Fungible Convictions

Ah, laser pointers. Is there any more entertaining way to mess with your dog?

When we first started playing with the laser pointer, we felt kinda bad, like we were breaking Gatsby’s brain. But then we realized she knows exactly what’s happening and just enjoys the fruitless chase.

We went to Fresh Pond today, and upon our return, Gatsby, who now manages her own Twitter account, got her second chance to walk off-leash. And it was another success, as she proudly tweeted:

OFF-LEASH AT FRESH POND FOR LIKE HALF AN HOUR, BITCHES! WINNER = @GATSBYBOSTON

Lindsay and I were able to film part of it:

It’s clear that there are certain places Gatsby flat-out loves. Fresh Pond is one of them, and she behaves incredibly well with other dogs when she’s not tethered. And then there’s just the fact that she can roll around in the leaves to her little heart’s content:

We still have a lot of work to do with leash aggression, with Gatsby getting quite nervous on-leash approaching a dog on the sidewalks near home. But it’s such a pleasure to be able to go someplace and walk for forty-five minutes with her only reactions being appropriate ones: “BUTTS! . . . MUD PUDDLE! . . . OMG SQUIRREL!”

This past week was a complete wash at work, what with one supervisor away, the other supervisor just having left MIT, and everyone else still recovering from the Future of News and Civic Media conference that we hosted the week before. But a week like that was needed, desperately. And it leads, after a few more days, into my first real vacation since my trip to Ireland in the spring of 2007.

With Lindsay and me trying to save for a house, vacations for the foreseeable future will always be to Easthampton, NY, where her family has a lovingly unpretentious second home. We’ve been looking forward to it for months. We’ll take Gatsby, we’ll see Lindsay’s parents, and we’ll even get to see a couple of friends on the last weekend there (starting their own well-deserved vacation as we end ours). We’ll sleep a lot. We’ll walk Gatsby a lot. We’ll barbecue. It’ll be great.

Meanwhile, mostly Gatsby-centric, the latest photos to share…

Gatsby’s was in her shedding season a couple weeks ago. This was the result, after having swept the week before:

Around the same time, my mom was in town, meeting Gatsby for the first time:

Lindsay’s friend/coworker Courtney just got a Boston Terrier/Pug mix named Cagney, who visited us today and was tough keep still:

Not that Gatsby is any better:

And mysteriously, despite loving to chase squirrels, we bought Gats a stuffed squirrel at Petsmart this afternoon, and this is how we found them soon after:

Lastly, completely unrelated but just because I’m proud of it, a Photoshop/Illustrator job I did showing MIT’s most famous building partially underwater:

Two mornings ago, I was heading out to walk The Gats.

As soon as we got to the bottom of the stairs, she was transfixed…

What she saw must have been one of the most glorious sights for a dog: a squirrel on a low branch was eating an entire blueberry muffin. The whole freaking thing. Sweets + squirrel = Mmmmmmmm-nomnomnom.

So she tries to climb the tree.

Before you know it, the squirrel has bugged out and dropped the muffin right into Gatsby’s mouth. It happened so fast, I thought it was the squirrel in her mouth—but it was the muffin. As if my dog had a Mouth-Mounted Muffin Tractor Beam®.

I (responsibly!) got the muffin away from her.

But we can no longer pass that tree in peace. Every single walk now results in a plaintive, backside-planted gaze up into that tree, into the Magic Muffin Tree, where delicious squirrels drop delicious treats right into your open mouth.

We took the Gats to Fresh Pond again today, and she was SO. WELL. BEHAVED. There’s a long way to go before she doesn’t bark and lunge at dogs on Mass Ave., but this time at Fresh Pond she was friendly with dogs and kids alike.

So when we got home, we rewarded her with our favorite drink: a delicious martini. I think she’s got the look for such a dignified drink, don’t you?

I’d like to type out Gatsby’s interior monologue, if I may.

Jesus, these guys are weird.

Wait, you’re filming this? Asshat.

For the record, Asshat had a great time. The people were really nice. Undecided if I’ll go back until next winter, because we see just as many dogs—and nearly as many Boston Terriers—just by walking around Fresh Pond.