Category: Tinker: The Poopingest Pup on the Planet (Page 4 of 5)

Stories of Tinker, our first schnauzer, who ate too much and too often.

Creature Features: GO #506

April 24, 2018 / mikeljohnston1 / 0 Comments

It has been three months since I last went to Starbuck’s, apparently the last time the weather was nice enough to take the pups for a walk to the location about a half-mile from our home. They love to “GO” because they always get a treat, plus they get to “GO” for a longer than normal airing. We were out of town over the weekend, so they did not get to “GO” on the run/walks we typically do to get them out of the stuffy confines of their home.

We rarely say the word “GO,” and usually try to spell it out instead. It slips out on occasion and our oldest schnauzer, Tinker, immediately recognizes it and frantically twists her head in our direction. The younger one, Tally, then mirrors Tinker’s excitement, so it’s a chain-reaction of anticipation. When I mentioned to them this morning, “let’s GO to Starbuck’s, they quickly put the two key words together and beat me to the door. Tally once broke free from her leash and ran there by herself to claim a treat. (See Post #33). She’s a much more mature 8-year old now, so we have fewer of these attempted escapes, but she still can’t be trusted as much as Tinker.

Starbuck’s did not have my traditional order of Peach Tranquility Tea with 3 packets of honey, and as I learned when I arrived for my order, they have recently stopped handing out dog biscuits. There was a moment of disappointment, but the dogs ended up getting something better, a frothy “puppuccino,” that will probably come back to haunt me. Tinker is affectionately nicknamed, “the poopingest on the planet,” so we’ll see howpup she reacts to whip cream. Ice cream was never a problem for either of them. Tally’s moniker is “Eggbert” because she loves eggs and waits patiently by my feet every morning for her share. Tinker is allergic, so I have to distract her, but she has a cast iron stomach, a result of surviving on acorns in the woods where she was abandoned as a puppy. We learned this from the Vet at the time of her adoption. Tally is adopted, as well, but was never starved for food, so she’s somewhat picky about what she eats, unlike the voracious Tinker.

I had to change my Starbuck’s routine this morning, opting for the Comfort Wellness Brewed Tea with honey. GOing there reminds me of my last two years before retirement and frequently stopping for tea at the location in the lobby of our office building downtown. There was a time in my working career when I was hooked on coffee, but it always left a bad taste in my mouth so I eventually stopped drinking it. I first switched to decaf because the real stuff also made me jittery, and then settled on a daily fix of caffeinated Diet Coke that remains one of my few addictions. I was “jonesing” for one yesterday and overlooked a bottle hidden in the back of our refrigerator. GOing without it for a day was a good reminder of how it affects my system. I should stop drinking it, as I have many times throughout my life. I’ll think about it again after I finish my comforting tea and this last bottle of Phenylalanine & caffeine.

That’s enough writing for today, it’s time to GO…

Retirement is not without Hassles: Palm #501

April 20, 2018 / mikeljohnston1 / 0 Comments

The Royal Palm trees are magnificent here in Beverly Hills. On my run this morning, I found Palm Street, a neighborhood of mini-mansions with the distinctive touch of beautiful, towering royal palms lining each side of the street. In fact, I counted 126 of the three-foot diameter giants on each side, and the name of the street appropriately changed once they finally ended. What was remarkable to me was that they all appeared to be planted about the same time and that all were still in place like sentinels guarding each finely manicured yard. Little yard signs were a prominent fixture, reading, “It’s your Doo-ty…Pick It Up!” If Tinker, the Poopingest Pup on the Planet, was here with me on this trip I would be busy adhering to this request. Thankfully, my dog “dooties” are minimal when we travel, a wide deviation from the daily routine as a home body. Home or away, the running streak is a constant, standing at exactly 3400 days.

I’ve decided to make my posts a little more visual going forward, so I plan to add a few more photos. This is the first time I’ve included two on a single post. I still feel like I’m a pen pal to an invisible friend, but mostly I’m just satisfying a need to write. You never know, these words (and now pictures) may live on long after I’m gone. If I should go to heaven, if there truly is one, I should at least have access to the cloud they are now saved on. Anne Frank did not have that advantage when she was constructing her diary on paper. I mention this because I find her to be a reoccurring influence on my writing. I finally got to see the Anne Frank exhibit at the Museum of Tolerance today. It was closed for the Jewish Holidays when I visited Los Angeles last fall. (See Post #299 and #300), so I made a point to go. When I went to buy a senior admission ticket, the woman behind the counter told me it was closed. I objected, explaining that I was from out of town and could not get in the last time. She explained that there were construction odors, but finally sold me a ticket. I thanked her and then countered by joking that I could “tolerate” the smell.

I have now visited the Anne Frank Haus in Amsterdam, read Diary of a Young Girl, and spent about an hour at this exhibit. I’m struck by the memories of her relatives, who were shocked by the maturity that were reflected in the words of this young teenage girl. They did not know her at all until they read her diary. She was better able to express her feelings thorough the imaginary diary friend Kitty than she was to her real life family and friends. Sometimes our words are more powerful than our voice, and I continue to find satisfaction in reflecting on my experiences through this blog. Every once and a while, I find a gold nugget and maybe you will too! Anne wanted to escape from her isolated life as a Nazi prisoner and grow up to be a writer, hoping that her words would live on forever. To paraphrase, she wanted to live-on after death through her words. This is the immortality that every writer seeks. Will I eventually be worthy of such an achievement? Thanks, Anne, for the inspiration.

Creature Features: Eggbert #493

April 13, 2018 / mikeljohnston1 / 0 Comments

When we did allergy tests on our itchy Schnoodle Tinker many years ago, the findings included egg, flies, wheat, and various grasses. She would never avoid any type of food but you can clearly tell that she often does not like the texture of grass under her sensitive paws. If it wasn’t the uncomfortable dry thick grass of Austin, it’s especially not the lush wet green carpet of Portland. She will show her discontent by sometimes hopping like it’s a bed of hot coals or tread softly like a princess in a mine field. It’s interesting that once she’s decided to do her business she will leave the preferred sidewalk path and gravitate towards a grassy patch, wandering back and forth until she finally finds the perfect spot. She’ll poop in the middle of the grassy area but pee only on the edge, sometimes with her front paws on the sidewalk, asphalt, or dirt surface. I will watch in amazement (and sometimes frustration) for what sometimes seems like forever until she eventually gets to the right spot. It may very well be that Tinker is getting her revenge on the very grass that makes her itch by taunting and torturing it on where exactly she is going to leave her mark. It certainly pains me to watch her do this endless dance.

We’ve put a lot of money and effort into trying to keep her itchy skin comfortable, including special diets, medication, and pampering. Pet.Vet.Debt. Our younger schnauzer Tally rarely goes in the grass, preferring a patch of ivy, myrtle, or other ground cover. We used to call her “Myrtle” when we lived in Austin because she could never pass a deep green sea of it without disappearing below the leafy surface to do her business in private. It was often the only green you saw in the Texas heat, and Tally could always find it with her radar-like instincts. With our home now in a hilly Portland, Oregon neighborhood, she likes to climb the steep incline of ground cover that they’ve planted across our street to prevent erosion. She’ll stand at the top where the homes are situated looking down on Tinker, who rarely subjects her precious paws to the purple flowering vines that flourish in the damp shade. As a result, Tinker will only go on the flat, grassy side of our street, while Tally will only toilet on the hilly side, so I have to make sure to cross our lane when walking them. Sometimes I’ll be in the middle of the street with one dog leash stretched to the flat side and the other uncoiled to the hilly side. Why does the dog walker cross the road?

As my wife gets ready to go to work each morning, she makes us each an egg to start the day. Tinker has learned that we will not give her a bite due to her long-standing allergy, so she retreats to my dark office and pouts during breakfast. We try to discreetly give Tally a couple of small bites of egg since she is rarely as enthusiastic about any other kind of food. Tinker apparently has caught us showing favoritism, when we’re really just trying to avoid the itch. She’s given up hanging around the breakfast table and shows her frustration by turning her back on us. We now call Tally, “Eggbert,” because of her love for eggs, and this additional attention probably further exasperates Tinker.

Tally likes her new name, and waits patiently by our feet for her share each morning. For her, it’s the greatest thing since “Ham Time.” (See Post #133). Historically, Egbert or Ecgbriht was king of the West Saxons in the years 802-839, and a male given name meaning “bright sword.” Tally feels like a king or a queen when she is treated special at the expense of Tinker, and the name “Eggbert” gives her special powers. Tinker, on the other hand, feels like we’ve stabbed her with a “sword” when we’re only trying to protect her. Sometimes dogs just don’t understand!

Retirement is not without Hassles: Sunday #488

April 8, 2018 / mikeljohnston1 / 0 Comments

I thought it was Sunday, but there isn’t even a hint of sunshine. It’s just like any other gray day to a retiree like me. I did my three mile run this morning on the treadmill while I finished up Red Alert by James Patterson and Marshall Karp. The dogs were reluctant to go outside in the rain, but their bladders prevailed. Tally ran directly across the street dodging raindrops to do her business. Tinker, on the other hand, could not find a proper place to pee, and wandered aimlessly through the wet grass for what seemed like an hour. As I sit here drinking a Diet Coke and talking to my wife, we’re thinking about another visit to Cracker Barrel for what would be my third time this week. These are the things that make me a certified “creature of habit.”

There is a certain sense of peace in being a home body, while only venturing out to familiar sites. Buffalo Wild Wings to end each week is a good example. Movie night, cooking night, and date night help distinguish the days of the week. A different movie, recipe, and restaurant are the only decisions that need to be made when you’re in the routine of being home. It’s not boring at all considering the amount of traveling that we do. Nearly one week of every month is spent away from home, a percentage that’s been even higher so far this year. Marriott Hotels are our home away from home, utilizing everything from the lower end Fairfield Inn properties to the high-end JW Marriott and their world class resort hotels. However, there’s no place like home.

Tomorrow starts my wife’s work week – another Monday. Sunday, for me, was always the transition day, preparing for the job while struggling to preserve the weekend. I was never able to look at Sunday as “Funday” because of what always loomed ahead. As a result, the weekend hours began to shrink and pass by too quickly. The week seemed to skip from Friday to Monday to the point where I felt that I was always working, Also, back in the days of mowing, trimming, edging, and raking, weekends were nothing but a labor extension of the work week. Condo life eventually put an end to those responsibilities. My wife misses her garden, while I certainly don’t miss those yard work and home maintenance days.

We ended up going to Biscuits for breakfast, our favorite haunt prior to the recent two Cracker Barrel location openings. Regardless, a hearty breakfast at either location usually leads to a nap. The Cubs, The Masters, and I.U. baseball might allow me to plow through the afternoon. In addition, my wife wants us to watch Pitch Perfect 3. By the way, Game Night was a very entertaining movie last night. It was a Friday Night Lights reunion of coach Kyle Chandler and back-up quarterback, Jesse Plemons, one of my favorite TV series. I often had dinner with the two of them during the filming of the show while we lived in Austin. They were both very good about mixing with the crew and lowly show extras like myself.

It should be a relatively quiet week. There will be no skiing, Broadway musicals, or Leadership breakfasts. The dogs get to go to the spa and we might go to the Nike Hoop Summit on Friday night. It’s supposed to be spring-like weather tomorrow and then return to cool temperatures. The dogs were shorted their walk/run today, and Tinker responded with a fowl case of Tinkerrhea on the kitchen floor. She is the “Poopingest Pup on the Planet,” and after last night’s storms and the need for her Thunder Shirt was unable to control her output. (See Posts #370 and #371). I somehow managed to sleep through the high winds and heavy rain, exhausted after another tough day of retirement. What day is it again?

Creature Features: Talking dogs #448

March 5, 2018 / mikeljohnston1 / 0 Comments

There are times when you wish your pets could talk and tell you exactly what they need. How were we to know that she was about to have another bad case of Tinkerreah? Tinker, after all, is the “Poopingest Pup on the Planet,” so a little more information than pacing back and forth might have been helpful. This was the case the other night. It was three in the morning and Tinker was restless. As I got up to use the bathroom for the umpteenth time that night, she was right on my heels. She’s typically pretty vocal and barks like a maniac when she needs something important. This was important, and she regrettably didn’t do as good of a job as Lassie, the lovable collie, in reporting that “Timmy was in the well.” Well, as it turns out, Timmy was never stuck in a well in any of the episodes, but the point was that the dog could communicate, even if it couldn’t talk.

I’m retired now, so I’m with our three pets all day long. They are quiet most of the day, except for when my wife comes home from work in the evening. “Don’t you ever pay any attention to them?” she will ask me, as they each vie for her attention. “It’s you that they want. They’re bored with me,” I will remind her. They can hear her car pull into the neighborhood, and anxiously make their way to the door to greet her with barking and jumping. It’s a grand reception that every pet owner craves, and she gets one each and every night, while I’m stuck with bladder-relief responsibilities. When she wants to relax on the couch, Tinker barks incessantly, wanting to play ball with her – not me. Tally wants to be on her lap, and Frankie the cat comes out of the dark bedroom for the first time each day.

Tinker barks at me when she’s hungry, and she’s hungry all the time, stalking me every time I pass near the kitchen. I can’t open anything without getting “the look,” that angelic face of starvation. Lately, practically every snack I give her comes back to haunt us in the form of Tinkerreah. She just turned fourteen and her once cast-iron digestive system is showing its age. I feel sorry for her because her appetite is still like a puppy. Snoopy, Charlie Brown’s pet beagle, at least expressed himself through balloons. I wish a balloon had popped up over Tinker’s head saying, “I have to poop, dad!” Before babies can talk, they at least wear a diaper.

There were other famous dogs that could communicate better than even Lassie, like Scooby-Doo, the Great Dane who spoke in broken English but usually put an “R” in front of his words and noises like “Ruh-Roh.” Tinker had that “ruh-roh” moment just before she let loose on our kitchen floor. I tried to get her safely outside, but it was too late! I need a better warning system.

The most vocal dog, in my opinion, is Brian Griffin from Family Guy. He can tell you if he has to poop, or at least Seth MacFarlane can. This is known as being anthromorphic, like Mr. Ed, who was a horse, of course. Mr. Ed could just poop in his stall, so he didn’t need to use his voice for this purpose. Astro, the Great Dane on The Jetson’s, also had a speech impediment like Scooby-Doo, but could definitely let you know when he had to “roh.” Goofy could talk but Pluto couldn’t because Disney unfairly distinguished between animated characters, making Goofy human-like and Pluto just a pet. The dirty word “Poop” was never used by either of these All-American characters, put Pluto thought about it. The only other talking dog that I can think of was the Taco Bell chihauhau, who only spoke Spanish. “Mierda.”

Tinker, “The Poopingest Pup on the Planet,” is not quite as famous as Benji, The Shaggy Dog, Martin Crane’s Eddie, Old Yeller, Beethoven, Rin-Tin-Tin, Full House’s Comet, The Little Rascal’s Petey, Otis, Toto, Hooch, Cujo, or Marley. Maybe, someday, she will be, as stories of Tinkerreah become legendary. In the meantime, only I give a “poop” that she be able to give me a stronger signal when she needs to go outside.

Creature Features: Deck Check #439

February 22, 2018 / mikeljohnston1 / 0 Comments

I should not have given Tinker, our oldest schnauzer, those tortilla chips yesterday. I took her out early this morning and saw no indication of a problem. She and younger sister Tally were enjoying the 3″ of snow that fell last night. Tinker does not like grass, most likely because of her allergies, so the blanket of snow provided a protective shield for her sensitive paws. Tally was busy digging in the snow and running circles around her, while she was trying to do her business.

An hour after Tinker was back inside our house, she began to bug my wife, fidgeting, shivering, and pacing down the hall. With the cold temperatures outside, my wife put on her Thunder Shirt that tightly hugs her body and provides comfort. We typically put this on in thunderstorms that were frequent when we lived in Austin, Texas, but rarely happen in Portland. As my wife opened the shutters on the sliding doors to the back deck, Tinker immediately went to look out the glass, so she opened the door and let her out. It was another bad case of “Tinkerrhea” (See Posts #370 and #371). My wife was not aware that I fed her chips yesterday, so she was disappointed in my actions, but relieved that it wasn’t something else. I went out later to clean up the mess and thought of this silly poem in honor of the occasion:

Deck Check

Before you step,
You need to check.
In venturing out,
On our back deck.

There’s no fenced yard,
Where we live.
So when pups gotta go,
Something has to give.

When weather’s bad,
Or emergency calls.
And dogs starts pacing,
Around our halls.

The only solution,
To get outside.
The sliding door,
Gets opened wide.

There’s no grass,
Just planks of wood.
But in a pinch,
It works real good.

There’s potted plants,
A table and chairs.
One way in or out,
No exit stairs.

A massive grill,
That smells of meat.
So sniffing that,
Is quite a treat.

So open up,
It’s time to go.
Bombs away,
Look out below.

Between the cracks,
A target looms.
With some help,
Let’s hope it blooms.

So watch out,
When you come over.
Dodge the spots,
Left from rover.

Before you step,
You need to check.
In venturing out,
On our poop deck.

Diary of an Adoptee: Adoptee Diary #411

January 27, 2018 / mikeljohnston1 / 0 Comments

I was having a conversation with a friend today about the potential of finding my birth mother. It’s inspired several posts that I’ve now decided to relabel as “Diary of an Adoptee” rather than “Retirement is not without Hassles.” I’ve also decided to go back through my posts from this past year of retirement and start this new category. I have already used the category of “Creature Features” to write about my love of pets and other animals. Out of that category of posts have generated a humorous children’s book idea about our Schnauzer Tinker. I will call it “The Poopingest Pup on the Planet,” among the 400 plus articles that I’ve written. Tinker is also an adoptee, as is our other schnauzer, Tally.

For any of you that know me personally, I’m not typically a serious writer, as I’m much more comfortable being silly and/or humorous. A majority of the poems that I’ve posted are supposed to be funny. However, sometimes my emotions get the better of me, as I use my writing of this blog to express my inner feelings rather than paying for a therapist. I’ve already had that experience several times in my life, and as the subjects turned serious, the flight mechanism of humor would automatically kick in. I also try to express my passion for sports through the category of “Old Sport Shorts,” that you will also find scattered throughout this blog.

The adoption issues in my life are very emotional, particularly since my adoptive parents died a few years ago. Suddenly, there have been developments that have resulted in the whereabouts of my birth mother. Unfortunately, she may not know about my discovery as yet. I’m waiting for a response from a certified letter that I sent, and this subject weighs heavily on my mind. It’s not funny, so please bear with me, and if you’re not interested in the adoption aspects of my life, then you can confine your reading to my other categories. I wrote this poem today to express some of these feelings, some of which are embarrassing:

Adoptee Diary

I was a child,

With no Family Tree.

Because I was born,

An adoptee.

My father unknown,

Suspected Marine.

The scared mother,

Still a young teen.

.

I’m given the name,

Of Jerry Lee.

And didn’t know who,

My parents might be?

.

The next thing I knew,

A couple agreed.

They’d give me love,

And what else I might need.

.

I was soon in their home,

With the court to decide.

If they were worthy,

To remain at my side.

.

I was named Mike,

As they both agreed.

And I soon began,

To grow like a weed.

.

They raised me as if,

I was their own.

And cared for me,

Until fully grown.

.

With love and support,

I was never alone.

Showed me the skills,

To live on my own.

.

I added a branch,

Through birth of a son.

My family tree,

Had just begun.

.

Grand kids were added,

But my parents passed on.

In the back of my mind,

Not all was gone.

.

I had a name of the girl,

That gave me life.

And the love of another,

My precious wife.

.

It must have been fate,

To find my birth mother.

After all these years,

I also had a brother.

.

With cautious hope,

I wrote to him.

A chance for reunion?

Predictably thin.

.

And as I await,

For a reply.

I’m glad I at least,

Decided to try.

.

As I’m sixty-six.

She’d be eighty-four.

If she’s still able,

I’d be hard to ignore.

.

But is she alive?

And my facts correct?

Could our lives,

Once again intersect?

.

Until I have the answer,

Of a new Family Tree.

I’ve started to write,

The Adoptee Diary.

Creature Feature: I said “Sit” #374

December 21, 2017 / mikeljohnston1 / 0 Comments

I’ve spent the past few days organizing some poems and posts into a notebook for eventual publication. This will be my second attempt in life to write a book. I also hope to add some illustrations to accompany some of the humorous poems and stories that I have written these past few years. The title will be “I Said, Sit.” and it will be about our dog Tinker. I wrote this poem today to set the stage:

I Said, “Sit.”

She’s not a horse,
Just a little dog.
She eats like a pig,
And “goes” like a hog.
.
She finished her food,
And half of yours, too.
And now you know,
What she needs to do.
.
You take her outside,
She looks for a spot.
This may be it?
Or no, maybe not?
.
She circles and sniffs,
Scratches then stops.
Hoping it’s where,
The poop finally drops.
.
But something’s awry,
And she moves on.
Because up ahead,
Is a much greener lawn.
.
This might be it,
More time goes by.
It’s not even raining,
The ground is dry.
.
Now ready to squat,
The moment is near.
Move out of the way,
Time to stand clear.
.
Will the deposit she makes,
Form a big pile?
Or will we continue,
Waiting a while?

She finally goes here,
And AGAIN over there.
That’s just not possible,
We soon declare.
.
How can so much,
Come out of one dog?
That’s not a poop,
That’s the whole log.
.
What goes in,
Must come out.
In her case you can’t,
Turn off the spout.
.
Number two with her,
Always comes first.
Then the other pipe,
Is ready to burst.
.
I see a leak.
You got a pail?
Two holes hide,
Under that tail.
.
We call her “Tinker,”
The bottomless pit.
Maybe she misunderstood,
When I said, “sit.”
.
She’s “The Pooping-est,
Dog on the Planet.”
The title may stink,
But Tink’s full of it.

I Said, “Sit.”

I hope you’re not offended with toilet humor when it comes to dogs, because it’s one of Tinker’s endearing habits, as a result of her voracious appetite. I originally wanted to title the book, Tinker’s Tail, because of what frequently comes out from underneath her plume-like appendage. It reminds me of a Swifter Duster, ready to go to work on the furniture. Fortunately, unlike many dogs of the Schnauzer breed, her tail was not clipped and turns out to be one of her most distinctive features, along with her bearded snout. Schnauzer is the German word for “snout” and translates colloquially to “mustache” from what I have read. The name Tinker came from Walt Disney, since her furry older sister at the time of her adoption into our family was named Belle. At the time of this writing, Tinker is approaching 100 dog years, and this will commemorate her life as the “Pooping-est Pup on the Planet.” I also want to recognize our other Schnauzer pup, Tally, who when teamed up with Tinker, makes an explosive combination of T-N-T. These two have been together as part of our family for 7 years. I hope you enjoy this collection of humorous poems and stories about the dogs that have made our lives special.

Creature Features: The Dance (Part 3) #372

December 18, 2017 / mikeljohnston1 / 0 Comments

Tinker has been all the talk today, as “Her Girl” has come to visit. It’s remarkable that after so much time apart how quickly they reconnect. Tinker’s memory is a tribute to her intelligence – she never forgets! Right now, however, she is back at my feet, temporarily loyal to the hand that just fed her and took her outside. She and Tally are in waiting mode for mom to get home from the office, and the chance to reunite at the garage entrance to the condo. Who knows how long they think she’s been gone? By the way they react every night, you would think it was years! I will soon be forgotten as the whole family comes together as one – dogs, cat, parents, and daughters.

When I was growing up, my mom could tell when I needed to use the bathroom. I couldn’t keep my body still, moving about in a near spastic manner, legs shaking, and arms quaking that made everyone uncomfortable, yet I couldn’t find the time or make the effort to visit the bathroom without being asked. She called it the “Tinkle Dance.” Tinker does a little dance, almost as annoying as mine used to probably be, as she tries desperately to find the right spot. It is particularly frustrating in the rain as she slowly moves back-and-forth, forth-and-back, as I watch with little patience, waiting for “lift off.” As a girl she rarely raises her leg, and gives little indication of her need to pee, so I simply have to wait for what sometimes feels like decades. If I’m in a hurry to be someplace, it is particularly painful to watch as she circles, hops, tip-toes on the uncomfortable grass, and ultimately lets go. It’s less dramatic with a poop that is always followed with the bull-like kicking of the turf with her back feet, a habit she may have picked up from her first sister Belle. Nonetheless, there’s a “Tinker Dance” that accompanies each performance. It’s a gesture of accomplishment yearning for acknowledgment. I hope I didn’t anticipate the same praise after my mom urged me to seek the toilet.

Today’s posts have been filled with toilet humor, that seems almost endearing when it comes to pets. Five times a day I urge them to go, so I can get back inside and continue writing. It’s a pet owners ritual when you don’t have a convenient back yard. Unfortunately, it’s also like trying to watch the kettle boil. It never does! We all wish we could train our dogs to use the toilet and not to leave the seat up. A solution has been found for cats with the invention of the litter box. Are dogs just not smart enough to use one? The poodle in Tinker makes her smart, but she prefers just to eat the cat turds like a trip to the buffet. “Bone Wars” often extend to “Turd Wars,” as Tinker and Tally wait patiently for much anticipated cat action to satisfy their endless hunger. We have installed a Door Buddy strap to prevent the recycling of these feline leave-behinds. Ironically, the kitty uses the same rear kick of the bull, like Tinker, to attempt to bury these apparently tasty treasures. Similarly, Tinker turds occasionally still show up on the kitchen floor, but only in emergency situations. She tries to blame it on Tally, but we know better since she somehow consumes twice as much food and therefore has to poop twice as much. At least it’s never on the carpeting anymore, since we’ve now gone primarily to hardwood and tile floors.

Here’s one last poetic thought on Tinker:

Tinker’s Tail (Tale)

Eye goobers,
Itchy skin.
Crusty hair,
Under her chin.

Dark age spots,
Droopy Eyes.
Lack of energy,
But she still tries.

Joints that ache,
A few steps slow.
But don’t ask twice,
She wants to GO!

Good dogs like her,
Are hard to find.
Years of training,
Her amazing mind.

An appetite,
That’s never full.
Just offer her,
An extra bowl.

Bat-like ears,
Schnauzer beard.
A distinctive bark,
That can be feared.

Curly gray hair,
Coal black nose.
Our love for her,
Forever grows.

Fuzzy eyebrows,
Cheshire grin.
Adopting her,
We’d do again.

But growing old,
Can be cruel.
Her best hope’s,
A good gene pool.

A woo-like whimper,
When she’s glad.
Tail up – she’s happy,
Down means sad.

We hope to get.
A few more years.
When she’s gone,
There will be tears.

Like a Timex watch.
Tinker’s still ticking.
And her pink tongue,
Keeps busy licking.

Creature Features: Tinker’s Tail (Part 2) #371

December 18, 2017 / mikeljohnston1 / 0 Comments

If you read the last post #370, you know that “Tinker’s Girl” has come to visit. My wife’s youngest daughter is here for the week, with her older sister joining us for dinner tonight. Tinker will be thrilled to see both of them together, although we all know her favorite – and it’s not me or my wife. During lunch today, we shared some more stories about Tinker, our schnauzer, especially after I told them I was putting together a book called “Tinker’s Tail,” the tale of the pooping-est pup on the planet! I may not actually call it that – but I do have a volume of humorous poems about our lovable pup named Tinker along with her mischievous sister Tally, and would like to get together with an illustrator to publish a tribute. I included the “Montezuma” story at the end of my trip down memory lane regarding our pets that I wrote about this morning. Consider the following paragraphs to be Part Two, the sequel to “Bone Wars.”

“Tinker’s Girl” reminded me of the time she took Tinker for a walk in Austin, Texas, where we moved after living in Decatur, Illinois. Following the nightmarish loss of an adorable little schnauzer that we adopted down there named Roxy to a horrible accident, Texas Tally came into our lives. Poor Roxie was with us for only a brief time before she was run over by a car. It was my fault for not paying closer attention, but ironically I had to pick-up Tinker’s poop and could not get out of the way of a fast moving vehicle that nearly took all of us out at a blind intersection in our apartment complex. There were no sidewalks, and the car took a short-cut around the corner without stopping. I will never forgive myself, but would have probably never had met Tally if it weren’t for that tragedy. As you might have guessed, Tinker is always pooping – the pooping-est dog ever, as we call her. She is still a bottomless pit and never misses a meal, while keeping a hairy eyeball and a lightening fast tongue on plates and bowls around her. What goes in – must come out! Justifiably, she was apparently abandoned as a pup and survived by eating acorns in the woods, according to the doctor who examined her stomach prior to our adoption.

According to my stepdaughter’s story, she was walking Tinker on South Congress Avenue near a Mexican restaurant. Tables were set up on the sidewalk and the place was packed with standing room only. Without any kind of warning, Tinker lost control of her sphincter and ruined several appetites by depositing a puddle of poop, the consistency of nacho cheese, on the sidewalk. It could only be mopped up, so the baggy she was carrying was useless, and they could only move on with their walk, regrettably leaving the residue behind. “Tinker’s Girl” was helpless and embarrassed, but Tinker herself was already searching for another abandoned nacho chip. I had a similar thing happen here in Portland a few years ago, but at least it was raining and quickly washed away as opposed to being baked into the hot Texas pavement. This was clearly not an appropriate lunch tale, but we all chuckled anyway. You just have to be careful about what comes out under Tinker’s tail!

Another story of “toilet humor” that she told us took place back in Decatur, Illinois, when Tinker was still a pup and furry sister Belle was still alive. The three of them went together to a neighbor’s house to let their Golden Retriever pup outside. Before she could even get its leash attached to go outside, the Golden peed in the middle of the kitchen floor and the other two dogs followed suit. Tinker added to the puddle first, while the unsteady, aging Belle tried to add her “two scents” worth. Instead, she sadly stumbled, slipped, and fell into the growing mess. While trying to get Belle back up on her feet, the other two were using the kitchen floor like a Slip and Slide. I too had gone to take care of this same young Golden two days earlier, and found he had escaped from a cage of smelly, runny poop and tracked it carelessly throughout the house. It was obviously not worth babysitting this pup, since both of us ended up with extensive clean-up jobs just by trying to be neighborly. I fortunately did not take Tinker and Belle along on my visit. In all fairness, Tinker, at a later time, got revenge on this neighbor’s son, who was returning the favor of our help on behalf of his parents, and faced a severe case of Tinkerreah at our house. Dog sitting can be crappy duty – that’s for sure!

Poop stories can be gross, but they can also be funny if they don’t happen to you. This applies primarily to babies and dogs. As a precaution, I always carry extra bags when taking Tinker on even short walks. We’re guilty of feeding her “people food,” so I guess we’re just asking for trouble. She’s also been accused of sometimes having excessive gas. Through the years, however, she’s learned to do her duty outside, and has been great about managing her liquid intake when we’re not home. Tally is equally good about controlling her bladder around the house. Since we live in a condo, I have to walk them both on a leash, rather than giving them easy access to a fenced-in back yard, so I take them outside about five times a day. Tinker is living proof that bad dogs can become good dogs, once they are properly trained. She will not even wander off, even when a squirrel crosses her path. Tally, on the other hand, still has some growing up to do.