Mom, Can't You Keep a Neater House???

Gee, Mom, do I have to do everything around here??? Just Harry

Note from Mom: We left the Boyz alone for a few hours yesterday evening and returned to find that JH had been busy remodeling the living room, carving a cozy little niche for himself!!!

There is No Joy in Mudville -- Our Cardinals and Our Pals' Red Sox Wuz Swept...

(A Ballad of the Republic. Sung in the Year 1888).

The outlook wasn't brilliant for the Mudville nine that day;
The score stood four to two with but one inning more to play.
And then when Cooney died at first, and Barrows did the same,
A sickly silence fell upon the patrons of the game.
A straggling few got up to go in deep despair.
The rest Clung to that hope which springs eternal in the human breast;
They thought if only Casey could but get a whack at that --
We'd put up even money now with Casey at the bat.
But Flynn preceded Casey, as did also Jimmy Blake.
And the former was a lulu and the latter was a cake;
So upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy sat.
For there seemed but little chance of Casey's getting to the bat.
But Flynn let drive a single, to the wonderment of all,
And Blake, the much despised, tore the cover off the ball;
And when the dust had lifted, and the men saw what had occurred,
There was Johnnie safe at second and Flynn a-hugging third.
Then from 5,000 throats and more there rose a lusty yell;
It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell;
It knocked upon the mountain and recoiled upon the flat,
For Casey, mighty Casey, was advancing to the bat.
There was ease in Casey's manner as he stepped into his place,
There was pride in Casey's bearing and a smile on Casey's face.
And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat,
No stranger in the crowd could doubt 'twas Casey at the bat.
Ten thousand eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt;
Five thousand tongues applauded when he wiped them on his shirt.
Then while the writhing pitcher ground the ball into his hip,
Defiance gleamed in Casey's eye, a sneer curled Casey's lip.
And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air,
And Casey stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there.
Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped --
"That ain't my style," said Casey.
"Strike one," the umpire said.
From the benches, bleak with people, there went up a muffled roar,
Like the beating of the storm waves on a worn and distant shore.
"Kill him! Kill the umpire!" shouted someone in the stands,
And it's likely they'd have killed him had not Casey raised his hand.
With a smile of Christian charity great Casey's visage shone;
He stilled the rising tumult; he bade the game go on;
He signaled to the pitcher and once more the spheroid flew;
But Casey still ignored it and the umpire said, "Strike two."
"Fraud!" cried the maddened thousands, and the echo answered fraud;
But one scornful look from Casey and the audience was awed.
They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain,
And they knew that Casey wouldn't let that ball go by again.
The sneer is gone from Casey's lip, his teeth are clinched in hate;
He pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate.
And now the pitcher holds the ball and now he lets it go,
now the air is shattered by the force of Casey's blow.
Oh! somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright;
The band is playing somewhere and somewhere hearts are light,
And somewhere men are laughing and somewhere children shout;
But there is no joy in Mudville -- mighty Casey has struck out.

WOEF!!! WOEF!!!

Jake and Just Harry, consoling our hoomans (and our pals in Master Chew Sits) as best we can.

Training Mom

Yesterday we were here alone with Mom, doing what we often do while she works: running up and down the hallway and barking our heads off at the slightest noise from outside: car next door, UPS truck, neighbor pounding on his roof, FEDEX truck, people talking, someone walking behind our backyard...

This time, when we had found a gazillion things to bark at over the course of the afternoon, she got up from her chair and rattled off a series of her stop barking words -- but in an exceptionally loud and insulting tone:

LEAVE IT!!

ENOUGH!!!

QUIET!!

And when none of that worked, she got in our faces and pointed her index finger (kind of the way Bill Clinton does when he wants to make a point) at us and shouted JAKE SIT!!! HARRY SIT!!!

Well, usually we comply -- but you know, this time she was so *&^$#@ annoying that I looked at JH and he looked at me and we turned tail, walked away, and went upstairs to sit on our favorite steps until she calmed down,

That'll show her!!!

[Mom here: They had such a human reaction, they cracked me up and I still laugh when I think about how they looked just walking away from that irritating situation.]

Grillin' and Chillin'

After all the rain, we had a beautiful few hours for Dogdad to fire up the grill.What's for dinner? Elephant ears?
Nope, corn ears.

Mom's favorite mussenda -- yummy-looking after all that rain?Nope, ribeye steaks.

We're ready!!! What's taking so long?

Hummm. Something smells good!!!

But this story does not have a happy ending. Actually, it rarely does, but hope springs eternal in our two wirey hearts...

You can't see them -- but they're up there eating that steak and corn and purple potato salad and roasted tomato caprese and ice cream with roasted berries (for those of you who know her, Ina Garten is a favorite with our Mom). And do we get any. Nope. Never. How sad.

So it's time to chill and dream of kibble a la mode and wonder what life is all about.

How very sad.

That Good Can Come from Evil

Since some of our pals are living it up in South Africa, it's appropriate to quote a line from one of Mom's favorite books, Cry the Beloved Country, by Alan Paton. It was made into a musical -- Lost in the Stars -- with book and lyrics by Maxwell Anderson and music by Kurt Weill.

It's a story about apartheid in South Africa. When one of the young men who has been fighting against it is shot, the hope is that his death will help bring people together. In other words, that good can come from evil.

On that terrible day, 9/11, that's what happened -- for a brief while after the planes came and the towers crashed, those who love peace and liberty came together and we were united. If only that good could remain.

As our President said on Wednesday night -- The time for bickering is over.

Remembering 9/11, we should all bow our heads and say amen.

For Just Harry to Celebrate His Gotcha Day!!

"Mom" here, using my rights as keeper of the computer to celebrate that funny little wirey boy we call Just Harry.

First a bit of history for those he's just met.

The years do just fly by. On September 10, 2005, as some of you already know, Jake and Jack and I drove to Orlando to meet a young wire fox terrier who had been rescued after he was abandoned when Katrina struck Florida before moving on to ravage the Gulf Coast.

We met at neutral territory at a friend's home --Brenda, who has two wires of her own -- Jack and Alle -- who some of you may also know. We all gathered in her living room, waiting impatiently for the guest of honor. And then he appeared- an adorable puppy named Harry -- about a year old and, as Jack likes to say, a nervous sort.

Jack and I and Brenda went outside with the two boys -- to see how they would get along. And when no one snarled or growled or did anything untoward, we figured, "That's it!"

We headed for home -- Jake on my lap in the front seat and Harry in a crate in the back. He was quiet for the whole three-hour ride. When we got home, we thought he'd sleep in his new crate downstairs -- but no sooner had we gone upstairs than he began to bark. So upstairs he came -- and that's how it's been ever since -- although he's younger than Jakey, he's the lead somewhat high-pitched voice of the Barkalot Boyz

How did Harry turn into Just Harry? It was a "J" thing -- and when a friend suggested "Just," from Harry Potter, we thought, how perfect. Especially since I had read that Prince Harry, when asked how he liked to be addressed, replied, Harry, Just Harry!!

For the first months, JH was scared of so many things - umbrellas, little girls on bicycles, loud noises of any source -- that we worried about his early days. But he and Jakey had a lot of fun playing tug-a-dog and getting to know each other.The first time he heard fireworks, his tail tucked under and his legs went limp and we had to carry him home. He still hates noises - which isn't unusual for many dogs - but he's learned to walk under an umbrella and the only outside thing that still sets him off is a little white dog who lives across the street -- we think he thinks she's a white squirrel. When she gets walked in the morning. he and Jake -- staring out the window from the bedroom -- start to bark in harmony -- no need for an alarm clock. And when we've had enough and try the LEAVE IT! routine, JH's bark turns into his own melody that's sweet and plaintive and almost heartbreaking. I call it Harry's song -- and one day I'll record it. (It goes on for about five minutes.)

But what is he really like? You all know Jakey -- Mr. Confident. The Weatherdog. The Spokesdog. The Chair Man. But who is Just Harry?

Wet dog.

Grounded dog.
Mud dog.Snoozing dog.

Occasionally we call him the Doofus (even though that title is taken). But he's smart enough to know where home is on the few occasions when he's either run after the UPS truck or bolted at an unexpected firework explosion and wound up back at our front door.

He's a lover, a licker, and a lap sitter. His muzzle still trembles at the slightest provocation -- and if he thinks something's awry, he runs under the very low coffee table to wait it out on his mat there.

He's an astute thief -- coveting whatever toy Jake has and plotting his strategy for that moment when Jake puts it down and he can steal it in a flash. It's hysterical to watch him watch Jake, then inch his way over and around to the perfect vantage poin for the theft!!

And just one more tale: Jake is usually the one who asks for his breakfast and dinner. He does it quietly, either with a slap of the paw or a stare and the unique tongue lick of his lips. Just Harry knows to run to his bowl when we ask Jakey if he's hungry. But in recent months, he's decided to take matters into his own paws -- and he'll come over to me and bark and bark and bark. Clearly emulating Jake in his own way -- although usually without the same success

He's had so many fun adventures and assumed so many personas --

But he hasn't lost his boyish enthusiasm. When it's time to go out, he stands close to the door with his tail wagging a mile a minute and his muzzle all a tremble-- am I going too? am I ? am I?

To me, one of his most endearing traits is when -- all of a sudden in mid-morning or mid-afternoon -- he decides that I'm lonesome and comes over to my computer while I'm working just to say hi!! Not for food. Not for treats. Just to say hi! A few scritches and he's gone. But it makes life so much nicer.

So Happy Gotcha' Day, my sweet Just Harry. We are so happy that we gotcha'!!

Wordy Wednesday

Jake here: Mom has finally come back to her senses after the emotions of last week. Or at least I think that's what she came back to.

Listen to this. She's a dreamer. Every morning she tries to explain to Dogdad all the places she went over night in her dreams and the many challenges she overcame. Dogdad rarely dreams -- or at least doesn't remember any dreams -- so it's hard for him to identify. Consequently, often she'll turn to me and say, "Jakey, you'll never guess what I dreamt last night." Usually, since it's not about me or my brother, I just bobble my head and ask "What about breakfast?"

But two nights ago, Mom had a dream that involved me -- and it was really cool.

You may not remember this from previous posts -- but at a very early age -- perhaps 5 months, when I was being crate trained and had already learned my manners -- I figured out how to unlock the crate door and get out. Mom recalls it vividly because she was sitting at her computer one afternoon and suddenly felt a cold wet nose on her leg. Mine. At first she thought she had not properly locked the crate when she had put me back in after our business walk. So she escorted me back to the crate and made sure it was locked.

A few minutes later, she suddenly felt that same cold wet nose on her leg -- and hooray -- that was the end of my being crated.

So, here's the dream as Mom explained it to me. We were all up in the bedroom , with the door closed as it usually is at night. She woke up and found me sitting by the door wanting to go out. I gestured toward the door knob with my paw - and she realized I wanted to open it myself. So, she picked me up, put my paw on the door knob, and gently turned it with me. And I said, I said what any dog who suddenly learned how to turn a door knob and open the door would say:

"Woof!"

OK, Mom, dream on!!!