Chloë Glows for the Holidays

Chloë in a fog.

Winter officially arrived in Seattle the first day Mike donned his galoshes and broke out my glowing orange collar. And a good thing, too. because it was wet, foggy and generally gloomy since Thanksgiving, and at this time of year it’s usually dark by the time we get home from our afternoon walk. Heather doesn’t like walking in the park after dark, and who can blame her? It’s spooky in there, especially when the coyotes are howling.

Anyway, my glowing orange collar  made me a big hit with passersby on our December walks, and it was refreshing to be noticed for something beyond just how cute I am (which I still hear all the time bless their hearts!). The lights on this orange collar can either be stationary or flash on and off at varying speeds. Heather told  Mike to always set it for a steady light, so I don’t look too much like an emergency vehicle. I still get noticed every time I wear it. In fact, last week one stranger bellowed,  “Here comes the glowing dog!” as he passed me. I have become a local celebrity!

“Here comes the glowing dog!”

Too heavy for a stocking.

Other than that, it was a pretty quiet holiday season at our house. But my old pal Penny, who moved to Florida, visited one evening with her little friend Phoebe in tow. Phoebe is about my size and a bit pushy, and she got a tad too buttinski while she was here. I had to retreat to my camp chair to get her nose out of my butt. But Penny’s owners, Mike and Carol, brought me a toy and fancy treats, which is what really counts with me. I’m working my way through that package of treats right now.

As usual, Mike and “No-Presents” Heather got me absolutely nothing for Christmas. Luckily, my stocking was full anyway, but only thanks to Mike and Carol and my Syracuse aunts. Susie and Debby came through big time, sending me high-quality treats in two bags that are absolutely HUUUGE, as the late car dealer Billy Fuccillo would say. My stocking would have hit the ground if they tried to put every gift inside it, so I received only a representative sample. . The rest are on layaway somewhere in the house. Even so, my stocking was much fuller than either Mike’s or Heather’s, as both of theirs had their usual: two bags of Turtles caramels for Heather, a lump of charcoal for Mike.

Cleo guards her toy box.

My Syracuse aunts also sent me a present that supposedly came from their cats, Cleo and Bear, who have apparently been able to come downstairs again after I chased them upstairs last September. Aunt Susie told Mike the cats now guard their toy basket 24/7 since I absconded with four toys (two pink pigs, a squirrel and a fish) that belonged to them. Maybe they offered this gift of two more small, soft, stuffed cat toys (a pineapple and a Saguaro cactus) will satiate my desire for their stuff, and I will leave them alone next summer. Fat chance. Like the Terminator, I’ll be back, and they will be upstairs once again. After all, this sweet holiday note they sent me hardly comes across like a Hallmark Christmas movie.

Cats generally exhibit poor penmanship.

Saguaro and pineapple.

But in the true spirit of the holidays, I was willing to let bygones be bygones, and I immediately started to play with the new toys they gave me. I managed to bust open the cactus in only a day, and out of the hole fell a little plastic bell. Mike threw it away, afraid I would swallow it, and sewed the hole closed  (talented guy, that Mike). Now I’ve got Mr. Cactus again, and we’ll see how long he lasts the second time around. See you next year!

Laying out with her new toys.

 

 

Chloë Counts Her Blessings

A brief rest at Carkeek Park.

It was mostly a quiet holiday season, but it had its moments.  There was lots more  turkey in my meals, for starters. There were a couple of trips to Carkeek Park on sunny days when we could see the mountains and fetch my ball from caroms off the Rock. And I enjoyed brief visits from Caroline, my personal financial advisor, and Ty, Isla and Micah, the kids who live on either side of our house. 

Of course, visits from those four coincided with a day-long visit from my little pal Schatzi, still sticking her nose into my business every chance she got. Why all those kids like Schatzi better than they like me remains a mystery to me. Their attitude changes, however, when we walk around the neighborhood or in the park with Heather leading and the kids holding onto the leashes. Then I am much more desirable to them, because when they are holding the other end of the leash I do what they want me to, unlike nose-to-the-ground Schatzi who constantly pulls them in all directions. But their warm feelings last only as long as we’re walking. When we get back, Schatzi gets all their squeals and attention. As far as I’m concerned, she can have it, frankly. I’m better than I used to be, but kids are still not high on my list.

Oh, I also don’t want to neglect mentioning the fabulous gifts I found when Mike emptied my stocking on the living room floor the afternoon of Christmas Day! I found several different kinds of treats from Mike and Heather, my Syracuse aunts and Caroline, plus a set of two orange Chuckit! balls from Syracuse aunts Susie and Debby. Even though these Chuckit! balls are the smaller size that Mike hates (because I enjoy pushing them under furniture or gnawing on them instead of bringing them back when he tosses them), I just starred at them sitting on a shelf in the living room and whined until he took both out of their packaging and rolled them along the floor for me to chase. Too bad, Mike, I am into it! Sometimes I get both of the new balls and Wiffie rolling around at the same time, which really makes Mike crazy. What fun!

Chloë pauses with Ranger the Reindeer.

The other unexpected gift I got for Christmas came from Ranger, a bernadoodle puppy who arrived about a year ago to live down our block in the house where MacDuff and MacKenzie used to live, next door to Jane and Merrie. It’s a stuffed reindeer toy that squeaks in three places, and it immediately became my chosen partner for tug, replacing Lamby as my favorite victim for a full-throttle fling. Heather named it Ranger the Reindeer, after the dog who gave it to me. That Ranger is friendly enough, but he’s already too big for me to play with, so when Mike or Heather stop outside his fence to say hi and talk to him, I just sniff the lawn and pretend to look the other way.

Anyway, I loved his gift, and I couldn’t wait to start tossing it around the living room. But my toy reindeer sprung a small hole in his belly when Mike took out one of those pesky plastic fasteners, and he needed immediate medical attention. Luckily, Ranger’s fur was a close color match to masking tape that Mike had bought to cover up a spot on his car. Heather taped up Ranger right away, and soon he was good as new, ready to be throttled and hidden from Schatzi when she came over to play. I get first dibs.

Sharing the chair with Ranger the Reindeer.

More good news for Ranger the Reindeer:  He fits comfortably into one of the drink holders on my personal camp chair, and thus he will remain visible far into the new year, long after the other holiday decorations are packed in their plastic crate and exiled to the garage. For the rest of us, there will be brighter days ahead.

Chloë Starts a New Holiday Tradition

Sniffing out the Secret Christmas Tree in Discovery Park.

‘Tis the season, all right. In our house, we have been reviving and expanding all of our holiday traditions. The big plastic storage bin that holds all the lights, ornaments and puppets came out of the garage while we were still eating Thanksgiving turkey. Not only are the mantelpiece and shutters aglow, but this year the trellises on either side of the front door have lights. A winter wonderland, indeed.

We were all happy to see Discovery Park’s Secret Christmas Tree return to the South Meadow to further brighten the pandemic pall. The tree, decorated with ornaments and a string of colored lights powered by a solar battery, first appeared two Decembers ago. Last year, some Scrooge must have cancelled it.

Chloë’s tree in its natural habitat..

News media report that sales of live Christmas trees are booming this year, as people seek a little joy, solace and tradition in these gloomy times. And so I decided to dig up my own living tree, choosing a tiny cedar sapling that must have been blown by the wind into a nesting place in our front yard. After diligently tending it through the growing season, I had Mike dig it up, pot it and bring it inside to add to our holiday display.

That smiling elf penguin moved right in with the tree, and  Mike promised to get a string of lights for it once it’s a little bigger. The tree will move in its pot into the portable greenhouse outside the kitchen door for the winter, and Mike will replant it outside in the spring.

First ornament.

Now that Mike has mounted my favorite Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer puppet on top of a cabinet where I cannot hope to reach it, my live Christmas tree will be my new favorite holiday tradition. Well, my favorite right after that special moment of opening all the goodies that fall out of my stocking on Christmas morning, that is. I can smell that there’s already something inside my stocking that’s been hung by the chimney with care, but I have been on my best behavior in order not to spoil any surprises that might be planned. While I’m not expecting anything close to a new car with a big red bow or anything else that I see advertised on TV at this time of year, a couple of biscuits and a tasty rawhide chewy would be nice.

Holiday mantel with Chloë’s tree (on right) and stocking (lower center).

Chloë Rides a Perfect Storm of Holiday Cheer

Prowling for tasty morsels.

I know I’m prone to complaining, but sometimes I am forced to admit I lead a pretty charmed life. Consider these examples. Just days after Mike put me on a special pre-holiday diet, and barely one hour after he had deftly steered me away from the latest feast our  generous neighbor had laid out along Wendy* Way, a stranger approached us on the sidewalk near the park entrance. She was a catering worker looking for an event at the Daybreak Star Cultural Center at the other end of the park, and she asked Mike if he could point her in the right direction. That was all the break I needed.

As Mike launched into a lengthy and no doubt confusing description of her easiest route through the darkening park, his attention was diverted sufficiently that I was able to maneuver him and myself into prime position for grabbing a piece of toast and a good hunk of lemon chiffon cake. My good friend Wendy* (not her real name) really has a good eye for baked goods.

Mike was about to give the young lady one of his park maps when she waved him off and rushed through the park gate perusing her phone. That was OK, since I had pretty much eaten my fill by then, and dinner was less than an hour away.

Besides, another perfect storm was brewing. Just a few days later, Mike was doing a good job of not letting me anywhere near the freshly served smorgasbord along Wendy* Way. That is, until he saw a stranger with two big dogs about to cross the street and into our path. Wanting to avoid the fearsome threesome, Mike reluctantly gave in and let me turn left over to the Wendy Way side of the park gate. The way the scraps were scattered all over the sidewalk and grass, he could not possibly divert me from them all. I nabbed some Italian bread and cheese on the way through.

Chasing down brown.l

And wait, there’s more. Not wanting to make an about-face and walk down Wendy* Way a second time, Mike marched us right up to the stop sign at the corner, and there, just two houses down Magnolia Boulevard, was my favorite big brown truck. Excited, I pulled Mike toward it like a sled dog, but as we got close my heart sank. The truck was parked for a delivery, but it wasn’t my pal Donna who got out with the package. Still, this new UPS guy smiled at me as he returned to the truck, making me think he might give me something anyway, when I noticed he was not alone. Then Donna emerged from the back of the truck with a wide smile and big hello for me, and two biscuits to boot. I’m hoping to see a lot more of her before the holiday rush subsides.  More deliveries means more treats, so I’m good for business.

Order restored!

Maybe there’s something to this notion of holiday magic after all. A few days ago I came back to the house after a whole day of being out, either on a walk in the park or a trip in the car. As I searched every room to see what may have fallen on the floor while I was gone, I noticed that the new, big, tall bed had miraculously shrunk back to its normal size, making it a lot easier for me to get in and out. I still can’t figure out what happened to shrink it, but it was a great Christmas present for my middle-aged knees and spinal column every time I forget that there’s “NO JUMPING.” Thank you, Macy’s, for putting things back the way they was.

Close quarters for Santa

In fact, I would be fine if the lowered mattress height turns out to be my only holiday gift this year.  Not that I don’t appreciate gifts, particularly the edible kind. I’m just being realistic. I can see with my very own eyes that my stocking has already been hung by the chimney with care. But I’m not at all sure Old Saint Nick will be able to squeeze his fat, jolly self between the chimney and the couch in order to fill it. The new living room alignment may be good for watching TV, but turning the back of your couch on Santa can’t be a good idea.

 

Chloë Celebrates That Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Like most dogs, I love Christmas. In fact, I got excited two weeks ago as soon as I saw Mike untangling the colored lights and hanging our stockings on the fireplace mantel. I checked my stocking at least once a day for those two weeks, knowing that it will eventually be filled with goodies.

I love all the special toys that I get for the season, too. I was jonesing for the reindeer antler on top of the TV cabinet so vociferously that Heather finally relented and gave it to me to play with and fetch.  It held up pretty well, too, until I tried to use it for a tug of war with Mike. Actually the fur parts are still OK, just the frame cracked, so Mike can no longer put the antler on his head and parade around the house like a doofus. Another good outcome, as far as I’m concerned.

Beyond getting presents and the virtual nonstop snacking that seems to go with the season (there are lots more things dropping on the floor!), I just love soaking up the Yuletide atmosphere.

Like dachshunds roasting on an open fire.

Lounging in front of downstairs fireplace

 

Jack Frost nipping at my nose.

Discovery Park after recent snowfall

 

My UPS Guy coming three times a day!

My guy gets an assistant before Christmas

 

And a stocking full of ho-ho-hos…

Getting into my Christmas stocking

 

You’re not expecting another photo for each line of the song, are you?

Not even my Mike has that much time to waste.

So I’ll just sign off now by wishing a hearty Happy Holidays and a wonderful New Year to all my loyal readers, especially to my favorite aunts Susie and Debby in Syracuse, who were the only ones nice enough to send any gifts this Christmas. Don’t you other guys know where I live? And should there be any changes of heart…ship by UPS, please. Brown always delivers with two biscuits.