.

The First Puppy

2009-04-16T13:38:00.000-07:00

MEMO

TO: Bo, The First Puppy

FROM: Oreo the Portuguese Water Dog

My owner tells me that you have just been chosen by the Obama family to be The First Puppy. Congratulations, Bo. That’s quite an honor. But before you get too carried away with all the attention, best to heed a few lessons from someone who’s already been around the block a few times, so to speak.

For starters, your biggest asset is that you’re cute. Believe me, that will take you a long way. I’ve got the same markings and curly hair as you and, boy, they’ve helped me out of some big jams especially those times when I rolled around in that delicious dead animal matter. Despite what trouble you get into, looking cute means your owners can’t stay mad at you for long.

Next, enjoy your puppyhood but remember, it won’t last. So long as you’re small and cuddly and cute, you can get away with murder. Pee on the rug all you want and chew everything in sight. You’re a puppy; it’s expected. But just so you know, this stage won’t last forever. There’ll soon come a time when your owners are going to expect you to pee outside and actually respond to commands.

Just a word of warning. Beware of the obedience course. It’s no fun but I strongly advise you to just go along. The sooner you perform well at one of these courses, the sooner you can be done with them and get back to doing just as you please. Owners seem determined to get you to graduate with honors. But don’t worry; they seldom have the patience to continue the training regime at home.

Once you’ve completed the obedience course, it’s time to start training your owners. As for the basics, no need to fret. They’re generally housebroken and know to come when you bark. But when it comes to food, treats and walks, they’re sometimes a little slow.

Typically, you’re going to have a couple of bowls - one for food and one for water. Your owners are going to give you regular feedings of dog food but, trust me, that’s not going to be enough. You’re quickly going to have to train your caretakers to give you more dog food and to supplement it with some nice leftovers or table scraps.

One surefire method to get more is to play one owner off against another. I believe you have four owners so this should be a piece of cake for you. Once one of them has fed you, wait an hour or so. When another owner enters the room, shake your food bowl, bark and generally pretend to be starving. Chances are you’ll get a second or even a third helping.

Initially, humans tend to be conscientious about taking you for a walk. Just so you know, twice a day is the accepted minimum. Unfortunately, over time, some owners get a bit lazy and start to cut back on the frequency and length of your daily outings. That’s when a little extra training may be required.

If you find you’re being shortchanged in the exercise department, let your owners know. First try barking. If that doesn’t work, bring them your leash. If even that fails, start leaving little "presents" around the house which should quickly bring them around.

As for sleeping arrangements, humans tend to think you should sleep on the floor or on a doggie mat. That’s OK for starters but don’t settle for that. If you feel like sleeping on a sofa or a chair, do so. Your owners will probably shoo you off the furniture at first but eventually they’ll give up. With a little luck, you’ll be able to sleep in one of the Obama girl’s beds or, if you play your cards right, maybe even the Lincoln Bedroom.

Good luck, Bo. We’re all counting on you. You’re the first Portie to inhabit The White House and hopefully you won’t be the last. After all, we don’t want another Scottish Terrier living there any time soon, right?

Portuguese Water Hound?

2009-01-12T18:36:00.000-08:00

I informed Oreo tonight about Barack Obama's announcement today that his family has narrowed its canine acquisition down to two choices. In the words of the president-elect, they're deciding between a "Labradoodle and a Portuguese Water Hound."

Needless to say, Oreo was not impressed with Obama's use of the designation Portuguese Water Hound. He figures if the guy can't even get the name of Oreo's breed right, we may be in for four more years of screw-ups like with that Bush fellow.

I explained to Oreo that Obama is not at all like Bush. But Oreo is so incensed about the misnomer that he just keeps barking and refuses to listen to me. At least that's what I'm assuming he's doing. It may, of course, just be his usual demeanor.

I'm also getting the impression that Oreo is not impressed with Obama lumping him in with Labradoodles. After all, Oreo is a purebred Portuguese Water Dog and Labradoodles are nothing more than uptown cross-breeds, mutts in minks if you will.

I'm just hoping that Obama does the smart thing and chooses a PWD. I suspect that if a Porty becomes the First Dog, Oreo may calm down and forgive the new president for his verbal gaffe today and give him a second chance.

My Third Christmas

2008-12-11T07:13:00.000-08:00

This one appeared in the Tuesday edition of The Christian Science Monitor (http://www.csmonitor.com/2008/1209/p19s01-hfes.html):

Let me introduce myself. I'm Oreo, a 2-1/2-year-old Portuguese water dog currently lodging with a human family of three.

The family consists of a dad, Dave; a mom, Cheryl; and a 12-year-old daughter named Sarah. For the most part, they're a pleasant bunch, and I generally have few complaints regarding my room and board.

Except when it comes to this time of year. For some reason, the month of December causes my caretakers to go a little crazy.

Early in the month, they erect a tree in the living room. Two years ago, they brought in a real tree and stuck it in a pail by the front window. Dave spent a good hour or two grumbling under his breath and jamming bricks and pieces of wood into the pail to keep the tree upright.

At first I thought the tree was for my benefit. I figured they were providing a place for me to mark my territory so I didn't have to venture outside in the cold. I appreciated the gesture although the appreciation was not reciprocated.

In fact, the following Christmas, the tree wasn't dragged in from outside. Rather, it was taken out of a box in pieces and slowly constructed from bottom to top. Again, I figured this new tree was for my benefit.

But it turns out this new "tree" is no tree at all. I've sniffed and sniffed and sniffed, and as far as I can make out, the thing's made of plastic. Apparently it's there for the family's benefit, although I'm still unclear as to its function.

As the month progresses, the family members add boxes wrapped in colorful paper under the tree. Sarah and Cheryl seem to take delight in this ongoing custom. Dave, on the other hand, keeps muttering something that sounds like a sheep saying "humbug."

Actually, putting the wrapped boxes under the tree throughout the month doesn't happen anymore. I'm not sure exactly why although it might have something to do with my pleasant discovery of cookies in one of those boxes two years ago.

Now they don't put the boxes under the tree until sometime during the last week of the month. One day there's nothing under the tree, and the next morning the floor's overflowing with junk.
I'm not sure what all this activity symbolizes. It doesn't happen any other time of the year, just December. And I'm still unclear as to why these humans go through the exercise at all. Sarah seems to get a kick out of it, but it definitely tires Cheryl out. And Dave isn't fit to talk to until at least January.

The day before all the boxes go under the tree, other humans move into the house for a couple of days. And – wouldn't you know it? – they bring a bunch of paper-wrapped boxes, too.
The day of the boxes under the tree is the craziest thing I've ever seen. Everybody gets up early and even more people show up at the door with – you guessed it – more boxes! And all this stuff ends up under the tree.

What happens next is really quite silly, if you ask me. They spend an hour or so passing the boxes to each other and tearing all the paper off.

I've never pretended that I understand humans. But after 2-1/2 years of living with them, I thought that I had pretty much figured out their routine. Yet this end-of-December madness makes no sense to me.

It all wouldn't be so bad except for what happens next. After the paper-destroying exercise, Dave and Cheryl put a huge, delicious-looking turkey in the oven, where it stays, cooking all day. It doesn't seem to bother them at all, but, as I'm sure you can understand, it's pure torture for me.

With all this madness going on, I'm fortunate if I even get fed and walked. I think I agree with Dave; I could probably do without this annual free-for-all. But every year there's a little box under the tree with my name on it, and what's inside usually tastes pretty good. So maybe this thing called Christmas isn't so bad after all.

Presidential Canine Advice

2008-11-15T07:58:00.000-08:00

TO: The Obama Family
FROM: Oreo the Portuguese Water Dog

My owner tells me that you folks are looking for a dog. First of all, I’d like to reassure you that you’re making a very wise choice. Anyone who tells you that you should be getting a cat instead is just not thinking straight.

Now the last I heard was that dad has decided that he’d like to get a mutt from the pound. That’s a nice gesture and I heartily endorse the sentiment. But I also heard that ten-year-old Malia is allergic to dogs and that the number one priority is to get a dog who’s hypoallergenic.

With no false modesty, I can heartily recommend that you acquire a Portuguese Water Dog. Yes, there are other breeds that are hypoallergenic. But if you want a real dog in The White House that Malia can actually play with then a Porty is the way to go.

Some folks are going to tell you that you should get a Bichon Frise. Sure, they don’t shed and those with allergies won’t have a problem. But do you really want a Bichon? In case you didn’t know, they’re small, yappy dogs that even other dogs don’t like.

I’m sure you’re going to have all kinds of people telling you that you need a poodle. OK, you could do worse but I don’t think the President of the United States should be owning a frou-frou dog like that. Pick a Portuguese Water Dog and you’ve got all the advantages of a poodle and none of the stigmas.

Look, if you’re still having doubts, give me a call and I’ll be glad to pay you a visit. Who knows? Maybe we’ll hit it off and I can become the First Dog.

It’s not that I don’t like my current family. But they live in Ottawa and, frankly, it’s not the greatest climate here. I hear that Washington is a heck of a lot milder and I sure wouldn’t mind escaping these long Canadian winters.

Plus, my owners are not the most generous when it comes to dog food. It turns out that I, too, am allergic and therefore need a special dry food made from potatoes and salmon.

For the first year or so, I didn’t mind too much. But now I’m downright sick of the stuff. I hear that you folks have your own personal chef. Maybe he or she could treat me to the odd meal of roast beef or steak tartare.

So, think about it. You’re all about change and I sure could use a change right about now. Plus, as a Canadian PWD, maybe I could help you formulate some new policies. After all, we’ve got socialized medicine, gay marriage and medical marijuana up here.

If my offer sounds good, give me a call. But please don’t let my current owners know. For some reason, they’re kind of attached to me. For now, you can contact me through my blog and no one else has to know.

Stop And Smell The Roses

2008-08-22T17:36:00.000-07:00

It's been awhile since I've posted about Oreo. Nothing much has changed regarding our favorite (read only) Portuguese Water Dog. He sleeps, he eats, he gets walked.

But the other day, Oreo did engage in one of his favorite pasttimes, namely rolling around in digusting things. Whereas you and I might live by the motto "Stop and smell the roses", Oreo's guiding principle in life is "Stop and smell the disgusting rotting animal matter and then, if possible, roll around in it."

Cheryl and Sarah took Oreo for his evening constitutional and made the fatal mistake of letting him off his leash. To Oreo, that just means an open invitation to find the most revolting and smelly things he can and then cover himself in it. This time, it was fecal matter.

Oreo's little misadventure meant, of course, that there was an unscheduled bath for the pup that night. Not something that Cheryl and Sarah had planned but not something they could avoid either. Luckily, for me, I could opt out.

I remain amazed, puzzled and disgusted by our dog's penchant for rolling around in anything that has rotted and stinks to high heaven. Sadly, I think this is standard operating procedure for all dogs. One would think that if you've been given an enhanced sense of smell, you would want to use if for good rather than evil.

For dogs, however, the world of smell is topsy turvy. In fact, I suspect if Oreo were presented with roses, Chanel No. 5 or pure vanilla, he would turn up his nose. Now a sizzling T-bone steak - that's a different matter. At least we have one olfactory thing in common.

The Sprained Ankle

2008-06-19T18:07:00.000-07:00

Last Thursday, while taking Oreo for a walk, Cheryl stepped in a rut and sprained her ankle. While she was lying there in pain, Oreo wandered off to amuse himself, once more putting the lie to the myth that dogs are noble, heroic creatures who save their masters and mistresses from danger.

Cheryl finally managed to get up and hobble to a nearby house where she borrowed a phone to get me to come and rescue her. Unlike Oreo, I am fairly reliable and quickly drove to pick up Cheryl. I even had the foresight to bring along an ice pack to help keep the swelling down.

Although the ice pack helped, Cheryl's sprain was more than a mild one which kept her hobbling about for most of last week. What that meant, of course, was that I was enlisted to walk Oreo twice a day until the ankle healed.

I managed to survive my walking marathon with Oreo and it looks like Cheryl's ankle is almost back to normal. Thank goodness since dog walking is not my favorite activity.

The photo above is a fairly recent one showing Oreo in one of his accustomed positions - i.e. - on the furniture. Initially, I had hoped to keep the dog off the chairs and sofa but my wishes were given little priority by Cheryl, Sarah and especially Oreo.

Scary, Scary Stuff

2008-05-26T15:45:00.001-07:00

Sometimes we tend to forget that dogs are not all that bright. Or maybe it's that we owners are not that bright and somehow think dogs are brighter than they really are.

Two recent incidents brought this fact home to me. The first happened last Thursday on my drive home. As I was driving on a residential thoroughfare near our house, I spotted a small white dog dashing across the road. Luckily, I slammed on the brakes and managed to stop just as the dog ran in front of my car.

With my heart pounding, I looked out to my left to see two teenage boys walking up the cross street, one with a leash dangling from his hand. They didn't seem concerned at all that the dog had come close to death.

It turns out that the dog was running across the street because another dog and his owner were walking on the opposite sidewalk. I don't know if the moronic teenagers let the dog off the leash so he could join the other dog or if they were just too lazy and ignorant to put the dog on the leash.

In retrospect, I should have pulled the car over, got out and lectured these hormone-addled idiots about dog safety. Then again, given their adolescent state of mind, it probably would have been a waste of time.

The second near-death canine experience involved our own Oreo. Last night, Cheryl was walking him in a field behind neighboring houses. Lately, she had trusted him to be off the leash. Big mistake.

All of a sudden, he bolted through a wooded area which separates the field from Walkley Road, a main four-lane street in the southeast part of the city. Oreo ran across Walkley Road and headed down the adjoining four-lane Conroy Road. Since Walkley Road is usually very busy, it was just dumb luck that there was no traffic when he made his crossing.

Luckily, a car stopped on Conroy Road and let a woman out who rushed over and rescued Oreo. Cheryl showed up shortly after and thanked the woman profusely for saving Oreo from certain death. She didn't think to get her name and number but she certainly deserves special thanks.

All this is a reminder that dogs (at least, untrained dogs) are entirely clueless when it comes to the man-made dangers around them. From now on, Cheryl will be keeping Oreo on the leash except for visits to the local dog run. And even then, he won't be off the leash until he's far from the parking lot.

Oreo Mange Tout

2008-04-08T12:57:00.000-07:00

It's spring and a young dog's fancy turns to.......eating any damn thing he can get his paws on. For much of Monday, we had an in-house, canine mystery. Cheryl had removed the fancy middle eastern carpet from the stairs on Thursday and laid it out by the front window to clean it. And that's where it stayed since Cheryl and Sarah went away for the weekend.

On the weekend, I was delegated the task of taking Oreo for his walks. That involved driving him to the local dog run which is covered in two feet of snow and has treacherous, icy paths. I persevered for two mornings and managed to give him a 40-minute walk each day.

That second day, however, Oreo found part of a discarded plastic bag and immediately ingested it. I lunged for his mouth and tried to grab the bag before it ended up in his gullet. Unfortunately, I only managed to get one small piece of it.

I thought nothing more of the incident. After all, Oreo eats just about anything. In fact, he should be named Oreo Mange Tout. Anything left on the ground risks ending up in Oreo's stomach, particularly in the spring. I'm assuming all that melting reveals a wondrous new world of scents and smells which tempts dogs into treating the great outdoors as their own personal doggy buffet.

The Monday morning after Cheryl and Sarah got back from their trip I headed downstairs and found a small pile of thrown up dog food on the fancy carpet. I informed Cheryl and headed off to work. After all, he's not my dog and I've already cleaned up my share of his leavings over the years.

We figured this was a one-time incident but when I got home Monday night, I soon discoverd three more piles of doggie upchuck on the carpet. Except this time there was a clear clue as to why Oreo was reguritating at will.

One of the piles was wrapped in a knotted up piece of plastic, the same plastic, no doubt, that M. Mange Tout snarfed down on the weekend.

Anyway, I guess it's good news that Oreo managed to unload his plastic. Otherwise, we likely would have ended up with another expensive vet visit. Here's hoping the carpet remains empty tonight.

A Shaggy Dog Story

2008-02-29T13:13:00.001-08:00

Poor old Oreo is caught betwixt and between. His curly PWD locks have grown to the point where we can now barely see his eyes. He's definitely overdue for a haircut but Cheryl faces a doggy dilemma. When Oreo gets a haircut, his coat is so matted that he ends up getting just about shaved. Considering that there are still many weeks left of winter here in the Great White North, is it really fair to leave him with a tiny spring coat to survive the cold and snowy days ahead?

Cheryl has taken to doing the occasional trim in order that Oreo can still see where he's going. A bit of a trim around the body also seems to help although he still looks a bit ratty. But until the temperature stays consistently above freezing, I think he's going to have to put comfort ahead of appearance at least for the time being.

Oreo Goes For A Skate

2008-02-17T17:13:00.000-08:00

Oreo got his walk tonight but it was a little more difficult than he's used to. That's because we got a nice dose of freezing rain which left the streets like a skating rink. I warned Cheryl before she headed out so she had the good sense to put on her ice grippers. But poor Oreo didn't have that option so he ended up slipping and sliding his way around the neighborhood. I suspect the poor guy got more exercise than he bargained for and will be hitting the sack earlier tonight.

Oreo & Santa

2007-12-05T18:46:00.000-08:00

This is Oreo and Santa from a picture session at the local shopping mall. I didn't have the pleasure of participating in this festive occasion. In fact, I'm not a big fan of dressing up dogs or making them pose with fictional characters. But Cheryl and Sarah took Oreo and, after much pulling, pleading and holding, they were able to get him in place for the photo. It doesn't look like he was too pleased about the whole exercise although he reportedly was thrilled about his first visit inside the mall.

As for non-seasonal matters, Oreo is currently not on my favorite dogs list at the moment. Two nights ago, he barked at about 11 P.M., apparently to be let out to pee. I had almost fallen asleep but I got up and staggered down to the kitchen to let him out. I opened the back door, Oreo poked his head out the door and decided not to go out. There was a foot of snow outside and it was still snowing and blowing. I tried again to get him to go outside but again he refused. At that point, I gave up in disgust and went back to bed.

After a less than full night's sleep, I woke up at 5:30 and headed downstairs. As I walked across the living room carpet, I noticed a sizable wet spot in the middle when I managed to step on it. Yes, his highness, who didn't want to go out the night before, had decided to simply empty his bladder on the carpet which is his standard backup peeing spot.

I was tempted to wake up Cheryl and have her clean up after HER dog but I took pity on her and did the dreaded cleanup myself. A cleanup which consists of mopping up the pee on either side of the rug with rags and then soaking both sides with the magic anti-stain, anti-odor liquid. The corner of the carpet is then lifted up on a magazine rack to allow it to dry for a day or two. At which point, I shave, dress and leave for work before I'm tempted to write a "Dog for Sale" on-line classified ad.

Rude Pig

2007-11-11T19:21:00.000-08:00

Since Cheryl was taking Sarah to dance class this morning, I volunteered to take Oreo for his morning walk. Nothing extensive, mind you; just a 20-minute walk around the neighborhood.

Being the unimaginative guy I am, I usually take the same route, the halfway point of which is a dog-filled house at the corner of two nearby streets. Most times, the three dogs from that house are not in their yard. But today they were out and, once they spotted Oreo and me, they started barking like.....well, dogs.

This has happened to me before and I just continue walking as the dogs stand inside their fence barking madly. Oreo, of course, takes no notice of these ill-mannered curs and keeps walking, too, without so much as a peep.

For some strange reason, today I got the not-so-bright idea that maybe if I walked Oreo up to the fence that he could rub noses with the miscreants and they would settle down. But as soon as I started towards the fence with Oreo in tow, the dogs' owner came out into the yard and started calling out: "Ignorant! Ignorant!"

At first I thought she was talking to her misbehaving mutts. I explained that I had hoped that maybe the dogs would play. It was then that I again heard the woman's avian-like call: "Ignorant! Ignorant!"

At this point, I had passed her backyard and was now walking along her sideyard. She opened the gate a bit to her sideyard, at which point I said: "Excuse me. What did you say?" All I heard again was her one-word warble: "Ignorant! Ignorant!"

There was clearly no doubt that her limited vocabulary was directed at me. Rather than take the high road and continue on my walk with Oreo, I stopped and said "What a rude pig!" Not my finest hour to be sure but I felt I had to say something. Obviously not something witty and biting but something nonetheless.

Oreo and I continued on with our walk, leaving the delinquent dogs barking madly and their owner in full-throated song with her unique "Ignorant!" cry. Since her house is on my semi-regular dog-walking route, we may meet again. But if we do, I will be sure to steer clear of her yappy menagerie and just keep on walking. I may be ignorant but I'm not stupid.

Sad News

2007-10-24T04:18:00.000-07:00

I just received a comment on my last posting from Lisa informing me that Pete, the owner of the doggie resort where Oreo sometimes stayed, has died (http://nccpd.org/pdf/InMemoriam-1.pdf). I hardly knew Pete but on my few visits to the resort I was impressed by his love for animals and his quiet devotion to them. He will be missed.

Disobedient Doggie

2007-10-13T15:37:00.000-07:00

Cheryl has been telling me about Oreo's repeated disobedience when she takes him to the local dog run at Conroy Pit. Apparently he would frequently not come when called and would end up eating something disgusting or rolling around in same.

Today I got a taste of this behavior when I volunteered to take the miscreant mutt to the Pit so Cheryl could go to a Saturday event. When we got to the parking lot, things were fine. I had Oreo on his leash and we headed down the path to the woods. About a hundred yards in I let him off his leash. That's when he usually heads off down the path. But today he decided to turn around and head back to the parking lot.

It seems he likes the parking lot since it's a feast of different dog smells. Plus today there were a number of dogs just starting out from the lot so he wanted to play with them. Despite my repeated calls, the careless canine would not return. I had to walk back to the parking lot and put him on the leash.

Once we got about 200 yards from the lot, I could unleash him and he was fine. Throughout the walk, I periodically called him and gave him a small treat. That seemed to work. But just to be safe, when we got within sight of the parking lot, I put the leash on again. At that point, I ran into another owner who knew Oreo. I mentioned his misbehavior and he just said: "It's his age."

I didn't clue in at first but once I thought about it, it made sense. After all, Oreo is two and a half years old, which in human years makes him a teenager. The bad behavior is nothing more than adolescent rebellion by a rambunctious teen.

Now knowing what's behind Oreo's recent actions, I'll be less surprised by his behavior. However, I think we're going to have to draw the line at smoking, drinking and midnight dog parties.

Memo to Oreo

2007-08-29T13:17:00.000-07:00

The mini-documentary "Memo to Oreo" will be re-broadcast nationally on CBC Radio on Thursday September 6th at 8:43 P.M.

We Survived

2007-08-20T15:52:00.000-07:00

Well, Oreo and I survived our week together. So long as he got his daily morning walk at the local dog run, his evening neighborhood stroll and two square meals a day, he was perfectly happy. No major incidents to report apart from some morning frolicking by Oreo with other dogs at Conroy Pit.

One twist on the week came on Friday. I decided to visit Sarah and Cheryl and their companions at their rental cottage. That meant, of course, taking Oreo with me. A two and a half hour ride in a car promised to be eventful but Oreo was fine. He behaved fairly well at the cottage although I think everyone was happy that we were only staying one night. I think that was a reflection on Oreo but, in hindsight, perhaps it was because of me!

The ride back was also uneventful. We took an alternate route due to the summit at Montebello, Quebec with Bush, Harper and Calderon. I think we could have gotten through but we played it safe and travelled via Lachute and Hawkesbury instead.