dogs, Murphy, Transit

Pickup Artist

After the guy next to me in the three seat bench departed the bus and it was clear no one else needed a seat, I slid to the open seat out of courtesy to the gal my hip was encroaching on. Not too long after, a man squeezed into the space. He complimented my shades and asked where I got them. “Target,” I said. “Are they Versace?” he asked. “No, they’re Target.”

I had hoped my short answers and attentiveness to my mobile phone would shoo him off but it was no use. He continued to ask me questions and explain he also liked whatever I just said I was into. (which just made me think of this song… oh how I miss these guys!) Though I didn’t tell him anything other than that I lived in the neighborhood, he shared his location and it happened to be just about a block north of me.  I debated whether to pretend it was my stop and have him find out later I walked nearly a mile to evade him, or just suffer through the conversation and kindly blow him off when it was time to depart.

During a brief moment he wasn’t looking my way, I texted Jen and begged her to call me asap. Thankfully she did and shortly after I got up to depart the bus (while still clearly on the phone) Mr. Smooth asked, “is your number a 206 number?” and told me he was hoping to call me sometime. I mumbled something about maybe running into him and hopped off the bus. As I did I overheard him start his game on the girl seated to the other side of him. I got home and having to walk Murph, I very quickly changed out of my dress, into pants and a completely different pair of sunglasses.

That wasn’t what this post was supposed to be about, however. I have another pick up tale to share.

Earlier this week I had taken Murphy out for a walk. On our way in he had stopped to sniff something that I soon learned was dog poo. There are at least two signs in front of the condo where I’m living that clearly state it’s a dog poo free zone. I’m quite certain this makes it a giant poo target rather than an always green zone. Anyway, I have picked up dog remnants other than Murphy’s in the past but today I didn’t want to be bothered with it. A few minutes later we were getting in the elevator when a neighbor and her dog rush in the entry to tell me that my dog just went and I didn’t pick it up. Having walked Murphy at least 4 times that day waiting for him to dump already, I knew I’d have noticed if such a thing occurred and I told her I’d been waiting on it all day. I realized she probably saw him sniffing the offender’s pile and assumed it was his so I told her he stopped to sniff some. Now I still look like a jerk for leaving it there. She went on to tell me she hated to sound like a busy body but that when it’s out there all the dogless people in the building assume it belongs to the dogs in the building and alerted to the location of a scooper in the garbage area. I explained once again that it wasn’t Murphy but that I’d go clean it up anyway. She said she already has but she just wanted me to know about it. I think I would have preferred her leaving the bag at my door with a note describing my alleged offense.

A day or two later I’m once again returning from a dog walk and the elevator stops on two. I’m on 4. Not too many people downstairs ever come up here so I was curious as to who it might be. A neighbor puts one foot and a huge bag full of produce bags in the elevator. “Could you use these? I used to give them to my son but his dog died. I figured you might be able to use them.” Of course I’d rather get for free what’s ridiculous to have to pay for (and nearly impossible to open!), so I took them and thanked her. She said she’d just leave them by my door from now on when she had a few to give.

It only took me a couple of minutes to tie the incidents together and now I’m left wondering whether the neighbors had been chatting about my other run-in with the poo police. Why hadn’t she given the bags to one of the other dog owners? I very visibly carry bags on Murphy’s leash!

Looks like for at least the next few weeks I’ll be collecting some from other locales, dropping it out front and picking it up again in hopes one of them will witness my good deeds.

dogs, Murphy


When I was little, I begged for a dog. (If I find the letter I wrote to my parents asking for one, I’ll make sure to share it with you.) Eventually they gave in and we got Pepper, a sweet, escape artist, eat everything, beagle mix. She was an adult so we didn’t have to deal with that crazy puppy stage. After Pepper passed on, we got Maggie, a cocker spaniel puppy. I think my sister did the begging that time. I don’t remember a whole lot of her puppyhood, mostly because I think she was pretty tame. And I think we carried her everywhere so she never had a chance to get into anything.

As an adult I wanted a dog on and off but was never living in a place I could have one. Nor did I have a lifestyle that would allow for good care of a dog. But then I bought a house with a fenced yard. You have to have a dog if you have a fenced yard, right?! It helped that my sister and her boyfriend were living with me and would be home to let him out when I couldn’t. I would never have done it without them, which was probably an even better reason not to get a dog. But I did. (I also bought my house on this reasoning. Thankfully they wanted to stay when I decided to escape the state.)

I started searching online and it didn’t take too long before I found this little thing, named Poseidon:

Cutest thing ever?

Cutest thing ever?


I wanted him so badly! Though having done some research I wasn’t sure I could really keep a herding dog entertained and he was a supposed Corgi/Australian Shepard mix. I don’t remember exactly how it went down, whether I waited to apply, or waited and never heard, but shortly after I found him he disappeared from the site. Bummed, I considered giving up the search. I tried applying for one of his siblings but it was quickly snatched up. So I decided to wait and think more about this big decision. I looked on and off for a couple of weeks and a coworker was looking for me too. He sent me a picture of the little fur ball I had wanted a couple weeks prior. Poseidon was back! Apparently he had acquired Parvo and through treatment survived. I immediately applied and was invited to visit him.

He was the friendliest little thing ever, and though I rarely find dog clothes cute he was pretty charming in his puppy sweater. He was definitely going to be mine. But when? St. Patrick’s Day was approaching and I couldn’t leave him home all day so I planned the required house visit for the day after. It worried me that I might not pass so when the foster came with him that day, did a sweep of the yard and left him there, I couldn’t believe it! I immediately renamed him Murphy.


Wiped out by all the excitement of his first day with us.

I wasn’t really prepared for the kind of puppy he turned out to be. While it was cute at times, it was exhausting at others. He’d go on a rampage of running around and tearing up whatever he could find. Paper, a shoe, a door, a wall. Nothing was off limits. And maybe because of all he got into, or a weak stomach after parvo, he got sick a lot. So I gave a lot of money to his vet.

One month after he moved in.

One month after he moved in.

Puppy playgroups and roughhousing with Ben seemed to calm him down a bit and with some training he picked up some manners. Ben and Katie got home early to let him out and eventually Katie worked from home a lot so he had company all day. So when I decided to move, I wasn’t quite sure what to do with him. He was my dog, but after a long vacation I was definitely #3 on his list. I considered leaving him in Minnesota till I settled in but was afraid he’d love me even less/hate me even more when I finally moved him out here. Had I got a job right away, I would have left him there for awhile. Being jobless when I moved, I figured it was the perfect opportunity for us to reconnect.

And we have! Almost every day I’ve been here, he’s gone everywhere with me. We’ve visited the farm, dog parks, people parks, any bar/restaurant that allows dogs, the St. Patrick’s Day parade, marinas… he even flew back to Minnesota with me for awhile. Though he was definitely depressed for a few weeks, I think he’s finally come out of it. It helps that he gets a ton of attention when we’re out. While with him, I get zero. Questions about him are directed at him and I awkwardly have to answer. At the same time, I really enjoy watching strangers smile at him and overhearing “look at that ear!”


The point of it all is that yes, he can be a pain. He might be one of the few things I ever complain about. (a friend once remarked, “you don’t even like your dog.”) Though we’re pretty similar being extremely social and always needing to be on the go, he needs to be on the go a little more than I do. And he’s not much of a cuddler. (no one told me there were dogs that don’t like to cuddle!) (and shortly after I finished this post, he wanted to cuddle. odd.)

But I do like him! I love him. He makes me laugh, gets me outside first thing in the morn and brings joy to me and quite a few others. I’m not sure I would have seen as much of the city had I not been thinking of places he could go. If you ever hear me grumble about him, know that it comes from a very complicated love (and punch me because complaining is dumb). He has squashed my freedom but stolen my heart.

Confirmed. Cutest thing ever.

Confirmed. Cutest thing ever.

dating, love, moving


It was my first weekend alone in a new city, my roomie went out of town. And though I don’t mind being alone, it was Valentine’s Day, President’s Day weekend, and that made for 3 nights of just me and my dog.

I don’t care about Valentine’s Day much either, so it wasn’t one of those desperate lonely girl acts. I’ve been single for over 7 years, it has pretty much zero meaning. And even when I was dating someone in a period that included that day, I didn’t care. Of course his best girl friend told him I was just saying that to test him. She said that about a number of things I did. Pretty sure that’s why that one didn’t work out.

But of course, I was in a new city, hanging out with my dog and Facebook and everyone was out that night but me. I had heard about Tinder so I figured, why not see who’s single and hot around here? I browsed for awhile, swiped way more left than right and headed to the bar. I was quite surprised, (and flattered!) to see how many handsome matches I had. The next morning I discovered that after a few drinks I had added something to my profile about being there for nothing more than a drinking buddy and make-outs.

I spent the rest of the weekend Tindering and hanging out at the neighborhood bars. I had far more fun chatting with the bar staff than swiping through Seattle singles but I kept at it anyway to pass the down time. I don’t think I ever really thought I’d make a date out of any of them, it was more a nice reassurance that there were plenty of handsome single men out there just waiting to hike, travel around the world, play with puppies (and some kittens, ish), hang out with nieces/nephews, volunteer in poor countries, skateboard, surf, cook fantastic meals, run marathons and cuddle with me. (apparently almost every single guy does all of these things. AMAZING!)  I don’t think I’d been on a date in Minnesota for a couple of years.

But I felt bad leading anyone on, so I did agree to meet up with a guy that I chatted with for awhile. We went out for a beer one afternoon. We had plenty to talk about but I just didn’t feel anything. I’m not even sure I ever laughed at him. If you know how easily I laugh, you’ll understand how sad that is. And he is an aspiring comic! So more sad for him. The next day I had an interview downtown and he happened to be there as well. He suggested we meet up so he could show me something. He took me up to the 17th floor of some tower and brought me out onto a patio with an amazing view of the sound and city. After that it was just awkward. He tried to chat, I stared at the mountains. I’m a horrible date.

I met up with two other guys and it was more of the same. One of them I went out with solely because he’s a fisherman. I’m convinced I need to marry a guy who spends a ton of time on a boat. He fished out of Cordova, where I spent most of my time in Alaska, so we shared stories of the town and had a nice time. Ended the night at bar with karaoke, I sang a song, he fell in love, I brushed him off. Same old story.

The third one, there’s really not much to tell. Looks wise, he was right up my alley. Super tall, broad, very capable of growing a beard. And that was it.

If you’re like me and aren’t really into the whole online dating thing, I’d recommend Tinder. You’re only connected with those who like you too (or accidentally swipe right, oops!), you don’t have to read much and it leans more towards meeting now than messaging for days. (this article kind of sums up my swiping tendencies.) Sure, plenty of people use it for hook-ups but many profiles I’ve browsed adamantly expressed that was not what they were looking for. (right!) I’ve since deleted the app as I’m content not to be dating right now. If I meet a handsome guy at the bar, fine.

And if you’ve ever wondered how I could possibly be single, you probably know now.