Posted by: pharaohhoundflash | August 8, 2010

Who needs a weatherman? Just ask a dog!

Yeah, so it’s a rain-rain-rainy day in Orlando. Not only that, it’s hot and muggy. Humans are so clueless when it comes to weather. I see people all the time running when the sun’s at high noon–crazy humans. Lauressa kept trying to get me to go out for a long walk today. In fact, she just literally dragged me outside, as she told her friend on phone that she thought the rain was over for the day. Ha! “The thunder sounds really far away,” she chirped, as she proceeded to fight with me all the way along our 45-minute walk. I kept trying to turn around, and she’d sternly correct me. Now, I am not one of those nervous little terriers who’s afraid of the thunder. I am picky enough to dislike enclement weather. Doesn’t she realize I’m only trying to keep us both safe and dry? Finally, she decided to cut our walk short. . . I guess my stiff-leg-I’m-not-moving actions made her pay attention to the fact that the thunder was indeed getting louder. Or perhaps the turning point was when I plopped myself right down on the ground (ever try walking a dog who’s lying down? LOL. That’s one of my favorite moves.). Anyhow, within 15 minutes of our return to the condo, the skies opened yet again. Ah, that lovely sound of rain outside means it’s time for me to snooze comfortably inside.

Posted by: pharaohhoundflash | August 5, 2010

Summer Vacation with the Grandparents

Lauressa went out of town with Gary again (Hawaii last month and Maine this month! Without me? Hel-lo-oh? Are these NOT dog-friendly places, I ask?) Anyhow, it’s all good to me because I got to spend five days at my grandparents’ house. Staying with them is always a blast, in a completely exhausting way, and so I’m always ready to get home when it’s over.

 Here’s the scene at Grandma and Grandpa’s: There’s me—the male one-and-a-half-year-old, 30-pound, sleek pharaoh hound (like an amber-colored whippet with a hunting dog personality), hanging out with a one-year-old, 60-lb dark chocolate, jug-headed female pit bull; and a very chubby, 9-year-old (grandma) beagle named Kali whose energy competes with ours. Imagine Jack Spratt, His Wife (if she were a body builder) and one of Willie Wonka’s Oompah Loompahs (sorry Kali, but it looks good on you; no, seriously; would I lie?). The pit bull is named Breeze, but I usually call her “Jug Head” or “Tank.” I mean, really, everyone calls her that, but she doesn’t know it. She just wags her tail like a doofus, no matter what you call her. She’s actually pretty cool, but her other nickname, “Tank,” comes along with her clumsy doofiness because she just throws her 60 pounds of solid muscle in various unpredictable directions all the time, like a Mexican jumping bean if it were a side of beef instead. Her greeting is similar to that of a bulldozer. Whenever she sees me, she comes bounding over and tries to throw her paws atop my shoulders and back and to grab my neck with those jaws of hers, which are as thick as the door hinges of a ’67 Chrysler.

Kali, Breeze & Flash

Tank girl and I have some good times barking, wrestling and playing together, but let me explain what a first-class, heavyweight clutz she is. Have you ever had that experience while shopping where a big fat lady waddles past you or, worse yet, tries to turn completely around quickly and either her big butt or her purse (which is always proportionately large) unexpectedly smacks into you and completely bowls you over? Well, that’s what Breeze does to me when we run down the boardwalk to the dock on the grandfolks’ lake! Only it’s worse. . . because. . .we’re on the end of a DOCK, which means that when I try to regain my footing and stop the momentum of her gargantuan body slam, I instead go flying into the water. Now you and I both know that you should not be laughing at that, especially because I do NOT like the water.

I mean, I’m a pretty easy-going and egalitarian guy, and I’m certainly not sexist, but I mean, I just cannot keep getting beat up by a girl. And so you’ll understand that recently I have had to put Breeze in her place, doggie-style, if you know what I mean. And pit bulls are not my type at all, so I assure you that it’s a completely Platonic power play; that is, there is absolutely no funny business or attraction going on. I’m just literally, putting her in her place which is (again quite literally) beneath me.

Posted by: pharaohhoundflash | July 14, 2010

‘Shrooms and grass but no hallucinations

Sorry, hippies. It’s not what you’re thinking. I just wanted to let everyone know about these cool mushrooms I saw while running through and rubbing my face in overgrown grass (in the plot of land across from Lake Underhill Park?! Must be the victim of another cutback in city funding). These mushrooms looked like they were made of chocolate mousse, or maybe poop, which are quite nearly the same thing in my book. Anyhow, because of what I’m saying, you may think I ate them; however, that’s simply because you cannot imagine what mushrooms made from brownie mix might look like. Most humans aren’t outside enough to take note of things like this. But believe me, Lauressa double took over several of them–I mean, you know anything that looks like chocolate is going to turn her head. Anyhow, those were just slightly crazier than the ones we saw the day before, which looked like someone turned the mushrooms’ caps inside out. What?! Yes, you heard me.

And here’s another cool sighting, which was not a hallucination, by the way: at Lake Underhill yesterday, I totally tracked and pointed a crazy m.f. otter hiding in the drainage pipe. Whooo! Let me tell you, that little guy came SCUREEETCHING out of the pipe and flew across the top of the water when he realized I was onto him. I started to jump after him until I realized I was on the leash. Dagnabit. So since I did point but did NOT do much of the chasing part, I think Lauressa was really proud. She kept saying, “Good job, Flash! Good pointing.” I think she’s trying to humor my hunting instincts. 

She’s not so kind, however, when it comes to me chasing cats. Yeah, I have to admit it, I haven’t given it up and I freaked out over one this morning. Lauressa got frustrated because I wouldn’t “LEAVE IT!” when she said for me to do so. I just couldn’t take my eyes off (I think it was) Morris, or one of his look-a-likes, probably one he’s sired, (I think he’s, as they say, “in tact”). But who knows; he keeps a low profile.

Posted by: pharaohhoundflash | July 12, 2010

Life as an escort isn’t all fun and games.

I really expected to be blogging more than just once a week, but let me tell you, summer entertaining with Lauressa has gotten the best of me. First of all, being her body guard, trainer and escort is quite a job for a dog who was bred to hunt. As I’ve said before, it’s a good gig in exchange for room and board, especially in these economically and ecologically challenging times. I mean, hunting gigs are just not so readily available in urban and suburban Orlando. Anyhow, the point I’m trying to make is that it’s quite exhausting to extend myself so far beyond my breed tendencies; for dog’s sake, I never expected to live in a condo!

So it’s not that I’m complaining–like I said, I’m grateful. But I”m simply exhausted. The cycle of entertaining in the human world is a bit illogical. There seems to be a day of cleaning wildly to welcome folks to stay in your house just so that they can mess it all up. And then there’s another day of intense cleaning that must be done after the guests leave. Lauressa has had me accompanying her to the UN-air-conditioned laundry room; I’ve been at her feet in the tiny kitchen as she washes dish after dish. It has seemed like an unceasing cycle. And a cycle that has made my job as personal trainer much more difficult! You see, when Lauressa has lots to do, she reduces the walk-jogs to just walks, which are shortened even! And she tends to nibble the entire time she’s in the kitchen, in addition to all the overeating that happens when the guests are here! I try to stand right underneath her when she’s eating to remind her not to eat too much (This does NOT seem to be working, by the way! I’ve even tried resting my head on her knee, as if to say, “Nudge, nudge; don’t become a pudge-pudge.”) I even offer to take the food off her hands. But when expecting guests, Lauressa’s attention to herself and to me dampens a bit and all sensible options seem to go out the window.

I have really tried to keep my cool during the human craziness that summer seems to create. Again, humans seem to do the opposite of what’s instinctively smart. I mean, it’s summer in Florida: ridiculously hot and likely to rain at any moment. The smart thing to do: conserve resources, nap in the heat of the mid-day sun. Don’t overexert. Drink lots of water. The human thing to do: go crazy with parties; drink alot of dehydrating alcoholic beverages; stay out and even light up a hot, charcoal grill in the middle of the day. LOL! Ah, I have to laugh! I’m not sure what happened to humans, but I do pity them.

Anyhow, so Lauressa had this party on Fourth of July–and that I really enjoyed. I mean, so many people lovin on me and saying how adorable I am and petting me until I just melted into the floor. Yeah, and then there are the little scraps of food I managed to scavenge. (I just love watermelon–pulling it off the rind is so reminiscent of pulling meat off the bone. It’s a good time!) And the fireworks, although they scare many a dog, did not bother me. I just keep in mind the fact that humans are crazy. (In fact, some are actually crazy enough to bring their dogs TO the area where the fireworks take place. Now, how much sense does that make?).

Anyhow, the second weekend of visitors was NOT as fun as the first. July 9 through 12, my home, and yes, my den (i.e., Lauressa’s bed) were INVADED by little people–a 4-year-old girl and 6-year-old boy (and their mother, of course). Holy Pharaoh Hound, Great Dog of the Ancient Egyptians, from whence did these little beasts come? These things not only took over my den, but they chased me around and jumped up and down all over me–and I was not allowed to do the same to them! How fair is that? They could grab me and yell in my ears, but if I barked into theirs or tried to grab them with my mouth: X–aaankkk! Wrong answer! “Eh-eh-eh! No! Bad Flash! No!” Give me a break  you crazy humans. These little rascals need to be put in their places. And to make matters worse, not only do these little things NOT sit still, but they also NEVER SHUT UP! I mean, constant noise, including Star Wars laser sword noises and bullets being shot–for hours at a time. I was so fed up by last night that I even crawled up into Lauressa’s lap WHILE she was driving. Now, I am NO lap dog, mind you. I’m thirty pounds of lanky, long-legged musculature. So this was a risky move. But I just had to make a statement by their third day of staying here. I spent the fourth day trying to mind my own business in the guest bedroom (to which Lauressa had exiled us both). And wouldn’t you know, the little rug rats would NOT leave me alone. They kept asking where I was and ran around trying to find me. Ugh, was I ever relieved when they left. But to be honest, I was still shell-shocked until just moments ago. Once Lauressa changed the bed sheets back to ours, I finally exhaled and realized that our little oasis has been restored. I am free to roam about my cabin, or rather, my kingdom.

Folks, I am totally expecting a bonus bone for all the difficult escort situations I’ve been put through these past few weeks. Are you with me on this? Put in a good word for me here in the comments section, would ya? Thanks so much. I’ve got to get some real shut-eye for a change now. G’night!

Posted by: pharaohhoundflash | July 6, 2010

Jump for joy

Humans are so uptight and stuffy. They’re always trying to curb our enthusiasm–if I may speak on behalf on my fellow canines. For instance, what is wrong with showing a person how excited I am to see them by jumping up and down, even if some of the jumping happens to be on them? I mean, why do humans try to stifle this? Don’t they remember doing the same thing as kids when their parents came home from work? What happens in the human aging process that causes them to get stiff and unexpressive–two qualities, might I remind you, of being DEAD. For Dog’s sake, LIVE a little, humans! You should be happy that I’m jumping up and down when I see you. At least I’m not peeing on your shoes.

Honestly, I think humans need to take a few lessons from us dogs about living simply and expressing themselves fully and with complete abandon.

Posted by: pharaohhoundflash | June 28, 2010

Enlightening the Darkness

Tonight, another really gorgeous and cool moon, this time painted like watercolor melting into the black sky beneath the slightly opaque brushstrokes of the clouds. Looking at it made me wonder how much more gorgeous it would be if there weren’t so much light pollution. Humans and lights are such a strange phenomenon. Why all the lights at night? Lauressa says some of them are to see things better in the dark, but I say that’s when everybody should sleep, like I do. Why not live within the cycles of nature: awake when the sun is shining and you can see; asleep when it’s dark and you cannot see? Makes much more sense than trying to light everything up. The other reason, Lauressa says, that there’s so much light at night is to keep the neighborhoods safer. Seems so strange that humans have to light everything up to protect themselves from each other. I thought humans were supposed to be better communicators and so much more advanced than dogs because you have verbal skills and so much knowledge. But it doesn’t sound like you’re any more civilized than we dogs.

Posted by: pharaohhoundflash | June 28, 2010

Momma got a gun

Yeah for cloud cover! It cools things down just a tad for a long, morning walk. I mean, it’s been so hot the past few days, even the fleas won’t hang out on my underbelly (Guys, you know what I really want to say, but I’m keeping it tame for the ladies).

Lauressa pulled a couple of crazy tricks today. After my weekend of cat antics, she brought out her big gun. . . a water gun to be exact. First she tried a different walking route to avoid feral cats (Ha! Yeah, right! Impossible!) But when I found a red tabby lurking in the bushes and started pulling on the leash to go after it, she squirted me in the face like 5 times! I frickin HATE water, especially in my face! So I had to back down. Morris got away this time.

The other lastest Lauressa antic? She’s decided that running on the sidewalks and pavement might be too hard on mypads &  joints (I think this has to do with her walking in flat, flip-flops last night). So today most of our jaunt was through wet grass. Much softer, true, although I could live without the wet part. Lots to sniff there, though, so it seemed pretty cool until some damn wasp flew up from the grass and stung me. Now, I’m doped up on Benadryl so I’ll probably be drifting off shortly after finishing this entry. Nightie night!

Posted by: pharaohhoundflash | June 28, 2010

Blame It On the Moon

Last night Lauressa and I walked to her community garden as the sun was setting. I like going there until she starts telling me I can’t just go up and eat people’s fruit (I love strawberries) or veggies. Oh, by the way, I enjoyed a delicious wheatgrass ice cube as a snack yesterday. Yeah, I get to eat some strange stuff. It was almost as good as cat poop, but nothing really beats that. So anyhow, we stayed at the garden until dark and then we walked/jogged for another hour as the full moon was rising. It was really gorgeous, especially near the lake where the light was flitting and dancing across the surface of the water. Lots of animals go nuts, too, like all the toads I saw jumping about. Where had they been hiding before? I’ve never really seen many of them around. And then there were the cats. . . .

Lauressa says the full moon makes strange things happen. And I tried to use that as my excuse for mine. I claimed temporary insanity for jumping a fence after a feral cat yesterday at my grandparents’ place yesterday, and also for this morning, when I saw the local stray on our property, and again I just went for it. I mean, we weren’t even outside for more than 5 minutes. We’d just woken up! But I saw this Sylvester-looking cat and pulled the leash right out of Lauressa’s hand. Poor gal, trying to chase after me, slipped and fell on the wet pavement. I try to explain to her that she should just let me do my thing, but she says she doesn’t want to see the cat OR me get killed. Anyhow, unfortunately, my stupid leash got caught under a car tire and the stray got away. I’ll get her next time.

Posted by: pharaohhoundflash | June 26, 2010

By the way: a word on breedism

Yes, you’ll note that I list Pharaoh Hound in my title. I hope there aren’t any breedists out there who are going to get all uppity on me because I’m not a purebreed. It’s true; I’m mixed. But I identify most strongly with my sighthound brethren. I know there may be some legal definition of regarding what percentage I’ve got in me or whatever, but I’m not really interested in satisfying any breedist prejudices. In case you’re wondering, I’m adopted, so I’m not really sure what my real heritage is, and that opens up another can of worms that I’ll not get into here. Anyhow, I’m pretty sure I’ve got some Manchester Terrier in there somewhere because I totally love to snout out just about anything small, especially insects–I do most of it by digging, but I am also adept at catching flying inisects mid-air. Well, enough of the background. You’ll learn more about me from my day-to-day entries. More than that, you’ll learn about the small things in the natural world that you’d probably never notice without me.

Posted by: pharaohhoundflash | June 26, 2010

Hello world!

This blog has been a long time coming. I see and do so much in the world each day, and I’ve really wanted to get it out to those humans who move from one air-conditioned box to another air-conditioned box on wheels and then to another air-conditioned box, never seeing the outside world, feeling the sunshine on their skin or the dirt under their paws, er, rather feet. Some entries may be just lists of what I see; others may be diatribes about the ridiculous use of herbicides and pesticides over every inch of grass in the metro-Orlando area. Do humans stop to think about their four-legged friends who have no other choice but to snort their chemical toxins every time we try to do our business? I urge you to QUIT the Roundup habit; really, it’s worse than cigarettes.

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