Dogs On Parade: "Howl-o-ween" takes over Main Street in Park City, UT

For our third year now, My wife Sarah and I dressed up our dogs for the October phenomenon known as Howl-o-ween in Park City, UT. Historic Main Street is the heart of this affluent ski town with its funky restaurants, bars and shopping. It's also the cultural epicenter for the über hip Sundance Film Festival. But for one-afternoon a year, the whole town goes to the dogs. Main Street is shut down to autos for a few hours while children are allowed to trick-or-treat at local businesses. But around 5pm the butt-sniffing mayhem begins. A town like this is full of dogs large and small. Their diverse owners have made this area their home for a variety lifestyle-oriented reasons and it makes for an eclectic arrangement of tail-wagging hilarity.

Our first year at the parade, we were a little reluctant to go overboard with costumes. Blü, our Weimaraner and Roxie our notoriously shy Siberian Husky were not used to dressing up and we expected some resistance. We found some little tutus at Target and tied them on. When we hit the scene and they saw all the other dogs in costume they got so excited that it's become one of our favorite oddities about this little town. This year we put a little more effort into it and found some hysterical dog-specific costumes. Roxie wore a Dorothy costume from the Wizard of Oz, while Blü was ecstatic in her Tin Man costume. They also exchanged "pleasantries" with the likes of Batman and Robin, Hanna Montana, Darth Vader, Wonder Woman, Yoda, Elvis, Buzz Lightyear, angels, devils, witches, princesses, pirates, you name it. And each dog seems to adopt a certain swagger in their costumes. Roxie, who normally hates crowds, was so brave in her costume — like she really was somebody else. Blü of course was her goofy self, but was noticeably proud of her new identity, and didn't seem all that eager to have it taken off.

Anyway, a good time was had by all. Maybe we'll see you and your trick-or-treater out there next year!

Roxie’s Swim for Life

The other day, I took the dogs for a run on my bike down the dirt roads out back. They went swimming in one of the stream crossings but the current was a little stronger than usual. All of a sudden I couldn't see Roxie. I dove down onto the pipe/tube that funnels the water under the road. Roxie had gotten sucked in backwards and was swimming against the current. I dropped my bike and ran to the other side of the road to try to coax her to let it shoot her out, but she wasn't having it. She was about 8 feet from where she entered, fighting for her life and trying to keep her head above the water, in the 6 inches of air at the top of the pipe. So I jumped in and started pulling her out. But I had flipflops on and they were starting to float away on me while I lost traction.

I worked my way back up the pipe, dragging her by the collar and grabbing for the end of the pipe. in the commotion if forgot to take my sunglasses off my forehead so they started slipping off. Not a huge concern at this moment, but they were $100 pair of Oakleys. I was about to re-secure them when I looked up and saw Blü, never one to be left out, floating backwards by me. I imagine she got curious and wanted to help, like when we go to dig her toys out from under the couch and she burrows under, trying to help. so I grabbed her and watched the sunglasses plunk in the water.

Now i'm pulling both idiots up the tube, trying to keep my flipflops on my feet and not lose my footing. I was able to shove Blü out of the pipe by pushing her upstream ahead of me and placing enough english on her little bum to scoot her out into an eddy on the side. Roxie in the mean time, probably spent a few brief stints behind me getting dunked by my other hand still clutching her collar and no doubt flailing in the struggle.

I was able reach the end of the pipe now and pull my way out. With the added leverage, I dragged her to shore in a final thrust. I laid there in the water a minute to catch my breath. Roxie of course, climbed to dry land above me and on queue, shook off in my face. I climbed out, and started collecting myself, lamenting the solid run I had had with those Oakleys. As I straddled my bike to head home, soaked to the bone, they both jumped back in the water like it never happened.

Dog Blog — The Demystification of a Dog’s Inner Monologue

Booburt's Log By BlüDog Myers

Roxie's Log By Roxie Caret Myers

Today started out slow. I woke up early to warn Mom and Dad that the buzzing machine was about to make its crazy noise. That's my job. I always try to wake them up out before it happens, but they don't appreciate it very much. I jumped on the bed but Daddy kicked me off. Then Roxie joined in and we started rocking the bed back and forth until Daddy got up and put on some warm stuff to go out. Daddy doesn't have any fur so he needs lots of layers to go outside. Mommy stayed in bed. It was cold and snowy out today. My toes got salt in them too, which hurts. But I like to spend my morning cleaning them out anyway. Everybody needs a hobby. Mine is cleaning each of my parts thoroughly. Sometimes, when I run out of things to clean, I clean Roxie too. She doesn't always mind because she knows I love her. Then Daddy spent some time in the bathroom. That's where some of the best snacks are. I think he likes to eat them by himself, but when he's done I like to clean up what's left. The silver can is usually a jackpot. But the big white bowl has the best water in town. You really can't beat bathroom water after a good hike. I like to hike. Roxie does too. She likes it so much I used to think she'd never come back. She'd run and run until we couldn't find her. But now she stays pretty close. Sometimes we race up and down the trail. We like to run into Mommy and Daddy. And we can poop ANYWHERE when we hike. Mom and Dad even pick it up for safekeeping. I'm not sure why they're saving it all. Maybe they're building something with it. Or maybe it goes to charity. I think some people can't afford poop. What was I saying?? Oh yeah! Hiking is fun!! After Mommy and Daddy put on all their layers they made us breakfast and drank some smoky black stuff. Then they started hiding things. They try to hide all my favorite chewing stuff when they're gone. Sometimes I have to jump the fence and break into their room to chew stuff. It's VERY inconvenient. Other times I'll just chew what's closest. One day, Roxie and I chewed the table in front of the couch. I can't remember who's idea it was, but it was so yummy! Then we heard the jingles. The jingles make the car go. Some times jingling means we're going for a ride in the car (the Super-RuRu). But usually it means Mommy and Daddy are going away. It pretty much depends on what feet they have on. If they're wearing their big rugged feet, we get really excited. We just can't help it because they wear those on fun hikes and stuff. But today they wore their shiny feet. So that means they're just going away for a while. That's a bad jingle. So I got sad. I tried to sit and be good to change their minds, but it didn't work. I cried a little. After they left I forgot why I was crying, so Roxie and I just laid on the couch for a while. Mommy and Daddy leave the radio on for us. Sometimes we dance. Other times we sleep all day until they come home. Did I mention I like to chew? Sometimes I do that ALL day! I like mail, socks, DVDs, remote controls, tupperwear (so yummy), and blankets. There's more, but I forget. Anyway, today was slow. We mostly slept and stuff. After forever, we heard the GOOD jingling. Mommy and Daddy came home and we were so excited we jumped and howled and ran in circles. Daddy took us out quickly and then they both changed into FUN CLOTHES! They put on boots and dirty pants and started packing stuff. We all jumped in the car. Once we got off the fast road, Roxie and I knew where we were going. MILL CREEK!!! We go to Mill Creek Canyon a lot. Those are the best days. We can run all over and they even have poop bags waiting. When we're there, our parents put our poop in a big can, with other poop. I think it goes to charity or something. We ran up and down the hills. We chased things—I don't know what, but I just follow Roxie. Then we get to drink from the stream and jump and splash people. It's funny. When we finally got home we were tired. We all laid on the couch together. Our couch isn't very big so usually I just lay on top. I get my best sleep when I'm touching Mommy and Daddy. Sometimes I clean them too, to tell them I love them.

Booburt woke me up today. I was sleeping in my corner by Mommy and Daddy's bed. She came tromping in and leapt about in her usual haphazard manner. She then jumped on the bed to the chagrin of our two-legged guardians. I was dreaming like a puppy about running through the woods, chasing rabbits in the snow and rolling in deer excrement. Sometimes I wake up from those dreams and my legs are still in motion. I find it embarrassing because everyone stares at me. Anyway, Blu-Tard (that's what I call her) got kicked off the bed. So I figured I'd help initiate the day's productive cycle. Sometimes we have to wake Mom and Dad up so I gently serenade them until their eyelids reluctantly peel open. Dad arises slowly, dresses himself and stumbles down the hall. The insult of his inferior night vision is compounded by my step-sister's unpredictable movements. Finally, we make our way down the stairs. I arch my back and drink in the cool winter air like a fine wine. It was serendipitous to find a layer of fresh snow on the ground. And by the smell of things, there was more on the way. Seizing the moment, I tossed myself into the fresh patch, rolling my face on all sides as if to shape cookies of my likeness in the heavenly dough. I must confess, there are moments like this when I forego my usual poise for the basic pleasure of being a creature of instinct. It is in these moments when I find a kinship with my simple sibling, to the delight of my parents. Often in fits of jubilee, I will initiate playful interaction. It even takes some prodding on my part to motivate my parents, but they recognize and appreciate my efforts. Admittedly, I can be aloof, but never am I drab. Upon completion of their morning rituals, our parents made their usual swift exodus, imploring us to "be good" before closing the door. I have trouble containing my smirk as they say such things. I am after all, "the good one". "Good" is a relative term they apply to simply being independent and self-occupied. The antithesis in their eyes is made commonplace by my adolescent-minded sister, who spends her days chewing things that don't belong to her or having "accidents". In lieu of asserting ill intent upon our actions, humans prefer to pre-excuse behavioral abnormalities, assuming we always try our best to please them, but sometimes come up short. I find it deliciously entertaining. Equally charming are the antics my sister employs throughout the day. When she's not cleaning herself or trying to sterilize my undercarriage, she's often wiggling on her back to the music du jour. She claims she does it to itch her back, but I truly believe that she simply does it to burn off excess energy. For more localized itches she swipes carelessly with her rear feet, which makes me cringe. Her first few swats land abusive blows to the head and neck. She lightens up until she fails to connect at all, swatting with less and less intent as her attention is commandeered by any number of alternate stimuli. Anyway, today being rather quiet, we spent the majority of it on the couch relaxing. I had some time to organize my thoughts and work on my upcoming novel. After some meditative loafing, our parents returned. I'm constantly surprised by my own enthusiasm toward my human attendants. As a rule, I make few allowances for people. I often keep them at a safe distance until I determine their intentions are respectable. Even then, I keep an eye on them. My parents, however have rescued me from purgatory and a life of servitude, affording me a life of whimsy and security that I cannot refute. Their arrival evokes a primal elation in me that escapes in sporadic song and dance. We both celebrate and parade the affects of our "good" behavior. But rather than a quick walk and comfy clothes, Mom and Dad quickly changed their wardrobe to a more rugged look. They snatched up our leashes and led us to the car (the Super-RuRu!). Blü and I were overcome with excitement and curiosity. We rode along patiently, barely containing our emotion. Once Mom made the turn up Mill Creek Canyon I howled my approval, however helpless and barbaric. Upon agreeing to be "good" we were released along the trail, like a gun releases a bullet. Charging down the wooded path, we planted fresh tracks in the foot of new snow. Sprinting and cutting back, rolling and jumping, we ran and played with such unabashed delight that I welled up in the moment. I headed back to thank Mom and Dad for the fun time and we wrestled a bit. They whitewashed me and I splashed them with snow. It's a little ritual we developed in the woods behind the big house in Maine. I miss that place, and I miss Umie and Opa, but I hear they're coming out for a visit soon which makes me happy. When we got home, I curled up on the couch. Mom and Dad sat with me, warming my spirit. Then Booburt climbed on top. She affectionately licked all of us before falling asleep. Sometimes she's not so bad. But you didn’t hear that from me.

Booburt Ate My Wallet

Blü (AKA "Booburt" because it further emphasizes her dimwitted nature) is getting older. She's 2-and-a-half. So she's grown out of jumping up on people. She doesn't eat cigarette butts off the sidewalk. And she even has stopped yanking my arm out of the socket when we walk. So why can't she leave our stuff alone when we're not looking? We try to keep the place "Booburt-proof". We've even tried putting mousetraps on the counters. But that only ever worked on us.

Anyway, she ate my wallet. It's not the first time. In fact I think it's the third or fourth time. We came home from grocery shopping (one hour max) and caught her in the act. She ate the leather wallet clean. She was on to the cards. My new Utah license was missing it's lower right corner. I can't fly home for the wedding like that so I had to have that replaced immediately. All my credit cards are surgically defaced and virtually unswipeable. And the $20 bill? GONE. Once upon a time at the beach house in Kennebunk, Blü swiped a $1 bill from the kitchen table. Surely, it smelled interesting given all the previous handlers. But she's so maniacal about her deviant acts that she often swallows these things whole, to dispose of the evidence as quickly as possible. Anyway, it came out on the beach a few hours later. My dog was finally paying off like a slot machine. Now, this was just $1. People hear that and immediately ask how much it would take for me to "rescue" my hard-earned money. My answer USED TO BE $20. But as tight as money is right now (no punn intended) we're not on the beach. And I'm not that desperate.

So after a day of ignoring her, (which works better that scolding her) she finally paid back her loan this morning. Although surprisingly, it didn't come back in the "denomination" we might have expected. Instead, she hacked it up on the carpet, along with the wallet. The wallet was destroyed. But the cash? Mostly in tact. And after a hot rinse and some scotch tape, it's ready to re-enter circulation.

The moral of this story: Don't borrow cash from me. You don't know where it's been.