Petey, The Republican

Earlier this evening there was a knock on our front door.  John answered.  I heard the exchange of men's voices, a "no thanks" from John and a pleasant farewell by the young man at the door.  I couldn't understand anything else to know what the exchange was actually about.

I automatically assumed a young college man was selling something door to door working his way through school.  I thought perhaps we could have purchased something from the industrious fellow.

I asked John what he was selling.  John told me that he was not selling anything but collecting funds for the democratic party.  The second he heard that, Petey launched himself off the couch with great fury, like he used to do when someone knocked on the door.  We went to great lengths to keep people from knocking on the door to avoid scenes such as this.

Petey puffed his fur up to its greatest volume to make himself as ferocious as possible.  He barked and growled as he scurried around the living room looking for any trace of that intruder like he was going to rip his head off.  Petey was completely calm and quiet up until that point, so we can only assume that he's a republican.  We didn't know dogs held political beliefs.

Petey, The Music Critic

I feel compelled to preface this post with a little walk down memory lane.  I think it will make a little more sense that way.  Who knows though?  I'm not sure how often I ever make sense.

When I was a little girl, on Sunday afternoons after church, Daddy would play gospel music on the stereo.  This was in the days of LPs.  (LP stands for Long Playing record.  They were played on a turntable at 33 1/3 rpm, as opposed to 45s.) We had a very nice stereo so that several LPs  could be stacked.  Once one album was finished another would drop down and play until the entire stack had fallen.  It was really cool.

I have memories of hearing Tennessee Ernie Ford and his deep, rich voice singing some of the old majestic hymns.  Among my favorites were "When the Roll is Called Up Yonder" and "Whispering Hope."  For some time, I've been looking for those songs on various music venues on line but have not been successful.  So, for Christmas this year, my mother cleaned out the old albums and allowed all of us to take those we wanted.

I was so happy to see that those two songs were on one album and snatched it right up.  There was another album by old Ernie that I  took along with a Pat Boone, The Plainsmen, and two compilation albums.  I didn't get to listen to them right away because the turntable wasn't in working order.  We don't often use it now.

I also didn't feel like subjecting John to the music.  His preferences run towards classic rock, like that of the 1970's not 1950's and 1960's gospel music.  (My coveted album is dated 1962.)  When I realized that John was going to be out of the house for several hours and that the turntable was working, yesterday seemed like the perfect time to see if my memories were accurate.

I first put on the album with my two favorites.  It was just like I remembered.  Funny thing, of all the songs on the album those two seemed to have the most skips.  Maybe they were Daddy's favorites too, and we listened to them the most.

What does this have to do with Petey?  At this point, he was resting calmly on his big brown pillow which happens to be directly in front of the sound system.  He continued to calmly rest there seemingly content to listen along with me.

Petey and I listened to and enjoyed both of the Tennessee Ernie Ford albums a couple of times.  Then I decided to give the Plainsmen a spin.  Let's just  say the first song did not suit my musical taste.  I was not at all offended and somewhat amused when Petey made a beeline for the back door.  I let him out while they twanged on, hoping it would get better.  It didn't.  I left the back door propped open because I didn't want to miss hearing him scratch while listening to my music.

I scanned the album cover for a favorite song.  I found one and moved the stylus over to that song.  My thinking was that maybe I'd enjoy them more listening to a song I already liked.  I was wrong.  It was worse. I took the Plainsmen off the turn table.  I looked at the compilation albums.  One had the Plainsmen on it, so I decided against both of them and gave Pat Boone a try.

Pat was good.  Once Petey heard that Pat was on, he came trip-tropping back in the house and took his place on the big brown pillow.  In fact, I think he preferred Pat.  He could have gone anywhere in the house.  He could have stayed outside, but he curled up on the pillow and listened along with me.

Petey's hearing isn't what it used to be.  But he knows good music when he hears it.  And he knows bad.  He's not going to waste any of his hearing on bad music.  I can't say as I blame him.

Brushing Petey's Teeth

In short, it ain't happening.

We can't figure out how to make it work with him.  We've tried several times, but to no avail.  The other night, John had Petey in his lap trying to use the fingertip brush, but Petey would not allow it.  He had is little doggie lips clamped shut and would turn his head.  I wish we had a video of that because he looked much like a toddler refusing to eat peas.

This particular night John was determined to make it happen and insisted that we take Petey on the back porch where he thought we'd have more leverage.  This was because we trim his toenails out there.   We tried a couple of times, but John never so much as got his finger under Pete's lips. 

I'm trying to gradually introduce the toothbrush still.  It may never work but this won't be so traumatic for us or him.  Yesterday I got him to chew on the toothbrush a bit after rubbing it in the meat drippings left on my plate.  I pushed too hard though when I put a dab of toothpaste on the brush and then added the drippings.  He was finished.  I'm not.

I think if I keep giving him the toothbrush to chew over time we can work up to actual toothpaste and then moving it around.  We'll see.

Toothbrush

Petey has finished the antibiotics and seems pretty much back to his old self.  John and I just got back from a much needed beach trip.  While we were there the only souvenir we got was a canine teeth cleaning kit for Petey.

I opened it while telling Petey it was his and how much he was going to like it.  He did like the toothbrush a lot.  He chewed on it for a good while.  I put a little of the toothpaste on my finger and he licked that right off, but didn't seem to care for another taste.  He would have nothing to do with the fingertip gum massager.

One step at a time.  I'll let him chew on the toothbrush again tonight.  If that goes well, tomorrow, I might put a little toothpaste on it and see what happens.  One day before too long, I might actually be blogging about brushing his teeth.  Maybe.

The Humans Here Are Nuts

Hi. Petey here. I fear the humans in the house have lost their minds. It started with the female. She saw blood on my hind quarters the other day and looked and looked at me to find the bleeding. Failing that, she went on a quest to find what was making the blood like stain on my white fur. She washed my bed and blankets thinking they had some thing in them staining me. What a silly woman. Now, I have to get my fur back on them and scent them just the way I like them. Although, I confess I like it when she gets them out of that warming box, but I digress.

I continue to torture the male with my hunger strikes. He goes through all sorts of gyrations to get me to eat. He just doesn't get it. I don't want it. It doesn't matter what sort of "food" he puts in front of me I.DON'T.WANT.IT! I don't care if he heats it. I don't care if he mixes in some of his food. I'm not going to eat until I'm good and ready he can just get over it.

Then, the two of them ganged up on me on Saturday night. They looked in my mouth and saw blood. As if, I didn't have the situation firmly in hand by not eating and wiping the blood on my fur, they took me to the vet! THE VET!! This quack decided I need to be on antibiotics. Huh! That's what they think. They can cajole, beg and plead all they want. I am not taking those pills, not, not, not!

The woman even got my peanut butter out. Yes, I have my own jar of peanut butter. She seems to think that she's tricking me in to taking the pills by slipping one in the PB after giving me a few licks. She's so silly. I've been on to her game all along. After all, I have my own jar of peanut butter. But this time, I'm not caving. I'm not falling for their little tricks.

I heard them discussing forcing it down. I'm not sure what that means, but I'm sure I'm not going to like it. I'm going to hide out under the computer table. They'll never find me here.

Before & After

I admit the first picture is staged. I don't usually take pictures of the bed. I had made the bed and went in to the other room Soon Petey walked in and jumped on the bed. I heard all sorts of scratching and carrying on coming from the bedroom. I went to investigate and found Petey on the bed. I don't know how he got the pillows around him like that.

Petey's Morning Nap

Petey apparently takes a nice nap every morning after the house is empty. We had suspected so, but didn't know for sure. Two recent events however, confirmed our suspicions.

First a couple of weeks ago I had to come home for something in the middle of the morning. I gave very serious consideration as to if I really, truly needed to come home or not. I knew I'd be violating the Petey Rule of only leaving once a day. Also, since the trip home would be a quick stop & go in rapid succession it would be even worse. After consideration, I knew I had to do it. I would make up for it with extra treats.

So, I got home and was a bit surprised that I was not greeted at the back door with great enthusiasm nor was I met with sinister barking, just a resounding silence. I tiptoed through the house and got what I needed. I saw that Petey was still under the covers in the bed just where I'd left him over two hours before. I was honestly concerned that ole Pete might not be with us anymore, so I gingerly pulled back the covers. I didn't want to wake him and expose my rule breaking ways, but I couldn't just let him stay there if my worst fears were confirmed. I watched carefully until I saw the deep breathing and then slipped the covers back in place and tiptoed back out. Whew! Petey would never know.

Since that time, I had a bout with a little bug that required me to stay home from work and in the bed. Let's just say that Petey was mad. He made it very clear that I was messing up his routine. He wanted in the bed and he wanted in the bed alone. It didn't matter to him how I was feeling. I was not supposed to be in the bed. He kept coming back to the bedroom. When he would find me still in the bed, he would let out a heavy sigh and meander out of the room. After several times of this, I had mercy on the poor dog. I decided I felt well enough to lay on the couch. Once I did that and Petey got the bed, life was much better for both of us.