West D Street Greenway, Springfield

A recent study claims that dogs can understand pretty large vocabularies of human words, but how exactly do dogs process new information? For example, how is it that Jones recognizes a Bubbalicious-shaped dog toy for what it is when he has never seen such a thing? When a woman passed us pushing her pod-like baby juggler, Jones was very concerned and I could see his little walnut brain working. Similar to a bicycle (not a threat), but not quite a skateboard (very threatening), so you might as well give a maybe bark just in case. I think dogs just put their faith in their humans for how to incorporate novel objects into their canine worldview. I corrected him when he gave his half-hearted growl and he complied, mostly. Our “conversation” was thus: Me: “Dog, trust and obey!” Jones: “Yea and verily, I will accept this mysterious equipment as benign although it may yet kill us.”

Cat poop consumed: yes

 

West D Street Greenway, Springfield

Today’s post is brought to you by the letters M and R:

Jones attempted to menace the mailman near Mill St. but managed to maintain a modicum of manners. Ramona refrained from running and remained at home with the rest of our relations.

Cat poop consumed: no

 

West D Street Greenway, Springfield

Passive construction: The raccoon was hit by a car and lay dead in the shrubbery. The next day it was removed.

Active construction: Jones smelled the aroma of missing raccoon. He pulled at the leash to stop and inhale deeply.

Cat poop consumed: no

 

West D Street Greenway, Springfield

There are two songs you definitely don’t want stuck in your head while out for a dog run sans iPod: Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head by B.J. Thomas and Time to Change by the Brady Bunch Kids (complete with Peter’s voice cracking).

Cat poop consumed: no

 

West D St. Greenway, Springfield

To paraphrase Robert Frost, leashes make good neighbors. I do think every living spirit deserves to, you know, celebrate itself in its own special way and everything, but I have become a believer in the leash. And not just because my guy is a wanderer. A leash might have prevented the sad guy in the minivan from having to drive around this morning asking people if they’d seen a little white dog. And Charlie, the gallumphing sparkle fresh from an early fishing outing with his person, while perfectly charming and friendly, was also soaking wet and large and gallumphing. Ramona may not discriminate, but Jones and I would rather not have dog encounters forced upon us. Leashes provide a boundary which, in turn, allows for choice.

Cat poop consumed: no

 

Island Park, Springfield

My brilliant system for hands-free transport of my iPod nano in my feminine support garment has proven to be a poor choice, as it expired yesterday, drowned in perspiration. I’ve been meaning to wean myself off the podcast dependency I’ve developed and clear my head of the newsy clutter, but I’d hoped to get to it, you know, later, and with my iPod still intact. Now I’m forced to reorganize my mental feng shui and just be here now. Oh, the rain-fresh morning, oh the black-eyed susans. Oh, the warm poop in a plastic bag. Oh, the house for sale on the corner.

Cat poop consumed: no

 

Downtown, Springfield

The extremely skeezy Club 420 (a supposed reference to its address, not its guiding principle) lost its liquor license two weeks ago and there seems to be a domino effect happening downtown. The stalwart guns & ammo store has “closed until further notice.” Lifetime Ink has relocated its needles and naugahyde lounge furniture further down to 14th, one assumes so they can be closer to the inspired patrons of the the strip clubs that cluster there. Dancers A La Carte (serving all of your dancewear and erotic housecleaning needs) is also closeing [sic]. But if you still have needs there is a number to call in the window. And the strip club that tried to open across from the arts magnet high school has finally removed the Opening Soon! sign. I doubt that my colorful burg will ever really gentrify, i.e., open a dog treats bakery, but is it possible that vice and dissipation may give way inexorably to day spas, Jazzercise, and soul food?

Cat poop consumed: no

 

Island Park, Springfield

The anti-anthropomorphists would caution against ascribing too much agency to dogs, I suppose. Their argument being that dogs, like all animals, are ruled by biological impulses, not cheeky personality quirks. But I would swear that Jones had a secret conversation with Ramona to promote the delights of cat poop, which she has taken to eating with as much vigor as Jones. She doesn’t even have to slow down on that particular stretch of sidewalk across from the Bungalow Market. She just lowers her head and inhales it as we go, like a whale trolling for crill. Vitamin deficiency? Increasing reproductive success? The shifting pack hierarchy? Does this also explain her newly acquired love of cherries, and how she and Jones find the shriveled old ones fallen in the backyard and crunch them together in a chummy huddle?

Cat poop consumed: naturally

 

West D Street Greenway, Springfield

Poor Ramona slept outside last night under the cedar tree, it was so hot. Jones lay next to me on the bed and panted into the fan. So we got up early and took a good long walk while it was still cool. Who knows what state they’ll be in when I get home from work. On days like this I wish they were more enthusiastic about swimming.

Cat poop consumed: no

 

Meadow Park plus, Springfield

Consider if the samurai and his wife had dogs with them while they were walking through the forest. The horse may have provided transportation but it just took off when things got messy. Jones, for example, wouldn’t have let the bandit-rapist do his dirty work and live to laugh maniacally about it.  And Ramona would be comfort and succor if anyone did get injured. Maybe the wife wouldn’t have thrown herself to the ground in uncontrollable sobs quite so many times with the love of a good dog to sustain her. And I would love to see what Kurosawa would do to re-enact the dogs’ version of events. Hello, remake?

Cat poop consumed: yes