4th of July!

A parade! I went to a parade! You'd never believe it, but there I was, dressed in red, white and blue all ready for my first ever 4th of July Parade! There were firetrucks and kids on bikes and Uncle Sam on stilts and tractors, trailers and all sorts of weirdos dressed up! It was a real parade!

I should probably tell you, this is no ordinary parade. It's the Maxwelton 4th of July Parade, held on Whidbey Island (also known as Grandma's house because that's what they tell me when we get on the ferry boat - do you want to go to Grandma's house? So I sort of think of the whole damn island as belonging to my Grandma). Maxwelton is a small beach community where lots of farmers and summer island folks gather and families have generations of tradition marching in this parade. It's a really cute parade. Cute like me, cute.

Of course, with all the crazy attractions, I wondered if I'd be a star or be lost in the shuffle. It is decidedly so (just like the Magic 8-Ball says) – I am a bona fide star. I rocked that parade route like I was starting the parade. First, we drove almost all the way there. Then, we caught a shuttle bus and my dad carried me on and sat me in his lap. It was hot, but awesome. Then, the bus dropped us off at the start of the parade route and we saw the whole thing waiting to go. We got there just in time, so we headed down to meet some people, hell, I don't know who they were and I don't care, but... I basically led the parade. I hopped on my 3.5 down the middle of the road with people lining both sides of the street in lawn chairs all oohing and awwing at me. I looked side to side, but really, there were just so many I couldn't stop and say hi to them all.

Later, after the parade and after we took a walk on the beach and after another shuttle bus ride, we got back to Grandma's house. I was exhausted. In and out of sleep, I heard my dad worrying about me. Something about fireworks and would I freak out... I didn't really care, or have the energy to let him know not to worry. It was so damn hot and I was so damn tired, I just crashed. I crashed hard. The 4th of July at Maxwelton was pretty cool, but really tiring. I mean I was out like a log. Out hard. Like now – This is Trip and I'm out!

Art: I can dig it!

People are funny. They want to talk about art and all things artistic by dissecting it, pulling it apart, looking for hidden meaning, trying to understand the artist's "intent" and all sorts of nonsense. But for me – and yes, I realize I'm young and might not understand – I just dig it.

I dig it. Whatever it is, I'm going to dig it. I want to enjoy the experience, and just be with the art. I don't want to analyze it beyond enjoyment; I refuse to lose the pleasure of the moment of first experience.

And check it out, can you blame me? Here I am, just a few months old and my art cherry is getting popped on a sunny day at the SAM Sculpture Park. And like always, I rocked that park like an all-star. You see me? There I am, hanging in front of these giant metal curves and someone wants to attribute meaning to them? Go for it, but not me. I just sit, and dig it.

I sit. I stay. I dig it. Like my dad said. And so yeah, that's my experience with art!

This is Trip, and I'm out!

June

June. I'm not sure, but I think this is a good word. People around me are getting increasingly excited about this thing called Summer. It sounds nice, but I have no reference point so I'll just tell you about me and my fabulous little self.

I stayed in a bird house! Yep, no shit. I wouldn't lie to you. I stayed in a bird house. Well, they called it a bird house; it was right up the street from Grandma's house and it was swell. A nice private little space to go to bed in, and wake up in. One can sleep well in a bird house, no wonder birds wake up so early - they're well rested.

Things I've learned recently: Holiday weekend; Stay; Shake my stump; Second round of shots; Long walks, getting longer; Grandma.

Yep, I met Grandma...finally. She was resistant, and I'd heard rumors she was against my impending arrival, but she loves me! Oh how she loves me. And oh how she smells... just like a grandma should. Sigh.

That's me. This is Trip, and I'm out!

Time

Time flies. Yes it's a cliche, but back off, I'm not even 3 months old yet. I have a very compressed sense of time. And right now, it's flying! I am 11 and a half weeks old, and growing fast.

If you consider the arc of my story so far, the last two weeks of time is a good chunk. And I have stories. I got to go back to Whidbey Island and grandma's house for three days! I still haven't met her, as she was on some sort of boat for several weeks, which I think is crazy. I mean, the ferry ride to her house is twenty minutes - where the hell can you go on a boat for three weeks?

So I'm back on Whidbey, and I start running. I'm running. I run down the street. I run into a field. And as I run, I tell you, there are long stalks of grass that hang over and if you time it just right, you can jump and bite them as you fly past! This sort of thing only happens on Whidbey. I also met an Auntie and her dog. It's kind of a weird looking thing, to be honest, and a bit snippy. Hard to blame it, I suppose, here she is all-pomeranian and I come along, cute and puppy-like. Bound to be some hard feelings there. But Whidbey is dog-tastic.

Two words. The beach. Two words. Low tide. Two words. I raged. (See pictures)

Two unfortunate words. Bath tub. Or is that one word? Bathtub. Well then, two words. Baths suck. (See picture)

And in Ballard, I have adventures. My walks are getting longer, and I can go up the street and run through various lawns. I think it's because I showed dad I can run so well on Whidbey, but he's a bit paranoid as I have yet to get my second round of shots. No one wants a sick puppy, so until then, I think I have limited options.

I learned a new word in Ballard, too. Barista. Those people go wild for me! On good days, dad takes me in the car with him and I run up to the coffee shop and get oohed and awed and cuddled and oggled. After that, he takes me to Sunset Park and I rock the lawn while people passing by all stop to say hi. You'd think I was a celebrity or something.

Today, I got hosed. Instead of the coffee shop and Sunset Park, it was a pet store. I love that place, but I wanted to do the coffee shop and park as well. Dad said, "You've had enough adventure for the day, so you stay." Whatever dude, like there's enough adventure. At the pet store, there is a wonderful woman named Leigh - she is like the guardian angel of all things puppy, and she is very good at her job. While I was crashed in her arms, just in awe of her presence, I didn't even notice her tell some guy to give me a pedicure. Pedicure, yeah right. They just clip your nails, but when you only got 3 paws, it's only 75% bad! Still, I got hosed. A pedicure and no park.

I began with a cliche, so I'll end with one. It's a dark and stormy night, and I just did my night-night pee so guess what? This is Trip and I'm out!

Visitor

So the surprise was... I had a visitor! The first time someone flew into town just to see me! It was fantastic. She said she was my 'weekend mommy' - I gather she was really my dad's friend. But she smelled nice, and I liked biting her earrings. We played and I got kissed and held a lot. I miss women, they hug so sweet and talk so different. Even though it's cool being in a house of men (woof woof and hoo-rah and all that shit), women can be nice, too.

One really cool thing about my weekend mommy visitor from a land far far away - she heals things. And not like, heel dog, stay at my heel, but like heals things. Makes them better. And getting a hug from a woman with a touch like that... I just sink into it and sigh... until I see earring.

She's a dog person, too. I could smell it on her, but really, even if I was smell-challenged, I would have known. She's got that vibe about her and sure, I'm still a puppy, but I'm not ignorant. I have instinct, and this one has it going on. If you could see what I see, and sense what I sense, you'd want to swim in that sort of energy. Take a bath in it. Like a mineral hot spring of good energy. I loved her... and her name was Erika.

She's gone now, and you know what? I'm tired, but I feel so good to know she's part of my pack. Yep, you guessed it; this is Trip and I'm out!

Trip's Travels

I've been on the move this last week. I went and met my doctor. She was nice, and apparently does something called Agility with her dogs. Other than the snide comment about me not doing any agility work due to my unique nature, I thought she was swell. I wasn't afraid even a little bit, and other people that work at the doctor's office were also pretty nice. I'd like to get to know them better, particularly the women. I love women.

After going to the doc's, I went to Sunset Park for the first time and met a gigantic, horse-sized dog whose name I forget. He was just too big to remember a silly thing like a name.

On Wednesday, I got to go for a long car ride. We stopped and I got out to walk in rows and rows of cars. I heard the words dock and ferry, but my dad was clever and found some grass for me to pee in. As usual, he got very excited about me relieving myself. After that, I got some puppy hair on a woman's black pants and went back in the car, and then seriously... we drove onto a boat. Crazy. The motion was nice and I was asleep in no time.

That long car trip ended up at a really great place... and I mean fantastic place. My dad said it was my second home, or Grandma's house; I gather it's on an island (hence the boat trip). There is a deck I can run around, and beach logs that taste like 40 years of dried salt and story, oh my. Carpeted stairs to run up and down. And this funny little red building that apparently used to be a train car. A caboose!

Things about Whidbey Island that are cool: the caboose; the smells of the sea; the logs from the sea; the deck; the view from the deck; the view from all over; the tractors in the lot across the street; the workmen on the tractors who told my dad I was cool; the places to hide; the coffee stand where I met Hawley (another Golden, but not my mama); the air - my god the air is so good to breathe; and the unbelievable beach, which could possibly hold every great smell on earth (see picture of my Dad and I).

All in all, it was quite a week. I went back home to Ballard after a day, but I'm doing what I can to talk my people into going back there soon. I loved it! And when I got back to Seattle, the next day, another surprise! But that will have to wait, because it's late, so this is Trip, and I'm out!

First Few Days

Moving sucks. This is a universal truth. One of my writing teachers said, begin with a universal truth and you hook your reader. Well world, moving sucks.

There is just so much new stuff to get used to, adjusting is hard. It's pretty cool being the only dog, I get a lot of attention. I get a lot of love and a crazy amount of praise for going pee and poop outside, but I don't get away with much. Every time I try to bite a piece of furniture, they stick a toy in my mouth. I want wood, damn it!

Moving brings changes: new rules, new sleeping arrangements, new yard. I did find some wood in the new yard - sticks - and one visitor brought a pheasant wing on a string that is just too fun to chase. For a day or so I had free reign and was scooting all around, finding bark, biting the flowers and doing my best to eat a rock, but they caught me. Now, they keep me on a leash most of the time, and I still get to run, but I don't get to create nearly as much havoc.

I'm trying to get used to being left in a crate; they call it "my room" but I sort of think of the whole damn place as my room (see picture). Sometimes it's okay if I'm sleepy enough, but if I'm awake, I want out!

Speaking of out, I should go pee again and watch how excited they get - it's funny. So yeah man, moving... what can you say? For now, this is Trip, and I'm out!