Winston
I know several bloggers who like pets, including Pied Type, Indiana Jen, and now Archon’s Den who just posted on his varied and interesting cat experiences. I am inspired to let my limited audience know that Mollie and I share their interest and love of animals.
We have most always been dog people. Our current tenant and companion is a Yorkie named Winston. We got him by default from our kids after they imprudently bought him for the grandkids without realizing how much added maintenance he was. They were actually pretty smart because they now get to play with him sans maintenance.
The vet had predicted that he would need a food supplement out of a tube because “the breed has poor appetite”. The vet just happened to sell such a product. Go figure. But it turns out Winston does just fine without it. Because of Mollie’s nurturing nature, he gets exactly what he likes.
Winston is otherwise a fairly typical Yorkshire Terrier, judging by breeders’ web pages, energetic, very social and not all that bright. We patronize a posh kennel for him when we travel – it’s called “Lucky Dog”, a place where the clientele are screened for compatibility (the dogs, not us), and they are all allowed to run free in the facility during the day. Run by two ladies, one a vet, I think it may be unique among such facilities. Winston is by all accounts a leader in the pack and actually seems to prefer Lucky Dog to home. It is an odd sight, seeing ten or so dogs of all sizes and breeds happily playing together.
He’s not a traveler, being prone to car-sickness. He absolutely detests rain unless he’s on the leash (apparently he’s OK with discomfort if it’s shared). Which reminds me of his single, first and last, swimming episode.
We were walking near a flock of the semi-tame Canada geese that frequent our pond one day and on an impulse I let Winston off the leash to see what he’d do. He approached, the geese waddled toward the pond, Winston charged, geese flew to the water. Without hesitation Winston launched himself through the air right after them, landing some six feet from shore. Yorkies’ eyes can get really big when they’re surprised, but they can swim quite well. Realizing he was out of his element, he quickly made for shore.
Winston comes equipped with an internal clock. When time approaches for his daily walk he stares at me. He can maintain this indefinitely. It is not something that can be ignored, probably similar to Mr. Spock’s mind-meld ESP and might be genetically related to pointy ears.
Still Skeptical After All These Years 
He’s adorable. And I see what you mean. How could anyone ignore a stare like that? (Admittedly I’m a sucker for a look, a stare, a whine, a cocked head, a paw on the knee … )
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Exactly, PT. And, he’s a snuggler, loves contact. Easy to understand why the press reports people with pets having fewer heart attacks and other health problems, something I saw again just the other day.
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How do dogs tell time? If I lie down for a late afternoon nap, I never set a timer to wake me up. Precisely at 6:00 PM, the buckwheat pancake sticks a wet nose in my ear to tell me it’s food time.
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Boy, ain’t that the truth. Every day when I’m getting dressed, Winston attends and stares. It’s time for playing fetch with a squeaky toy. If I demur, he barks. He fetches, stays just out of reach, growls ferociously, bites squeaks out of it, teases. The ritual is mandatory, an essential part of our day.
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As I type this reply, Lola ( a standard Poodle) and Sebastian ( a Basset hound) BOTH have their heads in my lap saying it is time to here the computer say “Goodby” (logging off from AOL) so they can go for their walk.
Anson
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