Alfie Gets Cozy

Brrr!  It's been cold, and Alfie got chilly.  Okay, I just think Alfie got chilly because, after all, he didn't show any signs like shivering or his teeth chattering.  But with highs of 10 degrees Fahrenheit, I get cold, and, as my kids will tell you, if I am cold, I assume everyone is cold and will foist hats and coats on all and sundry.  So . . .

Well, okay, maybe I just wanted Alfie to have a sweater.  Especially after the husband told me it wouldn't work and that Alfie wouldn't wear it.  Alfie not only wears it, he wags his tail when I get the sweater out of the basket.

I pulled this gorgeous pure wool Pendleton sweater from the attic where it has languished since I stole it from my mother ten or more years ago.  My mother is a tiny woman; there is no way I was ever going to fit into that sweater.  So I cut the sleeves off (don't tell my mother), slipped it over Alfie's head and front legs, and he was ready to go.

Alfie might have had doubts right at first, but once we tried it outside, he got it! Warmth and style -- what could be better?

Alfie looking askance.  What the heck am I wearing?

Would You Like a Little Dog with that Yarn?

Check out my assistant who is "helping" me complete the never-ending sampler blanket.

If I stare at you long enough, will you stop crocheting and play with me?

Alfie -- Crochet Dog Deluxe!

It Came as a Rat, but Left as a Rag

Alfie is a very destructive dog.  We are always on the lookout for toys that can withstand his concerted attempts to destroy.  Kongs are good, Megalast makes a bone that holds up well, and there's always Nylabone, but he never gets to have any stuffed or soft toys -- you know, the cute toys that are probably designed to suit the owner more than to please the dog.

Recently, however, we were in a doggie boutique.  Not a clothes for dogs boutique, thank goodness, but one that carried high-end toys and treats.  The young lady in the shop managed to convince us that Mighty Dog Toys could withstand Alfie.  Her boxer, whom she assured us is very destructive, can't tear them up.  The toys come in a range on the manufacturer's "Dura-Scale."  The highest they carried at the boutique rated a nine out of ten, "extremely strong - extremely durable."  So we hopefully plunked down $25 for an "extremely durable" stuffed gray rat.  There was no ranking for cuteness, which I admit would be subjective, but this would not have been a nine of ten on that scale.  Still, it was stuffed.

Day One of the Rat

Alfie loved it!  He wasn't too willing to share at first, but then decided it was okay if we threw the rat for him to retrieve. He carried it around constantly the first evening, and even placed it carefully by his bed when he went to sleep.

still Day One of the Rat

Day Two of the Rat, stuffing on the floor

So the rat made it through the first night.  By the next day, however, the rat's tail was gone and its poor little ears looked chewed.  Okay, we expected the tail and ears wouldn't last, but it was basically still in one piece.  A foot went next.  Alfie worked hard to pull the stuffing out of the little leg and was quite pleased with his efforts. That opened the floodgates.

Alfie had broken the Mighty Dog Toy code.  He'd show them mighty dog!  On the third day, I watched Alfie gleefully pull stuffing out of the rat's belly and toss it aside to pull out another batch. Soon there wasn't much stuffing left anywhere in the rat, but our trashcan held a good bit.

While three days doesn't seem like much for a toy that tells you on its hang tag to "RETHINK DURABILITY," it's a record for a stuffed dog toy at our house, so I guess the Mighty Dog Toy hype had some basis in fact.  Still, we won't be buying any more $25 stuffed playthings.  Because while the rat may have been "extremely durable," Alfie is extremely determined, and he never met a stuffed toy he couldn't beat.

Death of the Rat, a mere shell of its former self

What's It All About, Alfie?

Today, Alison at The Polohouse is featuring pets on her Favorites on the First series.  Who doesn’t like to talk about their pets?  Our Alfie has popped his head into one or two blog posts before, but I thought today I would tell his story. (The post title is a lyric from Alfie by Burt Bacharach.)

Alfie is our second golden retriever.  Our first was Ezra, who grew up with our kids and was part of our family for about twelve years.  When we lost Ezra, we were heartbroken.  Me most of all, I think, because I work from home, and Ez and I had spent most days together.  About a year after Ezra died, though, we began to feel ready for another dog.  The house felt empty during the week with the oldest child away at college and the youngest at school.  The husband missed having someone run to greet him when he came home (because after twenty years of marriage, you know it wasn’t going to be me).  I began stopping by the local dog rescue occasionally, but the husband really wanted a puppy.  We tried to track down Ezra’s breeder who was from Iowa, but I couldn’t find him.  So finally one evening we drove forty miles north to Woodstock, Illinois where there were some golden puppies for sale. 

There were only two male puppies, which was what we wanted, and the breeder let them run around the kitchen.  The husband sat down on the floor.  One puppy was shy and quiet; the other was rambunctious and crawled all over him.  You can guess which one he chose.  Two years later, that crazy puppy is beginning to calm down and has turned into a good buddy for the family.

Don’t get me wrong, though.  Alfie is no saint.  He is very “talkative.”  Which means he whines about everything.  If he wants to go upstairs, but is carrying too many toys in his mouth, he whines.  When he wants to play, he whines.  When he can’t reach a toy, you guessed it.  And he is unbelievably destructive with his toys.  Those cute stuffed dog toys?  Forget it.  Five minutes.  We have gotten toys marketed as tough, but he can tear them up too.  Often in as little as fifteen minutes.  He works at it.  He will lie down and peel the felt off a tennis ball like it’s a lemon.  Kongs and Megalast seem to be the only brands he can’t destroy in short order.

Still, he’s good company and, like most dogs, always in a good mood and happy to do anything his people want to do.  And when he looks up at us with his sad, dark-rimmed eyes, we’re pretty much wrapped around his little paw.

I'm linking to The Polohouse Favorites on the First.

Dirty Dog Prairie Fun

Can you tell he's been running?

It was an atypically warm October day here today – in the high 70s – so we went for a prairie walk.  Alfie loves nothing better than to run free in the prairie (although he actually stays mostly on the mown path).  There was no one else on the path, only one other car, and it was parked on the far side of the park, so Alfie was allowed off leash to be a “real dog,” a running, sniffing, exploring nature dog.  When we are able to let Alf loose at the prairie, he runs ahead and doubles back numerous times in the time it takes us to walk 50 yards.  All this with plenty of stops to sniff, to let other dogs know he’s passed by (if you know what I mean), and to poke his head into the tall prairie grass because, well, you just don’t know what intriguing things might be in there.

We have a usual circuit we walk that takes us around a good chunk of the 240 acres of the preserve.  Alfie knows the way, and never gets too far ahead.  A little more than halfway around our circuit, we cross a raised walkway over the wetland and walk up a slope to follow the path around a large pond.  Alfie often noses down to the pond but comes back up when we call.  Not today.  Maybe he was thirsty, or maybe he was really feeling the call of the wild, but he ran out into the shallow muck of the pond for a little drink. 

And, wow! Alfie says, there are FROGS in this pond!  Frogs that hop away and splash and are really fun to jump at and chase!  Cool!  And the mud!  What a bonus!  And then you can come out halfway down the pond and run through the tall, dry grass where seeds can stick in your wet fur!  People?  Why haven’t I done this fun stuff before???

When we got home, we sprayed him down with the hose and left him outside to drip dry for a while, then brought him in for a bath.  I wish I’d gotten a photo of him in the tub; he looked so pathetic, like he couldn’t believe a human would do such a thing to a noble nature dog as cover him with scented puppy shampoo!  The indignity!  After a good toweling off, he rolled around on the rugs in order to cover them with damp dog hair and then fell asleep on his bed, clean and tired, where he’s remained most of the day.  Ah! To lead a dog’s life!