Tag Archives: owl

Chloë Resumes Her Routine

Wiffie: Chloë Official Autograph Model

Waiting for Wiffie.







It didn’t take me long to get back into the swing of things at home after my lengthy road trip. As soon as the front door swung open, I pounced right into my toy pile to grab the thing I missed most on the journey: Wiffie!  I’ve been batting that plastic ball around the first floor like crazy, irritating Mike every time I knock it under the couch or someplace else where he has to get down on the floor to free it. It’s fun to drive Mike nuts, and not too hard, either.

Needless to say, it took Mike less than an hour before he unwittingly left the front door open and unguarded, allowing me to escape down the street to renew my futile pursuit of the Bartons’ cats.  A lot of good they are: While we were away, they presumably enjoyed the run of our yard without me to get after them, and they might have done us some good by guarding the premises. Fat chance. Instead, they sat back and let a mouse into my garage, where it devoured a 4.5-pound bag of my Hill’s Science Diet dog food and apparently ate itself to death. Those cats are worthless.

Frozen PBB., fully loaded.

Anyway, being back has many other advantages. Every morning now  I am able to score a full-sized Frozen PBB, not one of the small, travel-size ones that Mike was passing off to me on the trip. That’s good! On the other hand, the leftovers buffet generally laid out on the grass outside the park entrance, a.k.a. Wendy* (not her real name) Way, has been spotty since my return, just a few random bread crusts. Maybe the crows are getting to it first,  since I haven’t been around  all summer to keep them at bay. All I know is that I haven’t seen a good leftover on the smorgasbord since I’ve been back. I just hope Wendy* (not her real name) is eating OK these days. I’m worried about her.

Let’s see, what else is new? I still bark every day when the U.S. mail comes through the slot and do a loud, whiny dance whenever I hear a UPS truck. I was overjoyed to find my favorite driver Donna is back on our route, although she seems to have more days off and dole out smaller biscuits than previous driver Kevin did. Now, I really like Donna, but I’m just saying, Kevin’s biscuits were bigger, much bigger. I’ll have to make my displeasure known without risking alienating Donna. I’ll have to proceed with some of that subtle, Trumpian diplomacy.

Mr. Owl is back

With Heather home every day now, I’ve been doing much more walking and playing a lot of fetch with Heather all week long and with my pal Charlie on Sundays. Lately, we’ve been throwing more on the hill by the park Visitors’ Center, next to the fence outside the Capehart area, or in the military cemetery rather than on my regular course on Chloë’s Lane. Part of the cause is that the lane is pretty well covered with fallen leaves now, making a lost ball more likely. The other reason is that the mean old owl has returned to stalk me again. We all felt his gaze on our necks last week, and there it was above us, perched in a tree above the lane. The way it looked at us creeped us out, so we left. We haven’t seen it since, but we’re always on the lookout. Better safe than sorry!



Chloë Walks on the Wild Side

My pack started off the new year with a walk at Seward Park on Lake Washington. Since it was a rainy Sunday afternoon and the Seahawks were playing football on TV, we pretty much had the place to ourselves. My pal Charlie came with us, and when we first drove into the parking lot, I dragged him away from the car towards the lake before Mike had gotten out of the car. That’s how we just happened to be passing the spot where a woman had just pulled her elderly  Newfoundland from the water with the help of  a kindhearted passerby.

Charlee Bears

Charlee Bears

As the woman struggled to lead the stumbling wet dog away, I alerted Charlie that she had left her iPhone behind on the shoreline. Charlie yelled, “Excuse me, is this your phone?” and she ran back to get it while Mike and Heather talked to her dog. She was very grateful, but unfortunately she did not give me any reward, not even one lousy Charlee Bear.

A previous meeting

A previous sighting

And that wasn’t even my most exciting walk of the week! Longtime readers may remember my earlier tete a tete  with a barred owl that frequents Discovery Park, and we had heard reports that he and his aggressive ways had returned. We finally ran into him last week in his usual roost near the Visitors’ Center. Heather noticed him eyeing me, and we decided to throw elsewhere, without incident.

But this week, two times Mike and I were minding our own business, playing fetch on Chloë’s Lane, when he swooped in out of nowhere, catching my eye and trying to taunt me into dropping my ball and charging at him with a barrage of barks. The first time it happened Mike got nervous, and we fled the scene after a measly dozen throws.  We returned to the same spot the next day, and after Mike decided the coast was clear, we were up to about 30 throws when the owl swooped in and perched on an alder tree about 10 feet above the trail. As the owl watched me, Mike moved closer and snapped a photo. Then the owl left its perch and flew down even closer, flapping his entire 5-foot wingspan so violently that we could feel the breeze on our heads.

Owl stalks Chloë

The owl that stalked Chloë

Mike yelled at the bird and waved his arms around to scare it, and the owl flew off to a another nearby alder, where he again sized me up as a potential dinner engagement. Mike had seen enough, however, and he called me to follow him towards the front of the Headquarters Building. I wasn’t about to argue, but at the same time, I did not at all think this would be my last encounter with this dirty bird.

Chloë Gets a Hoot

Mr. Owl

Mr. Owl

A barred owl buzzed us again last week, and in practically the same spot in the park where it happened the last time. I think it was last spring, but I’m not sure.  This time, Mike had his camera. Heather thinks this was the same owl as last time, but Mike isn’t so sure. I like Heather’s story better.

The waiting is the hardest part

The waiting is the hardest part

As we approached, unaware of his presence, the owl left its perch and flew just above our heads and landed on a slightly higher branch. Then he stayed there for quite a while as we watched from below. Several other walkers, joggers and bikers passed underneath him, and he checked out all of them, pivoting his neck around with nothing but his eyes moving. He was still there when we got tired of sitting  around and walked away uphill.  He had clearly decided I was too heavy to carry away, especially with two brave bodyguards to protect me.

Heather took me back to that spot on our walk the next morning to see if he was still there, but Mr. Owl was no longer lurking in the vicinity. Based on the number of little critters that my nose detects around there, I expect he’ll be back.