Doggie Heaven Hotel

I'm Ready For My Close Up

The force is strong with this one. 

Finally I made a successful picture of Henry the alien dog. I don’t know if I caught him off guard as he finished teleporting from his ship or shape-shifting or something but I am happy with this photo.

The sad new is Henry has returned to his home planet for a while perhaps to firm up plans to take over earth.

For now he has succeeded in taking over our hearts.

We look forward to his next scheduled visit in November.
May the force be with you, Henry.

Quote of the Week

"Why own a dog? There's a danger you know, You can't own just one, for the craving will grow. There's no doubt they're addictive, wherein lies the danger. While living with lots, you'll grow poorer and stranger."

—Author Unknown

Oh, Henry—Day Two

 
Henry trying to hide as he senses the camera is near

Today I took the elusive Henry, with my dog Moondoggie, to the first annual Dog Jam in Santa Cruz. The Dog Jam is a stand up paddling event—with dogs.

The event is the brainchild of Neil Pearlberg who runs the stand up paddleboard program at Vasona Lake here in my town, Los Gatos. The proceeds from the Dog Jam went to the SPCA, proving that Neil is not only cool but a really great guy and a dog lover.

Three Border Collies and a strange stuffed something (could it be an alien?)nervously riding their board

I had several goals for this trip. The first was to find out if Henry was an alien. I have had a hunch that he was an alien ever since the camera incident.

After I noticed that Henry was camera shy, I started to notice other things as well. Henry is way too smart to be a dog. He seems to be able to communicate with other dogs without making a noise.

He also has the power to make humans fall in love with him with just one look of his two different colored eyes.

In fact, I think he is a special alien hybrid dog, because I have never before seen a dog that looks like Henry.
 

He also sneaks under our bed.

I couldn’t find him anywhere the first time it happened and then I spotted a few telltale tuffs of white hair sticking out from under the bed. My theory is that he is waiting for us to go to sleep and then he will take over our bodies. I make sure never to fall asleep while Henry is under our bed.

Henry tends to sleep under my husband’s side of the bed, so hopefully he will be taken first.
 
Henry has a habit of disappearing and then suddenly reappearing.

He is either sneaking off to use some kind of communication device to transmit information to his alien comrades or perhaps he is teleporting himself to his spaceship and back.

I was a little more successful photographing the alien dog today.
I’ll let you know if I ever get the money shot.

Henry communicating with another alien dog at the Dog Jam

More about the Dog Jam coming soon.

Oh Henry—Day One

The first picture I shot of Henry that wasn't a white blur

Henry came to stay today

I take pictures of all the dogs who stay with me. Most of the time they ham it up sticking their noses in my lens and striking cute poses.

But not Henry.

Henry is camera shy.

I’m trying to figure out why.

It could be that the mechanics of the camera just freak him out, or perhaps something more sinister. He was a rescue dog. His people found him at the pound.

It could be that Henry is in the witness protection program. Maybe the dog of some Don turned stool pigeon—a dog who has seen too much. Maybe his hair used to be brown and he bleached it. Maybe he’s wearing blue contacts, but one fell out.

The Renowned Ruby

I know I should keep this on the down low, but Doggie Heaven Hotel has had a celebrity staying with us for the last few days.

And actually, this particular celebrity is pretty low key and down to earth. She is a real dog, salt of the earth, a dog you can really get to know.

She came from humble beginnings. She had a long stint in the animal shelter—eleven months—before the right family adopted her.

She was adopted and shortly after made famous, not for her looks but for her heroism.


A story was written, of course the names were changed to protect the innocent, and the rest as they say is history.

We know her as Ruby, but you may know her as “Walter the Farting Dog.”

Mean People Suck

The Haute Enchilada
I blame the economy for the following events:

If the economy hadn’t gone south, then I wouldn’t have started my dog-sitting business. If I hadn’t started my business, then I wouldn’t have started my dog blog. If I hadn’t started my dog blog then I wouldn’t have started this section on Doggone Vacations.

When I named this section, I didn’t realize the definition of doggone. Used to describe feelings of annoyance, surprise, or pleasure.

I think that is fairly apropos for traveling with dogs.

Even though I have been spending a lot of time lately researching places to go with dogs by actually going places with dogs, I try not to be obnoxious about it. Or at least I thought I wasn’t being obnoxious.

We were in Moss Landing geocaching and exploring.

It was getting close to dinnertime and I didn’t feel like cooking.
For heaven sakes I wasn’t staying in a five star resort, I might as well get a little reward and I didn’t feel bad about spending money on dinner since we were saving so much on accommodations.

We walked by this restaurant, Phil’s Fish Market & Eatery.

Phil’s claim to fame was that he once appeared on Bobby Flay’s TV “Throw Down.” It was supposed to be a fairly decent restaurant and I had already eaten at the Haute Enchilada (or that would have been my first choice) besides we weren’t standing in front of the Haute Enchilada.

I asked my husband to see if we could bring our dog to dinner. My husband, (who loves to talk to people he doesn’t know) walked right up to the hostess while I hung back with my dog and asked her if we could indeed bring Moondoggie.

He returned to tell me that the hostess said yes, as long as we ate on the covered patio and not inside the restaurant.

I asked if we should make reservations. He said, "Naaaaaaa, this place is huge.” There was a lady listening in on our conversation. She sat on a bench in front of Phil’s, while she held her yapping Papillion’s mouth closed. She said that of course they would let our dog on the patio and of course we wouldn’t need a reservation.
I found out later that they don’t take reservations anyway.

We went back to the RV. I fed Moondoggie and freshened up a little, which meant putting on my least dirty pair of jeans, least dirty pair of shoes, and least dirty jacket.

When we arrived back at Phil’s, it was packed and there was a band playing. My husband and two kids disappeared into the crowd. I stood there with my dog and a foreboding feeling.

I couldn’t see a single empty table. I did see however, two tables with dogs tucked under them while their masters ate dinner. That gave me some sort of comfort.

My husband was now running toward me with an excited look on his face. “I found a table in the very back behind the band.” He turned and moved quickly in the other direction toward the band.
I was still standing at the front of the restaurant with the sinking feeling that I now was going to have to follow my husband and walk with my dog down the center of the aisle between many, many family style tables filled with patrons who were almost certainly not all dog lovers.

I don’t even know why I did it. If I’d had my wits about me, I would have walked out the entrance and around the patio to the back door and snuck into the table behind the band but as it turned out it didn’t matter.

Doggone vacation

The Beach at Moss Landing

I am still on my doggone vacation kick. We took our RV on a micro-vacation, as I like to call them, Meaning we were only gone for a few days and we stayed close to home. Going to places that were close by, but we’ve never explored.

I wanted to do this for three reasons. One, I wanted to take my dog and then write about it. Two, we didn’t have much time. Three, we don’t have any money. Four, my kids love our RV, much more than I do, so for a little money, it keeps them entertained, plus, they were so excited to have the dog along.

And for a freaky, squirrely, skinny, herding dog, Moondoggie was quite at home in, what I lovingly refer to as the Clampettmobile.

I had seen this RV Park in a place called Moss Landing. It looked intriguing.

Taking Dogs To A Sculpture Garden

My favorite iron sculpture of macrocystis and float

Willie had a sore elbow while he was staying with me. He really wanted to run around with my dog. But I didn’t encourage him because of his elbow issue.

Well, after a couple days of no walks or ball throwing, I couldn’t stop him. He started running around my yard like a black tornado, taking out plants, statuary, small dogs, and kneecaps.

And of course he was limping the next day.

So my bright idea was to take him along with my dog on an adventure in my car. We would all go to a sculpture garden, The Sierra Azul Sculpture Garden in Watsonville, which of course was next to a nursery.

I happen to have a little problem with plants, sort of like some people do with alcohol, hence the name of my other blog.

So my eleven-year-old son and I loaded up the two dogs, took a trip downtown to fill up on gas, water, and chew toys, and were on our way.

We arrived at the sculpture garden about an hour later.

I thought the drive had been lovely, but my son thought he was dying a slow death. I was enjoying the weather and the landscape and the ocean views and he was watching his young life slip away.

Every moment we watched scenery and landmarks was a moment that he could have been playing video games, searching the web, or watching TV: A moment lost forever.

My son was all too happy to get out of the car, that is until he realized that he had to take one of the dogs—my dog.

My dog weighs 42 pounds. Willie weighs 90. My son weighs 60.

It was a matter of physics. I couldn’t handle two dogs and take pictures. Caesar Milan I’m not. Besides, he has a film crew.

So we stumble out of the car, I open the hatch of my Volvo, the dogs make a break for it. I grab them by their collars drop my camera, drop my cell phone. My son is giving me this I’m-so-bored-and-you’re-such-a-klutz look.

So I decide to tie my dog to my son.

Crabby child and Moondoggie next to crabby sculpture.