Rocky Racoon

Hey my friends.

Sorry it’s been a while since I posted. Have had some technical difficulties. Namely PC sucks, Apple sucks, so I was left learning to tap out a blog on an Android tablet. Not fun, especially since paws aren’t as fluid as fingers and digital keyboards are very unforgiving. My accent didn’t lend itself very well to the speech-to-text feature, either.

Have you heard the story of Rocky Racoon?

No, I don’t mean The Beatles version. I mean a real Rocky, with a real family, here in my town.

Well, I used to invite Rocky to come for the Thursday Texas Hold ‘Em games I held in my roommates’ living room. But being a racoon , he was always a little stand-offish. I attributed it to the fact that not a lot of other creatures want to spend an afternoon with Canines smoking stogies and playing poker. But that wasn’t it. He just was a non-commital sort of guy. And let’s face it, how many people wear a mask 24/7?

We had known of, and seen Rocky in the neighbourhood for years. He was pleasant enough. He’d still say hi, that sort of thing. It was just him and his missus. But eventually they had a couple kids. I think the kids were a bit slow in growing. They still didn’t seem to reach adult Racoon proportions even at year two which was odd. Maybe that was too stressful for the poor bugger.

Eventually all you ever heard from the backyard was screaming back and forth between Rocky and the Missus. Maybe Rocky was having a mid-life crisis ; after all, he did go out and buy a motorcycle. He was out almost every night after that.

Then after about a month or so, Poppa said to Momma, have you seen Rocky? Well, truth be told, none of us had.

Turned out Rocky screwed off to Mexico on his motorcycle leaving the missus and kids at home. Eventually Mrs. Rocky was forced to go live at her folks’ home with the kids.

That was 3 years ago.

Rocky returned two weeks ago. The family is no longer living under the shed in the back yard of our neighbour, it’s just one lonesome racoon now. I gave him some space then went to visit. I brought tea and cookies. I wanted to break the ice in what was an awkward situation and somehow offer Rocky some comfort.

It didn’t take long before Rocky broke down and cried. I felt this big. [my toes squeezed together on my paw].

Turned out he left with a bunch of other motorcycle ridin’ coons and went to Mexico. Not long after they arrived in the rural areas, they were attacked by a gang and their motorcycles were stolen. They went to the authorities, but it was useless. Even the humans don’t trust the authorities.

One by one the racoons dropped off. Rocky only made it back to Canada via skateboard. Took him a year. His poor paws are worn thin and are blistered. He is gaunt. He can’t stomach beer anymore. He’s a mess.

I only tell you this because there seems to be an astounding similarity with human behaviour when they are pissed off with one another. And the outcome is about the same.

Us Canines, we tend to take life’s stresses in stride and avoid knee-jerk reactions like Rocky’s. But no one is perfect. Maybe there is a lesson in here for ol’ Jakester as well. Hmm.

Until next time,

Your faithful Canine Columnist,

Jake, aka Praxter

 

 

 

Garden Gnomes And Squirrels, Oh My!

I should’ve recognized this before, but I didn’t make the connection until this week: Garden Gnomes and squirrels are in cahoots.

Take squirrels for example. They are stunned. They never have any expression on their faces, and when I’m around they like to stay still until they can smell my breath, then they bolt, squeaking away in those high pitched voices of theirs. They are always inches from the tree or telephone/hydro pole. I got one in my mouth last week, but the grass was wet. This was the first time I actually caught one, and he squirmed just as I was cornering the tree. He dropped from the Jakesters’ jaws. I have to admit, I was more than a little embarrassed. After all, human was there, and I’d been bragging all the way to the park.

I’ve even seen the useless critters lying on the top fence rail in the sun for what seemed to be an hour and not move. I thought they were dead. Thought I’d take a sniff to be sure, and as soon as my paws touched the fence, he panicked like the little rat they are and was gone. Ooh…if only I could climb!

What does this have to do with Garden Gnomes, you ask?

Well the other morning I noticed some had moved into the neighbourhood. I’d heard about them, but never seen one before. They resemble humans, but they look stoned all the time too, just like the squirrels. They hum, and go about their work in the garden and didn’t pay any attention to me. They too have high pitched voices, but sound older than the squirrels. Some wee ones, no more than a few inches tall seemed to give commands to the bigger ones. Small-gnome syndrome? The larger ones were anywhere up to 18 inches tall. They are all fat, all seem content, and all seem to be in their own little world. Sound like the squirrels?

But here’s where it takes a twist.

I just had to tell Momma about these new neighbors. She didn’t believe me. I told her they were real. That they were little strange people but she told me that wasn’t possible. I tried to broker a meeting with the 3 inch Gnome with the red shirt to allow a meeting between them, Momma, and myself. They wouldn’t budge. I convinced Momma to spy on them the next morning with me and see for herself.

We got up early, and as Momma sipped her coffee, I peeked out the window. Sure enough the Gnomes were busy in the planter boxes and garden. When I got Momma to come out with me, they all froze and became like stone.

Momma told me not to be so silly; couldn’t I see they were statues? But I know what I saw. I even saw an argument between the one with the red shirt and the taller one with the pile of wood. But I had to concede that no, this time with Momma with me, they were not moving. They were like stone.

And it got me thinking.  Maybe squirrels are Gnomes in disguise.

Maybe. Maybe.

Until next time,

Jake

From The Editor

For our human readership:
We will be having interviews and guest authors from time to time on human issues from a human perspective. But this is a dog blog written by a Dog, so we will keep you in suspense.
Lovingly,
Praxter (Jake)

How To Get What You Want

Sometimes a guy’s gotta do what a guy’s gotta do.

I’m not very demanding. And my expectations are simple. That makes God and I somewhat similar. After all, “dog” is just “God” backwards. I think He would agree. And if He doesn’t, I’m sure He has a sense of humour…after all…He made cats.

You know, I work hard all day. I keep squirrels and other critters away; I eat crap my roommate leaves for me; I play; I guard the home from terrorists and cats; I walk Dianne; I clean the floors (a good tongue lashing); I keep Poppa’s pillow warm. I make these roommates feel like a million bucks. That ain’t worth somthin’? So when I really want something, I go for it. Strategy is to keep changing the strategy.

1. Method number one involves sitting at your human’s feet and staring at them.

Don’t be put off by this. Yes, their feet stink sometimes, but they always blame us for a “doggy” smell. What did they expect? For me to smell like a roasted chicken or lilacs? Given we’ve got scent receptors in not only our sinuses but also the roof of our mouths, we can smell literally thousands of times more powerfully than they. So humans have nothing to complain about.

Once you gain their attention,

2. Don’t look away for a moment. This is a sign of weakness.

Be resilient to their disregard for your staring them down. If need be,

3. Paw at them until they pay close attention.

This is why you should insist on walking your human on grass: it doesn’t wear down your nails and this makes us more effective in attention-getting. Long nails are also an obstacle to opening my own beer cans though.

4. Be tenacious in your approach.

Once you get their attention, then you

5. Look in the direction of whatever it is that tickles your fancy.

Maybe it’s the door, and it’s time the bum got off his duff to entertain you on Mother Nature’s stage. Or maybe your water bowl is empty. Maybe you’d rather a gin and tonic or a milkshake. Perhaps you are having the Canis Pokeris group over for a game of Texas Hold ‘Em and human didn’t crack open enough beer cans and there isn’t an open bag of potato chips. (Don’t want to ruin my nails…they’re for itching or digging!) Mmm, speaking of which…BRB.

Another method, similar to above, is if human is sitting on the couch.

6. Repeat above, but sit on the couch close enough that their vision of you is blurry and they can feel your breath. As before, be tenacious and resilient. Especially effective if you are constipated.

One of my favourites is to

7. Wait until they are on the toilet. Then sit in front of them and stare at them. It is a captive audience. Human has no choice but to pay attention.

8. Cry. That always works. Momma does it. She’s not lacking for anything.

9. When they call you, come. But sit facing the same direction as they i.e. with your butt toward them. Then they know you are upset.

The best method when all else has failed for certain little ditties is to

1. Leave them a scented gift on the bathroom floor in the middle of the night.

It garners attention all right, but some humans can be downright ugly when it comes to this sort of tenacity. Don’t be surprised when, screaming and sliding across the cold ceramic floor they look for you. They know it wasn’t Momma who left the gift.

Whatever you attempt, don’t do something stupid like let your roommate know you can do things other than “dog” things. Don’t let them know you blog, talk on their cell phone when they’re sleeping, or dance in front of them with a clown hat playing a squeeze box while standing on your hind legs. Or next thing you know, you will be forced to do TV commercials. And that doesn’t pay.

Good luck fellow Canis.

Don’t tell the cat.

Until next time, I’m

Jake (Praxter)

About Me

Another day, another bone.

Hey, thanks for showing up.

My name is Praxter. Well, really it’s Jake, but my humans have several names for me and Jake’s Place was taken as a domain name. I’m also known as Poopie, Boo-boo, Moochie. Enough of that. Jake or Praxter will do.

I’m a 54 year-old Parson Jack Russell Terrier. That’s 9 for you humans.

I enjoy chasing squirrels, rabbits, and as a special treat, Fergie, the female Cockapoo downstairs. Sunning, and long walks in places where grass and dirt rule are especially fun past-times. I like the occasional game of poker (what? You don’t believe me? I wrote this, didn’t I?!?). Oh yeah, did I mention eating? Almost anything.

I have two loving roommates; Momma and Poppa. And then there’s Dianne. She’s a special lady who comes over so I can walk her a few times a week while Momma and Poppa are out.

My plan is to share on a regular basis what it’s like for a primo canine in the city such as myself. I also thought it would be a good thing to share training tips to keep your humans in line, offer some general health info, and ramble a little once in a while.

I hope you return to check me out frequently.

Best regards,

Praxter