Eating at Little Habana and Meeting His Reflection

Saturday night we had planned with our friends Erik and Michele.  We were going over to eat at a Cuban restaurant they love called Little Habana.  Now, usually, I'm so-so with Cuban food as I prefer Mexican food because I like things spicy.  So, it gives me great pleasure to announce that Little Habana was AMAZING.

Not only are they guide dog puppy friendly (Michele had prepped them! 8-), but the restaurant is charming and the food is flavorful, spicy and delicious.  I had the special, the goat stew, which was a type of curry and it was out of this world with such an incredible sauce.  It was an effort to hold back and save some room for the tres leches cake for dessert.

Make sure you save room for dessert!  It is not to be missed.  Now, you may be wondering what Coach was doing all this time.  He was not being his usual sit down, fall asleep, good boy self.  NO.  He was getting up.  Rearranging himself.  Trying to visit the table next to us.  It was as if periodically a jolt of testosterone would shoot through his system and he would be overcome.

It wasn't the good boy behavior we had come to know and expect.

"He's such a good boy," Tanya said.  "I didn't even know he was under the table!"  I looked at Michele. Hmmm.  I guess he had been good, we were just used to better.  Coach looked up at Tanya with his sweet face.  He's such a ladies man.

Afterwards we went back to their place to chat and meet the critters.  The two little pups had a meet and greet but it was ultimately decided that they were pumped up and should stay in their crates.  Coach was very pumped about being the only dog and in charge of ALL the dog toys.  He then proceeded to lick them all just to prove that he could.

He's a pill.

Michele watches as Coach chews on one of the nylabones.

Here he is with Michele chewing on half a nylabone.  He also found their glass doors to be intensely interesting as another dog lived out in the reflection.

Coach is standing at attention looking out at his reflection.

This dog would peer back in at him and often startled him and made him bark a time or two.  We took him closer to the windows to get him over this reaction, but he never quite seemed to make the connection.  We also met Bindi the cat, but I haven't had time to process the video.

Something to work on during our next visit for some delicious Cuban food and fun company!

Yakking It Up

Yesterday afternoon was a quiet one in the library.  I was out in the classroom area we have in the middle of the library with my computer working on some class projects I have coming up.  Coach was asleep at my feet, so quiet (unlike the other night at the play!).

There were only about 15 students in the library, and they were scattered all around.  Some were by me as all the tables in that area have outlets and some were over at the other tables reading or working.  A few were upstairs on the mezzanine.

All of a sudden, Coach sat up and started making that unmistakable sound of a dog beginning to hurl.  It is quite appalling and there is no way to stop it.

Every student turned their head to look at me.  I looked down at Coach.  "Oh Coach!"

There was complete silence as Coach made three loud and sustained gagging noises and then barfed on the floor by my feet.  It was a bit of his stomach contents and some grass, since he does always try to eat grass when he goes out to busy.

The junior girl near me said, "Poor Coach!"  There was a chorus of Awwwws and Ohhhhs throughout the library.

"I know.  Poor baby."  I was standing by this time and I tugged on his leash to get him moving.  I figured we might as well get some paper towels and clean it up.  He was a little wobbly since he was coming out of a deep sleep and had just thrown up and we were walking slow, when he started that heaving noise again.  I was near the library work room.

"Jan, paper towels!"

"Don't bring him in here!" Jan yelled.

Some of the students were standing to see if he was going to hurl in the workroom.

"I'm not going to bring him in there!  I just want to some paper towels!" By now we were standing by the doorway.  Coach was standing and heaving.  Then he let out a huge burp.  He sat down and looked up at us.

I patted him on the head.  "This has been a tough day for you, little baby. Let's go outside for a bit."

I took the paper towels that were finally handed to me and on my way out set them on the table near my computer.  Everyone murmured sweet things to Coach as we passed by.  Out in the sun he seemed to perk up a little.  He didn't try to eat any grass.

I left his coat off and went back inside.  Then I cleaned up his accident.  Since he was out of coat, there were some students who wanted to comfort him.

"I love Coach the best," one of them said.  The fact that he had just barfed did not deter them in the least from loving on him.  Nor did they seem in the least bit grossed out.

At the end of the day, on the way to the car we had something extraordinary happen.  Well, I say extraordinary, I guess I mean extraordinary in Coach's eyes.  As we came up to the car, there was a huge orange cat sitting next to the passenger side door.  If you remember, that is where Sir Pukes A Lot threw up his breakfast on Wednesday and some of it I just left on the ground by my car.  I guess the cat found it and decided she liked dog food barf.  Coach, who was just in the process of throwing on the brakes as we approached the car, saw the orange cat and was entranced.  A cat! All for him!

He picked up speed.  The cat picked up speed and raced to the front of the car.  We raced to the door.  Then he realized where we were and it was too late.  I had the door open and it was time to get in.

He learned.  Chasing cats is dangerous.  It can make you do things you don't want to do. But puking.  Puking brought love and unexpected cats into your life.  Puking was a double-edge sword.

Doomed to Fail

 Last night we took Coach to the Fall Play at school.  Fred warned me that it wasn't a good idea, but we were up against a wall: today is our 21st wedding anniversary, tomorrow we have dinner plans, and if we didn't take Coach with us, it was too long to leave him in the crate.

No choice, but to take him.

Evidently Mr. Coach had been feeling his nearly 7 month old oats all day long.  I suspect that his body had been surging with testosterone and while he is always calm and mostly dour, with this new hormone racing through him, he is feeling out of sorts and strange.

I found him racing through the house and careening off the walls.  Where had my calm boy gone?  Surely dinner would do the trick?

He ate it.  Sure.  But he had pooped at 4, so the poo schedule was off.  Never a good thing.  Willow was begging to be left alone.  We gathered up all his gear and piled him in the car.

Off we went to Panera where he decided that he would not go quietly under that table.  Instead he yanked out all the napkins that had been placed under a leg to keep the table level.  Lovely. Then he proceeded to lung after imaginary specks of bread.  In PANERA.  The place has specks of bread floating in the air.  Coach was in constant motion under the table.  Here's a speck, no, wait, it's over here.

Sigh. Dinner was a brief affair.

We hightailed it to the school.  Then we walked around and were almost late trying to get the boy to poo.  I knew he had to go.  But no.  He was stubborn and would not poo.

So we reluctantly went into the Lykes Center, but we chose a seat in the back row on the aisle.  Near the exit.  We knew.  It was only a matter of time.

Coach is lying on the floor of the Lykes Center before he has his whining fit.

Coach began the evening by courteously removing all trash from his vicinity with his teeth and trying to eat it.  I removed every piece under the cover of darkness: a piece of wire, a piece of cellophane, gum.

Then the crying started.  Whine, whine.  

"Shh.  No noise." Gentle tug on leash.  I tried to reposition him.  He was antsy.  The musical was in full force.  You couldn't hear anything the kids were singing so loud.  They were amazing.  It was wonderful.  And yet, all I could think was, "Does this whine carry forward three rows?" Because in rows that is where some parents are.  

More movement from Coach.  I finally decided it was time for him to poo.  We went outside and sure enough, he had to go.  I put it in a bag and tossed it in one of the many trash cans around campus and hurried back in.  My false hope was that he would now be calm.

No.  He was not.

He was a whiny baby.  And for the next few minutes as we tried to listen to great comedy and singing, Coach made sure we knew he was unhappy and wanted to go home.  He did not like musical theater.

So, we left.

But I woke up at in the middle of the night and remembered that I had deposited his poo in a prohibited trash can.  You see, three years ago, when I had Bingo, he had pooped by the Lykes Center and I had innocently bagged it and thrown it in the trash cans near the middle division deck.  

In my haste to get back to the play, I did again.  I had been told that the poo bag had sat in the trash and baked and all the kids who sat and ate lunch there complained of an awful stench.  I could not be blamed again for ruining everyone's lunch because of dog poo.  We had to do a poo stealth removal.

Coach and I are walking to the offending bag of poo.

We waited until the entire middle division was in convocation so no one would witness me rooting around in the trash.

We've found the trash can where the poo is.

Here is the deck and the trash can where the poo is.  It needs to be removed.  

I'm peering into the trash can as Coach sits by my feet.

I opened the trashcan hoping that lots of trash hadn't been piled on top of the poo. And I was in luck. You could see the poo right away!  I could grab the bag and be on my way.

I reach into the trash to grab the poo.

Here we are walking off to find a safe trash can.

Now all we have to do is find a trash can that isn't near an eating area.

Dropping off our deposit into a safe trash can!

Success!  Poo has been relocated!  Now, I need to wash my hands!  What a Friday.  

Halloween Outfit

At school we have a Halloween parade.  Bingo wore a hat.  For 2 minutes.  HRH Berkeley was a beautiful butterfly, and Jam was, well, he was a big strawberry.  Get it? Strawberry...Jam.

But this year I lucked out and I found a football uniform for Coach.  However, it is a medium.  So, I won't know if it will still fit in two weeks. 

It's a bit of a tight fit, so I will be letting out some of the seams anyway to make sure he is comfortable.

The ear holes on the helmet were way to small.  I'll have to widen those as well.  But if all goes well, he'll be our MVP for Halloween.

Go Coach!

Daring the Gods: The Chihuly Exhibit

Our friends Kitty and Sheldon were down for Columbus day weekend and since St. Petersburg is the more cultured city, we decided to take them down to the Chihuly and Dali for a museum day.  Of course we took Coach with us.  What?!!  A museum filled with glass and one filled with priceless art?  Are you nuts?

Well, you read the blog!  Don't you have the answer to that already?

Now, Coach has now developed into a 10 am pooper, so when we got down to St. Pete about 10:30 and there had been no poop, I was a bit concerned. I sent Fred, Sheldon and Kitty on to the Chihuly to get tickets while I walked the boy to see if he would give it up.

Now, sometimes I like to think of myself (egotistically, I know) as the poo whisperer, as there have been some moments when I feel that I can sense that Coach has to go (Tim's office poo notwithstanding).  I proved this on a dinner trip to Chili's one day.  Michele, Coach and I were on our way in when there was something about his walk that just bothered me.  

"Give me a couple of minutes.  I think he needs to poo." I took him over to a grassy spot and sure enough, he twirled and pooed. "Ha!" I thought.  "I AM the poo whisperer!"

But here we were in St. Pete far away from Chili's and after the infamous Tim's office poo.  My confidence was shaken.  Did I still have what it took?  Would he poo?  We walked over to the grass and I did my little lullaby of poo commands.  Holey guacamole, batman, we have poo!  Now we could go into the Chihuly museum and not fear leaving a deposit on the floor of any kind.

I could feel that little fear drifting out of my body.  Then we started our walk up to the museum.  And it hit me.

Did you know that the Chihuly museum is a museum of glass?  Well, actually, it is a museum that houses glass art.  Not an actual museum made of glass.  But, regardless, the museum is filled with glass.  Very, very expensive glass.  I saw the big glass sculpture outside the building.

"Crapola." Glass sculpture.  I looked down at Coach.  He was so docile.  He plodded along like a good boy.  I sighed.  Can't back out now.  I went up to the door and told Coach to sit.  Then we went inside.

I have to give props to the museum people.  They said not one word to us about bringing Coach to the museum.  They didn't even give us a strange look.  And if in their heads they were thinking, "OMG!!!" You couldn't tell from their faces.

The man took our tickets and this wizened older lady peeled off his side and started to follow us.  At first I thought she was just some stranger, but it was clear that we had been assigned a docent.  A docent who hated the idea of service animals.

"Is he unhappy?" She stood close and peered down at Coach as I sat on the bench and stared at the boat filled with glass floats.  (As you might imagine, I sat a lot and had Coach do the same!)

Startled, I looked up at her.  "No. He's a happy dog." Then I realized she was one of those people, the people who object to service dogs because they think their lives are so tragic and they never have any fun.  By this time, Fred had come up and was listening and he jumped in.

Fred took over and explained how Coach gets to play at home.  How he has lots of time to be off leash and have fun.  But he also gets to be with us all day.  What other dog gets to do that?  He's always with his person.  That's where he wants to be.  That's what makes him happy.

"Hmmmm."  She shook her head and pursed her lips and wandered over to Sheldon, who had become the only person in our group who would talk to her.

I looked at Kitty and Kitty shook her head.

In the Chihuly there is a glass hallway that you walk through to get to the other room and the ceiling is covered with glass.  You have to look up to see it, but it shouldn't be a big deal.  When I was coming into the boat room with Coach, I looked down the towards the glass hallway and there was a couple in it.  The woman had fallen and her husband was trying to pull her up.  I couldn't tell if she had just been overwhelmed by the glass and fainted or if she had looked up too much and lost her balance and fallen back or if perhaps she was just tired and resting on the floor.  I think perhaps she had lost her balance.

I was a bit nervous going towards the hallway as I had Coach and I wanted to look up, but I wasn't sure I should.  After all, a grown woman had just fallen down!  What if I fell too?  How many people fall in this place?  Is this something that happens all the time?  Should they put up a warning sign?  Don't look up too much?  Only tilt your head at a 30 degree angle or you will stop the blood flow and you will fall down?  Seriously! This could be a major health concern.

Where was that old lady docent? Was she looking up?  If she was looking up, surely I could look up.  No.  I was all alone.  They were all back looking at the chandeliers.  Fine.  I'll do it myself.

Coach  is lying down on the tiles while Kitty, Sheldon and I smile up and Fred.  You can see a piece of Chihuly in the background behind Kitty.

I didn't fall.  I also didn't really look up.  Turns out there is a glass angel up there somewhere.  The old lady docent told Sheldon about it.  He looked up and saw it.

We made it through without Coach knocking anything over or breaking anything.  Nor did I fall or trip or run into something.  Maybe next time I will look up.

Jam's Harness Photo

We got Jam's harness photo in the mail.  He is soooooo handsome.  I see that his tail isn't curly in this photo, so he must be trying to be serious.  Hmmm.  He does look all grown up.  

Oh.  My baby is a big boy now!

Catching Poo: Oops, I did it again!

The morning did not start out well.  For starters, I had stayed up late watching Dexter.  (Note to self, DVR it! My days of staying up past 10 pm are long gone!) So, when the alarm went off, I was none too happy.  But I proceeded to get up and greet the day.  Coach was his usually calm self.  He rarely gets giddy in the morning.  Or at any time frankly.

We fixed up a peanut butter kong for him and had a minor mishap when Fred went to toss it in the car and missed and tossed it somewhere in the dark. He did find it though, even though it was a black kong, at 6:45 am in the pitch dark.  

"Found it!" Go Fred!  He placed it in the car.  Coach hops in and starts to lick the kong.  I give Fred a kiss goodbye.  

At School

Once we arrive at school, I lead Coach over to what I call the Horton Hears a Who flowers, but he isn't interested in doing his business.  He wants to smell the flowers.  

OK.  Fine.

We go inside the library.

I remember that today is book club.  In my calendar, today is also the department chair meeting.  Crap.  I've messed up.  I need to reschedule all of my book clubs!  What a major pain.  So I send out a long email explaining what I did and how we have to redo the meeting dates and choose from the following options.  Then Tim sends me an email that says the department chair meeting is on Wed.  Double crap.  Now I have to send an email saying I'm an idiot.

Isn't that lovely?  So I send that out.  What a great day.  I look at Coach.  Let's go tell Tim thank you for saving me more embarrassment.  So we start out for the upper division offices.  

Tim with Coach. Tim is sitting on the imagine bench and Coach is in a down stay beside him.

Coach and I go up the stairway and down the hall.  We stop to chat with Michele and then continue down the hall to Tim's office.  I turn left into his office and as I am about to sit down, I glance at Coach and notice that he is HUNCHING.

OMG!  I can't let this dog poop on Tim's carpet in his office after he just did this nice thing and saved me further embarrassment on all these emails.  So I did what evidently comes naturally to me: I put my hand behind Coach's butt and he pooped into it.

What was I thinking? With my other hand I raised up his hind end and said, in a slightly elevated tone of voice, "Tim! Get something!" Forgetting that I carry with me poop bags. I turn my head and all is lost because Coach has already left a big poo at the entrance of the office.  ACK!!

Now, you may be wondering what I was doing lifting his butt up in that air like that.  And to the uninitiated, it would seem like a foolish thing to do, but it so happens that when HRH Berkeley was in mid pee I grabbed her hind end and she immediately quit peeing.  So, here I was, mid-poo, as it were, with a new dog and I thought, "If it worked with one dog, surely it will work with this one." You can see where I am going with this can't you? So I picked up his rear end.

Oh no, brothers and sisters.  It did not work!  Rather it was like picking up a cannon. A loaded cannon. One you were going to aim and fire, because now I looked and there were THREE more pieces of poo on the floor and they must have SHOT OUT OF HIS BUTT WHILE I WAS HOLDING IT IN THE AIR.    I don't know what else could have happened. Holy crap.

Coach is bewildered by all of this.  Tim is laughing and talking it all very well and I... I am horrified and frantic.

"Wipes.  I need wipes."  I finally remember I HAVE poo bags and bag up all the poo. Sweet Kate Manley next door comes running over with wipes and hands me several and I think I actually barked at her for several more.  I blame my poo smeared hands! I'm sorry Kate!

I scrubbed the carpet, I threw out the poo. Then I washed my hands over and over again.  Back at my office, I left Coach with Jan and rushed back to Tim's office with the diffuser and a fresh pad filled with lavender oil to dispel any remaining poo odor.

Tim was such a good sport.  And as other people told me throughout the day, at least it wasn't the headmaster's office!