We had a night without Artie over the weekend. It was a scary-strange night not having the big lug in the house. I’d open the fridge and expect to hear him jump off the sofa and come jangling over, confident that whatever came out of the fridge would be shared with him. There was no hopeful little puppy face on the side of the bed that night, whining and trying to look pathetic so I’d invite him up. No one to body slam the bed the next morning to announce that it was time for a potty break. What a sad and lonely life I lead before my pooch.

The girls, however, loved it. When they saw us come into the house without the dog, I swear their little feline eyes lit up with unsuppressed kitty glee. They spent all night tearing around the house, chasing each other and having a kitty party until the wee hours of the night. Without Artie there to break up their cavorting, they had free reign of the house.

So where was Artie you ask? He was having a trial run sleep over at Kat & Josh. Since we are going out of town, they will be the proud owners of 85 pounds of puppy love for the weekend and we wanted to make sure they were up for the task. When we arrived the next morning to claim our pooch, they seemed no worse for the experience. They did, however, want to know if he always needed a potty break at 6:45am. We assured them that he was more of an 8:30am dog. Suckers.

So last night, Artie was back on the sofa where he belonged and the girls were shooting us looks of hate for having raised and then dashed their little kitty dreams, and everything was right in the world. I missed Artie so much that when he began begging to be let up on the bed last night, I gave in without a fuss. Of course, I spent most of the night contorted with one leg hanging off the bed and without any covers on the left side of my body because the darn dog kept hogging all the room but it was worth it when he lay his head on my leg, sighed a big puppy sigh of pure happiness, and begin licking the back of my knee.

How I ever managed to live without my dog I will never know.

I sometimes forget that not everyone sees the world through my eyes. Things that seem perfectly obvious to me may be totally bizarre to someone else. For example, my friend needed some chap stick so I told her to grab it out of my purse. She rummaged around in it for a while and then said, “Um, Chrissie, what is this?!?”

I looked up and saw she was holding a spritzer of Binaca. You know, that stuff you squirt into your mouth to freshen it up right before you kiss someone. Now, having a tube of Binaca in your purse probably isn’t that strange but in my case, the tube is wrapped in duct tape with a piece of twine hanging from it like a handle.

“Oh, that,” I replied nonchalantly “it goes on your wrist, like this.” And I took the spray from her and slipped it over my hand so that it hung, dangling from my wrist. Oddly enough, this little demonstration only seemed to add to her confusion. What, like other people don’t walk around with a home made Binaca bracelet?

It actually took me a moment to process her confusion. You see, in our house, we walk around with the Binaca bracelet because it is the ultimate training device. Artie just hates the stuff. First off, when you spray it, it makes this weird hissing sound like a mad cat. Second, it makes him sneeze. It’s non-toxic and won’t harm him if he swallows it so we just aim at his nose and shoot. So when someone is at the door, we slip on the Binaca bracelet and if he starts barking or jumping on the guest, a quick squirt quiets him down. When you take him on a walk, you slip on the bracelet and if he goes after a cat or gets in a tangle with another dog, a quick squirt squirt and the squabble quickly breaks up. It’s gotten to the point now that all we have to do is pick up the spritzer and point it at him and say “no” and he’ll stop whatever it is he’s doing he hates the stuff so much.

I suppose, though, to those unfamiliar with my life, it may look like I’m strangely paranoid about my breath. I mean, why else would there be a spritzer of Binaca in every room? But it’s all perfect normal. Trust me.

Pretty much once a day I turn to Kevin and ask him, “How could someone not love this dog?!?!”

We got the girls because my friend was having a difficult pregnancy and her doctor recommended a cat hair free environment. She was heart broken and only agreed to part with the girls with the greatest of reluctance.

But Artie was given up because someone didn’t want him. How is this possible? How could you not love this dog? Even more baffling, how could be so cruel that you’d hit him in anger?

His latest thing is he’s turned into a real sneaky seat stealer. You’ll be lounging on the sofa, watching TV or reading a book, and decide to get a refill on your coffee or the phone rings and when you get back, there’s this big fat dog curled up on your spot. Lately, he’s gotten even more daring. If you stand up for even a moment to get the remote or pick up a magazine, in the .2 seconds your rump is off the sofa, he’ll scooch right in there and settle down like he’s been sleeping there for hours. I’ve tried sitting on him but he really doesn’t mind. Call or start tugging on his collar and I swear he’ll start to fake sleeping and even throw in a few snores as if to convince you that he’s fallen into slumber. Like that’ll fool you or something. The only way to reclaim your seat is to go into the kitchen and start crinkling food wrappings. He’ll suddenly “wake up” and come running into the kitchen. Of course, once he realizes it’s merely a rouse, the race is on and we both dash back toward the couch. He’s usually faster than me but he’s lower to the ground and has those extra legs so it’s not really a fair race.

They say you can find anything on Google so I decided to run a search for Artie. I was bored and just fooling around. I never excepted to find anything but, well, try it for yourself.

Run Artie + Oregon + catahoula. (That’s his “I’m-really-wierded-out-by-what-you-are-doing-please-stop-it” look.)

The sad part is, if you tried Christine + McLaughlin + Oregon, I’m not found. I’ve been surpassed by my dog. Guess I better get used to sitting on the floor for a while.

So people have been asking me what are my New Year resolutions. At first, I really didn’t have any aside from survive another year of Kevin’s cooking. But upon further reflection, I think this year I’m going to try to finish more.

I’m notorious for great ideas that sort of overlap. I’ll start some project, spend a few days/weeks collecting all the necessary items, hunting for bargains and advise, organizing and preparing, and then when it’s all set, I’ll sit down to actually Do It only to discover my attention has wandered onto something else. And I’ll shelve the current project to start collection, hunting, organizing for something else.

I mean, this list really is impressive. Last year I started and peetered out on the following projects…..

Creating a cookbook of favorite recipes – learning to play the guitar – learning to watercolor – re-learning how to play the piano – working on my stamp collection and first covers – creating a scrap book for my photos – cross stiching various patterns – knitting scarfs, hats, sweaters – sewing curtains, dresses, skirts – learning calligraphy and copper plating – selling my used books online – finishing various short stories/books I’ve begun – planting a veggie garden – making a quilt – making a greenhouse – painting the guestroom.

And that’s just for the last year!!! I’m sure there are more things – I mean, I have a whole ream of paper full of ideas and projects I’ve seen and want to do from organizing my CD collection to creating a craft room in the basement. Unfortunately, my eyes are bigger than my free time.

Strangely enough, whenever I mention to people that I’d love to stop working they all tell me I’d be bored. Um, hello! Bored??? I have a list that would keep me occupied for at least 5 years of neat projects and the list continues to grow.

So this year, I’m going to try very hard to stay on target. Sure, I’ll continue to collect ideas but instead of acting on every impulse that passes my way, I’m going to calmly add them to a project binder instead of chaotically rushing to begin them willy-nilly. Of course, that means I’m going to have to set up a project binder. I’ll need a binder with pockets and dividers – maybe a color coding system? And I can arrange alphabetically or chronologically or by subject matter. Maybe time needed to complete? And a supply list for sure.

I’m thinking this is going to be another long year. Ah well, resolutions are meant to be broken, right???

Last night was another Growl Class.

This time, it was all about meeting other dogs on a walk. Each dog was paired up and brought to the center of the room. Then, they were slowly walked toward each other. When they began to get aggressive, the owner turned around, feed them treats and returned to the start. Eventually, the dogs were able to walk past each other without barking or lunging. It was pretty neat.

Except we were paired with Bear. Now, this dog could have been named either Bear or Psycho. Either one would have been correct. He is the most vicious and out of control dog there. He’s huge and shaggy and just barks and lunges at anything that moves. I thought Artie was an aggressive dog. I was soooo wrong. Artie is a protective dog. Bear is a monster. It takes both of his owners and one assistant to keep him in control during class. And that’s barely in control.
So when we get to class, there’s this list on the board. We are last in line and paired with Bear. Kevin and I spend a good half hour talking strategy. After watching a few of the more mellow dogs run through this exercise, we realize we could be in trouble. They want us to walk Artie 2 feet from Bear. Not going to happen.

It’s our turn and Kevin gets up. Only one person can lead the dog during this exercise and Kev lost the toss. He pulls out the good treats – leftover Chicken Kev from our dinner party – and heads bravely into the center of the room. They are having trouble getting Bear out of his area. He’s basically freaking out and going wild. Kevin and Artie are on my end of the room and poor sweet Artie is beginning to look a little leery.

Then the moment arrives. Kevin has to start walking toward Bear. Bear, of course, has no problems walking toward Artie. In fact he is lunging toward Artie, ready to attack. The only problem is, Artie only has eyes for mom. That’s right. He just sat there, staring at me. Kevin tried sweet talk, he tried the chicken, he even tried pulling. But Artie wouldn’t move or walk. Just looked at me across the room with his big brown eyes. It took Kevin and an instructor to pull Artie down the room. He never even looked at Bear.

They’re on the other end of the room and Artie has his eyes locked on me. This time, when it’s time to walk down the room, Artie makes a bee-line for me. Right past Bear, no bark no lunge. Now, because Artie is ignoring Bear, Bear begins to calm down. He’s walking without barking. No lunging or attacking. Everyone in the class starts clapping and yelling “Good job Bear! What a good boy!!” Hey, what about our good boy??? Why aren’t they cheering my dog? It was actually pretty funny. When Artie was on my end of the room, he wouldn’t walk. When they finally dragged him down to the other end, he’d come running straight for me.

The instructor says next time we do this, I’ll have to walk Artie instead of Kevin. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that won’t work either. He’s even worse when Kevin’s not around. Ah well, at least Bear came out looking like a hero. But Kevin & I know it’s just because he had Artie as a partner.