ArchivesPosts Tagged ‘Vermont’


As told to Kimberly, by Theodore the Service Dog:

“The Pumpkin Patch can be a challenging venue for even the most intrepid dogs…

…so, I suggest you arrive with your humans, since solo dogs are likely to be shooed away like bothersome gnats,

and nobody likes that. 

Stay with your pack, initially, and use this time to get the lay of the land.

Don’t…even for a moment…consider lifting your leg, anywhere on or near a pumpkin.  Doing so will get you and your whole human clan tossed, post haste, and you know where that will leave you. 

And no, you don’t need an actual dog house to be in the ‘dog house’ if you know what I mean. 

So avert your eyes while imagining all the places you’ll pee when you get out of the joint, and save your giddy ‘marking’ enthusiasm for later.

Don’t chase the resident cat, either.  He’s a feisty little sucker and he’ll kick your arse before you can turn tail and run in the opposite direction, and do you really want to be known as the THAT DOG who got his arse kicked by the wee grey cat?


Take note,

those creepy-life-size-straw-people are called Scarecrows.

Yes, they’re intimidating.  Indeed, their shabby garments flap menacingly in the wind. But they are meant to scare birds, not dogs. 

And you’re not a bird, are you? So, Dog Up!  Adopt a haughty look and pretend that they’re your dutiful, sartorially-challenged minions.

Or, if the fear persists, take cover in the reeds and brambles. 

Don’t worry about looking like a woose.  Just stand very very still. Breathe deeply through your nose.  Draw back your ears.

And repeat the mantra:

I am a dog. And I am fearless!

Or if that fails, cry like a baby.

And your human will undoubtedly come to your rescue.


(The photo above for illustration purposes only. I wouldn’t be caught dead crying in a pumpkin patch.)

Now, once you’ve gotten a hold of yourself, you might as well snurfle about.

The twisted, decaying vines may yield a pumpkin-y sort of sweetness…

If your chewing reverie leaves you suddenly lost and separated from your humans, seek out other friendly souls for comfort and direction.  They often wear illustrations of dogs on their sweetly striped pink tops, paired with pink leggings, pink trainers, pink tutus and topped off by pink scrunchies.

I know you’re color blind.

But trust me on this.

Meanwhile, scan the horizon with eyes and nose for a clue about which direction to head. 

If you hear a giggle that sounds familiar…like the one that belongs to one of your human cousins, then you know you’re on the right track!

Miniature cowboys wrangling pumpkins?

Also a good sign.

And what did I say about chasing the resident cats?

Oh, fine, do what you will.

But do not dictate letters of complaint to your humans to send to me, detailing your various humiliations at the paws of some feline you couldn’t resist terrorizing.

I don’t read my mail anyway.

That’s my human’s job…I have better things to do…



Our whole website has a spankin’ new look! So have a good time surfing around and check out our fresh photo portfolios, too!

Blustery weekends characterized by a wintry mix of rain, snow and occasional sunshine, call for a rejiggering of the routine. So, when friends Natalya, Sumin and Kiersten paid us a visit in Vermont with dogs in tow, we decided to try out a new game for the dogs which we have lovingly dubbed, Smell My Feet.

Smell My Feet is our crude attempt to get the dogs interested in scent tracking. My clever dog-training-competition-winning-cousin Wendy, once advised me to rub the soles of my shoes with Vienna sausages and make tracks in the grass for Theo to follow. But since there were no Vienna sausages on hand (and let me tell you there were grumbles of displeasure amongst the dogs when the larder was declared devoid of said sausages) we used dried beef and liver morsels instead.

While the dogs waited in the distance, we dropped treats to the ground in a straight line, Little Red Riding Hood style, proscribing a short, straight, 6-10 foot path after shuffling the earth flat with the bottoms of our boots.  Here’s Fern at the ready, paw raised in anticipation, poised to point the way….and Theo, with his big schnoz in the air, hoping to memorize the position, olfactory-style, of each tasty bit dropped on our make-shift path.

I must say, it’s much easier to conduct a game of this kind when the grass is short and green and the treats stand out in sharp relief.  We found ourselves declaring in exasperated tones: Now, WHERE does the path start? I’ve forgotten! But the dogs had a ball sniffing about, their noses wiggling excitedly as they tracked down those tasty snackables.

Later, we took a hike up the mountain…with three SLR cameras among us and multiple iphone cameras at the ready.

What a bunch of photo nerds we are.

We spied this smiling creature, (below) along the way, as she dashed about the mountain path. Isn’t that a sparkling smile? She looks like a laugh riot and a bundle of love!

As the day wound down, we retreated indoors, and Natalya sat sketching the pooches in various pensive states…

And not long after, Oscar turned in for a nap. Here he is, sweetly covering his muzzle, which somehow seems to improve the quality of his sleep. I wonder if this is a bit like sucking one’s thumb. It looks so comforting, doesn’t it?

Theodore took one last snooze in front of the Sparkle Tree. We were sorry to relegate our aluminum Tannenbaum to the basement once again…

But onward and into 2012 we go, as surely, there will be more games ahead before Winter beats a hasty retreat!