Introduction to Winter

It sure took long enough this year, but we finally have some snow! You might wonder why a mature dog like me -- after all, I did turn 5 recently -- would be getting so impatient about something as uncontrollable as the seasons.

The reason is that I have been eager to introduce my younger sister Gladys to Winter and all its fun! As a southern dog (she comes from Kentucky and Tennessee), she had never seen snow before moving to Vermont. And her introduction wasn't immediate like mine. I came to Vermont from Virginia in the month of March, and there was still plenty of snow on the ground. Gladys came here in April. There was snow in the mountains at that time, but she never made it up. I bet she's been living all this time thinking that all of life was running in the grass, rolling in leaves, and swimming in the river.

How wrong she was! She got to see snow twice briefly -- once in October and once in November. But only with this last snowfall (not even a deep one, mind you), is she getting the idea that this might be sticking around for awhile. And although she was a bit tentative with the two earlier snowfalls, she is fully embracing this latest one. We are in full-on frolick mode, whether it's running in snow-covered fields or just ruckus-ing in our own backyard. We've been so excited that we both recently jumped the 40-inch fence in our backyard just to get to some freshies. I realize that it's no biggie for a dog my size to hop a 40-inch fence. But Gladys? Get real!

In fact, I used to be sad when my humans left for work, and I'd have to stay home. No longer. Now I look forward to it (please don't tell any humans -- I don't want to hurt any feelings). They leave, and the real fun begins. And I feel the same way about winter.

Let the games begin!

Celebration of a Great Life

Last week, Scout the cat passed away on the spot where he spent many hours of his life: on the laundry. This cat loved sleeping, laying, and sitting in laundry baskets, bath towels, or even just a sweater that had been tossed aside. One of his favorite spots was where Mark and Ali keep the folded towels on the second built-in shelf in our bathroom. I might have tried the spot, but, while it was a perfect nook for a 10-or-so-pound cat, there was just not enough space for a 70-plus-pound lab.

Waffle, Gladys, and I took turns visiting with Scout in his dying hours, giving him a wag of our tails or a good sniff. He paved the way for pets in this household, and we all appreciated and looked up to him for that.

He did things his way -- he took showers, he ate his food at his own pace, and he patrolled the grounds both indoors and out until the day he died. He was not the type of cat that tried to get credit for all of his contributions; in fact, not a mouse has turned up dead in the bathroom since his passing. Could it be that Waffle is not the great mouser everyone lauds him to be and that really it's been Scout all this time?

I wouldn't doubt it. Anyway, Scout the cat lived 15 years -- 5 of which were with me, 3 with Waffle, and the last 10 months with Gladys. We all have lots of energy, and I imagine we aren't easy for an old set-in-his-ways cat to put up with. But he never complained, and he served as a great role model and friend. We owe a lot to Scout and will never forget him.

Thanks buddy... We miss you!

Oscar

Dear Oscar, Would you say there are advantages for a puppy to have an older brother like yourself? -- Dog Psychologist

Dear Dog-Shrink,

The answer is obvious: that puppy has it made. Think about it. When you come into a situation where perfection is modeled for you every day, it's very advantageous. Take, for example, the hiking trip we took last weekend. Friday night, we drove out to New Hampshire, stopping along the way at Dog Mountain in St. Johnsbury. Dog Mountain is a place where dogs can run, swim, and play -- and even visit a special dog chapel and a gift shop. We visited both -- while running, swimming, and playing. We arrived at a campsite in Gorham where Mark and Ali set up a tent, cooked dinner, and climbed into their sleeping bags. I showed Gladys (and Berkley, who was with us for the weekend while his human visited a foreign country to the north of the United States) how to sleep through the night and keep the tent nice and warm.

The next morning, we were at the trailhead of the Airline Trail before dawn and at the top of Mount Adams, the second highest peak in the Presidentials, by 830AM. It was crazy windy, but I showed Gladys how to put her nose into the wind so that her ears flapped. That's so much fun!

We descended to Star Lake and then climbed Mount Madison. I stayed right on the trail and didn't even freak out when we saw a moose -- again, a good role model for my impressionable little sister. The way down was pretty rocky as we took a more obscure route -- the Watson Path to the Brookside Trail. The less beaten path proved to be a good choice; we saw about ten hikers, but at the trailhead there must have been 250 cars! Crazy!

It was a great weekend, but I want you to think for a minute. If I hadn't been such a great hiker all these years, do you think Mark and Ali would be taking Gladys on hikes? And when Gladys follows me everywhere I go on these hikes -- to all the good drinking spots and all the good smells -- do you agree that she's a pretty lucky dog?

I figured you'd see things my way.

Your friend, Oscar

Dear Oscar, What is your favorite weather to run in? Also, what season do you prefer for running? -- Track Star

Dear Star,

By far, I like cool and foggy mornings. In fall.

At least that was my preference THIS morning when I ran with Alison. Tomorrow I may prefer hot, sunny afternoon runs. In a couple of months, I'll prefer winter, for sure.

So I guess, to answer your question, it's a tie: I like all weather. And all seasons. My favorite? I just like running. As for when, where, or how, it doesn't matter. I like all of it.

Your friend, Oscar

Dear Oscar, I noticed a lull in your running log between Sept 4 and Sept 22. What gives? -- Running Coach

Dear Coach,

Here's the thing. Alison and Mark are always training for these big events. And here I run with them -- basically get them trained and ready to go. Do they say thank you? Do they bring me to the event?

The latest event that I wasn't allowed to attend was the PumpkinMan Triathlon in Maine. You think I didn't want to go swim in the pond and run the half-marathon with them? So they really didn't run at all the week before the race, and then they left me at home for like 4 days.

Meanwhile, there's more to the story. We went for a big hike last Saturday in Lincoln, Vermont. (Not Lincoln, Nebraska in case anyone is wondering.) Anyway, a mile into the hike, I caught a scent. I'd say it was a wild animal, but I can't even be sure. All I know is I got all excited and split. Mark and Alison were so worried! They actually walked back to the car looking for me! Like I would go to the car! Anyway, because of me we got to hike 13 miles instead of 10 (they should be thanking me!). However, on my little foray, I must have twisted my front leg. When I went to the group run the next day, I was limping all over the place, so I walked with my friend Todd who was pushing his baby Henry.

It was a little embarrassing to be stuck with the walkers, but I suppose it was for the best.

Hope this answers your question,
Oscar

Dear Oscar, From your blog, I see that you are an excellent writer for a dog. But have you tried your hand at photography? -- Picture-Perfect

Dear Perfect,

I am so glad you asked! In addition to writing my blog, I am also a highly skilled picture-taker. In fact, today in the middle of our hike, I took the pictures below of Mark, Ali, Gladys, and me, thinking they would make nice shots for the Aiken family Christmas card. Let me know which one you think would be best.

Taking pictures can be a challenge for a dog. For one, it isn't easy holding a camera with paws. But mostly, it's tough getting everyone to sit still. Pix below...

Your friend, Oscar

Dear Oscar, Do you or any of the pets in your household have nicknames? -- An interested Reader

Dear Reader, We are one of those families with more animals than people. And, yes, the pets run this household. Here are some of the animals I live with and their nicknames.

Scout
Cat
Age 15
Scouty-boy
Scouterrific
Scouteromovich
Orange-white



Gladys
Puppy
Age 9 months
Gladiator
Pup Squeak
Pupper dog
Glad-dog
Sog-dog


Waffle
Cat
Age 3 years
Wafflekins
Waflo
The waffle-nator
Orange
Mouse Killer






Oscar
Dog
Age almost 5 years
Oscar-nator
Bubber
Yellow
Yeller
Buddy

Dear Oscar, I heard Hurricane Irene hit Vermont the hardest. Did the storm affect you? -- Weather-Watcher

Dear Watcher,

As you can see from these pictures -- all taken of my street -- yes, the storm affected us. Fortunately, our family and our stuff is safe. In fact, our great friend Craig from South Carolina got stranded here with us for 24 hours and even helped us split and stack half of our winter firewood supply!

Sadly, however, we have neighbors who were hit harder than us. For example, at Maisie the lab's house, the basement was totally flooded. Also, all of the surrounding cornfields were flooded and destroyed -- which affects all of the cows in our neighborhood.

What is left of the cornfields also affects me -- quite profoundly, I might add. Seeing all of the corn plants that had been flattened by the swollen river, I did the logical thing yesterday on our morning walk: I ran off, skipped the walk, and munched on ears of corn all morning. Made sense to me, right? Well, it turns out that river-soaked corn isn't so good for a yellow dog; last night, I threw up everything I ate. And although I was completely willing to clean it up afterwards (as was my little sister Gladys), Mark made us steer clear of the mess, while he cleaned it up himself and (gasp!) threw it all away. What a waste!

So as you can see, Irene affects not just people, but dogs too. Best wishes to those who are still digging themselves out. And remember, river-soaked corn is no good to eat -- especially in large quantities.

Your friend, Oscar

Photos (clockwise, from top left): A flooded cornfield; After the flood, Gladys inspects river-flattened corn; High water mark next to our road; Gladys inspects debris left by the river.

Dog Park Blues

Thursday we visited Burlington's Starr Farm Dog Park. I have been there many times, and I usually serve as pack leader/park greeter. I go there and run and run and run and run... and when I'm not running, I'm dog-wrassling. It's a great time.

Except on Thursday, my attitude towards the park was a little different. I haven't visited all summer, and you know? At four years old -- almost five -- I sort of felt... over it. I didn't really run much. Yes, there were other dogs there. And yes, some wanted to play -- including a 1-year-old yellow lab that weighed like 80 pounds. At one point I did sort of chase two brown huskies -- but I admit it was half-hearted. I guess ever since Gladys joined the family, I can do all the dog-wrassling I want right in the living room. And with our almost-daily walks to the river, running around in an open space is really not a novelty. I'm not saying I'll never visit the park again -- and I may even run around next time. All I'm saying is that, for me, the luster has sort of worn off the dog park.

Am I spoiled? Do I have it made? I'm not going to say.

But I think you know the answer.

Back to School

I have to admit, I wondered if I really needed more school. Hadn't I already aced my way through "Think Like a Dog" Level 1? What was really left for me to learn in Level 2?

Meanwhile, I know my human had other concerns. He hasn't been satisfied with our progress since Level 1. Notice I didn't say "my" progress. That is because Mark believes that any achievement (or under-achievement) on my part is due in part to his abilities (or lack of abilities) as a dog trainer. If I don't come when I'm not on a leash, he thinks it's because his actions have shown me that I can get away with not coming when I'm not on my leash.

Which I can! So what were they going to do about it?

Anyway, I'm pretty sure Mark was worried they were going to send us back to Level 1. It turns out he had nothing to worry about. I have to say, once I get to school, my attitude changes. I find myself wanting to please everyone. We did an agility course where the owners have to get their dogs to go through a tunnel. I didn't want to at first, but once I did it once, I got a big kick about doing it over and over. I was one proud dog! Meanwhile, Mark asked straight up how to transform me into a dog who comes. April, the dog trainer, showed him how to use a long line (NOT a retractable leash, she emphasized) to train me. And I have to say, we've been on it this week since class. It's kind of cool because I can still run around a little bit (nothing like I usually do, of course), but the human still has control of his dog to make whatever corrections he wants. The weird part is I find myself wanting to be a good dog.! Like I said... it's very strange.

Meanwhile, up at school, Alison and Gladys were a team. While I walked around proudly acing all the tests and challenges, Gladys was the best "comer" in the group. Gee whiz, puppy, it's just a piece of cheese, for goodness sakes! It's not like they're giving you a steak. Get ahold of yourself!

Bottom line: Level 2 was a good time for everyone involved. So watch out -- I may become a well-behaved dog yet.

Dear Oscar, Were you and your new puppy able to go swimming over the holiday weekend? Lifeguard from Louisville

Dear Lifeguard,

We spent the entire holiday weekend at the Aiken camp in North Hero. It was HOT, and, yes, we did get to do some swimming... obviously!

I should clarify "hot" and mention that being on the lake does cool things down considerably. And the breeze coming out of the south all weekend was so refreshing! But Gladys and I made many forays down to the beach for swimming, sniffing, and exploring.

One difference between Gladys and me that has come to light since her arrival in the family is how she handles water. Clearly, we both have Lab in our ancestry: just look at our heads, fur, and noses. But where I have inherited the typical "water-dog" traits -- the webbed paws, the fur that, like Gore-tex, repels water, and a buoyancy that makes swimming easy -- Gladys is the opposite. First off, when she gets in over her head, her tendency is to sink. You should see her dog-paddling like crazy just to stay afloat! You have me, pretty much just paddling every now and then for steering purposes while she is cranking her front feet to keep her head above water! Then when we get out, I shake once, and I'm pretty much dry. Gladys is sopping wet for hours! She drips like a wet cat, for crying out loud! No matter how much she shakes, she keeps dripping. Alison sometimes has to wipe her down with a towel.

This isn't saying she doesn't like the beach. Gladys munched on several dead fish, sniffed all the smells, and wades in quite willingly. I don't doubt we'll log many more hours down there. But, for now, I'm thanking my lucky stars for my good swimmer's genes.

Oscar

Dear Oscar, I heard you went rock climbing Friday. How was the new puppy? -- Rocky

Dear Rocky, This is a good question because at the crag, a dog has to be particularly careful. This is probably why our humans have always kept me on the leash when they take me climbing. They don't want to have to deal with any dog-shenanigans when they are belaying each other, nor do they want me running off to bother another climbing party while they are trying to belay someone. Likewise, I don't usually go to the top of a crag; who knows what sticks or stones I might kick over the edge in my excitement?

To answer your question, Gladys was perfectly behaved... which doesn't say much, since there isn't much opportunity to do much wrong other than bark. Which we did at one point when someone else's dog (off the leash) came over to us. We pretty much went berserk -- can you blame us? A perfectly good opportunity for some rollicking good dog ruckus wasted. Oh well -- it's all in the name of safety.

One interesting fact about the leash at the climbing area is how we are fixed to the rock. Obviously if Mark is belaying Alison, he can't be holding me on my leash at the same time. So they have taken to attaching us to the crag using Camelots -- that is trad gear more commonly used as protection for a lead climber. But Friday they were top-roping, so the trad gear was available. Attached is a photo of a size 3 BD cam and a red Metolius cam attached to two nylon dog leashes. Excuse the tech-talk, but you know how climbers are. That's right, total gear nerds.

Your friend, Oscar

Dear Oscar, From your running log, I see that you did not run yesterday. Did you get any exercise? Sincerely, Dog Log-Watcher

Dear Log-Watcher,

In fact, I did go for a little walk yesterday -- up the Burrows Trail to the top of Camel's Hump. Things looked slightly unfamiliar to me as I traffic Burrows more often in the winter months. But we were looking for a short hike to a summit, and this is the quickest way up and down the Hump.

We were joined by John G, who came all the way from BC to make the hike. Johnny seems to have traveled east with his hometown hockey team, but I hope John's sojourn in New England has been more restful and hospitable than that of the Canucks. Nobody was very welcoming to them.

Meanwhile, it was also nice to go on a hike with Gladys the puppy. Being an older sibling, of course, is a big responsibility. She was excited, but I believe I showed her how to pace oneself and behave. I never run off on a hike; I don't want to give my humans any reason to consider not bringing me. Gladys did a great job, and I look forward to many more hikes with her in the future!

Oscar

Dear Oscar, This is a follow-up to the reader's question from yesterday, because I have a similar

problem. My boyfriend leaves his stuff -- cars, tools, gear, and equipment all over the driveway, lawn, and house. What should I do? -- Baffled in Boston

Dear Baffled,

He leaves his toys around, you say? Ahhh, a man after my own heart. I love rooting around in my toybox. And I never return anything.

Good luck, Oscar

Dear Oscar, My boyfriend doesn't shower, leaves his stuff everywhere, and doesn't do dishes. What should I do? -- In Need of Dating Advice

Dear Advice, You raise some complicated issues, so let's go through them one-by-one. You say he doesn't shower, eh? I can't say I'm too keen on baths either, so I can't really fault him for it. I guess I would ask: does he go in the water at all? I swim every chance I get, but add soap, and I'm not really interested. As for him leaving his stuff around, again, I'm going to answer your question with a question. The boy comes with stuff, okay? Do you want the boy? Or do you want your apartment clear of stuff? Only you can decide.

Regarding the dishes, this is a little more cut-and-dried. I have never left anything but a gleaming, completely clean dog dish. When I'm done eating, I lick it clean so that you'd never even know there had been food in it. I can't imagine leaving anything but a spotless dish. You say the boy leaves his dishes dirty? Tell the worthless, no-good bum to get out!

Hope this love advice helps.

Your friend, Oscar

Dear Oscar, How has the new puppy affected your quality of life? -- Sibling Observer

Photo by Ruth!

Dear Observer, As you may know, being the oldest sibling carries certain responsibilities. And I am pleased to report that I have been living up -- and maybe even exceeding -- all expectations. First off, many of my fans have asked how -- and if -- I like the new puppy. This puppy, Gladys, is the best thing that happened to this family since I arrived on the scene four years ago. We play all the time. Yes, I like her!

Meanwhile, I have been demonstrating how to behave like a good dog should. Which, loosely translated, means my humans brought us to dog school and haven't been letting me run free. Which I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss roaming the neighborhood, but what I don't miss is how disappointed Mark always acted when I got into the neighbor's trash or compost. And, besides, they have been clear that once they are done practicing everything we learned at school (ie I convince them that I will come when called) I'll be able to run free again.

And, I have to say, there are advantages to being the oldest. For example, I get to go running with my humans (meaning Mark, since Ali has been temporarily sidelined by an injured foot), while Gladys stays home. Puppies aren't allowed to run until they are a year old (and I hope she doesn't hold us up too much when she can go). Also, puppies sleep in their crate, while old dogs like me sleep upstairs in the human area -- even on the bed, if I feel like it. Finally, and most importantly, big old dogs get more dog food. Sorry little puppy. Maybe someday when you are 4 years-old and weigh 75 pounds, you'll get a cup-and-a-half per serving too -- instead of your measly two-thirds of a cup.

Although you won't be seeing me around the neighborhood like the old days, what you will see is a lot of dog ruckus around the homestead. We romp and play off and on all day. Then we sleep... and then we romp and play some more. Make no mistake -- having a puppy around makes for good times!

Your friend, Oscar

Dear Oscar, I heard you went to school. Can they teach an old dog new tricks? -- Learner from Laredo

Dear Learner, First off, who are you calling an "old" dog? I am only 4 years old. Although the paperwork at the dog school referred to me as "mature" (and we know how off-base that designation is) I am certainly not "old"!

As for the school, it was totally awesome. That's right -- awesome. Right off the bat, the lady who ran the program -- April Frost from Animal Visions and Holistic Center for Animals and People -- made it clear that none of my bad behaviors (like my running off, not coming when called, jumping on houseguests) are my fault. You heard me -- none. Finally, someone who sees things my way! She confirmed what I suspected all along: it's all my humans' fault!

That's right -- running, jumping, and all of that are things that dogs do naturally in their native environments (ie the Wild), and only because humans have domesticated us and brought us to live in environments not natural to us, are these behaviors not okay. So, she said, it's up to people to properly train their dogs to act appropriately in the human environment. The problem is, people don't know how to communicate with dogs -- and that's what April's program attempted to teach.

Pretty much all the dogs were cool, but Gladys and I, in my opinion, were the stars of the class. You should have seen that puppy come -- even when April brought out chickens to distract her! I showed that I can walk on a loose leash behind my human. It was actually fun, believe it or not.

One thing is for sure, with a teacher so completely on my side, I'll go to school any day.

Your friend, Oscar

Reform School

I get to go to school! It has been a very exciting spring. First off, all the snow from winter lasted well into April. Then we got a new puppy. And the puppy, of course, has to go to obedience training. At first I was jealous, but then I heard the news: I get to go too!

With so many developments, I have been understandably excitable. I've been jumping on house guests, running off, and begging. Don't judge; I'm excited, okay? Anyway, lately, I haven't had many chances to run off; we either run on the leash these days, go to the dog park, or stay in the fenced yard. And the one or two times I have been outside the fence, I have bolted. Lots of good compost in the neighbors' gardens this time of year. And, let me tell you, there's no time like when people come over to show how amped up I am. Like when that lady from Gladys' adoption agency came over for a home visit before we were cleared to adopt? Boy, did I jump all over her!

Although, I do have a question. My humans trained me themselves, so why have they decided to bring Gladys to school? It's not like she's chewed anything or been a handful. She is cool about her crate, and she's nearly housebroken. What gives?

Wait a minute! I see what's going on here... Gladys is just an excuse! They're not going to get her trained; they're going for me! This isn't any old school; this is reform school! Hey, wasn't I good today when Mark and I went running? At mile 5.5 in the field, he let me off the leash, and didn't I heel until he said "okay"? And then when I took off, didn't I come right when he called? Yes and yes! So what's with reform school?

Oh well, we'll see how it goes. I'll give it a try. But listen here: if I don't like it, I'm outta there.

Dear Oscar, What's the big rush lately? -- Puppy Trainer

Dear Trainer, Nobody's in a rush... unless you count my humans to train the new puppy, Gladys. What you are hearing are the words "Hurry Up" -- the new code word for "Gladys... go to the bathroom!"

Here's what happened. My humans were those people who claimed that they would never baby-talk if they ever got a puppy (or those other things that you've seen people baby-talking to). Then, of course, they got me. I was so cute, next thing you knew every word you heard was baby-talk. And they trained me to go to the bathroom when I heard the words, "Go potty!" (An aside: if you don't think it was humiliating then, think of how I feel now -- a fully grown dog -- still being subjected to "Go potty!"

However, there's an upside to the story. Someone called them on the baby-talk... it was Mark's little sister Lisa. "What's with the baby-talk?" I believe were her words. I guess they figured they had already trained me -- that there was no turning back. But they've gotten ahold of themselves. It's all grown-up talk so far with this new puppy, and they seem especially business-like when it comes to doing her business. "Hurry up," is the code. And, so far, Gladys is hurrying.

From a dog who never hurries (unless there's food involved), Oscar

Dear Oscar, Why have you been listening to soul music lately? -- Motown Marvel

Dear Motown, That's just "Midnight Train to Georgia" by Gladys Knight and the Pips! The reason I've been listening to it is to honor the new addition to the team here in Richmond: Gladys the puppy! Gladys comes from a litter of six that were taken in as strays when they were 3 weeks old in Tennessee. Also in the litter were Etta James, Ella Fitzgerald, and Percy Sledge (Percy was actually adopted by another Richmond family!).

Anyway, Gladys arrived yesterday, and it really brings back my puppy days. I may be big, but I'm still a pup at heart. In addition to playing, wrassling, running, and licking, I've been humming all the Gladys songs I know -- that is, the only one I know... "Midnight Train." Long live soul music!

Oscar

Dear Oscar, Is Spring ever going to come? -- Desperate for Warmth

Dear Desperate, I have good news: I have seen three sure signs that it is Spring. 1) My human took the plow and the tire chains off his truck this morning. Granted, it was snowing while he did this, but he didn't seem to think it was going to accumulate. 2) He is no longer shouldering those long 2x4-looking things and heading to Stowe every day. Instead, he is sitting at his computer, writing. And you know what that means... lots of walks to the river for yours truly! (He really likes his breaks, it seems!) Finally, 3) That same human participated in the annual "Bring Your Dog To Work" day! Does it matter that nobody else ever participates? No! Does it matter that there is a strict rule prohibiting dogs from work? No! Because it's spring! Every year, it's the same thing. We work, then we hike up to the top of the ski area where all the lifts are closed. Then we ski down. The down part, is the hard part for me. My human can actually go pretty fast on those groomed ski trails -- faster than me, that's for sure. In the backcountry, I can keep up. The photo above is how tired I was on the way home. That was a lot of running.

I hope this answers your questions!
Oscar

Failed Experiment

Dear Oscar, I heard you were getting a little brother. How did the experiment go? -- Puppy-Watcher









Dear Watcher,
I'm not going to make any excuses; I was a schmuck. I growled, I snarled, and I jumped the fence in our yard and ran away -- twice. I was the opposite of a gracious host.

But, hey, I'm telling you, this puppy wasn't the right fit. Or maybe I was jealous, I don't know. All my life I have heard the legends and lore of that beagle-god Hunter. And then in the front door waltzes this 6-pound black, brown, and white beagle-lab mix? I put my foot down and said no way. No beagle is going to come in here and take away my attention. Spoiled? Maybe. Bratty. Okay. But when you've played first fiddle as long as me, it's hard to give it up.

That puppy was a great dog, but not the right fit for us. Good luck, pupper. I know you'll find a forever home somewhere.

Feeling happy-but-not-overly-proud-of-my-behavior, Oscar

Undisclosed Dog, Undisclosed Lift

I received the following letter last week from a reader-slash-dog-buddy. Please read...

Dear Oscar,

I was reading your blog today and it made me think two things: I miss hanging out with you in Vermont and also, dogs can ride lifts (just keep it on the DL)! You just have your human stick you in a big backpack, cinch the drawstring around your shoulders, and then put the flap over your head! You can stick your nose out a little but don't bark or move too much when you're in the lift-line! Tell your human to just carry you up in his or her arms... it helps to shoot through the lift waiting area and right onto the chair to avoid detection! Usually I hike up too, but on the rare and special occasion it can be cool to ride the lift!

-The Big K

Dear Oscar, How do you feel about the new qualifying times to gain entry in the Boston Marathon? -- An Obsessed Runner

Dear Obsessed, I'm pretty neutral about the new standard. What affects me more immediately is that my humans qualified under the old standards. However, one of them (I won't mention names, but his name rhymes with "dark") has been pretty lackadaisical about his training. I mean, one has to run in order to get marathon ready. You can ski, play hockey, and climb at the gym all you want; it still won't help you run 26.2 miles. Besides, with the exception of the skiing (and then only when he goes backcountry skiing), I don't really get to participate in these acticvities. So it was nice to see him lacing up the running shoes today. We did 8 miles, and I felt pretty loose. Just between you and me, the loop seemed a little rough on my human. Oscar

Dear Oscar, I have some questions regarding a recent post:

1. There were some pictures of yourself with and an itty bitty, teeny tiny little puppy. Why do you appear more than just a little bit frightened in some of those photos? Why does it appear that the aforementioned itty bitty, teeny tiny, little puppy has the upper hand in a couple of those photos?

2. Who's sweater is hanging from the chair in the twice aforementioned photos? (it's very nice.)

3. Have you ever swam in the ocean? Have you ever considered trying surfing?

From an Australian beach goer.


Dear Beach-Goer,
First off, I would have expected your message to have more of an accent to it, like "G-day, Mate" (pronouced "Mite"). Okay, on to your very important questions. One, the itty bitty puppy is Holly, and you are right, I was frightened at times. That puppy has sharp teeth! I had to growl a couple of times to let her know that I could swat her like a mosquito! Of course, I wouldn't. Which brings me to Part 2 of that question, why she seemed to have the upper hand in some shots. That's the fun of wrassling with small dogs: I let everyone have their chance to be on top. And as you can see from the photo on this post, I will play with anything or anyone, regardless of size. I just love to play!

The sweater is easy; it's Alison's. Although she is a talented knitter (and happens to be related to other talented knitters), this one is store-bought. Where, you ask? Lake Placid.

As for swimming in the ocean and surfing, I've done neither. My humans have been to the ocean three times, to my knowledge -- once on a rock climbing trip, once for a marathon, and once for vacation. I'm not that interested; I'm afraid the salty water would bleach my hair. No, I have never tried surfing, but I am an avid skier.

Meanwhile, I have a question for you. I noticed that you still haven't accepted my "Friend Request" on Facebook. What's up, you don't consort with dogs on-line?

Your friend, Oscar

Ski Season...

... IS HERE!

Ski season starts a little later sometimes if you are a dog. And, hey, I don't even mind not being allowed on ski lifts. Going up is half the fun anyway.


I have included a photo, however, of the descent. On yesterday's adventure on Mount Mansfield, I only got stuck in one snowdrift after Wednesday's big storm. How do you get out of an over-your-head snowdrift, you ask? Easy: you dog-paddle!

Or, an alternative to catching all freshies is to follow in someone's ski tracks. I try both interchangeably. And both offer their own unique rewards.

Play Date

My new relative Holly came over tonight for a play date, and let me tell you: that puppy likes to party! It was non-stop. However, don't think I let you down just because I am a 4-year-old dog and mature and responsible. Believe me, I can still party with the best, and I think I gave that little whipper-snapper a run for her money. At any rate, I can't wait for the next play date. These puppies are a lot of fun!

Dear Oscar, Does the recent extreme cold hold you back? -- Frostnipped in Fairfield

Dear Frosty, In the last three days I have done a backcountry ski loop in Huntington, a 12-mile run in Richmond, and another backcountry ski in Underhill. So, yes -- I have been doing less than usual.

I wouldn't blame the cold though. After the 12-miler, Alison went cross-country skiing at Trapps -- no dogs allowed. And, instead of a major undertaking today, we were only outside for a bit over an hour. Ali and Mark made some comments about my cold paws, but I think they just wanted to hang out in front of the wood stove.

I will say this. One group of skiers acted surprised that I was outside on a day like today (for out-of-town readers or those who didn't venture out of your homes, today was sunny, about minus-4 degrees, and still -- despite the forecast which, for a week, has been calling for Arctic-like conditions today... and apparently people actually paid attention to it without paying attention to what it was actually like out!) Even last night's local news made a point to tell people that one thing to take into account when the weather is like "this" is to make sure you bring your pets in. Anyway, after that digression, we bumped into a couple of groups who asked if it was good for me to be out or whether I should be wearing booties or mushing wax on my pads. Wax on my pads? I'd lick it off, duh!

Anyway, we had a fantastic time (and even bumped into another dog who was heading up just as we were approaching the parking lot). And can you believe it? One of the groups had left their dog IN THE CAR! Are you kidding me? You should have seen the look on his face. He couldn't believe his owners took him to the trailhead and didn't take him out. I'm sure they had their reasons, but I'll say this: no weather gets in the way of my schedule!

Oscar