Dog Jog 2004

I'm a victorious dog.

This morning we ran the Dog Jog. The Dog Jog is where you run around in a big circle with your mom or dad, and afterwards you get treats. It happens every year at the University of Wisconsin, the school where Mom works. I always run with Mom, because I'm her dog. Juno runs with Dad, because she's his dog, even though Mom does all the work.

In the past, Mom and I have come in third two or three times, and fourth twice. You don't get to go up on the stand afterwards if you only come in fourth, and Mom wants to go up on the stand. I know how important the race is for Mom, so I always run the whole race without stopping. This is the only occasion where I go for more than 100 yards without stopping to sniff or pee. I also try to make the race fun for Mom by trying to take her to the lake, which is near the race course. That makes Mom mad.

But this year I didn't try to run to the lake. I just ran alongside Mom. I also conserved my energy at the beginning, maybe because Mom has been taking us on runs on-leash at that really cool Governor Nelson State Park. So, I am more used to running.

Guess what: we came in second! When you come in second, you get to go up on the stand, people give you more attention, and better yet, you get a big box of treats.

Dad and Juno were in the race, too. Dad wasn't sure how well they'd do. In past races, Juno has stopped to sniff just as much as she does on a normal walk. And Dad hasn't been able to run as much since his knee got hurt at that dog park in 2000. Geez, Dad, I was only three years old at the time--practically a puppy. You don't hold a grudge against me, do you? I didn't think so.

Well, I wasn't going to mention this, but in victory, I'm a magnanimous dog. Dad and Juno actually finished ahead of us. But they didn't get to go up on the stand and they didn't get any treats. (I shared my treats--not that I had any choice.) Mom said that's because Dad's a boy and she's a girl. But I don't understand--I'm a boy, and I got to go up on the stand.

Dad and Mom said they were proud of me and Juno because we were so well-behaved and because we ran the whole race. Maybe we weren't perfect dogs: I did bark at a dog that tried to pass us. And Juno attacked the Giant Schnauzer that crossed the line right after us. I thought that Juno was going to get yelled at. But Mom sympathized. She said that the Schnauzer's mom cheated by "cutting the course", whatever that means, and Juno was sticking up for Mom. Dad wasn't sure that was really the reason. But it only lasted a second. And Mom and I beat the Giant Schnauzer anyway.

Here are some more pictures of the Dog Jog, and some of the winner.

Where I came from

Here's the story of how I came to live with Mom and Dad.

Back in 1997, Mom had finally talked Dad into getting a dog. "OK," said Dad. "But it's gonna be your dog, and you'll have to take care of it." (Back in those days, a dog was an "it" to Dad. You've come a long way, Dad.)

So, Mom decided to sign up as a volunteer at the Dane County [WI] Humane Society (DCHS). That way, she could learn more about dogs, and see how much she liked being around them. Plus, maybe in the course of walking the various dogs, she'd find the right one to take home. After a training and approval process that was more grueling than getting into graduate school, Mom became an official volunteer.

For 6 months, Mom walked dogs. She found one that she liked, but "Karl" got adopted out from under her. Eventually I came along. I had been picked up as a stray near S. Thompson Drive, a tough neighborhood (for Madison). I had been seen running loose for about a month before someone called the Humane Society.

Mom liked me right away. In the midst of a bunch of kennels of wildly barking dogs, I lying there calmly and quietly, looking up curiously at Mom. (Ha! What a dumb kid I was back then. I've found my voice since then.)

But when a stray gets turned in, the volunteers aren't supposed to walk him for the first week. This is to allow the owner to claim the dog before the dog forms an attachment to someone else. But here's the dirty secret: normally law-abiding Mom actually crept into my cage before the week was up and petted me. I was glad to have the attention, and repeatedly jumped up on her, as any polite dog would do.

Mom decided right away that I was the dog for her. So, she put her name on the waiting list so that she could adopt me when my week was up.

The big date was 4 June, 1998. Mom and Dad came to take me for a walk. We immediately felt like a family. Plus, I had a great time checking out the field next to the Humane Society. At the time, the DCHS was located next to a big field with old railroad ties and other construction material. A prime spot, if you ask me.

The adoption papers were filled out, and I was theirs. It was 4 June 1998. After filling out the papers and finalizing the adoption, Mom and Dad were hungry. (So was I, but I am always hungry.) So, we went to the nearby Einstein's Bagels to eat. Well, they ate and I hung out with them outside.

When we got to Mom and Dad's house, I walked right in, sniffed around, and promptly declared the place my own. I knew I was home.

Epilogue: two years later, the person who cleaned our house, Deedee, one day matter-of-factly declared that she knew me from a few years ago. Seems her ex-boyfriend's cousin, who lived near S. Thompson Drive, owned me for a few months. My name was "Thumper". She ditched me when she went off to college.

Now, Mom was skeptical of this. Why did Deedee wait for two years before making this claim? But on the other hand, I was very accepting of Deedee even the first time I saw her in our house. And Mom and Dad never told Deedee where I was found. Could the S. Thompson location be a coincidence?

I can't say. But here's a hint: I've always thumped my tail a lot.

Coonhound and macaroni dream

I'm a well-rested dog. I need a lot of sleep to keep my high energy level and swimming ability. Not to mention my good looks.

When I sleep, I sometimes dream. Mom and Dad tell me that my limbs jerk around as if I'm running, and I woof softly. I'm probably chasing a rabbit or something. But I'm a private dog, and I'd rather not talk about my own dreams. Let me tell you instead about the dream Dad had last night.

Dad was cycling in the neighborhood around dinnertime, and stopped and got talking to some new neighbors. They invited him in, and he watched them make macaroni and cheese. This was not the kind of macaroni and cheese that comes out of a box. They had boiled the noodles and were stirring in chunks of real cheese. Mmmmmm. There were enough noodles for five families, and it was a lot of work stirring them all. Dad noticed that they weren't using enough cheese. I'll have to have a few words with them if I ever meet them: More cheese, please.

They offered some macaroni to Dad, but he said no thanks. He wanted to finish his bike ride before it got dark. Dad, you are an idiot. How many times to I have to tell you: When someone offers you food, take it. If they don't offer it, take it anyway. Sheesh.

In addition to being friendly, the neighbors also had an ulterior motive for asking Dad in: they wanted him to talk their son out of his latest crazy scheme. He wanted to go door-to-door, collecting pledges for him to do a school assignment. If he got the report written and handed in on time, they'd pay up. Dad tried to explain that people just didn't do that sort of thing, so the boy changed his plan so the pledges would go toward the kid grooming his coonhound.

Now, I think that's an abomination. Dogs should not be forced to suffer the humiliation of grooming. I've learned to put up with Mom "stripping" me with that special brush, but that doesn't mean I like it. What's really ironic is that no one in his right mind grooms a coonhound. Except Mom. She grooms Juno just because Juno likes the attention. Juno's hair is so short that it doesn't really need it. I told you that my sister was stupid.

Dad had a tougher time with this idea. After all, the kid said, people make pledges toward the Dog Jog, which benefits dogs. Why need make pledges toward benefitting a kid's coondog? Dad was eying those noodles, and apparently forgot about coonhounds not needing grooming. Finally the macaroni won, and Dad accepted the next offer of the cheese-covered noodles.

But just when Dad was going to start to eat, a stranger drove up in a pickup truck with a big bear in the back. Everyone was scared of the bear. Of course, if I had been there, I wouldn't have been scared. But then the guy pulled a rifle out of his truck and started shooting people. The noise made Dad wake up.

I'm a brave dog, but even I would have been scared of the rifle. When Mom and Dad first got me, I was really afraid of gunshots and fireworks. I even got nervous in thunderstorms. I'm over that now. But I still prefer to do my hunting alone, without a gun. And without a human hunter.

And Dad, I feel that somehow the whole bear and rifle thing could have been avoided if you'd just accepted that first plate of macaroni.

Photo album

My family has a photo album. Naturally, I star in it.

There'd be more pictures of me in it, but I tend to squirm in front of the camera. Vain Juno loves to have her picture taken, because everyone is always saying how beautiful she is. Hmmmph.

There's also a movie of me swimming. But it's a big file (16MB), so don't bother unless you have a high-speed connection, or lots of patience.

Jake

This is our friend Jake Odell.



I've known Jake for about four years. I wouldn't exactly call him a good friend, because aside from Juno I don't have any close friends. I'm more interested in sniffing, swimming, and eating--not necessarily in that order. But I get along with most dogs. Except for those dogs that have the gall to be bigger than I am. Can you believe the nerve of those dogs? The worst is that Great Dane. He walks past our house being so big and everything--gosh I hate that. And that poodle Rudy, strutting along as if he's the king or something. Sure, he might be a little taller than I am. But I bet I weigh as much--and can swim better, too.

OK, where was I? Oh yes. Jake is bigger than I am, but I'm an hospitable dog, and I'm willing to overlook that. Especially since Jake doesn't prance around as if he owns the place. So, when Jake visited us on Saturday because his Mom Katharine had to go to a play, I ignored him. Except maybe for a polite sniff.

Then the next day, he visited again when his Mom went to a meeting with my Mom and Dad. I dunno what the meeting was about, but usually when they leave for a few hours, Mom and Dad say that the meeting is going to be really boring and I'm lucky I don't have to go. When they come back, they often have a "doggie bag" that they quickly put in the refrigerator before I can get at it. I don't what that's about. I sure hope there isn't a dog in the refrigerator.

Anyway, on Sunday I again politely ignored Jake. And I'm a diplomatic dog, too. When we went walking with Jake when our parents got back, I made sure to sniff the spots that Jake sniffed, to show that I trusted his judgement.

Juno's seizures

A scary thing happened three days ago: my "sister" Juno had some seizures.



Just before Mom got home from work, Juno started flailing around on the floor. She pooped a lot and peed. When Mom walked in, Juno was still panting hard, trying to recover. Mom knew that something funny was going on but even after she found the big pile of poop, she didn't know what. And I had no way of telling her--not that I understood anyway.

Four hours later, at 9:30pm, it happened again. This time Dad and Mom saw the whole thing. Poor Juno stumbled and fell on her side, and starting jerking around. Then she started paddling her legs as if she were swimming. Silly dog! There's no water in the living room. Juno, I'm a much better swimmer than you--you should leave the swimming to me.

Dad and Mom were kind of freaked out, but they held themselves together pretty well. Dad called Veterinary Emergency Service to let them know we were coming, while Mom consoled Juno, who was conscious and scared. It was over in a few minutes, and shortly after that, Juno felt good enough to walk to the car under her own power.

Juno was the only patient at the emergency clinic. Mom said that it was much better than a human emergency room, and maybe she'll go to the vet clinic next time she gets very sick or hurt.

By the time we got there, Juno was fully recovered. They took blood from Juno, and Dad gave them a piece of paper with $218.00 written on it. Dad said it was the only place he'd seen that ran its business on an iMac.

Later that night, the emergency vet called with the blood test results, which were fine. In fact, our regular vet the next day called them "perfect". The vets said we shouldn't worry about seizures in the future unless they happen more than once a month, or last more than three minutes. Apparently dogs have them pretty often, and if it's an older dog (Juno is about 9) then it's usually not a big deal. But I sure hope I never have any of those seizures.