Albert the scruffy terrier writes again! This column first appeared in The Middleburg Eccentric.

If you’ve lived with a dog, you know that we dream. It’s one of those things that all pet parents realize, but scientists have spent lots of time with sleeping animals monitoring patterns, studying brain activity, and assessing movement. After a tremendous amount of analysis, the scientific community has concluded that, yes, animals dream. No surprise there.

All of that research has uncovered some interesting things about the way dogs dream. For instance, our dreams are longest during REM (rapid eye movement) -- much like the dream patterns people have. However, while people dream about every 90 minutes, canine dreams occur differently depending on our size. Very large breeds dream at longer intervals and for longer durations than smaller breeds. Adult dogs spend about 10 to 12 percent of sleep time in REM, while puppies spend much more time in REM.

It also looks like we dream in much the same way our people do when it comes to the subjects of our dreams. In essence, we often dream about the things we do in our daily lives. Pointers might point; terriers might fetch balls; guard dogs might growl, etc.

Our dreams seem to be pretty innocuous most of the time. We often appear to be running, chasing bunnies, or making happy noises. Sometimes, however, we do have nightmares. We definitely look a little strange going through our dreaming motions, and it can be tempting to wake us up. But experts recommend letting our dreams play out, good or bad, rather than jolting us out of our sleep. Even the most mild mannered of us can be aggressive if startled out of a dream state. Additionally, deep, uninterrupted sleep is necessary for our heath. The old saying about letting sleeping dogs lie is absolutely true!

Dreaming is something we share with people, and people often feel a connection to us when they see us dreaming. Dogs are nearly 95% identical to humans genetically. Our brains are very much alike and our neurochemistry works in the same way. It stands to reason that our memories and reflexes aren’t far apart either. Seeing us dream is a reminder of that.

The good news is that scientific research on the dream patterns of animals reveals a potentially rich cognitive life. There is greater and greater clinical evidence that emotion rather than just instinct informs our actions. This is a step in the right direction. It’s a progression towards a world that understands what pet parents everywhere have always known: we have feelings and personalities. There’s a lot going on in our furry heads. If more people believe in the complexity of the animal mind, there’s a chance that more people will treat us with kindness and compassion.

To sleep, perchance to dream of a more humane world -- ay, there's the belly rub!

Albert the scruffy terrier gets inspired by his favorite show. This column first appeared in The Middleburg Eccentric.

I don’t watch much television. I hear it, but I don’t watch it. The one show that I never miss, however, is Downton Abbey. As this season comes to a close, I find myself considering how similar my life is to the lives of the landed gentry on my favorite show. I mean, I’m every bit as fascinating, and, like the idle rich, I have no need for actual work. There are four dogs and one cat in my house, and we all live like royalty. It’s obvious why we would love a show about the glamorous lives of aristocrats, but what’s not obvious is why our people are fans.

At the very least, they should be a bit uncomfortable with the premise. They are clearly most closely aligned with the staff, yet they don’t seem to be relating whatsoever to any of the downstairs denizens at Downton. Perhaps my people are not the brightest sorts. Maybe that’s why they are reduced to a life of servitude.

Let me be clear: my people are the finest servants one could hope to find. They take great pride in their work. They prepare my every meal. They bathe me, cut my nails, trim my fur, and brush my teeth. They dress me when it’s cold. They clean all of my linens.

Furthermore, I lead my people around on a leash when we walk. I make them pick up unmentionable things. I tear toys into shreds and watch as they clean up every last piece of fuzz. I push slobbery tennis balls into their hands until they throw them for my entertainment.

On top of it all, they pay for everything. In this regard, I’m even more special than the Downton elite. I don’t even have to pay people to look after me – they just do it because it’s an honor to be around me! They buy all of my food, pay my vet bills, and replace every shredded toy and bed. I would have thought it to be quite tiresome, but they clearly enjoy the privilege.

My people don’t do this just for me, mind you. They serve all of the four-legged residents in our house equally. (The cat is more demanding than all of the dogs combined. She is very bossy indeed.) And, while they’re scurrying around answering to our every beck and bark, we spend our days lazing about the house, getting in as much naptime as possible.

Now that I think of it, I suppose I do not show enough gratitude for all that my people do. It occurs to me that some sort of gesture of appreciation might be in order. Perhaps I’ll throw a party for them. We’ll eat delicious food and enjoy lively games on the lawn. Sounds like such fun! I’ll have my people get to work planning it immediately. And of course they will have to staff the party. But still … what a jolly good idea! Well done, Albert. Well done.

Albert the scruffy terrier writes again! Albert's column also appears each month in The Middleburg Eccentric.

Recently, my people were in a Dulles airport parking garage when they heard very loud meowing. They followed the meows to a small grey tabby cat who was timid, but not feral.

For more than an hour, my people did what they could to rescue her so that they could help her find a home. Eventually she came within three feet of them, but that seemed to be the limit. It was in the twenties outside, and even my animal-loving people finally had to admit defeat against the plummeting temperatures.

They asked a garage attendant about the cat and found out that she had been there for months. While it was hard for them to leave, they knew they had to, and they vowed to be better prepared in case they found themselves in similar situations in the future.

I decided to write about this not because it’s remarkable to find a stray animal. In truth, it’s all too common. What isn’t common, however, is for people to be prepared if they want to help a stray.

Not everyone is able to help a lost animal, and that’s understandable. Taking on a new pet and/or trying to find someone to adopt a homeless pet takes a lot of time and effort. For those people who decide they’re able to make that commitment, however, rescues go a lot more smoothly when the rescuer is ready for the unexpected.

First and foremost, always carry a leash in the car. It should be the kind that’s a leash and collar in one – a slip lead. It may also be helpful to have a small crate, a simple toy, and a few treats. And you should always have the numbers of local vets and emergency vets in case the animal needs medical attention.

Even if you’re taking a stray to your house, you’ll still want to get a medical check-up before making any introductions with other pets. When you go to the vet, make sure to scan the animal for a microchip. You can also try to find the owner through social media. My people once found the owner of a lost dog within 15 minutes of posting his picture on Facebook.

Of course, you’ll want to use an abundance of common sense. Aggressive animals can be extremely dangerous. Bared teeth, raised hackles, flattened ears, and growling are all signs that you should not come any closer. You should also use caution if an animal appears to be sick or fearful, as normally gentle dogs and cats can become defensive if they are weak or afraid.

And finally, know when to admit defeat. My people were sad to leave without the little tabby, but trying to win her trust was causing her stress and confusion. Since she wasn’t in immediate danger, had lived in the garage for months, and appeared to be healthy, they decided a rescue just wasn’t in the cards.

So outfit your cars with the proper provisions, be prepared for all eventualities, and keep your eyes open (while remembering to put your safety first). You just never know when you might save a life!

(Albert, top dog at Wylie Wagg, writes again.)

Dear Santa,

While it is perhaps true that I have not behaved well 100% of the time this year, I have always had good intentions, even when my instincts have betrayed me. With that in mind, I would like to beg your forgiveness and consideration. I realize that you have complete jurisdiction over what you will be bringing me this Christmas, and I recognize that your decision is based on whether I have been naughty or nice. Given that I may have been naughty once or twice, I would like to confess my sins in the hope of expunging my record and qualifying for a basket. (I’m sure that sentence mixed metaphors, holidays, and perhaps even religions, but I’m a dog, so please forgive me for my transmissions or whatever that word is.)

Anyway, as I said, I would like to confess. First and foremost, you should know that pulling all of the stuffing out of the most expensive throw pillow was not my intent.  It was news to me that the other pillows in the room came from a place called Target while the pillow I chose came from a very fancy place. Had I known that, I can assure you that I would have destroyed a cheap pillow instead.

Also, I got in a lot of trouble for digging that giant hole under the fence, but you don't know the whole story. There was a crazy squirrel who kept sitting on the other side and taunting me endlessly day after day. He was mean, rude, and annoying. There's only so much a self-respecting Jack Russell can take. So, yes, I dug the hole, but for a very good reason. And when I escaped -- whoa!!! -- you should have seen that squirrel panic. It was the funniest thing ever.

So those are the two big things that come to mind. But just in case you're super serious about this naughty or nice thing, allow me to briefly explain a few more things:

1) Nobody told me the difference between a pee pad and an iPad. I'm sure you can understand my confusion.

2) The cat loves it when I chase her. She does. I mean it.

3) I do not steal food from the other dogs when no one is looking. That is a fig newton of your imagination.

4) The water bowl and the toilet bowl seem like the exact same thing to me except one is bigger. You have to admit I'm right.

5) If there were any other mistakes, they were probably Isabelle's. She constantly does bad stuff and blames me for it. If you give her anything at all, it should be a bath because she hates baths.

I rest my case. Please take all of this under advisement and share it with the Easter Bunny because he is still really, really upset about what happened when he came to our house last year. But he's a rabbit and I'm a terrier! What did he expect?

Happy holidays!

Albert P. Clark

Albert writes again! Albert's column also appears each month in The Middleburg Eccentric.

It’s hard for me to talk about what’s going on in my life, but I think it’s best to write from the heart. Basically, one of the dogs in my family is sick. Tucker, the Whippet, has a very aggressive form of skin cancer caused by the sun. At this point, he has had serious surgery and chemotherapy. More surgery is next.

We don’t know if Tucker will be okay. We just don’t know. What we do know is that he’s happy to be here. He still wags his tail and plays when he feels like it and gives way too many kisses with his pointy nose. His eyes are still bright – maybe even more so now. For Tucker, every day is still a gift.

Watching him reminds me of why I’m proud to be a dog. Each morning of my life, I wake up 100% ready to greet the day. I’m definitely no spring chicken, but I guess I didn’t get the memo, because I still act like a puppy when daylight breaks.

My people are actually kind of annoyed with me about this. When I wake up, I think everybody in the house should be awake, so I make it happen. It’s very nice of me, and I can never figure out why everybody grouses about it. I mean, what sane being would want to miss one second of one glorious sunrise on this planet? It makes me wonder if my people understand the gift of a new day the way I do … the way Tucker does … the way all dogs do.

Not only do we know how to wake up with gratitude, we also know how to make the most of our days. We’re really appreciative of the simple things: a small treat, the chance to play, a gentle pat on our heads. When we’re happy, our tails wag our entire body and our eyes literally smile.

I’m bringing this up because the holidays are here, which means it’s the perfect time to be thankful. And yet, I think people have a really hard time understanding how to be. They get caught up in their busy schedules and forget to smell the roses. They don’t remember that every day with loved ones is a luxury. They forget about gratitude as a way of life.

I’m not talking about being thankful in the typical ways. I’m talking about realizing that there is only one true gift. The gift is in the being here. The gift is in being at all.

When I enthusiastically announce the arrival of morning, I’m not just asking for breakfast or telling everyone that I have to go outside. Yes, I need those things too, but if one listens closely, there’s something else in my bark. It’s the unmistakable joy of being able to greet the day; to see Tucker’s bright eyes; and to know that all of us have more time.

I hope Tucker’s going to be here for a long, long time. He’s skinny and weird looking and I used to love pestering him to no end when I was a little peanut of a pup. He took it all in stride and tried to show me then what he’s trying to show me now: how to live life to the fullest no matter what nips at your heels.

This holiday season, it might be a good idea to give the people and pets in your family a little extra love and attention. Every day is a brand new chance to be with them. What a gift indeed.

Albert writes again! This column first appeared in The Middleburg Eccentric.

I’ve been watching the debates and following the news, just as any intrepid canine journalist should. But to be honest, I’m a little tired of the whole election thing. It’s contentious, the commercials are annoying, and I just don’t care about it because I can’t vote. What I do know, however, is that the winner gets to have a live-in chef and all the food he wants. That’s enough for me to be sure that this is a dream job. Therefore, I’m announcing my candidacy for President of the United States, starting immediately.

Of course, having a dog run the country will be a first, so let me assure you that I am qualified. Please note that I’m a lone wolf in this race, not affiliated with any party. Now, let’s talk platform:

In short, I believe in equal play for cats and dogs. I fully support stray marriage. I think every pet in America should have access to affordable vet care. I think we should welcome citizens of all countries: the German Shepherd, the Irish Wolfhound, the Italian Greyhound, the Mexican Hairless, the Persian cat. And on the important issue of spay and neuter, I support a pet’s right to choose.

But my views aren’t always liberal. For instance, I love, love, love to dig. “Dig, Baby, Dig!” I say. For oil, for bones, whatever. Digging is fun. Also, I absolutely do not want the government getting involved in my business. When I go outside to do my business, it’s personal. I don’t want anybody involved. And actually, I can’t imagine why anyone would want to be.

Furthermore, I’m not soft on war. Well, to be specific, I’m not soft on tug-of-war. I will never, ever, ever back down on that issue. If there’s a potential tug-of-war anywhere near me, I’m definitely getting involved. Peace lovers, beware. I am one tough pup.

With the war discussion behind us, let’s talk about how horrible the economy is. The supposed “working dogs” out there know exactly what I mean. It’s tough to be a working dog without a job. Don’t worry, I’ll create jobs, if only because I’m too stubborn to accept the alternative. I am a terrier, after all.

Finally, I guess I have to address taxies. Let’s get something straight: taxies are a great way to get from one place to another. Some people are saying that rich people should have less taxies, but those people deserve a ride too! My plan is to keep the taxies going for everyone to enjoy!

So there it is: my comprehensive plan for making sure America stays strong. I know there’s very little time left until election day, but it’s not too late to make the right choice. People have been in power for so many years, why not try a canine on Capitol Hill? I really, really want to win and I promise to be loyal. But hey, I’m not going to beg for your vote. Oh wait a minute … yes I am. Begging is what I do best!

Albert, one of Wylie Wagg's family of dogs, "writes" a column for the Middleburg Eccentric, a local Virginia newspaper. This is September's entry -- from the viewpoint of a scruffy Jack Russel-ish canine journalist:

Tucker and Riley, the big dogs in my family, went AWOL this week – Absent Without Leash. You would think by now that they would know better. They’re practically senior citizens. But off they went through a break in the fence, disappearing over the horizon as Isabelle and I watched. Of course, Izzy and I were way too loyal and smart to follow the big dogs. (Actually we just couldn’t get our short legs over the fence, but oh how we tried!)

When my mom realized Tucker and Riley were gone, she was not amused. In fact, she looked a little scared and mad and kooky all at once. She went racing out the door, jumped in the car, and flew down our driveway yelling stuff out of the window. A loud and desperate jumble of “want a treat” and “time to eat” and “Tuuuuucccckkkerrr” and “Riiiiilllleeeyyy” and “please come” cut through the country air. (People are so weird sometimes.)

Somehow, her bizarre tactics worked and she rounded up both Very Bad Dogs and brought them home. They were in the proverbial doghouse, so Izzy and I were especially smug and obnoxious. My dad came home and fixed the fence, and all was normal again.

It was, however, a very big wake up call for my people. Anything can happen at any time, even to pet owners who are more than a little obsessed about safety. In this case, one loose fence board was all it took.

It got me thinking that I should devote a column to the new developments in pet location. I’ve already written about the importance of microchips and ID tags, so I won’t rehash that. I’m sure my readers would never let a four-legged friend run around without an ID – right?

Beyond simple ID tags, however, technology has paved the way for a whole new set of tools that pet parents can use to protect their animals:

1)    QR tags: These ID tags are like traditional tags but have a QR code. This enables anyone who finds a pet to scan the ID with a smart phone and access a website with all of the pet’s information, including medical history, phone, address, etc. This information can be updated and changed quickly and easily by the owner. For more information, visit pethub.com.

2)    GPS tracking: Now pet parents can know exactly where their pet is at all times and even receive alerts via email and text if the animal wanders out of range. The GPS device is lightweight and attaches to the pet’s existing collar. (On a personal note, I’ve seen this technology in action and it’s amazing!) To learn more, visit tagg.com.

3)    Social media: Always have a few current photos of your pet on hand so that you can quickly post a lost pet announcement and photo on Facebook and/or Twitter.

4)    Pet location websites: There are many websites that help reunite pets and people. Check out thecenterforlostpets.com (sponsored by the Humane Society of the U.S.), fidofinder.com, lostpetusa.net, and missingpet.net. Many of these sites have sections both for lost and found animals, so if you happen to find a dog or cat, you can check the found section to see if the animal is registered.

So there you have it -- lots of new ways to make sure we stay safe. Just don’t forget rule number one: Apparently, a loose fence board will not fix itself.