tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70763240079815089522024-02-20T09:32:56.674-08:00My Dog BarksFollowing the lives of a woman and her barking dog.Manda and the Jamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05022990063025195763noreply@blogger.comBlogger17125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7076324007981508952.post-8515191617077306022011-11-11T17:54:00.000-08:002011-11-11T17:56:15.091-08:00Pajamas' Special GiftI have fond memories of my childhood dogs comforting me when I cried. My first dog Christie would stand close and let me bury my face in her back with my little arms wrapped around her neck. My second dog, Bailey would come to my side at the first sign of tears and let me stroke her ears, listening patiently to my woes.<br />
<div><br />
</div><div>But Pajamas has them all beat. Pj will be fast asleep on her side of the couch, as the movie I am watching comes to a dramatic end. I sniff as the first tears form in my eyes and Pj's head snaps up, ears lifted "Mom? What's wrong?" She quickly runs along the back of the couch and perches herself above my face. She licks my cheeks, my nose, my eye lids. Slowly at first, but as the tears continue to flow her licking becomes more determined. She is relentless. She licks each tear before it has a chance to roll down my cheek and she doesn't stop until my sniffs turn to laughter and my eyes no longer tear.</div><div><br />
</div><div><div>I giggle and Pj's tail starts to wag, but she doesn't stop licking. My giggles turn to all out laughter and I stroke either side of her face "Ok, ok I'm good Peej!" She pulls back and inspects my face. No more tears. Her work is done. She gives me one final lick and then makes her way back to her own side of the couch and drifts back off to sleep.</div><div><br />
</div><div>The bond between a girl and her dog is certainly something to behold!</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfyGiv1o7HMrpycLMUTQoFIxKrA0hQcr9DkYqaPIzIRpvvAhF1ueagzoseIgx6BIKktrnxHpvVEYGe1aVnOTZg1mk6-_Adp127ADDyDwINySAfBn2YLt431JBHbVOlXgMeLp8OMizBukI/s1600/IMG_0245.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfyGiv1o7HMrpycLMUTQoFIxKrA0hQcr9DkYqaPIzIRpvvAhF1ueagzoseIgx6BIKktrnxHpvVEYGe1aVnOTZg1mk6-_Adp127ADDyDwINySAfBn2YLt431JBHbVOlXgMeLp8OMizBukI/s320/IMG_0245.JPG" width="238" /></a></div><div><br />
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</div>Manda and the Jamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05022990063025195763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7076324007981508952.post-19663562371232511602011-08-28T09:05:00.000-07:002011-08-28T09:05:45.488-07:00Drenched in Dew<!--StartFragment--> <br />
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</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjTzd5VbRr-Jkzopxhw_Z0z0_JfvhiDVZNXiGZCPF_il5nwVvL1c_jvFoIJ6LtrQp6G5QfNb2cklKVwxzKUtIRJ_ucaouZqOY-32iGd2K1OYSyN6U1KWtSO679belCPWaOy2F2DKxSp9Q/s1600/IMG_0369.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjTzd5VbRr-Jkzopxhw_Z0z0_JfvhiDVZNXiGZCPF_il5nwVvL1c_jvFoIJ6LtrQp6G5QfNb2cklKVwxzKUtIRJ_ucaouZqOY-32iGd2K1OYSyN6U1KWtSO679belCPWaOy2F2DKxSp9Q/s320/IMG_0369.JPG" width="238" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Woodbine Park - Toronto</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal">As Pajamas and I started out on our early Saturday walk on this foggy August morning I felt serenity take a hold.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is so calming to take in the neighborhood on these quiet weekend mornings when the sun has yet to burn away the cool misty nighttime air.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The streets are practically deserted, sidewalks owned by joggers and dog owners.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We stop at a favorite coffee shop where Pj waits patiently at the window, while I go in to get my morning fix.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Coffee happily in hand, we wander through the rows of houses and along the lakeshore watching the shoreline appear as the fog begins to lift.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is what life is all about.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Quiet mornings that awaken my creativity and energize me for the day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think about how lucky I am to have this loving, furry companion at my side as we walk along in peace…</div><div class="MsoNormal">My guard is down as we reach the large park near my house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I see Pj’s step quicken as we enter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There’s no one else around and I know she wants to be free.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I reach down and unclasp her leash, watching as she runs ahead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She finds a fresh patch of grass and flips over, rolling on her back, covering herself in dew.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She’s soaked and looking oh so pleased.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She bursts on ahead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m still smiling to myself, enjoying this time and watching my dog as she flips and rolls and runs through the dew when she sees it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A ball.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A ball just sitting in the grass unclaimed!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is too good to be true.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pajamas races to the ball proceeded by a very loud victory lap around the park.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Bowowowow!” she proclaims flipping the ball in the air.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My moment of serenity is gone.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf4Y-jVVLN6biepW7YYmyawlfBLd6jWMQ-WFWYsJPvz7KnDkAcug8VK5Xn4HD80h0VbJLdsHg4a1twB1P6Tof7MXNWEjKx1zmsLUmmBciECvGpA_Hlqo3SR4cmmbtibvDSZLzKgMKkCq4/s1600/IMG_0370.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf4Y-jVVLN6biepW7YYmyawlfBLd6jWMQ-WFWYsJPvz7KnDkAcug8VK5Xn4HD80h0VbJLdsHg4a1twB1P6Tof7MXNWEjKx1zmsLUmmBciECvGpA_Hlqo3SR4cmmbtibvDSZLzKgMKkCq4/s320/IMG_0370.JPG" width="238" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal">Fine we have a ball, I thought to myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can throw it a couple of time for her; maybe let her carry it home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But Pajamas has another plan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This isn’t just any ball.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s a disowned ball.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s blue and yellow and still firm and fuzzy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hardly used.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She won’t give it up; won’t even let me get close.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She creates more and more distance between us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The more I try and grab the ball the further and louder she gets!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Bowowowow!” she says lying with the ball between her front paws.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My feet are soaked from traipsing through the wet grass.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal">It’s time for another approach, reverse psychology.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I stand, arms crossed, back to my dog.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pj lays facing me, ball under nose and she barks and barks and barks. I am determined to wait her out. At this moment, a man walks by with a Weimaraner .<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Looks like a stand off” he says.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Oh it sure is” I reply as Pj continues to bark.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal">Plan B.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I give up and turn around conceding to walk the path around the park waiting for the opportunity to seize the ball.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It comes faster than expected, not minutes after turning to walk back down the path, Pj drops the ball at the edge of the path to examine a smell in the grass.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I seize the opportunity stomping on the ball as Pj turns to grab it. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gotcha! I leash my dog, ball victoriously in hand and we leave the park drenched in dew, that foggy peaceful morning feeling like a distant memory.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><!--EndFragment--> Manda and the Jamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05022990063025195763noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7076324007981508952.post-22512921674485198322011-04-09T18:21:00.000-07:002011-04-09T18:21:54.370-07:00It's Just a Little DirtLast Saturday was one of those first warm days of spring where I just can't wait to get outside and soak up some sun. It's also a great opportunity for some quality time with the Pajamas. I couldn't very well enjoy this wonderful day without her!<br />
We took her to the off leash area in High Park to give her the freedom and give my arm a break. Her leash comes off and she lets a few celebratory barks. Freedom! We walk along at our own speed, while Pj blasts along ahead. She slows when something extra intriguing catches her nose and she falls behind as we move along the path. I call her name, and hear her the tags on her collar jingle. A sure sign that she's abandoned that yummy scent to catch up with mom. Just as soon as she catches up she's off again in front sniffing out the trail ahead.<br />
It was all very calm and relaxing as we wind down the hill and on to the paved path. I recalled a previous trip down this path that left my dog a muddy mess and prepared myself for the worst. Sure enough, along the paved path runs a muddy area that leads to the river. Pajamas, along with most of the other dogs were venturing in the mud as they moved along ahead of their owners. Sure Pj was getting muddy but it was just her legs and belly. Easy enough to clean off with a quick dip in the river before heading to the car. And she needed a bath anyway.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2BgAHhtRbsEGKfLZgdGJhaegyYnMEK58pYGS_DeeAVZkG2nugipkYrnelzFdLgays6tJpX8pxOkesrSDT008i8jxHa5rVbgU_a3ynMVl9pf_GcCCa1Zx2rHDszVaEw4k7Zw1PAOs95wM/s1600/IMG_0257.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2BgAHhtRbsEGKfLZgdGJhaegyYnMEK58pYGS_DeeAVZkG2nugipkYrnelzFdLgays6tJpX8pxOkesrSDT008i8jxHa5rVbgU_a3ynMVl9pf_GcCCa1Zx2rHDszVaEw4k7Zw1PAOs95wM/s320/IMG_0257.JPG" width="238" /></a></div>Jenna casually mentions how impressed she is that I am calmly accepting my muddy dog. "It's just mud," I say feeling quite proud. As if on cue, Pj stops. She flips over on her back and begins rubbing her back in the mud. She tosses. She turns. She flips over and lets both sides of her face slide through the mud one side at a time. Now she really is dirty. Dirty doesn't even begin to describe it. I am shocked! I am slightly embarrassed and it is too late to do anything about it. I hear a guy say, "Woh, the dog used to be white!"as he walks by my dog and she playfully slaps her paws through the mud. It's true. There isn't an inch of white on her.<br />
Since it's already a lost cause we continue on our walk with Pj running and rolling her way through the mud. When it's time to go, we find a stick and play a little bit of fetch in the river to help wipe off the mud. It works like a charm on her lower half, but since she doesn't dunk her face or back in when she swims she's now white on the bottom and black on top. Better than nothing I think to myself.<br />
We put Pj in the backseat and take her home where the two of us head straight to the bathtub. It's takes three sets of lather, rinse, repeat to get the majority of the mud out before I finally let her free and give her a good rub down in the towel.<br />
And then it's time for the best part! I wrap her in the big towel cover her in a blanket and cuddle up for a nice long nap together with the afternoon sun coming in through the window. It truly was a wonderful day, muddy dog and all!Manda and the Jamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05022990063025195763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7076324007981508952.post-13474339230231388192011-01-06T17:15:00.000-08:002011-01-16T18:43:57.341-08:00The Polar Bear DipFrom November to March the entire shoreline down at the beach is a designated off leash area. After months of watching the water, longingly, while walking along the confinement of the boardwalk, Pajamas is finally able to freely explore. She can hardly contain herself as we make our way down past the winter fencing and on to the beach. I let her off leash and she tears away from me at full speed. She barks into the wind, letting her voice carry out onto the lake. For once she's not barking at me or the ball, but for the sheer enjoyment of freedom. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQW9zYZKDY7hv5bOskudVK0gwJ3RXaFNsRdO1Vx_M3Xg8rB4axxieys5rrdH8FbbC6nuYo0N_RBpcykSaxnxgDqjH6v5ygtotRvFA905Ybv91jTGhtSPuIDqszfANehOhNS1x9nJJ7U6k/s1600/IMG_0181.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQW9zYZKDY7hv5bOskudVK0gwJ3RXaFNsRdO1Vx_M3Xg8rB4axxieys5rrdH8FbbC6nuYo0N_RBpcykSaxnxgDqjH6v5ygtotRvFA905Ybv91jTGhtSPuIDqszfANehOhNS1x9nJJ7U6k/s320/IMG_0181.JPG" width="238" /></a></div><br />
On New Year's Eve, the weather was unusually warm and the snow had completely melted. Pajamas had the rare opportunity to enjoy the beach as it was meant to be enjoyed. She ran along the shore, her paws splashing through the icy cold water, as if it was the middle of July. Every once and a while she takes a quick dip into the shallow water, escaping a playmate who isn't quite as brave. The cold doesn't seem to touch as she moves along the beach following her nose from one wonderful scent to another, icicles forming on her wet belly.<br />
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As wonderful as it is to enjoy a summer day at the beach, there is nothing quite like those wintery months when my dog can romp freely along the shoreline, barking until her heart's content.Manda and the Jamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05022990063025195763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7076324007981508952.post-20432766310566085062010-11-16T16:33:00.000-08:002010-11-16T16:33:33.784-08:00An Evening with the Peej<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1" style="margin-left: 0cm; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0cm;">Pajamas was antsy all evening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pacing around, resting her head on my knee or the cushion on the couch and letting out a long sigh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Those big eyes look up at me and I know there is no way I am getting through the evening without another trip to the park or at the very least a walk around the neighborhood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I bundle up, preparing for the dark cold evening and Pj’s ears perk up as I grab my coat and head for the door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She stands a few paces away still unsure if she’s invited.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Come on then,” I say and she takes a few steps until she’s standing in the doorway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I put on her leash and she is happy as can be. But, as we head out the door I realize it’s raining.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So much for the walk, I think and head to the front yard so Pj can have a pee at least.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wait outside a couple of minutes as she take a survey of the yard and then gather her back up to head inside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After the evening we’d had so far, all the crying and they whining I was sure the rest of the night would be more of the same.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, the minute I came in and settled back on the couch Pj was right at my side, wet fur and all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It seems that even for Pj the prospect of walking in the rain rather dampened her mood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe this warm spot on the couch next to mom isn’t such a bad place to be after all.</div><!--EndFragment-->Manda and the Jamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05022990063025195763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7076324007981508952.post-73312628657805759382010-10-17T17:53:00.000-07:002010-10-17T17:57:02.837-07:00A Day in the WoodsToday Pajamas and I packed the bike into my little red sports car and made the drive up to New Market for some biking. Pj relaxed in the seat beside me, in and out of sleep. Every once and a while though she gets up, stands her front paws on the centre console and gives me a couple short warm licks on the cheek. She is so affectionate. At first I wasn't in a very good mood, but with the sunroof open and the sun warming my face I slowly felt my mood change. The trees look so beautiful and with each gust of wind leaves would swirl around the cars as we moved north on the 404.<br />
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When we arrive at the trails Pajamas cannot wait to get going. She wanders around the parking lot smelling all the smells of the forest while I unpack the bike. The minute I get on the bike she looses her mind. She jumps around in front of the bike, her barks traveling well into the forest.<br />
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We weave through the trails Pajamas a couple steps ahead. She looks back often to make sure I'm keeping up. The trails were covered in bright yellow leaves, as the sun shone through the bare trees. I love biking in the fall, with the cool breeze on my fast as we wind through the woods.<br />
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We biked for just over an hour and then made our way back to the car. Everything feels better after an hour on the bike. Pj takes one last drink out of my water bottle and then we pile back into the car. She sleeps the whole way back to the city while I enjoy one last view of the fall forest before we hit the city again.<br />
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And the best part? I have a pooped puppy for the rest of the day!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaOpusqmClSuDbMa1nX75GEW1vykuw451GHkD-_qQQHRGsPoW9MOJ4SAKYsyYO1w7RCsl3DlSDjs2Iq2gj79JGqDa7sG944Ay1N1y41f4InReDiLae53BugQI74tUIejKe7B406GM2Huo/s1600/Photo+4_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaOpusqmClSuDbMa1nX75GEW1vykuw451GHkD-_qQQHRGsPoW9MOJ4SAKYsyYO1w7RCsl3DlSDjs2Iq2gj79JGqDa7sG944Ay1N1y41f4InReDiLae53BugQI74tUIejKe7B406GM2Huo/s320/Photo+4_2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Manda and the Jamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05022990063025195763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7076324007981508952.post-26147375997417229162010-10-11T07:01:00.000-07:002010-10-11T07:12:40.670-07:00Thank Goodness for PajamasIt's Thanksgiving weekend and I've just arrived home from my weekend morning walk. Beside me on the couch is my puppy fast asleep, head resting on a pillow, tail tucked in close to her body. I look over at her and smile. She has given me so much to be thankful for.<br />
<br />
Thank you for teaching me to love again. To open my heart and love with all my might, even though I know someday we will have to part.<br />
Thank you for showing me the beauty of the morning. For sharing a morning sunrise and the crisp autumn air.<br />
Thank you for being the last thing I see before I go to bed and the first thing I see when I wake. For sensing that moment when I first open eyes and snuggling up close, slowly easing me into another day.<br />
Thank you for helping me to be more active. For pushing me to walk further, bike faster and get off the couch more often!<br />
Thank you for your slobbery kisses. Especially when you are licking away my tears, never stopping until my cries turn to giggles.<br />
Thank you for your friendship. I never feel lonely as long as you are near.<br />
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I love you Peej!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBiHtLPSYHN793CKwO1ZC08ZZiBhNK9fNIp5dXjq4DQrezDX3TqCMDdouy1Yx47hE2XejmH920V7kXfy9Qle597qLkkOVNd4hK-18zN3cEtCWWbjp2t77FjbuH-ZhVX6P98LdqUO846DE/s1600/Pajamas+first+week+063.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBiHtLPSYHN793CKwO1ZC08ZZiBhNK9fNIp5dXjq4DQrezDX3TqCMDdouy1Yx47hE2XejmH920V7kXfy9Qle597qLkkOVNd4hK-18zN3cEtCWWbjp2t77FjbuH-ZhVX6P98LdqUO846DE/s320/Pajamas+first+week+063.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>Manda and the Jamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05022990063025195763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7076324007981508952.post-13298283417837482022010-10-02T18:49:00.000-07:002010-10-04T14:41:11.597-07:00Caution in the WindAs the days get shorter our mornings walks have become ventures into darkness. Pajamas is extra cautious in the dark even in the park she visits every day. There is an old tree that has been loosing branches on windy days, so bright yellow caution tape has been put up around the area to discourage people from getting too close. This tape had been up a couple of days, so I know Pajamas had seen it, but something about the yellow tape blowing in the wind just before dawn, set her off.<br />
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The minute she entered the park she headed straight for the tape, neck stretched way out in front of her, tail erect behind. The bark she lets out is completely unlike the bark she makes when we play. She bowowowowow's, gradually getting higher and higher, until her voice actually cracks. Then it starts all over again. It's 6 o'clock in the morning. I hear that woman from the beach saying "your neighbors must hate you." I dash off after her trying to get her attention and hopefully stop the barking.<br />
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She stops within a couple of feet of the caution tape and stands, neck stretched out, barking over and over again. Every time I get close to her, she moves sideways away from me, barking so loud all four feet leave the ground. This continues for minutes, although as I think about all the sleeping people around me it feels much longer. <br />
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When I finally get Pajamas leash back on, we slink out of the park....quietly.Manda and the Jamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05022990063025195763noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7076324007981508952.post-22448682539965214772010-09-19T07:30:00.000-07:002010-09-19T13:03:43.872-07:00That'll DoFind it<br />
Flick it<br />
Bounce it<br />
Pounce it<br />
When there's no ball.......<br />
Roll it<br />
Race it<br />
Toss it<br />
Take it<br />
Throw it<br />
Fetch it!<br />
.........an acorn will do!Manda and the Jamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05022990063025195763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7076324007981508952.post-60372242546416402622010-09-08T17:04:00.000-07:002010-09-08T17:06:02.566-07:00All That and a Bag of ChipsThere is a large park near my house that is perfect for an off leash walk in the morning. I wait until we cross the busy street and head down the main path into the park before letting Pajamas off her lead. She bolts forward, nose to the ground as I slowly bring up the rear.<br />
<br />
I walk further into the park as Pj's nose continues to lead her into a bunch of trees. Suddenly, she bursts out from between the trees with a huge chip bag hanging out of her mouth. It drags on the ground in front of her as she barrels towards me into the field. There is no way I am going to get this bag away from her. I decide to ignore her, hoping this bag full of crumbs will loose it's appeal when Mom doesn't get upset.<br />
<br />
Pajamas digs her head deep into the bag. So deep that her head is completely covered. She shakes her her head and the bag goes flying. She grabs its out of the air and throws it back up again. Pieces of the bag are flying everywhere as she bounces around the field. I've tried call her name, whistling.. it's no use.<br />
<br />
Mom has finally had enough. I grab a forgotten piece of chip bag, laying in the field and head towards her. The piece of bag peaks her interest and she comes running! Victory! I quickly grab her collar and hook up her to the lead. And then I praise her. That's right, I fed her a ton of treats, patted her on the head and scratched under her chin. After all, would you come to me next time I called if I yelled and screamed at you this time?? And what kind of chips had she been eating? Jalapeno! Yikes!<br />
<br />
Later that day we while cuddling on the couch, I found tiny chip crumbs scattered throughout her fur. Just another day with Miss Pajamas. Never a dull moment.Manda and the Jamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05022990063025195763noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7076324007981508952.post-79247843500917598642010-09-08T16:12:00.000-07:002010-09-08T18:07:09.654-07:00Say it with Pride!<div class="post-header" style="color: #585858; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><div class="post-info" style="color: #858585; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 4px; padding-right: 4px; padding-top: 2px;"><small style="font-size: 1em;"><span class="post-author">by <a href="http://www.blog.ca/user/mydogbarks/" style="color: #da6ca5; text-decoration: none;" title="Mydogbarks's profile">Mydogbarks</a> </span><span class="post-time"><abbr style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px;" title="published on">@</abbr> <span class="date">2010-07-24</span></span></small></div><div class="post-info" style="color: #858585; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 4px; padding-right: 4px; padding-top: 2px;"><small style="font-size: 1em;"><span class="post-time"><span class="date"><br />
</span></span></small></div><div class="post-info" style="color: #858585; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 4px; padding-right: 4px; padding-top: 2px;"><small style="font-size: 1em;"><span class="post-time"><span class="date"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #585858; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px;"></span></span></span></small></div><small style="font-size: 1em;"></small><br />
<small style="font-size: 1em;"><div style="margin-bottom: 1.25em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 1.25em; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">Like most Saturday mornings, Pajamas and I took our walk to the local coffee shop for our morning coffee and treat. Me with my cheddar scone and Pajamas with her bacon and peanut butter treat. The coffee shop has a great patio that faces east, a great place to catch some earlier morning rays before the heat gets unbearable. Pajamas loves the treats from this coffee shop. She sits on the patio looking in the window of the shop while I order my breakfast just daring me to forget her treat! When I come out with both our treats on a plate she licks her lips and sits as pretty as she can. I always like to split the treat into three or four smaller pieces so that she can enjoy it just a little longer.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 1.25em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 1.25em; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">I am sitting peacefully in the sun eating my scone when two men walk out of the shop and get into a cab. My dog barks. Just one pronounced bark. The people sitting next to me look over and say with a smile "our dog never barks". And I had the most amazing reaction. I laughed and smiled down at my dog and said "Oh, my dog barks!" I was happy! Even a little proud of my little munchkin. She is my dog and I love her just the way she is.</div></small></div>Manda and the Jamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05022990063025195763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7076324007981508952.post-58557314466333748522010-09-08T16:09:00.001-07:002010-09-08T18:07:31.320-07:00Even the Heat Doesn't Stop Her!<div class="post-header" style="color: #585858; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><div class="post-info" style="color: #858585; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 4px; padding-right: 4px; padding-top: 2px;"><small style="font-size: 1em;"><span class="post-author">by <a href="http://www.blog.ca/user/mydogbarks/" style="color: #da6ca5; text-decoration: none;" title="Mydogbarks's profile">Mydogbarks</a> </span><span class="post-time"><abbr style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px;" title="published on">@</abbr> <span class="date">2010-07-07</span> </span></small><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">We're in the middle of a heat wave here in Toronto and every day when I leave for work I worry about leaving Pajamas home in my non air conditioned house. I shut all the blinds and leave extra water to make her as comfortable as possible.</span><br />
<small style="font-size: 1em;"><span class="post-time"></span></small><br />
<small style="font-size: 1em;"><span class="post-time"><div style="margin-bottom: 1.25em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 1.25em; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">As I walk up the street from the streetcar after work in the sweltering heat I feel a little excited. I feel this way every evening as I head towards home. "Pajamas, Mommy is coming." I'll tell you a secret...sometimes I actually jog up the street cause I just can't wait to see her!</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 1.25em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 1.25em; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">But today, the heat keeps me at a slower pace. I enter my house. And there she is spinning around in circles, with her ball in her mouth. She's ready to go as always. I fill a big thermos with water, change into my coolest sun dress and head out to the park. Pajamas can hardly contain her excitement as I prepare for the park. The minute I open the door she charges ahead and down the driveway. She runs down the street, stopping every two or three driveways to make sure I'm still following. I'm never fast enough for her, especially in this heat!</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 1.25em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 1.25em; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">We get to the park and I claim a spot in the shade the big tree and the game of fetch begins. I don't bring the chuck it in this heat, so she is surprisingly quiet. I toss the ball just a few feet away, but she runs at the ball full of energy and excitement. She stops more often than normal to grab a drink and lays down to catch her breath, but she's as happy as ever.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 1.25em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 1.25em; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">There is no doubt in my mind that when Pajamas dreams she dreams of running in the park with Mom at her heels and a ball in her mouth on a beautiful sunny day like today.</span></div></span></small></div></div>Manda and the Jamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05022990063025195763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7076324007981508952.post-73901149810506096332010-09-08T16:08:00.001-07:002010-09-08T18:07:51.822-07:00What's THAT Doing Here??<div style="color: #585858; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 1.25em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 1.25em; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">I am always a little surprised by the way Pajamas reacts to certain things. I think I have raised a fairly confident dog and she has definitely experienced many objects, environments and situations in her two short years. However, every so often something will take her by surprise and becomes very timid, nervous and shy.</div><div style="color: #585858; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 1.25em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 1.25em; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">This often occurs when we are walking through a park or forest and she spots something "unnatural" This could be someone's missing shoe, a pipe or electrical box of some kind or even......a plastic bag. While walking Pj in the park near my house early one morning, she spotted a white plastic bag laying in the grass. She approached it every slowly, as if trying to sneak up on it. Just as she gets close enough to reach her nose out and smell it a gust of wind comes and long and blows the plastic bag up into the air. Pajamas was completely shocked. She ran away, tail between her legs, barking. I couldn't help but laugh a little at her expense. You silly dog.</div><div style="color: #585858; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 1.25em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 1.25em; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">This morning a similar instance occurred while walking down the sidewalk. It was early on a Saturday morning and some newspapers that had been dropped off for the variety store on the corner had not been brought inside yet. Pajamas put on the breaks a few feet from the newspapers. She approached slowly, one foot at a time, neck stiff. She stops and stretches out her nose in order to give this strange object a good sniff before moving her paws to close. She starts to circle the object still sniffing, paws at a distance. After doing a semi circle sniff she apparently decided this object was no immediate threat to either her or her mommy and was then ready to continue on the walk as if nothing strange had happened.</div><div style="color: #585858; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 1.25em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 1.25em; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">I think it's important to let her be curious and approach the object at her own pace. Sometimes, I will approach the object without her which causes her a little stress at first, but when she sees me make contact with the object her body relaxes and she will usually come to investigate further after that.</div><div style="color: #585858; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 1.25em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 1.25em; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #585858; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 1.25em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 1.25em; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">- First Posted June 19th 2010</div>Manda and the Jamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05022990063025195763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7076324007981508952.post-10880932766313527552010-09-08T16:06:00.001-07:002010-09-08T18:08:23.837-07:00A Quiet House<div style="color: #585858; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 1.25em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 1.25em; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">I am leaving on vacation this afternoon and had to drop Pajamas off at my Aunt's house yesterday. I cannot believe how empty my house feels with out her there. I find myself watching for her under foot while I do the dishes, even though I know she isn't there. I am careful where I move my feet at the end of the bed at night, so as not to kick her as she sleep. I even found myself regretting having to make the trip outside for a bedtime pee last night before I realized I didn't have to take her out.</div><div style="color: #585858; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 1.25em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 1.25em; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">I stepped on her bone this morning as I was getting dressed and I smiled despite the pain. A scan of my room reveals just how thoroughly my dog fills my home. Her toy hippo that she carries with her to bed and uses as a pillow on the couch is laying in the middle of the floor, next to her furry pink kong that we play tug with. There are one, two, three, four bones laying around the room as well. The carpet is covered in dirty puppy prints that I haven't been able to remove on my own. I'll need to get a carpet steamer.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPiuPP8iTxfsDq_RUhoGcqHxvtcrr8J0h1iPgvEOamGK8fWpOobEQEkw7ztZfGvW-wahPc9-El3wM68nQ80cWunx1BUDSgMuyJkLCBDiqDb29Fs2BSGhI4WTMQrJDOxes4mbucbMfGlyc/s1600/Photo+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPiuPP8iTxfsDq_RUhoGcqHxvtcrr8J0h1iPgvEOamGK8fWpOobEQEkw7ztZfGvW-wahPc9-El3wM68nQ80cWunx1BUDSgMuyJkLCBDiqDb29Fs2BSGhI4WTMQrJDOxes4mbucbMfGlyc/s200/Photo+2.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br />
</div><div style="color: #585858; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 1.25em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 1.25em; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">I walk up my hallway and see her empty dishes and her empty bed. I hear my upstairs neighbor come in and there is no barking, or growling or scrapping of her nails on the floor. I suppose I should be thankful for this peace and quiet, but all I feel is loneliness.</div><div style="color: #585858; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 1.25em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 1.25em; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #585858; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 1.25em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 1.25em; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">- First posted June 13th 2010</div>Manda and the Jamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05022990063025195763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7076324007981508952.post-51223285179135194602010-09-08T16:05:00.003-07:002010-09-08T18:08:48.045-07:00Crashing Waves of Lies<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgR-ysbvdHCu8zxdBYCdl8IgqgmWpFEbModiGNXnn207SRMyfLRQWmQ_DWYlQyZKmMtS78UrhFLFVM-0IBl62DhBbdyxtkLlFUlfJX3Y56GPokoB3PhcvCfnuhaUR-YDYriMlRmbZLSyU/s1600/IMG_1511.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgR-ysbvdHCu8zxdBYCdl8IgqgmWpFEbModiGNXnn207SRMyfLRQWmQ_DWYlQyZKmMtS78UrhFLFVM-0IBl62DhBbdyxtkLlFUlfJX3Y56GPokoB3PhcvCfnuhaUR-YDYriMlRmbZLSyU/s320/IMG_1511.jpg" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #585858; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px;">I took Pajamas down to the beach the other day and the minute her leash came off her barking began. I don't have a ball with me so she proceeds to jump around in front of me, barking so loud her ears are bouncing off the side of her head. She's barking so loud it echos off the houses behind us. A woman approaches, her quiet dog prancing along near by. "Your neighbors must hate you"</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #585858; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #585858; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px;">I was completely taken aback and before I realized it I was responding with, "She never barks." ..... She never barks? Where in the world did that statement come from? My mind immediately thinks back to this rightly named blog..My Dog Barks.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #585858; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #585858; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px;">What prompted me to state such a bold faced lie? I tried to back peddle with embarrassment. "It's only when we're at the beach," I hear myself say. Another lie. "and when she's excited," I add. But, it's definitely more than that isn't it.</span>Manda and the Jamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05022990063025195763noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7076324007981508952.post-91193577937631050532010-09-08T16:05:00.001-07:002010-09-08T17:12:55.465-07:00Ball Obsessed!<div style="color: #585858; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px; margin: 1.25em 0px; padding: 0px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCbC4vMGa99e_7HLsTaJqk4zZJDKFa6RRM2OJF_WQaEXk-vltaPRes0DesVklQ0tJHZ_A9ZZUScSI20Weg6Mrc7Wryx6YNN4dNJLi-04qw164owWJWoNCHpCLUKybQWXldpQ-nKaEp0zw/s1600/IMG_1566.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCbC4vMGa99e_7HLsTaJqk4zZJDKFa6RRM2OJF_WQaEXk-vltaPRes0DesVklQ0tJHZ_A9ZZUScSI20Weg6Mrc7Wryx6YNN4dNJLi-04qw164owWJWoNCHpCLUKybQWXldpQ-nKaEp0zw/s320/IMG_1566.jpg" /></a></div>Pajamas is completely ball obsessed. It started when she was about 6 months old and escalated quickly. We couldn't go to off leash parks because she would latch herself to anyone carrying a Chuck It, jumping around them in circles, barking. It was so embarrassing! I started bringing extra tennis balls with a squeaker inside to use as a decoy when Pajamas stole other dogs balls, as well as tons of treats to reward any semblance of good behavior in these types of situations.</div><div style="color: #585858; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px; margin: 1.25em 0px; padding: 0px;">It didn't take long before even the park at the end of my street became an unwelcoming place. I found myself confined to one end of the park away from all the other dog owners who just a few short weeks ago had been my friends. Now they were staring and whispering, or so it seemed to me at least. I started walking down to a park a few blocks away that is much bigger and less busy. Here Pajamas could bark till her heart was content without the judging looks of other dog owners.</div><div style="color: #585858; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px; margin: 1.25em 0px; padding: 0px;">The only problem was that I began to loose my own patients with the situation. Every time I bent down to pick up the ball she would bark in my ear. She would get so worked up her whole body was shaking and her eyes were like two black saucers. I was ashamed at my inability to control the situation and very quickly lost my own love for this game that turned my dog into some kind of maniac!</div><div style="color: #585858; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px; margin: 1.25em 0px; padding: 0px;">We have come a long way since then. I can now go to an off leash park and fairly confidently walk past another dog owner carrying a Chuck It and not shudder in fear. The problem is far from fixed. It is a constant battle, but it is good to think back to where I started in order to truly see how much work I have put in.</div>Manda and the Jamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05022990063025195763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7076324007981508952.post-36535631054109071822010-09-08T16:04:00.001-07:002010-09-08T16:04:30.866-07:00The Secret is Out<div style="color: #585858; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 1.25em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 1.25em; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">When I got my dog, Pajamas, I had very high expectations, of myself and my dog. I've been through countless obedience classes and even started teaching at the obedience school part time. I have spent hours practicing sit stays and recalls in the park and take Pajamas to agility classes once a week. All of this should have resulted in a very well behaved, well balanced, well socialized dog. And in the eyes of most people I know, this is exactly what I have.</div><div style="color: #585858; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 1.25em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 1.25em; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">However, I cannot keep it a secret any longer. My dog barks. She barks at children, she barks when she plays, she barks when she's scared, she barks at birds and raccoons and cats and most of all....she barks at me. We've been exiled from the park at the end of my street in the early hours of the morning and the latter part of the evening. During the day I am shunned to the edges of the park, no longer socializing with the other dog owners who congregate there.</div><div style="color: #585858; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 1.25em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 1.25em; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">So my secret is out and it feels good! From now on I will share the stories of my barking dog in hopes of finding others who share my isolation in parks and embarrassment on the streets. Together we will reclaim those public spaces that have been denied to us! After all barking dogs deserve to play too!</div>Manda and the Jamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05022990063025195763noreply@blogger.com0