Cooper climbs Mt. Washington

I showed my parents up. I’ve had enough of the “couch potato” and “I wish we had an active dog” comments. They have mistaken my boredom for sluggishness. Well, I have redefined the nature of our association. I f**ing climbed Mt. Washington, the nastiest, highest, and most challenging peak in the northeast! Here’s what happened:
8:07 AM- Dad says, “I wish we could just leave him here. I don’t think he’ll make it. Two days ago, he laid down in the shade when we were walking to the car after we left Petsmart.”
8:09AM- While dad was enjoying a piece of stuffed French toast with lingonberry tapenade at the Dana Place Inn B&B, mom countered his statement with, “We can at least start and see how he does.”
8:11AM- I spot a chipmunk near the woodpile outside the bedroom I was locked in against my will. My cries for freedom go unanswered.
8:12AM- I fall asleep briefly and have an unsettling dream about being mauled by a giant chipmunk while tied to a parking meter outside a bar.
8:17AM- Dad and mom get back from breakfast stinking of sausage and maple syrup. Dad says, “Hey Buddy, do you think you’re up for a climb?”
9:00 AM- After a nauseating car ride to the Pinkham Notch Visitor’s Center, I’m locked in the car (temperature approaching 61 degrees F) while my ‘rents reconnoiter and buy stuff for themselves.
9:22AM- We are underway. I’m leashed and unable to realize my full potential as an active, urban-athlete. I fight the tether and try to push forward as I choke against…
9:23AM- For the 1st time in our relationship, Dad says, “It’s steep and rocky. I don’t think he’ll run that far ahead.” I am freed from the chains of bondage. My pads hit the rocks a little more lightly. The air is tinged with a bit more pine and maple. The dew tastes sweeter. The chipmunk droppings are larger. I am free.
9:41AM: “Cooper! Wait!” I’m leaving these dipshits in the dust.
10:45AM: Things have moved forward and continued at about the same pace. Dad reliably calls to me every 31 seconds and I have to double-back and make eye contact with him or else he’ll bind me again. Occasionally I see my mom.
11:46 AM-I’m rock hopping now. Dad thinks he knows best and keeps picking my routes up the steep boulder faces. I’d have been at the top by now if not for them. I found a group of kids that had lots of Clif Bars (White Chocolate Macadamia Nut it smelled like) that are moving at my pace and not yelling at me. Someone turns to my dad and says, “Shut up, he’s stopping and waiting for you every time you say his name.”
11:51AM- Dad deems the trail too steep, slick, and unsafe for dogs to be off-leash. Dejected, I submit to his will and half-heartedly drag his tired ass up the rest of Mount Washington via the Lion’s Den Trail.
12:36PM- Dad might have been right.
1:26PM- That was a little harder than I figured, but we made it after a scramble up a rock field. The sweet taste of victory. Dad utters, “I can f**ing believe it. Cooper was unbelievable.”
1:31PM- I’m so pissed off. My paws are all ripped up, I’m wet and cold and my parents are buying sweatshirts for themselves at the Tip Top Shop on the summit. Do you wanna know what I got? A damned pin that says, “This body climbed Mount Washington.”
1:46PM- I’m not allowed into the state park building at the summit. My parents secure a shuttle ride back to the base and take turns holding my leash outside the building while they alternate warming up. Dad buys more crap.
1:48PM- I finally get a meal and my dad gets yelled at. I got a couple of great treats yesterday in Conway, NH at Four Your Paws Only. One of them was a “Pup Tart.” It pretty much looked like a real Pop Tart and some guy yelled at my dad for feeding me “Junk.” The train that runs to the summit showed up with a tremendous air horn blow and a little bit of tinkle just came out of me. I drop the pup tart and start to feel sick.
2:15PM- I commandeer the shotgun position in the shuttle down the hill and flirt the whole time with a bevy of French girls. My dad said they were from Quebec but was still proud of me.
The next day- My parents are still marveled by my athletic ability and I almost choke to death on the “This body climbed Mt. Washington” pin that fell off of my collar. When I regain consciousness, a bar fight broke out and I was nearly maimed by a broken beer bottle, but I’ll talk about that next time.

--Cooper

Cooper-cabra takes a stand

I’m taking a stand. My dad says I’m getting fat. He’s calling me “chunky monkey” and “Dogzilla.” Now he wants to ration my food and make me start running with him. Well, it’s already diet dog food and my legs are pretty short. It’s not my fault I don’t have a yard to run and dig in. So pump the brakes, Dad! You’re foolin’ with the wrong dog. You might not know it , but in some circles I’m referred to as “El Chupacabra,” a.k.a “Cooper-cabra.” So leave me at home when you go for a run and throw some gravy and pizza crusts in with my food if you know what’s good for you. Go ahead, make my day!

Rita's Custard Opens Today and I'm mad as hell

Well, I’m pretty upset. Rita’s Custard on Essex Street in Salem opens today. My dad walked me by there twice this morning and we didn’t stop. I know it’s only 7:30AM but we should be in line. I know if I’m the first customer I’ll get a free doggie cone but NO, I got drug home on a short leash but not before we went and stood by some stupid little lily pond down the street from that creepy witch house. Now it’s going to be raining and my dad won’t walk me down there again in the rain. He’ll be trying to sleep before work tonight while I’m stuck on the couch playing with my fake, synthetic squirrel, Chip. He doesn’t look or taste real. He does make a squeaky noise and I’m sure dad will take him away when he is trying to sleep. So no Rita’s for Cooper today just a mouthful of polyester squirrel and the slim chance my mommy spills sour cream on the kitchen floor.

Grounded!!

Well I’m grounded. Apparently you can only run from your parents in a playful manner on their terms. I was at the lighthouse and I having fun, saying hi to all my peeps, ignoring my Dad, you know having fun. That’s when it occurred to me, I could just keep going, so I did. I was running, and running…but I did stop to get my cookie from the maritime museum workers, and I kept running. I knew I was in trouble, cause my Dad was calling my name, and moving at an unusually brisk pace, and calling my name. I figured it would be best to just keep going. That’s when I made my move. I kicked it into four paws, and booked it across the street, dodge and weave- those cars couldn't’t touch me. I went the only direction I knew, towards home. My Dad lost sight of me, but I could still hear him yelling. Since he was out of sight I decided to enjoy my new found freedom. I was strolling by the church and this car rolled up, with some other dogs in it. They were totally talking smack. Their Mom got out and grabbed my collar and was looking at my ID, that’s when my Dad came running up. He was really calm. He apologized and thanked the lady, and we walked home. My Dad didn’t yell, or alpha roll me; we just walked home in silence. It was pretty bad. When we got home my Mom was waiting for me with a towel, and she didn’t say much either. I was like, hey good deal. They kept saying, you’re grounded! I don’t know what that means? It’s been about a week, and I no longer get to run out to the peer off leash, I think I know what ‘your grounded' means. I don’t think I like it.