Calling all Pupparazzi!

 

Rock Star Riley

OK, I asked for your favorite Halloween pics and all I got was one…but what a great one!  This is my new buddy Riley and, as you can see for yourself, he really rocks.  So c’mon everybody, let’s send in those photos already… and not just Halloween shots… get your BF to email any favorite photo of you.  Wordpress is great, but it doesn’t let you upload photos with comments, so please email them to me:  dexter (at) dexterspeaks.com.

 

So cute, costumed, Photoshop-ed.. whatever. Send me a photo!!!   dexter (at) dexterspeak.com. I’ll include an eye-popping new pic of yours truly, courtesy of my BFs 13-year-old daughter, a big Photoshop fan.

Eye-poppin' Dexter

 

 

– Dexter

Wow! A whole different kind of Vet.

Dexter salutes Veterans everywhere

If you’re like me, when you hear the word “Vet” you think of being poked and prodded, lifted up on a cold table, getting shots… but did I just found out that there’s a whole other kind of Vet, as in Veteran, and they even have a special day for them.  If you’ve been too busy chasing balls to pay attention, don’t feel too badly… my BF says that a lot of humans don’t pay enough attention, either.  I didn’t see another flag out when we went for a walk.

I also heard him say we’re honoring a brother-in-law in something called the Marines (from the way he describes it, it sounds very special), and he’s been to Iraq and Afganistan and lots of other dangerous places. But I take it we’re also honoring all those pictures on the wall… the four brothers from something called WWII… and lots of other people we don’t even know, but who sound like they’re very dedicated.

I don’t get it when I hear humans talk about people fighting and wars and what not.  I do understand when they talk about dedication and loyalty and giving your all for the pack.  And I think that’s what they’re honoring…

Do you know a Vet (not the giving you shots kind)?

— Dex

Did you have to dress up, too?

OK, I didn’t really mind dressing up as King Dexter the First for a little while… but all day? If your BF made you dress up, too, email me a photo: dexter (at) dexterspeaks.com
- Dex

Howl-o-ween @ Hadley

There is a very interesting school for the blind just a couple towns over from where I live – the Hadley School, in Winnetka, IL – and I just found out that they’re having a canine costume party / fund raiser next week. So get your BF to help you with a costume (nothing too embarrassing… I personally have had my fill of goofy bonnets and bows) and get ready to have some fun. For full details and registration information, go to http://wwwhadley.edu/hounds

Location:  Hadley School for the Blind, 700 Elm Street, Winnetka, Illinois
Date:  Saturday, October 24, 2009
Check-in:  7:30 AM
Start:   9:00 AM
Rain or Shine!

Hope you can make it! (For that matter, hope I can, too… gotta go work on my BF to see if we can fit it into the family schedule…)   — Dexter

Life’s Ruff

Dexter wishing he could go see "Life's Ruff"

No, my life’s not ruff, as anyone can see. That’s just the name of a special show aimed at showing people that shelter dogs can become wonderful members of almost any home… with the right training and a little TLC.

It stars regular, everyday BFs…. not professional trainers… and the dogs they’ve not so long ago rescued from shelters.  I hear it’s kind of a game show format where you get to see dogs answering trivia questions, playing basketball and even spinning a prize wheel.

I emphasize “you get to see,” as it doesn’t look like I’m going to get to go along when my BF takes the rest of the family.

NEXT SHOW:  Saturday, OCT 17, 4 & 6 PM, the Gorilla Tango Theater, Chicago:  www. gorillatango.com.

It’s all put on by the Dog Saving Network, Inc., a pretty cool Chicago not-for-profit:
www.dogsavingnetwork.org.

You may have even seen them on the NBC Nightly News with Brian Williams a few weeks ago.  Check that out at  http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/21134540/vp/32848673#32848673

Enjoy the show!
— Dexter

Remembering Milo

Milo McDougal Irish, 1995-2009

Even though this blog is for dogs and cats and other pets to speak our minds, every once in a while I get a message that seems important enough to let one of our BFs do the talking.  This message  just came from the BF of Milo, who died after what sounds like fourteen and a half wonderful years.

—————-

Mileses

I lost my best friend of fourteen and a half years last night.

He passed peacefully in his bed, his white blanky wrapped around him.  He looked comfortable, like he was taking a long nap.

I first met the little boy when I was a little boy.  When I was nine years old, my Mom took my brother and me up near Madison, Wisconsin to meet him.  He was Petey then.  His mom was a strong-willed Jack named Penny, and she was happily trotting around when we took a look at her boy.  Small enough to carry with one hand, Petey wriggled his way up to lick my face—a common occurrence in his life. My friend summed it up best, I think—“Milo is a very licky dog.”

We knew he would be Milo, after the Jack Russell in Jim Carrey’s The Mask.  He also became the first dog in memory with a middle name—McDougal, courtesy of Mom.  He responded quickly to the name.  On the way home, he slept in a small cardboard box in the back seat of our Ford Explorer, a little yellow washcloth serving as a blanket.  He had a crate, but never liked to be contained in anything; he always wanted options.  One morning, when I’m sure Mom was up drinking tea and reading the Trib, he somehow—with his tiny body—climbed up the stairs at our first house.  I was sleeping on the bottom bunk in my fish-themed room, and again—somehow—he climbed atop my chest.  I awoke with a start, a squirrely white blur right in my face.  His little bark said, “Get up!”  He was always a morning dog.

The crate didn’t last long.  Milo quickly took over [our house].  He greeted Patch and I through the front window, sitting and barking from his favorite lookout spot.  He never needed an electric fence because, despite the huge yard and surrounding woods, he always moseyed on home when he felt like it.  A funny way of getting rid of rotten apples became an elaborate game of fetch for Milo.  Mom used to bet us that we couldn’t hit the birdhouse thirty yards away from the deck with an apple.  But, being the baseball players that we were, Patrick and I hit it frequently.  Milo sprinted down the deck and down the sloped backyard.  He would return with an apple bigger than his mouth, only to chase it again on the next throw.

When the Irish family moved to Braewood, Milo again made it his own place.  He kept us safe from motorcycles, the garbage man, and deer that threatened our way of life.  During “The Great Chippie Incident,” Milo and I faced off against a varmint that had made its way into the drainpipe.  When the critter tried to scurry past and hide in the woodpile, his minutes were numbered.  I lifted a log, and Milo pounced.  One crunch did it.  Afterward, Milo gallantly strutted, clearly thinking, “I protected my family today.”

He was an incredibly unique animal, with many charming quirks.  He learned to use a doorbell.  He blazed through the house after a bath, transforming into Rocket Dog, rolling and flapping and aaargh-ing all over, making sure his scent stayed present.  He tried to sleep between your legs.  He liked crunchy toast with a hint of butter more than dog treats.  If there was a basket of warm laundry, or a half-packed suitcase, move over—they were now his bed.  He would kill the squeaker in a toy in seconds flat.  He would play ball until he dropped, literally.  He liked to bite freshly-caught fish.  If you held him over the side of a boat, he would doggy paddle in the air.  He could find Dad anywhere on the lake.  At Christmas, not one to be left out, Milo opened our presents until we caught on that he wanted his wrapped, too.  If his ball made it into the Jacuzzi, a splash was imminent.  He was a little too good at marking his territory.  In his eyes, he owned the following items at one point: new curtains, soccer cleats, car tires, the Matecki’s leather chair, Pippen, and every pillow he sat on after a potty break.

Milo never bit anybody.  Now that’s not to say he didn’t want to.  He let you know when he wanted to be left alone to sleep, which became more and more as he aged.  I could tell he was getting old when Rhinelander trips became sleep fests rather than sniffing adventures.  A mere whistle couldn’t bring him inside anymore.  His cloudy eyes started to fail him.  He was a fighter.  He survived a firecracker in his mouth, the removal of a cancerous toe, the removal of six teeth, and many attempts at his life from his young rival, Mace. When he started to refuse food and water, we knew something was up.  This dog used to finish his food before the can was back in the fridge.  Getting pills down him became impossible; his stubbornness never left him.

We hoped we could have the whole family here to see him off, but Milo told us that Patrick would understand; Milo was ready.

Dad and I took him in last night, where he was greeted warmly.  He hadn’t drunk a thing all day, and after repeated attempts, he finally drank some.  Right after, he gave Dad and I some last, heartfelt kisses.  He had it in his eyes that he was ready for it to be over. Leading up to this visit, his back legs wouldn’t support him.  His teeth ached.  He couldn’t control himself and often got lost and confused. He shook.

He wasn’t confused now.  He was in his favorite bed with his favorite white blanky.  I looked him in the eyes and said, “You’re a good boy.”  I scratched him behind the ears and Dad petted him when he fell asleep.  He was at peace.  We left him his bed and blanky.

It couldn’t have been scripted any better.

I am almost 24 years old now, and I still remember being nine and meeting my best friend.

Milo McDougal Irish, we love you.  Now go and get that chippie.

Milo, you will be missed

I have issues

When I began blogging I got alot of interesting responses, including the one I am pasting in below, from one of my more socially aware canine commentors. Nobody seemed to notice it, or my response, but the more I think about it (and I do have a lot of thinking time, lying around on the porch… on the landing… in the kitchen…), the more I think it’s worth a second look. So c’mon, drop that ball or bone and let me know what you think of the issues this Lab raises:
————————————–
Dexter, I’m an eleven year old Labrador. I’ve gotten more reflective in my later years and I have a few thoughts: Start talking about issues. I’d like to hear you thoughts on Michael Vick. I’d like to see you visit Best Friends Animal Refuge while out west. I’m curious about your position on CAFOs and current agricultural practices. I’d like to see you become a therapy dog.

A good start might be a meeting with Bo Obama to discuss the state of things. If any dog can make changes happen, surely it’s the President’s.

If you can move beyond the novelty of an adorable blogging dog and could start using your “voice” for change or to make other dogs and their “BFs” start thinking about what’s really important to domestic animals, then you’re really on to something.

And just for fun, I’d like to hear you discuss neutering. . .

Dexter, I hope you don’t feel I’m being hard on you, I just know you’re capable of so much more! Keep up the good work. I’ll definitely be visiting again.

Re:Lax

Dexter mastering the art of lounging

OK, it’s the weekend. Time to kick back and relax, right? Even though my BF believes in a day of rest… or at least says he does… I didn’t see him resting much today.  At least not with me.  A little lax on the relaxing in my humble opinion. And then he wondered why I was all worked up when he finally did get home, hunker down on the floor and play with me a little (emphasis on “a little”).  Oh, he kept saying how he was sorry we didn’t get out to play, play, play alot today, but you know what I’d really like?  Some down time with him and the kids and Mom. Like, down on the floor time.  Sitting around time.  Petting me time.  Maybe taking a nap time (I don’t have to be on the bed… just next to them on the floor is fine).

Does anybody out there have favorite R&R stuff to do with your BFs?  Napping?  Watching movies? Anything?  Please let me know… I’d like to make a few suggestions to my BF.

Thanks,

Dexter

PS:  I bet there’s some research out there that says taking time out with your pets is good for your heart or such.  Anybody seen anything like that?  I always like to throw a few facts and figures at my BF….

PSS:  Now he’s really not relaxing… it’s not even Monday yet and he’s already back with the laptop (frankly, sometimes I think that’s his real BF).  Copywriting, copywriting, copywriting. Give it a rest already and take me for one more walk before bed….

No dogs allowed?

Like I said in an earlier post, most of my recent trip proved very pet-friendly… but that’s not to say I was exactly welcome everywhere, as this photo shows.  OK, I understand this was a historical park (in Santa Fe, next to the Basilica), and I know that not all dogs (or their BFs) are well-behaved, but it is a public park (and as my BF kept fuming about, apparently supported by his Federal tax dollars, according to one sign).  It was also an empty park, at least around 8 or 8:30 AM.  So I ask you… what harm would there have been to let me and my BF just walk through?  He always picks up after me.

Any thoughts out there about what rights pet owners and their pets should have to enjoy public spaces? And if we’re not going to be allowed in certain spots, what should the rules be that determine that?  And why, tell me, does it never say “No cats allowed,” or “No Ferrets Allowed”… where’s my (or at least my BF’s) equal protection under the law? Why not, then, just a “No pets allowed?”

After passing this sign, I was surprised to hear from a Lab that I met that, while dogs might not be welcome in the historical park, many of Santa Fe’s shops and galleries are often just fine with canine companions (although I couldn’t get my  BF to test out that tidbit).  So shouldn’t public spaces get in tune with private sentiments?  I mean, c’mon, give a dog a break!

I know it’s hardly an earth-shattering issue, but I’d like to know what other dogs (and cats and ferrets and birds and gerbils) out their think.

– Dexter

There’s No Place Like Home

For all the wonderful spots we’ve been to on this trip, I’ve gotta say that it’s great to be home.  OK, so we took my bed along… it’s still the most comfortable when in the corner of my BF’s bedroom.  And yes, we got to see some terrific places.  But I live in a terrific place, just a few blocks from Lake Michigan beaches, and in a really great dog neighborhood (and unlike some of our road trip stops, everybody here has seen a ton of Goldendoodles, so I’m no big deal).

We wanted to see just how pet-friendly the world is, especially to travelers… and we were pleasantly surprised to find that, for the most part, it’s no big deal. (I think there may be more travel in my future).

Of course, coming home  means getting back to work. As you can see in the photo, I’ve been dictating to by BF like crazy just to keep up with the posts.

Please let me know if you’re enjoying the blog… and also what you’d like to discuss here.

– Dexter