What Riley has to say about his new life:
I'm living here outside of Chicago, training my new owners, as fast as I can. I have a great life, as this is my den, and I am the leader of our pack. Our pack is somewhat small, but they have 6 grandkids and one more on the way. (More on that later)
The exciting news about this house is that it comes with perpetual playmates. They must take me for a walk, throw a tennis ball, a bigger ball, carrot, rope, or a towel to me. I have taught them to play dog baseball on the upstairs steps, and am now working on the frisbee. My frisbee is soft yellow, with purple letters that say " Pet Supplies" on it. It must have cost a lot of money! I'll bring them along with the frisbee slowly because the tall one still throws too high. He must think I am a Border Giraffe.
They understand what my little actions mean now, so we get along fine. I haven't been to the dog training fields for a while, because they're so wet and cold lately. I miss the ducks [at Gramma Kat's], so I tried to herd two HUGE ducks (geese), but they turned and chased me, so I left them alone. They won't be back soon. My days are filled with play, play, and more play, then I have to nap. We are working on training for walks and I think the older one gets it now.
Back to the grandkids now. At holiday dinners, and parties, the two 3 year olds sit on a little table and two small folding chairs that say "Dora, the Explorer " on it. They eat some food, then throw food at each other, then at me when I walk over. Its great, they must think I am funny as they both laugh and laugh. Then I go over to the grown up and kids table and find food there, and end up with some extra in my bowl of Purina O.N.E. at the end of the day. I usually have to wait for the dishes, pots and pans to get washed, so I hang around and sulk until they remember me. It really works.
I have broken in all the small kids now too, so we are fine. The older ones play catch with me outside too, but don't have the arm for frisbee yet. There are a lot of people here sometimes, so I just go behind a chair, so I don't get stepped on. tripped over, or rollled over. I am looking forward to baseball season here, as I can watch all the Cub games in High Definition TV.
I play dog baseball when I go to the top of the stairs with a tennis ball, and I bark until the tall one comes to see what I want. I then throw the ball out of my mouth, down the stairs. If he catches it with one hand at the bottom of the stairs, he gets a point. Then if I catch his toss back up the stairs I get a point. I think he cheats me. I think I will get an attorney to keep score.
When I feel I am neglected, I still take everything out of my crate, and pull it around the house. Sometimes I make two trips with it before I am noticed.
I miss all of you (siblings), and especially Gramma Kat. I will make a trip this summer sometime, and we will take pictures too.
Riley, Leader of the Pack.
Riley has invented a new game called dog baseball. Instead of running up and down the basement stairs, and getting tired, he takes the ball to the top of the stairs on the second floor, and then drops it down the stairs, and I have to catch it, throw it back up, where he catches it, takes it to the first step, and drops it. If the ball gets stuck on the first step, he will go down one step,retrieves it, and throws it back down the stairs. I actually get tired first instead of him. I think he plans to sit on a chair up there next.
