Happy birthday to Bob!

Bob is six years old today and does he love his new chew. He ate it all. (It was supposed to last for a couple of days....)

Doggie dreams

Very early Wednesday morning, about 4 AM, Bobka the dog gave a sudden, high-pitched whine in his sleep. The sound woke Rik; my insomnia had kept me awake most of the night. We looked at each other in bed and said, what kind of nightmare can a dog have? They forgot to feed me?

As I lay awake after Rik and Bobka went back to sleep, it occurred to me that a dog's nightmare could actually be an existential experience. Dogs are pack animals. They never like to be alone. Anyone who has experienced the neighborhood phenomenon of the lonely, housebound dog who barks at any passing car or other animal, or who howls constantly, is familiar with this. Pumpkin, our beloved cocker spaniel, was particularly sensitive to loneliness. It didn't matter if we were gone five minutes, five hours, or five days, he gave us the same over-the-top, full-out, wiggle-butt greeting after he had to spend time alone.

I think that Bobka's nightmare was related to abandonment. Certainly Pumpkin had been abandoned twice that we know of: once at a shelter by his (presumably) original people, and once by the rescuer who rehabilitated him and gave him to us. He didn't know that the rescuer was providing only a temporary home. By the time Pumpkin came to us, he had separation anxiety which he never really got over, even after spending seven years with us. That's why we got Bobka, to be a companion for Pumpkin.

Perhaps we will never know if dogs experience existential angst about being alone. But I can't think of a better explanation for a doggie nightmare than the realization that ultimately, we are each alone, inside our own heads, no matter who is cuddled up next to us.

our house too

we're just like today's "Pickles" strip --

Loving our Pumpkin

This was in today's funnies:



We love our Pumpkin (and his Bob too)!

Compare and contrast

Very quickly, now:
In Sofia, the trash bins on the sidewalk are rusty metal. In Budapest they're nice plastic lined with plastic bags. In Berlin they're plastic with jokey stuff printed on them, such as: Corpus fur alle Delicti.
There are stray dogs and cats in Sofia. Each belongs more or less to a street and people on the street feed them. In winter, said T, the cats come inside. Some people have private dogs, which they walk, but the leashes can be rope.
A story I heard on my travels:
Once there was a cat who peed in the neighbor's flowerbeds. The neighbor didn't like the cat or its smell. So the neighbor trapped it in a cat box.
I asked the same thing. The neighbor got a handyman to make the trap. The cat was caught, then driven far away and let out.
I think this is terrible but I laughed anyway.
What did the cat owners say? Where did they think the cat went?
The cat/trapper doesn't know because they don't speak to one another.

In the US we wouldn't do anything like that. Instead, people catch stray dogs and cats and sell them to labs. /laboratories, not labrador retrievers.

My keyboard has an accent.

dogs Dogs DOGS

I am so in love with my dogs that I had to post these two photos Rik took last night.


Pumpkin is the regal cocker spaniel.


Bob likes to sleep with his chin on a pillow.

They are the bestest dogs ever!

The Bus Driver

The 151 bus stopped between stops, in an intersection, for no reason, I thought. Then the doors opened and the driver yelled out, What kind of a dog is that? to a woman who was walking a tall stripey dog with a square face. A mix, she said, rottweiler and pit bull. He repeated it and closed the doors and went on his way south.