Dog Games

Farley’s Friday: One Lonely Wheaten Terrier

~ Kristina Stanley ~ 9 Comments

Farley here.

“Woof Woof,” I bark at the window. “What happened?”

I knew my life had taken a dark turn by the time bedtime came and went. Sometimes my humans go out but never over night. Confused is an understatement.

“Come back,” I bark. But nothing happens. I slink up to the bedroom where my temporary humans are sleeping and flop beside their bed trying to make noise. Maybe they’ll wake up and tell me what’s going on.  Nope.

Day two of loneliness. I sit by the front door. If I can just catch sight of them, they’ll remember I’m here and come and get me.

Where oh where did my humans go?
Where oh where did my humans go?

Day three of loneliness. “Where are they?” I whine. My temporary humans just smile and tell me I’m okay. That Kristina and Matt will come back.

But when? I don’t get this time thing. And how is a dog supposed to get a good night sleep when his humans are out on the street somewhere. What if they need me? I stand guard at night, so who is guarding them now?

When I can barely stand the stress anymore, on day five the door opens and they arrive. I try to pretend I’m mad at them, but I can’t hold to it. I run and wiggle and jump all over them. Then I head to my favourite corner. Finally a guy can take a good nap.

Woof Woof.

 

Farley’s Friday: A Wheaten Terrier and a Cat

~ Kristina Stanley ~ 4 Comments

Farley here. Woof Woof.

So what’s a dog like me doing with a cat?

I’m visiting a house that has a cat. The cat is crazy. I enter the room, she hisses and runs. Well what to humans expect me to do? Sit there and stay quiet. She’s challenged me. I run after her. If only I could catch her. But then what? I have no idea, but it sure is fun scrambling all over the house.

Cats

Sometimes she teases me. Above, she’s sitting on top of the kitchen wall staring into the bedroom at me. If only I could get to her. She knows I can’t climb like she can, so there she sits laughing at me.

But if a cat likes me, I’m happy to play nice. See . . . I have proof.

Farley and Cat 2009-07-19

I’m not evil. Really, I’m not. It’s the cat’s fault.

Woof Woof.

Farley’s Friday: A dog goes fishing

~ Kristina Stanley ~ 10 Comments

Woof Woof, Farley here.

Is it just me or is fishing really fun?

I’ve been at the cottage for three days, and I’ve trained my alpha (That’s Matt by the way.)

“Come down here,” I bark. I glance at the boathouse and then at Matt.

Matt’s so smart he comes on command.

“Get the rod, get the rod, get the rod,” I bark.

Matt does as instructed.

Now, I do my dance. This really gets Matt laughing.

Put your left paw in, put your left paw out . . .
Put your left paw in, put your left paw out . . .

Every time I dance like this, he casts the lure and I bark.

If he catches something, I really go crazy. These alphas need a lot of praise. The more I praise him the more he’ll cast the lure.

Woof Woof.

Farley’s Friday: A Dog’s Reflections on Travel

~ Kristina Stanley ~ 10 Comments

Farley here.

I’m in Florida. The land of leashes, poop bags, thunderstorms and dark water.

My reflections . . .

I don’t mind the leash, but Kristina thinks I don’t get enough free running time.

Poop bags? Well, that’s Kristina’s duty. I barked, “duty.” Ha Ha 🙂

Thunderstorms scare me. They’re too loud and shake the boat. I pant at Kristina to make them stop, but she just smiles at me and says, “You’re fine.” Easy for her to say when she understands what’s going on and to me, well I’m a dog so how could I know?

The dark water . . . That’s where my reflection comes in.

Reflections in Flat Water
Reflections in Flat Water

I look in the water.

“Come here,” I bark and wag my tail.

“Hang on,” Kristina says, but she’s obedient as usual and is at my side in seconds.

I look at her, back at the water and at her again. She does well with visual signals and gets my meaning.

“There’s a dog in there,” I bark like a crazy dog from the Canadian wilderness. “Get it out! How can it breath underwater?”

Kristina laughs.

I’m getting a little scared now. “Don’t laugh,” I bark. “That dog needs help.”

“That’s you, silly.”

“Me? Me?” I bark. “Am I really that handsome?”

“Of course,” Kristina says.

So now I’m obsessed. I stare at my handsome reflection every chance I get. Who knew I was sooooo good looking?

Me handsome!
Me handsome!

Okay, I’ll admit it was fun watching fish and dolphins in the clear Bahamian water, but now I have a new hobby to entertain myself.

As we motor north on the Intracoastal Waterway, I sit on the bow and check myself out!

Woof Woof.

Farley’s Friday: Dog Walking or Human Walking?

~ Kristina Stanley ~ 9 Comments

Farley here.

So I go for a walk with my humans. They have shoes on, meaning I should have known it was going to be a tough walk. They don’t wear shoes often and I don’t own any. Go figure. I’m a dog.

We get halfway across the island, we’re in the Bahamas, when I stop.

“My feet hurt,” I bark.

“What’s the matter, Farley?” Kristina asks. She always notices first when I’m in trouble. I’m beginning to think she has a soft spot for me.

I hold out my paw to her and look as pathetic as I can.

“My feet hurt. These rocks are too sharp,” I bark and then wag my tail, just to make sure I’m being cute.

She understands and gives Matt her most pathetic look. He laughs, and I know I’ve won.

Matt picks me up and carries me across the sharp bits. Do they love me or what?

Dog Walk

Woof Woof.

 

Farley’s Friday: Wheaton Terrier Chases Windsurfer

~ Kristina Stanley ~ 6 Comments

Farley here.

No matter how hard I try I can’t catch my human on his windsurfer.

First there’s the problem that I’m afraid of deep water, so I try the beach approach.

Farley Chasing WS

“Wait,” I bark, but he doesn’t.

He gibes and I have to go running the other way.

Farley Running

“Wait,” I bark again, and still he ignores me.

“So don’t wait,” I bark. “I’m going to roll around and get sandy.”

Farley Rolling

“Good luck getting this off my fur before I get on board.”

Humans are soooo easy to drive crazy.

By the way, did you notice how crowded the beach is – not!

Woof Woof.

 

Farley’s Friday: Wheaten Digs For Crabs

~ Kristina Stanley ~ 4 Comments

Farley here.

I love to dig. I’m a wheaten. That’s what I do. So what’s up with the crab that doesn’t get that?

I dig, dig, dig, and then . . .

“Ouch,” I bark.

“What? I’m supposed to chase the crab. It’s not supposed to bite my nose!”

Farley and Crab

Farley’s Friday: Dog Toys

~ Kristina Stanley ~ 5 Comments

Farley here.

Squeak, squeak, squeak.

My human friend, Sharon, gave me a squeaky toy for Christmas. I’m not the type of dog that likes toys, but this one is pretty cool.

It makes the greatest noise.

Farley and Toy

Last night, I snuck it out of the cubby hole my human hides it in (like I can’ find it).

I eyed the clock.

Three a.m.

That’s a reasonable time to play, I thought. Kristina -not so much. She’s always nice to me, no matter what I do. She gently took the toy away, explained why I had to wait until morning to play and then rubbed my belly. Now that’s what I call fun to be reprimanded.

Woof Woof.

 

 

Farley’s Friday: Dogs Getting Sandy

~ Kristina Stanley ~ 6 Comments

Farley here.

I’m a happy dog. I found my friend Jasper. I never know when I’ll get to see him, but I’m sure happy when I find him.

We were sailing in the Exumas and ended up at Compass Cay. I went for a walk and there he was.

Dogs getting dirty

The first thing I did – – – stole his stick.

Jasper plays the tough guy, but all I have to do is growl a little, and he drops it.

He barks at me. He barks at the humans as if he expects them to help.

I play with the stick until I get bored and then I let Jasper have it for a while.

His tail wags at very high speeds, he’s never grumpy that I stole his stick, and he keeps playing with me.

What a great friend.

Woof Woof.

 

Farley’s Friday: When I Was A Wheaten Puppy

~ Kristina Stanley ~ 6 Comments

Farley here.

Some things change. Some things don’t.

Kristina brushed my hair today, and I noticed it was all blond. I don’t look in a mirror very often, so I was a little surprised.

I’m pretty sure I was born brown and black, and I don’t die my hair . . . so what the heck?

10 weeks old ... and I'm so cute.
10 weeks old … and I’m so cute.

I guess my hair changed colour. But what didn’t change?

You can see by the photo below, where I’m 8 weeks old, I’m not exactly excited by a ball. Well I’m still not.

Could someone get this ball away from me?
Could someone get this ball away from me?

Sometimes my owners throw a ball for me, and I might chase it, but I will never pick it up. How humiliating. That’s for humans to do.

Do you pick up a ball for your owner?

Woof Woof