Alligators and Crocodiles

It's been raining so much that it's all I can do to get out even when, er, I have to go out.  When we come back my paws and tummy are all wet, so I curl up next to the stove and warm up and dry off.  But don't think for a moment that I'm spoiled.  I've been working hard all week.  Even Bracha says I have a phenomenal memory, and that I only have to go somewhere once in order to find it again.  SO let me tell you about the last week.  First of all, I had a wonderful time at the festival.  Everyone loved me, and we forgave them when they called me "Suki" by mistake.  Bracha would be sad for a moment, and then pat me and say, "This is DInka, my new guide dog."  Bracha got me good and tired out running on the beach so I was quite ready to curl up under her chair and listen to music.

Then we did a lot of traveling in the car to a place called Hamat Gader.  The man at the gate told Bracha that I could not go into the water, but Bracha assured him she had no intention of letting me go into the pool, because it was too hot.  And it smelled awfully funny. But let me tell you that when we got to the place where there were alligators, crocodiles, a huge snake, and a large monkey, I freaked.  I started barking and didn't want to go in there at all!  Bracha realized that even with all my training, deep down inside, I'm still a dog. 
And oh, my, it's raining....again...

Can I Give your Dog a Bone?

I've got to admit that when it comes to food, I have a short memory.   The other day a man in the pet store sold Bracha what he claimed was a beef bone.  It had some meat on it, smelled to high heavens, and was all wrapped up in plastic.  When we got home, Bracha opened it, took one sniff, and immediately gave it to me outside, probably because she couldn't stand the smell.  (Bracha, unlike me, is a vegetarian).  When she came out a short time later, the bone was, er, gone.  Bracha's fears were well - founded.  It was a bit too much for me, and despite the fact that she cut down my dinner ration to make up for it, I was pretty sick the next day.  Bracha and I discussed it, and she said that from now on only sterile bones would be permitted, because she doesn't want me to be sick again.  And I agreed.  I realized that the day and night I spent begging Bracha to go outside and the tummy ache were just not worth the 15 minutes I had of chewing on that bone.  And if that wasn't enough, I had to undergo the indignity of eating that fluffy white stuff Bracha cooked for me!
And if that wasn't enough, today Bracha and I are walking in the moshav and along comes a man in a car.
"What a lovely dog!  Can I give him a bone?"
"Thank you, but no," replied Bracha.  "She's a guide dog and only receives food from me."
"Can I give you a bone to give her?"
Bracha agreed, and to her surprise, and horror, he extended not a bone-shaped dog biscuit, but no less than one of those large leather bones - the kind I would eat in one go!  Bracha stuffed it in her pocket, and despite my turning my head and making longing eyes at her pocket all the way home, she didn't give it to me.  Then she slipped it into the kitchen drawer, far from my chomping jaws.

I know it's there.  And I know that for my own good, she may never give it to me.  I am, indeed, deeply  deprived.  As you can see by my soft bed and basket of bones and toys...