Boolie

I’m Ever So Happy. Seriously. I Am.

One thing I hadn’t anticipated is how much harder it is to get a good picture of Ellie compared to the cats. A trained chimp could point a camera at little Sam and get a nice picture but I’ve been struggling with Ellie. I expected it to be hard to photograph her black fur but hadn’t accounted for the difficulties of her larger size and how sad she looks when she’s relaxed. She’s holding one of her favorite toys, a plush rabbit that squeaks when she bites it. She has a similar goose that was her first toy and remains a favorite. When you toss them, our retriever loves to bring them back, and especially loves to bring them back squeaking all the way.

The other day Ellie had a roast. Not the sort of roast where we’d make fun of how she snores, but a pot roast kind of roast. The kind of roast that I was going to eat later. Somehow while we were enjoying the roast for dinner the leftovers disappeared from the counter upstairs.

And some leftover bacon a short while later and a tub of cookies last week. Fortunately there were no gastric disasters as a result of her dietary indiscretions. We were prepared to interrogate her when her legal counsel stepped in and told her not to say another word. Little Sam said we had no evidence that Ellie had actually eaten all of these things, for all we knew he had done it. The bacon, perhaps, but even he couldn’t eat that much roast, and the tub of cookies was bigger than he is. He then claimed that perhaps I had eaten all of these things and was blaming it on Ellie.

The outrage! I could eat that much roast but not that fast (some here say I’m a slow eater), so what jury would believe such a story? Sam pointed out that there is prior precedent, a certain night in which a batch of strawberries freshly dipped in chocolate didn’t live to see the morning. An offense for which I admit my guilt, and which I also admit could cause reasonable doubt in a jury.

All charges against Ellie have been dropped.

Where’s Boolie 2009

This year’s version of Where’s Boolie comes courtesy of a large redwood tree in Prairie Creek Redwood State Park. This was my first morning in the park and the tree sits right off the Prairie Creek Trail with a cavity in the middle suitable for housing an entire bigfoot family.

I had to smile when I heard a distant hooting that morning, probably an unfamiliar owl or other bird, but it also reminded me of the supposed bigfoot calls from I show I watched a while back. I hoped with camera in hand to get some nice high-resolution, in focus, non-shaky bigfoot pictures but it was not to be. It would have been the perfect time to prove my theory on the true nature of bigfoot.

It is not a popular theory and has put me on the fringe of the lunatic fringe. I believe that they are not some form of ape running undiscovered in our forests — I mean seriously — but that they are in fact Wookiees.

My critics are quick to point out that Star Wars is fictional. I know it’s fictional — I’m not an idiot. I just don’t understand how it’s relevant. To Kill a Mockingbird is fictional. Are mockingbirds fictional too?

Emma Sleeps to the Beat of a Different Drummer

After Templeton died a year and a half ago, we went to the Humane Society to pick out another cat. It’s always hard to choose from so many animals who need a good home but I was leaning towards a black cat since I think they are beautiful but had never had one. Emma had lived in a multiple cat household before and I liked the way she was sprawled out as she slept — something Templeton used to do — so we requested to see her after we had selected little Sam. She was more nervous than Sam but seemed sweet so we decided to bring both of them home.

It took a year and a half but now that Emma has discovered the warm beds, she is often curled up in them in a circle like all the other cats. But she also frequently sticks a paw out and on this one occasion had an entire leg sticking askew. Just this afternoon I saw Scout, our tidy sleeper, with one paw sticking out.

The ways of Emma are spreading.

Lady Em

I’m thankful for many things in my life and one of those things is our dear Emma. She’s a quiet cat like Scout but she chirps rather than meows. She plays frequently with Sam but also plays on her own, her favorite game is shoving her furry mice under the closet door. I empty it out several times a day but after only a few minutes the mice are mysteriously once again behind the door. We are looking to hire someone full time to empty the closet but the job pays only in purrs. Emma doesn’t give up her purrs easily and they are so soft as to be nearly inaudible, so when you hear them you know you’ve earned them.

She’s not a lap cat like the others — although to be fair Scout wasn’t a lap cat at her age either — but she is affectionate. She discovered the magic of the heated beds a couple of months ago and has been a regular visitor to their electric warmth ever since. I’ve photographed all of the cats in the beds at one time or another so I was happy to finally get a shot of Emma as she poked her head out of the bed.

A King, A King, My Bedroom For A King

A horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse!
King Richard in Shakespeare’s Richard III

Ellie had an upset stomach this past week which led to a rather unfortunate if prodigious emptying of her bowels in the living room. The vet suggested we switch her to a bland diet of rice and cooked meat (no bernaise sauce) for a few days and thankfully there have been no more incidents. Erring on the safe side, we isolated her to the easily-cleanable part of the basement while we were at work and at night while we slept. She didn’t mind the imposition while we were gone but our champion snuggler was not pleased about the loss of bed privileges at night.

The morning after she had to be encouraged to eat (a surer sign of the apocalypse than any four horsemen) but otherwise her appetite has been fine. Her energy level and spirits have also been high the whole time and today we started slowly working her regular food back into her diet. So far so good!

She was allowed to rejoin us in bed at night after a few days of no accidents and I’m happy to report that she now moves over when I come to bed at night. I can’t say if her banishment to solitary affected the change but regardless I’m no longer wishing for a king-sized bed.

Ellie Earns Her Freedom

We’ve completed a month of obedience training with Ellie at the Humane Society and have seen a marked improvement in her on-leash behavior. She’s still an excitable girl but her twice daily walks are much more manageable now. Her off-leash behavior is, well, she’s not going to be outside and off-leash anytime soon.

Indoors though she’s been fantastic and gets along well with the cats. Fortunately she’s sleeping on her bed in the basement at the moment, as Sam and Emma are asleep on her bed in my office with Scout a few feet above them in one of the warm beds. Ellie’s been so good with them that this week we’ve allowed her free roam of the house while we’re at work.

We’ve also started letting her up into our bed at night. Like me she’s a real snuggler, so that’s good, but I’m less pleased at the immovable black mass that occupies my spot when I come to bed at night. I naively assumed she’d move over when I climb in. She does not. Sam and Scout don’t always move either, but they also don’t weigh 80 pounds.

Ellie’s a black lab mix but we weren’t sure what makes up the non-lab part of the mix. After observing her for the past month, however, I can definitively state that she was mixed with 100% purebred stomach. After her early adventures with chocolate calcium chews, a tub of caramel, and a jar of dog treats, she has branched out into a block of cheese, potato chips, a batch of muffins my wife baked, a bag of noodles, and a variety of other snacks.

Oh, and some granola bars and breakfast bars in my backpack. Which were in a zipped compartment. She didn’t chew her way in but instead seems to have worked the zippers. Zippers. Zippers!

Who Am I?

Can you guess who owns this feathery back?

I took the picture of the feathers while the heron hunted for fish in the shallows of Rest Lake, then focused on its face when it wheeled around to listen for voles in the grasses on the shoreline.

📷: Canon 20D | Canon 500mm f/4 | Canon 1.4X
🗓️: February 17, 2009

Two Cats, One Dog

I’m on the couch in the basement with little Sam sleeping on my lap, Ellie curled up against both of us, and Emma curled up at Ellie’s feet. All we need is Scout!

Keep Me Away From My Dog

I can’t seem to stop injuring Ellie.

I took her on an extra-long walk today, during the day she had somehow gotten into a sealed jar of treats and ate the whole batch, so I figured she could both use the exercise and an extra chance to do her business. Right at the end of the walk she started falling behind and even labored up the steps to our house, I just figured she was a pooped pooch from the long walk. When I got her inside, I noticed blood on the floor and realized she cut her foot at the end of the walk, it’s the opposite front foot from the one she injured the other day while we were playing ball so it’s a wonder she can walk at all.

It stopped bleeding pretty quickly but I’m feeling a little cursed. Fortunately she bears no grudges, when I get home from work the three cats greet me at the door and after playing with them a bit, I go downstairs and there’s Ellie with her tail wagging in furious delight.

Emma is once again reveling in the electric warmth of the heated bed so last night’s foray was not a fluke. Fortunately Scout has preferred the window seat in the living room the past couple of nights as she will not be too pleased when she discovers there’s no room in the inn.

There’s plenty of room in Ellie’s bed Miss Scout.

I Broke My Dog! I Broke My Dog!

Today was a shutdown day at work, so instead of my usual workday routine here is how the day unfolded:

Sleep in with the cats all around me
Play with Ellie
Play with the cats
Play with Ellie
Eat lunch
Play with Ellie
Take Ellie to obedience training
Play with Ellie
Take Ellie for a walk
Play with the cats

Except in between playing with Ellie and taking her for a walk, there was a vet visit. We were playing ball in the backyard when all of a sudden she came up limp with her left paw hanging lifelessly and all I could think was “I broke my dog! I broke my dog!”

The vet was able to see her right away and as we walked her down to the car she was able to put weight on it, so I started to breathe a little easier. The vet gave her a good checkup and while we don’t know exactly what happened, it doesn’t appear to be serious so she may have just sprained her ankle.

She gets a week of taking it easy so we can watch for signs of trouble, which means no horseplay. Ellie tried to convince me that the vet actually said “mo’ horseplay”. Bless your heart Ellie, I can’t fault you for trying, but I didn’t just fall off a turnip truck. She and my wife are sleeping in the basement while Scout and Emma are snoring in harmony beside me.