At our old house one night Ellie opened the door to the garage and it came off, almost knocking her down. She leaned the door against the wall and went to the phone. Her hand and voice were shaking as she talked.  Our friend Roy came right over and fixed the door. That’s the kind of guy he is.

What I like the most about Roy is his dog, Blue. Blue is tall and dark, has short hair, floppy ears, and his eyes don’t match. One is light and one is dark–it gives him a wild and crazy look–and he is pretty wild and crazy. While Roy spends an afternoon in our yard sawing away at some wood or hammering nails, Blue runs in circles in the yard, whines, and wants to play with me. Usually Ellie keeps me in the house and Blue stays outside, so we just look at each other through the glass door.

Roy built the deck I like to get under and he has put in some windows and the glass doors on the back of our house. One day he came by on a motorcycle, without Blue, and he came in for a visit.

“I’ve been looking online,” Ellie said. “We’ve just had too many accidents now that he’s on diuretics.”

“Yeah,” he answered. “Be sure to get something sturdy. No plastic. Are you sure he’ll be able to learn to use it?” He chuckled when he said that. Roy was always chuckling at something. They were standing by the back door  and then Roy  got down on his knees, held up some metal tape under the window and scribbled notes on a pad of paper. There was smiling and hugging and then he was off.

The next time I saw Roy he had his saw and a big hammer (no Blue). I took cover under the bed when he started pounding. When it got quiet again I came out and found a hole under the window. Ellie brought in a big box from the garage and she and Roy worked together to remove what was inside. Roy worked at it all day, but when he left, the hole had been covered by some thick, stinky rubber.

None of this was really of interest to me–Where’s Blue? But then Ellie called me and she was crouched by that new thing in the wall. She had some little tiny treats, so I went over to her. She picked up some treats and pushed the rubbery flap open with her fingers, dropping the treats inside. It snapped closed with a metallic click.

“Come on, Foxy, come and get the treats. Yum, yum!” She coaxed me.   I was definitely hungry for something that smelled like peanut butter. I sniffed around the edge, but there was no way I was going to push the flap with my nose. Her finger pushed it open a crack and I could smell the treats. She held it open and I snagged one and backed off. We played this game over and over. Soon enough I was pushing the rubber open just enough to lap up the treats with my tongue. I had no idea what this was about, but I was enjoying myself.

Then Ellie took a handful of treats and went outside, shutting the glass door in my eager face. She crouched on the other side of the rubber flap and held up a treat.

Huh? Well, I’d get the treat if you’d let me out there! Very confused, I went to the other room to scratch myself. Later on, Ellie called me back to the hole in the wall. She got down on her hands and knees and put her head into the opening!

“See Foxy, your head goes in here, then you can walk through.” I just looked at her in bewilderment. Groaning from the effort, she got up, grabbed the treats and went outside, once again leaving me alone. Then she pulled the flap from the outside and put some treats on the tiny floor on the inside of the wall. I lapped them up, as usual.  Now she was holding the flap way up on her side and there was a treat in her other hand, right in front of my nose, but on the outside. I moved towards it. She backed up.

“Come on Foxy, you can do it!” I could see sweat on her face. She kept repeating, “Come on, come on!”

I lunged for the treat and found myself out on the deck. My back tickled where the heavy door had slid over it. Ellie beamed.

“Good boy! You did it! Good job!”

I was looking for more treats. She took me back in the house and repeated what we had just done–going out on the deck, putting treats on the floor, and holding one up on the outside. We practiced this for a few days and then Ellie put me outside and held up a treat on the inside. No problem! I went right in after it.

The next morning I did a good stretch and was ready for my morning outing, but Ellie was still putting on her shoes. I looked at that door. There were no treats, but it led to the backyard, so I went out and relieved myself on the grass. When I came back in through my door, Ellie was standing there filled with a joyful energy.

“You did it, Foxy! No more puddles on the floor. Good boy.”

It didn’t seem like a big deal to me at the time.

The next time Roy and Blue came to visit, Blue looked at me from the deck and I looked back from the house. He sniffed around my door and nosed the flap. He can’t get in!  The opening was just too small for his big body. I wagged my tail and went out to greet him.

Now that I’ve had my door for a while, I’ve discovered many uses beyond a quick trot to the grass. I go out to growl when I see a big cat on the fence. Or when Ellie is banging pots and pans. Or when the vaccuum cleaner is buzzing all over the house. Or sometimes, just to see what I can see.

Lenore and I lounged in the coolness of the house on a hot summer afternoon. For days she had been installed on the sofa or on her bed, with a book and a box of those lovely paper tissues I like to play with–well, not when she’s around. She kept sneezing, kissing those tissues, and leaving wadded up bunches around in piles I couldn’t reach. Darn!

She was in front of the t.v. and I was on the floor next to her when I heard the first  BEEEP!  That sound pierced my head like a thorn.  I ran out of the room and looked for the source.  She got up mumbling something about “damned cell phone,” went to her desk, fiddled with the object, sighed, and lumbered back to the sofa.

Two minutes later,  BEEEP!  Again the  piercing sound–ouch! I ran around in circles. She got up again.

“Humph, not the cell phone. Could it be the smoke alarm?”

She stood in the hallway looking up at the ceiling…

Want to know what happened? The rest of the story is in My Leash on Life, available at Amazon.com.

I’ve been to places where the ground is covered with ice, the air is crisp and cold, and Ellie’s feet make large crunching noises as they break through the crust of snow.  These days it’s pretty cold outside when we do our morning walk at home in Napa. But always when we come in out of the winter’s cold, I am greeted by the warmth of the house and smells lingering in the air from last night’s dinner.  It’s all different when we go to visit our friend Marcie in the woods.

We drive a long time to Marcie’s house and I worry because I did not see my bed go into the car with Ellie’s bags.  Are we going to drive back home the same day? If not, where am I to sleep? At least I see the bag of kibble, so I won’t go hungry!

I look  out the window for a while at passing cars and then curl up in the back seat and take a nap. We stop in a shopping center and Ellie leaves me; she returns smelling like a hamburger and fries. Where’s mine?  She lets me out for a short walk and offers me some water, but I’m not thirsty–just hungry for hamburger!

After more driving, we leave the main road and I know we’re getting close when I hear the crunch of tires on rocks and see dust rise around the car. We go up a hill and around a bend and turn into a driveway. It goes down the hill and ends at a house sitting  under tall trees. As soon as I’m out, I’m alert for scrambling squirrels and the scent of yipping night creatures who leave their mark everywhere.

I’ve been to this house before, but I think it was summertime. Today there is a fire going in the wood burning stove in the kitchen and everything–even my own fur after a while–smells like wood smoke. Marcie gives us hugs. “Well, hi there Foxy, how are you?” She shows us to the back bedroom.

Wait–there is something weird going on here. What’s that smell? Can it be? There is a definite scent of cat coming from the other bedroom. I poke my nose in through the doorway and there on the bed is a giant two-toned creature who takes one look at me, arches her back and hisses loud enough to spray her spit across the room…

Want to know what happens? Look at My Leash on Life, available at Amazon.com.

Who is this guy and what does he want?

When I saw my humans drag a tree into the house, I was sure it was a treat for me–my own watering post. Someone said “Uh-uh” every time I approached it, so I learned the tree was not there for my release or entertainment. That was long ago.

Now Lenore puts that tight sweater on me–ugh–and we go in the car to a little forest. She picks up a long-handled thing with sharp teeth, and we walk among the trees. I smell the blanket of dried needles on the ground, the sappy stumps where trees have once been, and the pee spots left by other dogs. It’s a fun walk, except she’s talking all the time: ” How about this one, Foxy?  No, it’s too short. Maybe this one–no, it has a hole in the side. Maybe this one?”

It continues until she circles around one tree, leaves and comes back to it again. “This is it!” she announces, as if she had just spent an hour digging up a delicious bone.  She drops the leash, tells me to “stay” and gives me the look that goes with it. I sniff around the area while she gets down on her knees and saws away at the tree.  She grunts and groans, pauses to take off her coat, then I hear more grunts and groans, along with the “udge, udge” sound of the saw. Finally, she stands up, pushes on the tree and it falls over, releasing a strong piney scent from the cut.

Then, while some guys are putting the tree on top of our car, we go into the little house nearby and the fun begins. It’s warm inside and I’d love to take off my sweater, but that’s not part of the plan. The place smells like apples–it’s coming from a pot of steaming liquid and the cup Lenore is sipping. The people who run the place remember me from the last time and want to talk to me and pet me.

“Hi, Foxy, you’re looking very Christmasy today!”

“What kind of dog is he?”

“Hey, buddy, are you ready to have your picture taken?”

Lenore sits down in a big chair in front of the fireplace–take this sweater off me   already– and lifts me onto her lap. The lady with the camera is making all kinds of noises. I look the other way. Someone behind the camera lady makes a piercing squeak, and I look up, ears at attention, wondering what on earth is going on. Flash! Bright light blinds me and then we’re done.

Back to the car, I enjoy the tree scent all the way home. The next thing I know that tree is standing up in the living room and Lenore is collapsed in her chair looking very proud of herself. Soon the room is full of boxes of shiny balls which she spends all day placing on the tree. I don’t bother to get a close sniff, but know I’ll be smelling that tree for a while until she drags it out of the house.

Now I just have to worry about the visit with Santa.