Wednesday, January 28, 2009

Report to the Agency: M3 and The Guardian.

Report to the Agency: M3 and The Guardian.

As you know, many agents from The Agency are dogs, but, of course, there are agents from all species. For the past few weeks my female human has, without knowing it, been taking me to one of the most important agents in my neighbourhood: the Guardian.
The Guardian is an essential element in every agent’s life and success. Not only is he in a position to keep an eye on the goings on in the neighbourhood, but he is also essential for the collection and distribution of messages.
Many people see the Guardian every day, but don’t really notice him – in this case, he’s the local school crossing guard – I’ll call him Frankie.
Almost every day I get to spend a few minutes with the Guardian. My human crosses the street to where he stands and looks after the kids on their way to or from school for lunch. Of course, he makes a big fuss over me every day about how cute and smart I am – which is, of course, basically true, it’s part of my clever disguise. Then he asks if it’s all right to give me a treat, my human says yes, of course, and then he slips me what looks like a bacon flavoured bone-shaped cookie.
It’s not easy, but while pretending to enthusiastically chew the delicious treat, I am, in reality, using my specially trained and hyper-sensitive tongue to read the message that has been carved into the cookie – into the scrumptious bacon cookie.
The problem is that the cookie tends to crumble a little, and no matter how careful I am, because I’m trained to control my instinct to just chew and swallow anything as delightful as a bacon cookie - some part of the message is often lost. I have, for instance, read that I should “immediately proc... to the corn.. or ...ton and Queen.” Or “When can you ...ive with ...r human to ...mas?”
So my request to The Agency is: could you please send me duplicate – or even triplicate – messages, on those luscious cookies handed out by the Guardian?
As ever,
Yours,
M3

Saturday, January 24, 2009

M3 goes to the dogs.

Report to The Agency: M3 goes to the dogs.

I have noticed that humans have a great many expressions that involve dogs, and not all of them are complimentary. “Gone to the dogs,” for instance, means to be a completely lost cause; to be “in the dog house” means to be in serious trouble, and “a dog’s breakfast” refers to something that’s truly awful to look at.
What the humans don’t realize is that we canines have a rich and delightful repertoire of expressions involving the peculiarities of humans and their odd quirks.
Being “lost like a human,” for instance, is what we say of a hopelessly confused dog. “Tracking like a human” means that a dog really doesn’t want to - or can't - find whatever it's looking for. If a dog seems to be in a particularly bad mood, another dog might ask, "Human step on your paw?" or "Did you have your collar tightened?" If a puppy is really acting up a parent might tell it to "stop acting like a baby," or say of it: "that puppy's clumsy as a toddler."
Humans are also, as you know, notoriously difficult to train. I have tried for days to get my humans to understand that when they give me a Dentabone to chew, for instance, I would like to take it outside and bury it, even if there are four feet of snow in the back yard. I take the bone and I walk to the back door, and look over my shoulder at my humans to get them to come and open the door and let me out.... but nothing. I pick the bone up and take it to them - get their eye contact, and walk to the back door again. Still nothing. Sometimes I find them so exasperating that I can't help but whine! When humans are that slow to pick up on a hint, we will often comment that the "if a human got a meal for every trick he learned, he would starve to death in a week."
And fighting - dogs don't like to fight and will avoid it whenever it can. Dogs know that they can - likely will - get hurt in a fight, and being hurt is no fun at all, so they go to great lengths to avoid arguments and fighting. Sure, they'll bark and posture and jump around and shove and nip at each other. But really fight? Not if we can help it. People, on the other and, seem unable to imagine what it's like being hurt in a fight, and so will fight each other at the drop of a bone. It's odd that in spite of this fact, the humans have a saying that it's a "dog eat dog world." Dog's have a saying that "a dog who tries to break up a human fight will be hurt the most."
But by and large people mean well, and they try their best to to get along with each other, although they are not always successful. They are, however, almost unfailingly kind to dogs, which is why we say: "pick your humans carefully, and you will never be hungry again. You may be made to look a little silly now and again - see picture to the right, for instance - but the food will be good"
Words to live by, I say.
Yours,
M3

(If he puts a hat on me, I'm
putting in for re-assignment).

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

Report to the Agency: M3 and the three dog nights.





Trying to warm up my one-dog
nose on a three-dog night



Report to the Agency: M3 and the three dog nights.
I am well aware my assignment here requires a good deal of work in the out-o- doors, seeking and sniffing out messages, assessing my surroundings and reporting any findings to the Agency, but the recent extreme cold weather has made this task a bit more difficult than usual. You see, my humans have decided to shorten my walks because they are afraid my paws will get ice in between my toes, that the salted sidewalks will hurt my paw pads and the bitter wind-chill will cause frostbite on my cold, wet nose (which they seem to like to grab to catch my attention... and I have to admit it works).
During the day it’s about -20 or colder with the wind chill factor (-4F for the older or American canines receiving this report) and at night it’s much, much colder. I can’t help but think back to my posting in Havana... Ah... how wonderful the Cuba Libre chews were.
Anyway, with this extreme weather they even took me to a store and tried to fit me with “doggy mukluks.” They first got the idea when they saw the Boxer next door wearing little blue “booties.” I knew I could never let them fit my paws into boots - how am I supposed to pick things up, dial the phone or work my Dogberry with boots on!? I managed to get out of having to wear the silly things by making my paws go limp when my female human tried to put it on my paws. She struggled a bit and then gave up, saying, “Fine. We’ll buy the $9 paw cream instead of the $75 Harley Davidson Mukluks and just shorten the walks and keep a close eye on her. It’s just too cold outside...” She is becoming very fond of me, I think.
I have noticed, by the way, that it takes both humans longer to get ready for the walks now than a few weeks ago. They bundle up by putting on sweaters on top of shirts on top of t-shirts, and then add a thin coat and finally a thick fluffy parka. They also have boots for their hind legs (like very big mukluks for dogs), and gloves for their front paws. Each human also has at least three hats and sometimes wear them in combination with each other – ear flaps down to protect their ears, headbands to protect their forehead, and muffs and scarves for their necks. If they’d only grow a fur coat – even a short-hair one like mine, they’d feel much better and feel far less of the chill.
They talk about the weather all day long. If they aren’t talking about it, they’re listening to it on the television, the radio, or looking at it on the Internet. Some humans have referred to the cold weather as being a three, four or five dog night, meaning that this is how many dogs they would need to curl up with to keep warm. Little do they know that among dogs, the saying is “a two humans and a duck down duvet night...”
As always,
M3

Friday, January 16, 2009

Report to The Agency: M3 and the Hungarian Mop.

Report to The Agency: M3 and the Hungarian Mop.

I was flipping through the Internet the other night while my humans were asleep (wondering why the keys on the keyboard have to be so darn close together), when I suddenly came across this picture. Although she is wearing a disguise and is posing as a contestant in a in a competition of some kind, I am certain I recognize Dolores, the famous Hungarian Mop!
(AP Photo/Frank Augstein)



For many years the Hungarian Mop was the best at soaking up messages and pieces of information left by unsuspecting agents in city parks and along public beaches. When she sat down and held very still, people used to pass her by thinking she was nothing more than an old mop someone has thrown away, or sometimes they saw her a some kind of strange bush. She was able to hide and avoid detection by simply holding still! It was pure genius.

Dolores the Hungarian Mop prowled the glorious parks of Paris and the historic ruins of Rome. She sailed the Seine and danced by the Danube. Dolores deceived the Danes, scared the Scots and angered the Afghans – she was an amazing agent and she was admired and feared by many. If someone whispered a secret beneath a cafe table in Frankfurt, Dolores would sweep by and pick it up, looking like just another average street cleaner. If agents were exchanging information of national security on a dusty street in Morocco, they would not notice a ball of yarn rolling by, but their information would be common knowledge within hours. A tumbleweed drifting past the Crawford Ranch in Texas would not catch anyone’s attention, and no-one would notice the gleam of alert eyes or the point of the small ears that were tuned to every piece of news that was exchanged over a barbequed steak and bottle of Presidential pop.

Oh she was very clever, was Dolores, the notorious Hungarian Mop. But one day, while looking like a pile of discarded rags sitting next to the Trevi Fountain in Rome where two secret agent dogs were whispering conspiratorially to each other, a gust of wind caused her to topple over into the water, and when she emerged, dripping wet, she was revealed to be just another long haired Mexican Chihuahua with hair extensions.

After that The Hungarian Mop vanished from the scene... until now, that is. I am on to her little game, and will be very careful of floor mops, piles of rags and tumbling tumbleweeds.
Yours as always,
M3



Picture taken of the Hungarian Mop,
seconds before she fell into the Trevi
Fountain. can you spot her? That's her
just to the left of centre - or at least I
think it is.

Sunday, January 11, 2009

Report to The Agency: M3 home on the range

Report to The Agency: M3 home on the range
Winter in this part of the world is pretty intense at times, especially for us short-hairs. The cold and snow are nothing, of course, compared to my posting Varttasaari, Finland. It got so cold there the winter I was there the dogs were getting stuck to the fire hydrants – it was terrible.
Still, the cold and snow here has been pretty impressive so far, so I was a little unsure how to convince my adopted humans to take be to the off-leash park the Great Tzu had told me about. But as luck would have it, I managed to get a message to a dog that lives with some friends of my humans, and eventually the idea was planted that I should go to the park as well.
As it turns out, the park is really quite pleasant. There’s a lot of open space, and a wooded area, and there is a fence around the entire perimeter, presumably to keep out cats and humans who don’t like dogs. Everything is covered in snow, of course, and with the fallen logs and thick brush it reminds me for all the world of the puppy wilderness survival training park at The Agency.
Best of all, of course, is the number of dogs who come here to exercise and engage in interesting conversations about their humans who stand around in small groups, clutching mugs of tea, coffee or hot chocolate and try to keep warm in spite of having so little fur.
There are so many different kinds of dogs who come to the park. From huge, lumbering Great Danes and Bouviers, to tiny little Chihuahuas and Russian Afghan Hounds who speak in snooty accents. A few of these dogs are with The Agency and signalled me when I gave the secret paw gesture.
I enjoy being able to run at full speed through the park, jumping over logs – and other dogs – and rolling around in the snow. A few of the other dogs – a couple of German Shepherds and Dobermans - have tried to keep up with me, but I have the excellent training of The Agency to my advantage, and I can run like an English Foxhound when given the space, and out-manoeuvre the others like a Canadian hockey player. The only dogs who have been able to catch me have been a very large Alaskan Malamute, and a dog of such mixed breed that he looks more like an Australian Dingo than anything else; both dogs are, of course, agents.
The park will be a perfect place to leave small messages.
As always
M3

Thursday, January 8, 2009

Report to The Agency: M3 gets a lesson from Lily Tzu

Report to The Agency: M3 gets a lesson from Lily Tzu

I mentioned in my last report that I met Agent Lily Tzu, or The Great Lily Tzu, as she is apparently known around The Agency. The Great Tzu, I was surprised to learn, is a Dog Chi Master, and a fourth degree Dog Fu Black Collar, having practiced those ancient arts since she was just little fur ball.
“Why would it surprise you that I am a master at Dog Chi and Dog Fu?” she asked when I went to pay my respects the other day.
You have to understand that The Great Tzu is about as big as a football, and that even with all her fur she looks more than a little like a hairy footstool with legs.
“Um,” I said, not wanting to be rude or hurt her feelings, “well, it’s just that... er... well, it would be hard to compete with, say Great Danes or Burmese Mountain Dogs, wouldn’t it?
The Great Tzu made a snorting sound and squinted her eyes at me. “Bite a Great Dane on the toe, or a Burmese on the snout, and they cry like puppies,” she said. “Victory in a struggle rarely goes to the biggest and strongest, but more often to the fastest and most agile. Remember that next time you’re at the Off-leash dog park, little Scratcher.”
I tilted my head quizzically. Dog park? I had never heard of such a thing. She chuckled softly. Have your humans take you there next time you go out. You will learn much.”
According to my research on the Internet, off-leash parks are large fenced-in places where dogs are allowed to run free and engage in whatever activities they like! Sounds wonderful! All I need now is figure out some way to get my humans to take me.
Until next time,
Yours
M3

Saturday, January 3, 2009

Report to the Agency: M3 meets Lily Tzu.

Report to the Agency: M3 meets Lily Tzu.
A note was slipped to me in a dog biscuit by a charming lady we met while I was walking my humans. The lady was coming out of a bank, and stopped to make a fuss over me and pet me. Fortunately my humans did not think it odd that she would be carrying dog biscuits and yet not be walking a dog.
I tucked the biscuit away in the cheek of my mouth, and waited until we got home to spit it out and decipher what had been scratched on it. All it said was. “Lily Tzu.”
I didn’t know what to make of the message. Was it the name of the biscuit maker company? Was it something that needed to be translated? Was it somebody’s name? I decided to chew on the problem for a while.
In the end I decided to take the puzzle to James Hound, Agent K9, down the street. As usual I found him on his front porch, this time reading a copy of Backyard Association of Retired K9s (BARK) magazine. I asked him what he thought “Lily Tzu” meant, and what he thought I should do next.
He looked at me for a long time with a rather pitying look before turning his head toward the house and calling out. “Hey Lily! Some kid to see you!” Then he snorted impatiently and turned the page of the magazine, muttering something about amateurs.
The door behind him opened and a diminutive Pekinese stepped silently out on the porch. “Yes?” she said. “I’m Lily Tzu. How may I be of service?”
I looked with amazement at the tiny creature. Lily Tzu Looked more like a long-haired footstool than a dog, and was certainly not the kind of dog I would have expected James Hound to live with.
I explained about the lady at the bank and the biscuit, and confessed I was at a complete loss to explain why Lily’s name would be on a biscuit that was given to me by a complete stranger.
“Ah,” she said with a soft smile – at least I think it was a smile; it was hard to tell through all that hair - “I have been expecting you, young scratcher.”
I sat down on the step of the porch and waited – I was obviously about to learn something interesting.
Yours
M3.
The Great Lily Tzu

Thursday, January 1, 2009

Report to the Agency: M3 and the Herding Instinct.

Report to the Agency: M3 and the Herding Instinct.

This report is addressed in part to Big Wag herself.

Dear Big Wag,

As much as I am enjoying my present assignment, I have run into an unexpected challenge: my pack has a very poor understanding of what it means to be a pack. At the Agency Puppy Academy we learned how important it is for the pack to stick together at all times. No matter what happened, it was important that all the members of the pack unit kept together to help each other out, or even just to keep one another company.

But this pack apparently knows very little about the importance of staying together. There are two cats and two humans in my pack, and teaching them all to stay together is like herding birds. One cat refuses to come out of the basement; the other comes and goes as he pleases, ignoring my every effort to organize his day in such a way as to take full advantage of the benefits of being in the pack.

And my humans! I hardly know where to begin! They take off at any point during the day without so much as filing a travel report or notice of absenteeism! Sometimes they leave together, sometimes separately. Sometimes one stays home, and other times the one comes home without having called me first, and then the other leaves without barely a goodbye! It’s exasperating!

And don’t get me started on the incredible inconsistency of their daily routines. There appears to be absolutely no advance planning whatsoever in their willy-nilly approach to regulating their lives. They eat at odd hours, clean the den whenever the mood strikes them, change furniture on a whim, and stop suddenly to sit down to read a book or write on their computers; how they have managed to survive all those years without me is a miracle.

I try my best, Big Wag, to teach them about the importance of family and the need to stay together and to communicate frequently about every new smell encountered and every possible new danger discerned. Because it’s my duty, I will try to keep teaching them how important family is. As the Puppy Academy constantly taught us, the pack digs the den under the snow; the pack keeps everybody warm; the pack finds and shares food, and the pack helps look after the sick and injured.

Why is that so hard for the humans to learn?

Yours,
In exasperation,
M3