Farley here.
So I’m sailing again. What do I do underway? Well, unless there are dolphins swimming by, I get bored.
And when I’m bored, I get crazy.
I go to the forward guest cabin and I roll right . . .
And then I roll left.
And lastly, I play with my squeaky toy.
I mean what else does a dog do when sailing. Matt and Kristina won’t let me steer, at least not all the time.
It’s a talent being able to entertain yourself.
Woof Woof
Farley Here,
Woof Woof
I’m still at the lake, but guess what? I have a visitor. Hailey is a Doodle who’s the same age as me but way more into mischief. She’s spending the weekend and thinks she owns the place. Look what she’s doing to me.
Now I don’t’ mind this rough play, but all the humans get excited when we play indoors. We keep getting in trouble and sent outside.
Hailey may be the trouble maker, but I’m the smarter one. When Kristina puts out my food, I eat it before Hailey has a chance to get near it.
Hailey likes to munch all day and leaves her bowl full of food – right on the ground – right in front of me. So I grab every opportunity and eat her food. She doesn’t care. She knows her humans will put out more.
Kristina scolds me for eating Hailey’s food.
“What?” I bark and look all innocent.
“You know you have allergies.”
“Allergies Schmallergies,” I bark. “This food is tasty.”
I do behave and leave the food dish. But ah ha! I found Hailey’s food bad. And when no one is looking . . .
And then I remember. I’m allergic to wheat. My feet itch. My ears itch. And now I’m not so happy about eating Hailey’s food.
Kristina gives me a benadryl, and I start to feel better. Then I need ear drops. Gooey stuff dribbling in my ear canal is not a feeling I cherish, but I put up with it.
Why can’t I remember to only eat my dog food?
Do you have allergies? and what do you take for them?
Woof Woof
Farley here.
Dogs can learn. This I know for a fact. Last week my humans escaped, and I was left with temporary humans for the week. Although I had fun, I missed my peeps.
What did I learn?
Suspicious activity: Kristina puts clothes in something she calls a suitcase.
“Are you leaving me again?” I bark.
“Don’t worry, you’re coming with us,” she says.
Should I believe her?
Next suspicious activity: Matt carries the suitcase toward the van.
Huh? Last time that happened, away they went for the week.
“Open the door, “ I bark.
Matt opens the side door, puts the suitcase inside, and goes back into the house for another bag.
Silly man. I grab the opportunity and jump into the van. I look left, I look right and I assess the situation. They can easily pull me out of here. Now, remember I’m getting smarter and learning.
I jump into the front seat. The door is closed,, so there’s no way they can get me out.
“Ha, ha,” I bark. “You have to take me now.” I’m not as confident as I sound, so I wiggle and look as cute as I can.
So did I get to go on the trip? I did, I did, I did 🙂
Woof Woof.
Farley here. Woof Woof.
So what’s a dog like me doing with a cat?
I’m visiting a house that has a cat. The cat is crazy. I enter the room, she hisses and runs. Well what to humans expect me to do? Sit there and stay quiet. She’s challenged me. I run after her. If only I could catch her. But then what? I have no idea, but it sure is fun scrambling all over the house.
Sometimes she teases me. Above, she’s sitting on top of the kitchen wall staring into the bedroom at me. If only I could get to her. She knows I can’t climb like she can, so there she sits laughing at me.
But if a cat likes me, I’m happy to play nice. See . . . I have proof.
I’m not evil. Really, I’m not. It’s the cat’s fault.
Woof Woof.
Woof Woof, Farley here.
Is it just me or is fishing really fun?
I’ve been at the cottage for three days, and I’ve trained my alpha (That’s Matt by the way.)
“Come down here,” I bark. I glance at the boathouse and then at Matt.
Matt’s so smart he comes on command.
“Get the rod, get the rod, get the rod,” I bark.
Matt does as instructed.
Now, I do my dance. This really gets Matt laughing.
Every time I dance like this, he casts the lure and I bark.
If he catches something, I really go crazy. These alphas need a lot of praise. The more I praise him the more he’ll cast the lure.
Woof Woof.
Farley here.
Why am I trapped?
My human, Kristina, is explaining to me the dangers of porcupines.
Like I don’t remember.
“If you don’t run up the hill, I’ll let you off leash,” Kristina says.
“Yah, Yah,” I bark and nod enthusiastically.
“You remember the vet?”
I shudder inside. What dog doesn’t remember the vet. Two years ago, I chased a porcupine up the hill behind our cottage. It stuck its head in a hole and left its whole body out for me to see. I don’t think porcupines are the smartest, but who am I to say, since I’m the one who ended up with quills in my face?
Kristina put the cone of shame over my head so I couldn’t bite at the quills and drove me to vet. The waiting room was full and everyone saw me wearing the cone. Very embarrassing.
The vet said she’d have to anaesthetize me and for Kristina to come back later that night.
I frantically looked from Kristina to the vet and then put on my most submissive pose. I held in the bark that wanted to burst out from me. The vet took me into a room without Kristina. Yikes. She said I was so good, yup that’s right – so good – that she was going to try to take out one quill without using anaesthetic. I sat calmly as she took them all out and Kristina got to take me home.
I bring my focus back to the present and run my paw over my nose to show Kristina I remember.
“You remember the pliers?” Kristina asks.
I groan and roll my head on the deck.
“I see you do,” she says.
Last year, I chased a porcupine again. I don’t know what I was thinking. I guess I wasn’t. Kristina didn’t take me to the vet. I knew it was going to be bad when I saw pliers in her hand and she said to Matt, “Hold him tight.”
They pulled out all the quills without the help of a vet. Kristina likes to learn these things for herself.
Now you have to remember I’m a dog. So today, I catch the scent of a porcupine and blast toward the hill. Kristina grabs for me and misses. Unlucky for me, Matt doesn’t miss. He catches my harness and drags me behind the gate.
Now I’m stuck. No running free for me.
“Why didn’t I listen?”
Woof Woof.
Farley here.
One of the most important things a dog does is choose his humans. Humans often think they choose the dog. But any good dog knows it’s not true. Even some cats know this.
The human my choose a breeder or shelter to visit, but when I ask my dog friends they all say the same thing.
They know instinctively which human will be a match. And then here’s what you do:
At that point they can’t resist.
I love my humans. I always seem to bark about Kristina, so here’s Matt picking a burr out of my paw. All I have to do is look sad, give him my best brown eyed stare, hold my paw in the air, and tada! I am taken care of. I don’t even have to bark.
I could tell the first time I saw Matt that he was the guy for me.
Woof Woof
Farley here.
I’m in Florida. The land of leashes, poop bags, thunderstorms and dark water.
My reflections . . .
I don’t mind the leash, but Kristina thinks I don’t get enough free running time.
Poop bags? Well, that’s Kristina’s duty. I barked, “duty.” Ha Ha 🙂
Thunderstorms scare me. They’re too loud and shake the boat. I pant at Kristina to make them stop, but she just smiles at me and says, “You’re fine.” Easy for her to say when she understands what’s going on and to me, well I’m a dog so how could I know?
The dark water . . . That’s where my reflection comes in.
I look in the water.
“Come here,” I bark and wag my tail.
“Hang on,” Kristina says, but she’s obedient as usual and is at my side in seconds.
I look at her, back at the water and at her again. She does well with visual signals and gets my meaning.
“There’s a dog in there,” I bark like a crazy dog from the Canadian wilderness. “Get it out! How can it breath underwater?”
Kristina laughs.
I’m getting a little scared now. “Don’t laugh,” I bark. “That dog needs help.”
“That’s you, silly.”
“Me? Me?” I bark. “Am I really that handsome?”
“Of course,” Kristina says.
So now I’m obsessed. I stare at my handsome reflection every chance I get. Who knew I was sooooo good looking?
Okay, I’ll admit it was fun watching fish and dolphins in the clear Bahamian water, but now I have a new hobby to entertain myself.
As we motor north on the Intracoastal Waterway, I sit on the bow and check myself out!
Woof Woof.
Farley here.
Squeak, squeak, squeak.
My human friend, Sharon, gave me a squeaky toy for Christmas. I’m not the type of dog that likes toys, but this one is pretty cool.
It makes the greatest noise.
Last night, I snuck it out of the cubby hole my human hides it in (like I can’ find it).
I eyed the clock.
Three a.m.
That’s a reasonable time to play, I thought. Kristina -not so much. She’s always nice to me, no matter what I do. She gently took the toy away, explained why I had to wait until morning to play and then rubbed my belly. Now that’s what I call fun to be reprimanded.
Woof Woof.
Farley here.
I have lots of friends, but sometimes they disappear. Where do they go? Do they live on sailboats too?
Take Piper for example. I met her the same day I met my owners. She has different owners and she has an attitude.
Piper is a border terrier, and she’s cute, but really, look at her whispering in my ear. She told me her owners were nicer than mine. Ha! I don’t think so. We’d only been with them for five hours, so how could she know?
I’ve travelled across Canada, the United States and the Bahamas. I don’t think she’s done that.
I’m with my owners most of the time. I get walked at least twice a day and sometime more. I get real meat added to my dog food.
I may have to live on the sailboat, but she has to live in a backyard. So I ask you, aren’t my owners nicer?
I spent 5 weeks with Piper this summer, and we went camping together, with both our owners, so I have to admit hers are pretty nice too. Piper still has an attitude, but she quickly learned Kristina spoils all dogs and settled right in with us.
Woof Woof.
Creative Story Editors 