Dear Readers,

As usual, our summer began with a lot of activity. First, we had to replace our rickety old dock. As you can see, I was made to stay on the deck to avoid being lifted away by Donkey Dock’s crane. Momma was there, too, as she felt she had to supervise to make sure things got in the right place. Nate pretended to listen to her and went about his business.

In the end, Momma loved it, mostly because of the flag. And as you can see we also got a table and chairs that swivel and rock, although Momma is scared to sit in one in case it falls into the lake.

And speaking of falling into the lake, you may also notice the tiny little table, which has an opening to put in an umbrella? Although Momma is now boycotting Target, she did break down and purchase an umbrella from them. And it was perfect. It fit just right and had little twinkly lights on the ribs that were solar powered (Momma was deeply suspicious of anything solar powered but gave in on this one occasion). It really is difficult for her to function in this world anymore with all of her viewpoint restrictions. Just woofin’.

After carefully studying the little instruction book that came with it, Momma painstakingly put the umbrella together, mounted it in the table, and stepped back in awe. She was so excited about the whole thing, she told me she was going to leave the umbrella up while she golfed and then return home and we would sit under it (Momma risking the new swivel chair and me presumably on the hard metal dock), and she would read a book while I watched the boats go by. Picturesque. Kind of utopian. And by then, the little solar cap would have powered up the twinkly little lights on the umbrella.

When Momma returned home later that day, however, the umbrella was gone. How could this be? she practically screamed as she let me out to go potty. We ran down to the water, and sure enough, there was the umbrella upside down in about three feet of water with the pole sticking straight up in the air.

All thoughts of her idyllic evening reading a book now a distant memory, she went to work on retrieving the umbrella. When she finally excavated it from the sand, she was shocked to see the twinkly lights were still on (way to go, Target!) And here it is back in place, with just a slightly bent rib.

So we were all set for summer and the 4th of July. However, because I cannot tolerate the fireworks exploding practically on top of our house, Momma took me to Camp Bow Wow for an overnight. This was my first Bow Wow visit of the year because of the canine flu scare (I’ve now had the first vaccine shot), and she instructed the folks there to keep me in my cabin unless they were taking me out for potty or for my personal enrichment sessions. (I could almost hear the eye rolls.) And then, to make matters worse, Momma announced that she had forgotten to bring my bed and “bankie” along (really, Momma?) and rushed home to get them. Here’s Andy doing his best to accommodate us.

As usual, we had great service from Bow Wow, and all was well, even if Momma interrupted their staff meeting at 6:30 the next morning when she came to get me before I could possibly have contact with other dogs.

Lina, Safe

WOOFDA!

Dear Readers,

Well, Momma and I have had a rocky few days. It all started when she backed her Tesla out of the garage a couple of weeks ago. She was greeted with a message on Sparky’s computer screen screaming something like “tire pressure extremely low, pull over to a safe area immediately!” She also noticed that the car felt rather wobbly, so she promptly put it in park, did a walk-about (as we Aussies say), and saw that the right front tire was flat as a pancake.

Seriously, Tesla? she thought, quick to blame Sparky itself. What was in the tire anyway, a bicycle tube? It seemed to her, in her experience with flat tires, that the tire would gradually go low and she usually had a chance to limp along to a service station — or to one of those air machines so she could inflate the tire until she could have it fixed! And what ever happened to airless tires that never go flat? One would think that the highly technical and forward-looking Tesla would have such a tire, no?

Apparently not, the tire was flat and she knew she was going nowhere in it. Unless — maybe there was a spare? First she checked the trunk, finding compartments she didn’t even know existed — but no spare. Then she tried the frunk (front trunk since there was no engine). None there either. Then she wondered, did regular service stations or tire stores even carry Tesla tires? And, furthermore, where would one even find a tire store?

Eventually and inevitably, she was reduced to calling Tesla for help. Except that it’s not always easy to call Tesla, like say it would be to call a Chevy or Ford dealership. She got voicemail which instructed her to use the app for service calls and such. (By this point, I was watching the action unfold since Momma was in the house and not a happy camper.) (“Why, Lina, couldn’t I have bought a normal car?”) (“Because you wanted Dog Mode, Momma.”)

After a bit of fumbling around with the app, Tesla messaged that they were sending a tow truck (flat bed). A tow truck, fumed Momma! What would the neighbors say? And she wasn’t even going to be home because she had a manicure appointment. So she texted back — can’t I schedule the truck for later this afternoon? Too, late, it seems. Tesla ignored her and said Bobby and Steve’s had been dispatched and would be at our house within ninety minutes. She was apparently in the stay position (like I usually am) for now and not going anywhere. “Why is it that all of these uppity companies run by kids refuse to talk on the telephone so one could actually get some answers?” Momma railed to me.

Nevertheless, the die was cast, and ninety minutes later, the tow truck pulled up. All Momma could think of was the fortune this whole process would cost. Maybe if Tesla had listened to her, she could have bought a tire and had someone jack it up and put it on. But, no, the car had to be paraded through the neighborhood on the truck. Here’s the scene in front of our house that day.

Despite all of Momma’s grumbling, things seemed to turn out okay. We got a ride to the dealership the next day with Uncle Ken, Momma’s step son-in-law, and retrieved the car, which appeared to be no worse for the wear. The metal piece they found in the tire had been removed, the tire repaired, and the entire bill was $104.00. (Momma, always the skeptic, is still waiting for the Tesla app to pipe up and say that was just the downpayment.) And here I am waiting for my lift home and so ready to be done with the whole sordid affair.

Health issues & a gift

This has also been a bit of a ruff summer for this little Aussie. First, I have a double coat of fur so am always just cooking, especially in the extreme heat we have been having because of global warming. (“It’s called weather, Lina.”) Then there’s the humidity and the smoke from Canada — also almost certainly attributable to global warming. And then there’s the constant anxiety I experience just by being in Momma’s orbit. And then there’s my size and age. It seems small dogs and dogs of a certain age (a phrase I picked up from Momma), commonly have “reverse sneezing” trouble and also trachea issues.

So I had been experiencing some breathing issues (Momma had even mentioned this to Blue Pearl Clinic in Florida on one of our many vet trips there), and the episodes are getting a little more frequent. The other day, Momma brought me in to to the local vet to discuss that and a litany of other issues she had on her mind. We ended up focusing on the breathing, though, and the vet suggested he take some x-rays of my lungs. He said they seemed to be clear but part of my trachea looked narrow in one of the pictures (but then normal in another). Momma was worried and peppered him with questions. I laid by the door and gave Momma my “we’re done here” look.

We now have an appointment at Blue Pearl in July. I hope it’s not a bad sign that the doctor’s name is Mourning. Just woofin’. In the meantime, just so you don’t worry, Momma is giving me an anti-inflammatory pill and keeping me inside as much as possible and I’m doing much better!

The silver lining in all this is that Momma is feeling a little badly for me, so she gave me an early birthday present. Here I am rocking my new animal print leash and collar (not visible because of my double coat) and mesh halter — the better to stay cool!

Lina, Still living the dream

WOOFDA!

Dear Readers,

Donkey Docks put our boat lift and dock in yesterday so it must be summer in Minni. Nate promised to deliver the pontoon as soon as we have a nice day. We are hoping that will be before the 4th of July. As you can see, I’m part of the crew.

It seems that our boat lift system is battery operated now, and needs a trickle charger to give it a boost on occasion. Need I woof, that’s way over Momma’s head. Nate did say we could get a solar panel to charge the lift, an idea Momma immediately rejected as too liberal. Does anyone agree with me here that she is her own worst enemy?

Oh, and by the way, I heard Nate telling Momma that our old dock is falling apart, and that she should think about getting a new one soon. I just hope it’s environmentally friendly. (Momma, looking over my shoulder: “Don’t forget sustainable, Lina.”)

On another front, dog flu has arrived in the Twin Cities, and even though our day care provider has no confirmed cases, Momma is keeping me under wraps when she is off golfing. Here I am in my dog cave (and much as I am opposed to gated communities on principle, I must admit I like this one.) Luckily, I even have a window so I can keep an eye out for snapping turtles, muskrats and pirates in our back yard.

Finally, I want to wish Momma a Happy Dog Mom’s Day. I can hardly believe we’ve had almost nine scary . . . er. . . wonderful years together! Sending loving face licks your way, Momma!

Lina, Covering all my bases!

WOOFDA!

Last week Momma’s friend Joy came to stay with us for a few days of fun and for a member-guest golf tourney. Joy is a doggie momma (Chio and Koji) and a prosthodontist (dentist). Joy was a joy to have around, and she played with me and brought me some of her special chicken treats. The only bone I have to pick with Joy was her probing my mouth to work on my teeth.

We did have an excellent time together though, and Joy did a great job capturing my world-class Frisbee catches on her iPhone. Take a look!

The great grape scare

After the golf tournament, Momma and Joy drove to Palm Beach for more golf with a friend and to spend the night. On the way home, Momma dropped Joy off at a friend’s house and headed to the grocery store for a few items, including grapes.

Momma was a bit frazzled by the time she got home that day, what with all the golf and socializing, the driving and the overnight stay and all, and made several trips to the car bringing up her stuff. Her first order of business was to put the groceries away, which she went at in something of a frenzy (so much to do!). She hurriedly washed the grapes, including the ones that were separated from the vine, and threw them into a bowl. In her mad dash to do so, she saw one roll across the counter and onto the floor. Knowing that grapes could be lethal for dogs, she tore around the counter and scooped it up.

Then she went into another room to put some items away, and when she came back she spotted me licking my chops near where the grape dropped. Seized by panic that another grape had rolled on the floor unnoticed, Momma yelled “what do you have, Lina?” and pried my mouth open (making it very difficult to answer her). It was empty, but she realized I might have already swallowed a grape by this time. Well, thought Momma, I doubt there was another grape on the floor anyway, and went about making herself a sandwich.

Then she started to worry. She Googled “can one grape kill a dog?” and found a few sites that emphatically said yes! Now really second-guessing herself (could she have actually missed another grape that might have fallen to the floor?), she decided that she must get some hydrogen peroxide and induce vomiting at once. Momma had once heard — she thought — that food only stays in a doggie’s stomach for about an hour, so time was of the essence.

So she sped to the drugstore, ran inside and proclaimed to the pharmacist that she had an emergency and asked for 3% hydrogen peroxide. He unhelpfully told her where it might be “if we have any.” Momma did not appreciate his attitude, but looked the other way when another pharmacist gave her a free syringe with which to dispense the peroxide. Then Momma ran back to the car and raced for home.

On the way, she decided that, before she went ahead and forced the hydrogen peroxide down my little gullet, she would call Blue Pearl Vet Clinic for advice. (Maybe she could have called them first — just a thought.) They told her that they did not recommend using hydrogen peroxide because it could damage a dog’s kidneys and stomach, (thank you, Blue Pearl!), and told Momma to call the animal poison hotline.

Momma was now in full-blown panic mode — how would she get the (potential) grape out of my stomach if she didn’t make me vomit? But, maybe she didn’t have to? She was almost 100% certain that only one grape fell on the floor. But what if there were more and I died — could she even go on without me (okay — that was my thought)?

Anyway, long story short, Momma called the hotline, and told the vet tech her tail. Before they would give her any advice, however, Momma would be required to pay for it. By then, she was so rattled she could hardly key in her credit card number (and by the way she was not happy that the price had gone up to $85.00 from the $50.00 she had to pay the time she called about an M&M that I may or may not have eaten). You get the drift here, right? And after finally managing to get the credit card number entered, the vet tech immediately came back on the line and told her not to worry — based on my weight and condition, I should be just fine. Couldn’t they at least pretend they had to think about it for awhile instead of spitting out the answer as soon as she paid, Momma seethed? Nevertheless, she was so happy she almost cried.

And do you have any idea how happy I was not to have to swallow practically poisonous peroxide and then vomit it up? Just for licking my chops? And, by the way, dear readers, not to worry I’m just fine!

Lina, Dodged another bullet!

WOOFDA!

Dear Readers,

Why do these things always happen to me? Just when Momma had started to let me spread my wings (so to speak) and go out on the deck by myself (while she was glued to The Five on Fox), my freedom is all but over. We were peacefully minding our own business last Sunday, when all of a sudden Momma spotted this giant Osprey perched on our deck railing as if he owned the place. And peering in the window as though maybe looking for a little Toy Aussie, thought Momma!

She is now convinced that the Osprey has been eyeing me up all along, so proclaimed, “You are never allowed on the deck again, Lina.” And, if I know Momma, she may never go out there again either. She just couldn’t unsee those gigantic talons! (Zoom in on them!) Anyway, I think her stance may soften, but I know she’ll be watching me like a hawk.

On another front, I had a little reprieve from the Osprey trauma when Momma let me have a play date with my Florida BFF, Gracie. We’ve practically grown up together, and still love to hang out. You will see I am barely able to contain myself as we head to Gracie’s condo in the elevator. Yippie!

So as you can see Dear Readers, I have my ups and downs here in Florida (especially on the elevator — and maybe they could put the buttons a little lower so I wouldn’t have to try paw the door open!?!). Time to head out on deck for sunset now, although I know Momma will mostly be watching for Osprey.

Actually, I’ll kinda be watching, too.

Lina, On guard!

WOOFDA!

Dear Readers,

Well, we’ve settled in for the new year. And as usual, we are having our moments.

First, the good ones. I am back to agility training and loving it! Here I am with my new Florida trainer, Taylor.

Momma also brings out my treat puzzle once in a while, and I always make quick work of it. Yum!

We’ve also had some quiet moments at home which were nice. The sweater I’m rocking is a gift from Chris and Jenny!

But as you might expect, not all has been fun and games.

There was the time Momma took me in for “spa day.” This means a shampoo, blowout and nail trim. Sometimes it even means a tiny fur trim. When Momma picked me up after my appointment, she realized she had forgotten to ask the groomer to cut off the matted fur beneath one of my ears. Rather than admit it and beg the front desk to let us get a quick clip, Momma carried me inside and, shifting the blame, announced that the groomer forgot to trim under my ears.

The front desk was not happy with Momma, and eventually agreed to do it but noted that it would probably cost extra. Needless to say, this did not sit well with her (extra charge for a little snip?) and (as if they didn’t already charge an arm and a leg — or a leg and a leg as I would woof), but Momma was desperate because she knew the fur balls just kept getting bigger and bigger if left unattended. She also knew I would not let her near me with a scissors.

When the busy little groomer brought me back to the waiting room, she looked frazzled and nervously told Momma that the clippers had gotten a little close to my skin. She further told her that the skin was rather pink and asked if Momma have a cone at home to put around my neck to prevent me from licking it? We came in for a shampoo and now we’re talking cone? Just shoot me now. Luckily we didn’t have one, and I healed just fine. Maybe next time we can fit the clip into the regular appointment, Momma?

Then earlier this week, Momma and her friend, Lori, journeyed up to Naples to do some dining and shopping, and — shocker! — Momma forgot she had hired Janice of Nanny Paws to come in and care for me. How exactly does a doggy momma forget she hired a dog sitter to come over? Did she even remember she has a dog? Anyway, Janice, with the help of management, got into our condo to take me out for a walk and some play time.

And since it’s a day of love, I’m forgiving Momma — I know it’s hard for her to focus when she has attained nirvana in Naples. Plus, I didn’t have to wear the dreaded cone again so I’m in a good mood! Happy ❤️ Day, Momma!

May you all have a fantastic Valentine’s Day filled with your favorite treats. And thank you, Auntie Lori, for thinking of me!

Lina, Sending love and face licks your way!

WOOFDA!

Dear Readers,

Well, I survived the hullabaloo at the airport with my trendsetting flag, and we are happily in Florida.

Although we didn’t actually sell any books at MSP, Momma did manage a few photos with us and gave out my business cards to some bemused travelers. And we did get a few odd stares, but trust me, I’m used to that.

Momma thinks it’s just a matter of time until other doggies and their humans copy us. Maybe I should copyright our idea? What do you say, Uncle Chuck, Esq.?

The Norgaards were on hand to greet us at the airport and spent a few days with us. You probably remember them — the Norgaard boys are the ones that love to tease me, and this week was no exception. Photo at right above is of Gunnar (one of the culprits) and Jenny, his momma, who is very nice to me. I do have to woof that Chris, who may be coming around a little bit, took me out to potty a couple of times. I rewarded him with a lengthy tour of the grounds and several pees and poops. As you can tell, it still takes a village.

At least I got a break from the boys when Momma hired a sitter so we could go on a boat ride. This is Natalie of Nanny Paws on Marco Island. Cute huh?

Lina, Looking forward to another never-a-dull-moment year!

WOOFDA!

Dear Readers,

Santa came early to our house this year when I got a new airline carrier. Not that I needed one, but this one had better wheels (said Momma the engineer) and it also had a flag — perfect to personalize and make the carrier into a real statement piece, she thought. Plus, Momma could call this my Christmas gift! As you can see, I’m overjoyed.

As you also might be able to see, the flag proclaims to the world that there is a PET ON BOARD! I’m not sure what else people think would be in a pet carrier with wheels and air vents and straps, a little animal inside and maybe some barks or meowing emanating from within, etc., but that was not the point. The point was that Momma wanted to jazz up the flag so people would inquire about me, she might give them a little look-see of me, and then she could sell them my books. I, on the other paw, a serious author, could do without the commotion, and only want to use the airport to get from point A to point B like most rational people and pets

Anyway, Momma was on a mission, and went to work on the flag as soon as she ripped open the Amazon box. First up was a trip to Hobby Lobby (Momma who shops according to establishment politics, loves that store). There she bought several bags of crystals, a HOTEE gun to attach them and plenty of red and white felt to allow for mistakes. Then she spent the better part of two days measuring, making patterns, sewing, and applying crystals. Apparently the HOTEE gun was just a little over her head.

Realizing that it might take the rest of her life to complete the tiny flag, she sought help. Luckily, our good friends, Jenny and Delaney, were in the neighborhood visiting Nanny Becky and came to the rescue. Here they are easily and happily putting on the finishing touches!

And here I am with my new flag. If you see us at the airport, you might want to run. Oh, and by the way, how are we supposed to get this show piece through the scanner?

Well, I’ll soon find out since Momma and I are only six days from liftoff to Florida. When the temperature registered negative five and we saw sun dogs flanking the sun this week, I knew it was time for this sun dog to head south.

I want to woof out a super big thanks to all of you for reading my blog. It is one of the best presents Momma and I could ever have. May you have Happy Pawlidays and a new year filled with your favorite treats.

Lina, Traveling in style in search of the sun!

WOOFDA!

Dear Readers,

I think it’s time for a little winter update! Life goes on pretty much as usual with Momma and me, but as you know, as usual for us is not always a smooth ride.

Range anxiety

Speaking of smooth rides, Momma continues to drive Sparky even in the winter here — although it is common knowledge that Teslas do not do well in cold temperatures or snow. I think Momma learned her lesson when she drove it to a store in Wayzata which is twenty-six miles from our house — according to Google — to have a watch repaired (and treat herself to a little look around). Momma prides herself on her math and saw that Sparky had ruffly eighty-five miles left on the battery. No problem Momma reasoned: 26 x 2 = 52, so she’d have plenty of charge left over. Or so she thought.

Turns out it was a cold day in Tesla’s world with temps in Minni only reaching a high in the upper forties. Now to those of you from Minni, you know that could even be a nice golf day, but apparently Sparky is a lightweight. Momma began to realize this when she was two miles from our house and the range had gone down by about five miles. After driving a little farther and watching the charge go down more quickly than she had estimated, Momma realized she had to conserve energy and turned off the heater and the media system. She also did not take or make any phone calls or do any texting that could possibly be routed through the car.

By the time she got to the store in Wayzata and parked, a message popped up on Sparky, warning her that the mileage was getting low and the battery would drain faster because of the cold temperatures. So full of #rangeanxiety by now was Momma that she could not even enjoy herself at the jewelry store (wondering if the battery could be draining even as she spoke with a rep about her watch repair), and practically ran back to the car. The mileage was now at about fifty miles remaining.

Gently backing out and careful not to accelerate or decelerate quickly or make sharp turns, Momma crept to the main highway and the road home. Momma kept the heater and media systems off and barely dared to use the blinkers. By now she had her tassel cap and fur-lined mittens on and she could see her breath as she drove, all the while keeping her eyes on exit ramps in case the car started to die.

By the time Momma got home, she was dog tired (by the way, I’m so glad I wasn’t on this trip). Sparky registered a range of about twenty-five miles, and the car gave her a stern warning that the battery was dangerously low and must be plugged in immediately to avoid damage. The down side to this was that Momma had to reprogram the car to charge “right now” instead of during off peak-hours beginning at 10 pm, something that would likely take her the rest of the afternoon. The upside? We still have a car with Dog Mode.

My dog cave

On another front, Momma has taken to putting me in my own gated community (something which I vehemently oppose on principle) when she leaves the house for longer than an hour. And all because I happened to have two teeny-tiny accidents in the house when she left me alone for a long time and it was dark out and I was scared. (“Better that you are in your own safe space then, Lina,” Momma chided.) I am making the most of it though and spend my time looking out the window for squirrels and taking naps in my bed. Momma also leaves out a pee pad, but I always hold it until she gets home just to prove I can have the run of the house again at any time.

Playing ball

Because it has been so cold outside and we’ve had several inches of snow in Minni, Momma has wisely not taken me for any walks lately. In fact, even going potty is a challenge and I’ve taught myself to squat right outside the door to do my business since I hate wearing a coat or boots. Have I woofed yet that I can’t wait to get to Florida?

As a result of our pawful weather, we are forced to play fetch in the house. And when Momma is binge-watching Fox News or Yellowstone, I make my own fun!

Lina, Resourceful!

WOOFDA!

Dear Readers,

Momma can no longer deny it. She is getting older. Sales people and others in the service industry have started referring to her as “honey,” “sweetie” and “dear.” (“So ageist, Lina,” says Momma who normally claims only liberals play the victim card.) Cases in point: Just the other day a clerk at Byerly’s referred to her as “dear,” and the bagger almost begged her to drive up for her groceries rather than try carry two bags to her car. Then there was the clerk at Pilgrim Cleaners who, totally unsolicited by Momma, offered her the senior citizen discount of 10%. And let’s not forget when the driver of a courtesy cart at MSP asked her if she wanted a ride to her gate (see blog post, April 29, 2022). And when did the TSA people get the impression that it is “okay” to ask certain passengers if they have artificial hips or knees before going through security?

Also, just a couple of weeks ago after attending one of her right-wing extremist events, Momma had another wake up call. Upon leaving the meeting, she was speaking with an employee of the venue (who was sporting a patriotic t-shirt), while carefully descending some steps in her fashion boots. All of a sudden, a guy behind her called out, “would you like me to help you down the stairs, ma’am?” Momma almost gave him a sharp retort, but quickly relented and took his arm when she realized he was a member of her tribe.

And last week Momma was navigating her way through the security maze at MSP on her way to Florida, when reality “bit” her in the butt again. When she finally got to the TSA guy who let her pass, Momma asked him, “so do I get in that line over there?” pointing to the right where she saw there was no waiting. He replied, “Are you over seventy-five?” Enraged (and triggered), Momma informed TSA Guy in no uncertain terms that she was not even close to seventy-five. TSA Guy, trying to defuse the situation, said placatingly, “and you look good.” Momma, satisfied, held her head a little higher and jauntily marched into the large plastic tube reserved for the younger crowd.

And so it goes . . .

Chief Fluff Officer?

On another topic, Momma’s friend, Linda, recently sent her an article on Yappy.com’s pup influencer contest. It seems that Yappy is looking for a “Chief Fluff Officer.” (Momma especially liked this title because her hero, @ElonMusk, is now calling himself “Chief Twit” or something similarly foolish.) Momma was also wild about the article’s headline: “Your dog can earn $10,000 a year as a pup influencer.” For my part, I knew that I could trust the bone fides of the contest since CNN wrote the article; however, I was still not on board.

In a company ad, Yappy explained the winning canine candidate’s qualifications: “The successful pup will be a natural behind the camera, always happy to strike a pose and genuinely enjoy having their photo taken and being filmed as they try out our latest personalized gifts.” Yappy further explained that the pup should have a social media page and warned that the competition would be ruff with over 3,000 applicants so far.

Although Momma had already all but spent the $10,000, we had a few drawbacks. Number one, I don’t like to have my picture taken (and by the way, Yappy, shouldn’t your ad say that the pup will be a natural in front of the camera). Just woofin’. Number two, I don’t like to dress up in any type of clothing (other than my Joe Biden scarf), and noisy toys scare me. Number three, although, I do have Instagram and Twitter accounts, (@linadogblogger) Momma has failed in her administrative duties to keep them up-to-date.

Nevertheless, I fear that Momma will forge ahead with our application. In fact, she has already put together my professional modeling portfolio. (“Surely Yappy will see that you know your way around toys and outfits, Lina.”) What do you think?

Lina, Not just another pretty face

WOOFDA!