Sock Weather

Posted on October 3, 2012 by buddymcintyre

It is early October in Chicago and temperatures have tumbled recently, especially along the lakeshore. On an early morning walk today it was the kind of damp and windy weather that left my teeth chattering and my brain wondering WHY I live here.

There is no escaping it. It is time for “sock weather.”

I am not one to rush into wearing socks. Once they are on, it is a long slippery slope that only ends in winter heartache; snow, slush, ice and freezing winds.

For the short term, I don my long down coat with my clogs without socks. Like a ragamuffin child I head out the door for a walk with Buddy. OK, I know this is not a fashion forward statement. Actually, because I am short it is difficult to discern which end is up when I wear this coat but avoiding the cold trumps appearance; no matter how ridiculous I look.

And Buddy?

Buddy has a sweater with a hood. My sons think he looks ridiculous in it. I think he looks adorable, but it really doesn’t matter what he looks like, because he gets cold too.

So off we go for a walk, no socks yet. I am holding out for awhile.

We may look a little odd, but we won’t be cold, my Buddy and me.

“Cloudy
The sky is gray and white and cloudy
Sometimes I think it’s hanging down on me
And it’s a hitchhike a hundred miles
I’m a rag-a-muffin child
Pointed finger-painted smile
I left my shadow waiting down the road for me a while.” Paul Simon

The Doggy Tower of Terror

Posted on August 22, 2012 by buddymcintyre

I don’t like amusement park rides.

I somehow missed getting the “thrill seeking, roller coaster, zip-line riding” gene. When our family went to Disney World, my husband would take my boys on rides named “Splash Mountain!” or “Space Mountain!” Nope, those were NOT for me.

They did, however, convince me to go on “Big Thunder Mountain Railroad.” “ Look mom,” they said, “the ride description says that a ride on Big Thunder Mountain Railroad provides mild but wild thrills to those aboard—from big kids and teens to adults not up for the really big thrills found on the other two Magic Kingdom “mountain” attractions: Space Mountain and Splash Mountain.” Feeling guilty that I was the family vacation party-pooper-spoiler, I agreed to go on it.

Big Mistake.

I emerged from the ride, hair disheveled, nauseated, with stiff hands from gripping the ride handles tightly in a white-knuckled grip of sheer terror.

Now, I want to reassure you that NO DOGS WERE INJURED IN WRITING THIS POST, but Buddy has had a similar experience recently; the DOGGY TOWER OF TERROR.

We moved recently to a 20th floor downtown Chicago apartment, which is reached by elevator. Well, I suppose one could climb up and down the twenty floors of stairs, but in my mind, that is clearly not an option. So, in order to walk the dog, we have to take the elevator. Going up the first time for Buddy was apparently not a problem for him, but going DOWN was a different story

When I asked him what sounded to him like,

“Cpihshakepoininaitreatadjfoijgoforawalkaoadrideinthecar?”

He responded with his usual enthusiasm because it meant SOMETHING good was going to happen, and we headed off down the hall to the elevator.

We got in on the twentieth floor and I pushed ONE. When the elevator started its descent, Buddy threw himself flat down on the floor, pancake style, feet splayed out in every direction with a look on his face that could only be read as, “I am somehow on the DOGGY TOWER OF TERROR! Hang on, hang on, we are all going to probably die!”

When we returned from our walk, as we approached the elevator he leaned back, dug in his heels and refused to get back on. Now I understand this from my own experience not wanting to go on any sort of amusement park rides. So I carried him in my arms up and down the elevator for several days, and I am happy to report now he views the elevator as that little place where he meets people who say, “Awwww, he is soooooo cute, can I pet him?” A sort of doggy petting pre-walk holding area. So apparently he has recovered from his fear of amusement park rides.

Me? Not so much.
“Who me? Want to go to Navy Pier and ride the Roller Coaster?”

“Ummmm, no thanks.”

Photo: from Wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Twilight_Zone_Tower_of_Terror
http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/

Sunday Drive

Posted on August 21, 2012 by buddymcintyre

”Crusin’ and playin’ the radio
with no particular place to go.” Chuck Berry

My family used to go on “Sunday Drives” when I was growing up.

We would pile in to my father’s 1960’s era Chrysler New Yorker with no destination in mind. The car was so big that you could be in different zip codes riding in the same car. My sister and I were allowed to pick directions at each intersection; “Right! Left! Indifferent!” we would call from the back seat. We would end up in some unexpected Michigan small town and get ice cream cones from an ice cream shop named something like “The Freeze” or “The Whippy Dip.” On the ride home, my parents would smoke in the front seat, windows rolled down, looking eerily like Don and Betty Draper from the TV show Mad Men while my sister and I would sing along to the AM radio, “Hang on Sloopy, Sloopy hang on.”

Reminiscing about these car rides, I said to my husband one day, “We should go for a Sunday Drive.” His response was less than enthusiastic. Of course the cost of gas has increased from 29 cents per gallon to over four dollars per gallon, which may have dampened his enthusiasm a bit. But even if the cost of gas wasn’t an issue, he just didn’t get the point.

Buddy does. He LOVES to ride in the car. Anywhere. If I ask him (as he hears it)

“Cpihshakepoininaitreatadjfoijgoforawalkapofjgoodboycookiejpoadrideinthecar,”

he discerns the sound bite “car ride” and springs into alert and ready-to-go mode, tail thumping on the floor.

Buddy will go for a ride in the car. Anytime.

Buddy will go on a Sunday Drive with me. He will go anywhere in the car. With paws on the door handle, nose sticking out the cracked window, ears blowing in the wind, he is in car ride nirvana. I’m not sure why he likes it so much. But off we go, simpatico, a couple of road warriors, “cruisin’ and playin’ the radio, with no particular place to go.”

Buddy is a Feng Shui Master

Posted on August 16, 2012 by buddymcintyre

Buddy is a Feng Shui Master. He understands the artful placement of items in a home and the effect they have on the home’s “Chi.” Most dogs, when given a new toy, bone or chew react in immediate pleasure romping, chewing, and gnawing away at the new item.

Not Buddy.

A new toy or bone disturbs Buddy’s Chi. He reluctantly takes it, and then begins to wander around the house making an “errr errr errr” noise; a sort of “I-don’t-know-where –to-put it” sound. This begins the rearrangement of current items he has tucked away in corners, under the covers on the bed, and other secret places known only to him. One by one he moves them to different locations until he achieves some sort of doggy- yin-yang balance. This can take hours and requires much rearranging.

I can relate. Recently my husband brought home a little cut glass crystal bowl for me. One would think a simple little item such as that would not throw anyone into a tizzy. But alas, I had to spend time moving these vases over HERE, and this bowl over THERE until somehow a pleasing balance was created.

My husband watches this exercise in bewilderment with an “it is just a BOWL” look on his face. Not Buddy. HE understands me.

If you have ever seen the movie, Close Encounters of the Third Kind, you would understand what I am talking about. You know, when Richard Dreyfuss is compelled to throw mashed potatoes to create a sculpture in his living room? When others in the movie who have had similar visions and compulsions find each other they are so relieved that SOMEONE understands their obsession. It is a similar situation.

Buddy gets it and accepts me as a kindred spirit and this is why I am thankful I live with a doggy Feng Shui Master.