Paws for Thought by Mr. Bones, the Dog
A blog by a dog for a change
Hello, I am Mr. Bones. I am a dog. My human (His name is Carl) was tired after rebooting the blog this week. He is taking a nap. I am going to write the blog today.
I thought you’d want to know what it’s like traveling with him from my point of view. He talks about me all the time. I feel like it’s my turn. I’m tired of traveling indognito.
***
My human is old in human years, 67, which in dog years is 469. Crazy. If I were that old, I would be dead. He gets tired and takes naps. It’s one thing we have in common.
You see, we dogs think that you humans work too hard.
My advice is, sleep more, work less. Chew bones.
***
My human spends his time writing words. Words are strange. They don’t make noise until you say them. Humans say words softly, instead of shouting, like a dog barking.
Dogs bark and bark and bark. We bark LOUD. Barking is important. We want you to hear it. Do you want to know what dogs bark about? Here is an actual translation.
Bark, bark: There’s a noise—did you hear it?
Bark, bark: It’s a new noise. Not like the last noise.
Bark, bark: It could be an assassin. I think it’s an assassin. I’m sure it is.
Bark, bark: Nope, it’s the mailman again.
***
Dogs do not waste energy. We relax until it’s time to bark, pee, poo, sniff, or eat.
Humans are active. Busy. My human drives us all over the country, and to Canada and Mexico. He stares at things and takes pictures of them and shouts, ‘THIS IS GREAT!”
But he doesn’t sniff the ground, and he doesn’t pee on trees. What is he thinking? Let me tell you what is important when you get to a new place:
Sniffing: You need to sniff the ground carefully to find out what dogs have peed there.
Peeing: You need to pee on a tree or signpost to mark territory. Then, it belongs to you forever, or until a dog pees on it, at which point you have to go back and pee again.
***
Humans have strange manners, and they hide important things.
When they meet each other, they don’t sniff each other’s butts. Dogs display their butts, which are located at nose height. Humans are built awkwardly with their noses way up on top. They would have to bend way down to smell each other’s butts. Or they could move their butts to the back of their heads, and call each other “butt heads.”
Instead of sniffing, humans make mouth noises and touch paws, then they smile, but without showing all their teeth. How can you know a guy if you can’t see all his teeth?
Also, dogs are much better at traveling than people. Our language is universal. Dogs don’t need to learn a new language in each country. Dogs all speak dog. Very simple.
The first time we crossed into Mexico, the masked border guard scowled at us. He pointed at me and asked my human, “¿Cómo se llama tu perro?” My human, who did not speak very much Spanish, said, “No comprendo.” The guard frowned, pointed again and repeated the words more slowly. My human laughed and said, “Se llama Señor Huesos.” The guard repeated it. “¿Señor Huesos? Verdad?”
My human laughed and said “Si.” The guard burst out laughing and let us pass.
When we got to Mexico, people said, ”Does your dog speak Spanish? He’s talking to our dogs.” The local dogs shook their heads, like, “Don’t pay them any attention.”
In Mexico, they call me Señor Huesos. In French-speaking Canada, I am Me Stare Bones. In Quebec, Canada, I learned a useful expression, “Bone voyage,” for “traveling bone.”
***
I’ve been with my human for over three years. When he found me in a shelter in Denver, I gave him puppy eyes, wagged my tail, licked him, and gave him doggy kisses, which is licking the lips of a human. Most humans go, ‘blech” but they usually like it.
My human tried to teach me stupid pet tricks, like fetching a ball or jumping in a river to bring back a stick. What a waste of time. Instead, I taught him a dog game.
When he tries to walk me, I grab the leash, then pull on it until he lets go. Then I run away with it and taunt him, saying, “Hey, fatso, come catch me.” He tries to catch me, running on two legs. Ha! Who is he kidding? How can you catch a dog on two legs?
Everyone knows it’s faster to have four legs and run close to the ground than to stand and run on two legs. After a while, he gets tired, then he says, “That’s enough,” and I let him have the leash. He thinks he’s winning. It actually means that he’s surrendering.
***
Want to know a secret? I still miss my mommy. They took me away from her when I was a little puppy. It was too soon. I asked my human where she is. He doesn’t know.
My human knows I am sad by the look in my eyes. He rubs my tummy and says, “I understand, Mr. Bones. I miss my mommy, too.” We have snuggle-time, then it’s OK.
***
The best part of traveling, besides peeing on trees and making that whole place my territory, is meeting people. I am good at it. I give them puppy eyes, wag my tail, and smile. It works every time. The women come up and say, “Can I pet your dog?” and then they tell me they love me. They say, “I want to take you home and love you up.”
My human likes it, too, because otherwise almost no one talks to him. He says, “It’s complicated for humans. We can’t just lick and sniff each other. Thank god for dogs.
Humans are always telling dogs what to do. Here is some free advice from a dog.
- Sniff more.
- Eat now. Think later.
- If you think it’s easy being a dog, try to remember everywhere you ever peed.
***
I hear my human opening the crinkly kibbles bag. It’s dinnertime. I can smell the warm beefy gravy on my kibbles from here! Gotta go. See you later!
Mr Bones - be sure to keep giving Carl advice on keeping life simple. He needs it.