Blessing of the Animals

Today is the feast day of that cool dude St. Francis...and low and behold, I'm a star. The website that my dad founded, BustedHalo.com features me today in an article written by my dear old dad. Read it here

If you'd like to have your dog, cat or rattlesnake blessed today, head to St. Paul the Apostle Church tonight at 7PM where Fr. Gil Martinez will bless any animals (even stuffed animals--he blessed dad's monkey last year) you bring by. I'll be there--hopefully not barking at other dogs.

Late Night Walk - 10/3

About a month ago, a young attractive woman stopped dad and I in front of a local Woodside establishment. She wanted to know what kind of dog I was (actually she thought I was a cat on a leash--let's just say she had been imbibing). She then began to talk about moving here from California and dad's Cubs jacket. She asked to hold me and dad was skittish (with the imbibing and all)but he let her hold me but had to hand me to her. She left a lipstick stain (and an impression of stale cigarette breath) on me before we left. (Dad had a hard time explaining that one to mom who immediately made him wash my face). After dad mentioned that "his wife and I live down the street," she suddenly had to leave.

So who do we run into last night? The same barfly! Natch, she didn't remember the previous month's conversation and she was imbibing a bit less this time. But she was even more nuts than last time.

"Well, I used to live in California and then I moved to this neighborhood but now I live in the Spanish neighborhood...with all those damn Mexicans!"

My ears perked up immediately--dad noticed.

"I mean this is a nice neighborhood and the 61st street subway is fine. But on 69th street...it's all dirty Mexicans, who smell and I have to be cramped next to them on the subway."

Dad frowned disapprovingly at the statement.

"I don't mean to be an a***ole. Sorry," she added.

Dad looked at her squarely in her glassy-eyed face and said,

"Did you not notice he's a chihuahua?! Ergo, that makes him Mexican."

Oops. Look at my dad! Standing up for the oppressed--even us canine members. Never let it be said that dad is a racist.

Anyway, we're just back from our morning walk where two lovely children were taken by my cuteness and I licked their hands. I also was able to sit in front of two houses that had dogs barking at me by their porch door without much incident.

However, my barking at night persists. I woke mom up at 1:30, dad at 2:30 and then barked for a solid hour at 5AM. Heads are gonna roll soon, I fear.

My New Labrador Friend

Dad made me stop near a neighbor's house who have a giant but friendly and peaceful black lab. I usually bark my brains out at him when I see him on our walks but as my ears went up and alerted dad that I was about to do so---SPLOOSH!---I got splashed with a huge stream of water.

That cooled me down. Dad asked me to sit in front of the house and while I was nervous I did so. He then moved me closer and I got scared and barked but after another dousing I learned that this wasn't really a good idea.

Eventually, I got to sit in front of the fence very close to my new pal. I felt secure with dad there letting me know nothing will go wrong.

I guess this training is going well. Dad seems happy.

Now if I could just stop barking in my room at night!

The Brits are Coming

So on my walk with dad we met an older British woman who was 90 if she was a day. She called me an "incredible specimen" and asked if dad shows me.

I had no idea what she meant--show me where? But then I realized she meant that pretentious Dog Show that they even televise now. Ugh. Dad would never do that--besides they cut my thingies off so I'm not eligible to be shown now anyway. (who would've thought some good ever could've come from that!?)

Back to our new British friend who started to tell us about a Yorkshire Terrier she owned (and also a monkey and a few cats. When she told us the monkey ate the cockroaches in her house I drew the line and walked away to pee on a mailbox). She said she wanted to show him and the dealer told her she would be able to.

She took him to another person who judges such shows and he said:

"You can't show that mongrel!"

"Mongrel! I paid $2500 for this dog!"

"Well you can't show him! He only has one ball!"

I tell you this woman has *ahem* "testicular fortitude." Dad nearly laughed in her face and she blushed and realized that she didn't know dad all that well to be talking openly about testicles.

Dad was wearing his baseball hat and she started to tell him that people who have high hairlines are very smart. Dad took his hat off and she screamed at his bald head and said: "You, sir, must be a genius."

I laughed so hard I peed in the street.

Anyway back to the one-balled Yorkie. It turned out that he had an undesceneded testicle. Ladies, let me share something with you. Talking about this with men is not a great idea. It's the equivalent of hitting us guys with a baseball bat in the scrotum. So stay away from any conversations about the nether world that deals with malformations.

The lady was nice enough and was extremely friendly and told us that she travelled the world with her pets--which I thought was nice. Dad only takes me to Yonkers to see Grandma and Grandpa and Aunt Kathy (Dad's family). I wish he could take me on the road with him when he tours his brilliant book (Googling God) or you can just email us here and dad can send you one for $20 with shipping.

Until tomorrow--still in training.

Water squirter and Other Dogs

Dad brought a water squirter out with him on our afternoon walk to see if that would discourage me from barking and lunging at other dogs.

Let me tell you...it most certainly did. I saw a miniature doberman and started barking and it took me a bit to calm down but the water squirter helped me. A block later I saw a female chihuahua like me (and let me tell you she was a hottie--if you know what I mean) and as my ears went up--Ba-Blam--there was dad squirting away. I started to bark anyway and dad blasted me like 9 times really fast and yelled "COOL DOWN HAZE!" He also growled a big angry growl like our trainer friend told him too...so I knew he meant business.

But you know what...my fear of the other dogs subsided. I was able to sit for three minutes in front of the other dog. Her owner, a nice older spanish woman, picked her up to be safe but then wanted to put her down. Dad thought that that would be a little too much for one day but later on I saw her again and was able to walk past her without any problem. Dad's become good at doing some pre-emptive tugs on my leash to get me ready to anticipate other dogs.

The day was almost a total success until I ran toward the door at the delivery man today and wouldn't listen to dad. I guess I got a little overworked. Oh well!

Hope we meet someone crazy on our walk tonight.

Haze the Dog

Training

Sorry it's been so long since I've written. I've been a bit under the weather with a mild case of pneumonia.

I've also been busy with Mom and Dad getting trained. Mom and Dad are working hard with a friend to teach me not to jump on furnature unless I'm invited up. I've learned to sit and stay until mom or dad say "Let's Go!" and I walk at heel on my leash--all in just two days of work.

Two things have been very hard for me. First is sleeping. Mom and dad have made me sleep in my bedroom instead of on the couch in the living room. They shut my door and I get scared and start to bark and whimper. But dad and mom are good at being firm--they are helping me get over my separation anxiety. They are speaking my language when I do something wrong. Dad's growl is deep and sounds like a car horn. Mom's is not a ferocious and sometimes it makes me ignore her. When I don't listen dad snaps his hands at me or smacks the door and then I know he means business and I quiet down right away.

The second thing is that I still bark at other dogs but I'm getting calmer much faster. Dad seems to have become a respected pack leader and mom is teaching me a lot too as the second in command of the pack. I love Mom very much but need to learn to listen to her more. It's hard for me because her voice is very high and I don't often know the difference between her praising me and disciplining me.

We're going to be doing a new feature here on the blog where I tell you about all the weird people I've been meeting on my evening walks--maybe we'll even start to take some pictures!

Camp Healy

Mom and Dad took a quick vacation to Toronto and I got to go to Camp Healy, also known as Aunt Barbara's house. This is a fun weekend where I get fed plums and run around Aunt Barbara's spacious apartment.

I probably drive her crazy with my barking at other dogs but I really love Aunt Barbara who said I can come and stay anytime at Camp Healy where her gym bag is the warmest place to curl up and fall asleep in.