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Attacked by a Wild Monster

I don’t know where it came from. Or what it wanted. But the door opened, I barked, and suddenly it was all over me, hair flying. 

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The Monster who attacked me

My Pal Spot

This is my new friend Spot.

 

He’s just six months old and is about to visit the vet.

When he comes back he won’t be quite as frisky for awhile.

But soon he will be even better than before.

See Spot Sniff.

 

 

 

 

 

 

See Spot… I hate it when this happens!  (and it always happens)

Spring Breaaaaaaak!

It’s Good To Be Alpha!  Ain’t these some fine bitches to party with?

A Hard Case

So I screwed up, see? I used to run with this cute little bitch. Until I heard she was yelping and whining about me, that I traveled too much, that I was such a hard case, that I was so stuffed that I had to be carried into a car. Stuff like that.

Turns out she wasn’t talking about me at all. She was talking about my exclusive line of luggage.

 

Sheesh. I gotta be the stupidest canine since the first Labrador Retriever.

 

 

 

There is Nothing Like A Pizzle

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We got sunlight on the park, we got moonlight on the sea

We got pine cones and berries you can chew right off a tree
We got Frisbies and collars and raincoats for the drizzles
What ain’t we got, we ain’t got pizzles

We get doggie bags from home, we get TV, we get shows
We get speeches from our mistress and growls from our foes
We get chew toys made from leather, we get dizzy from the smell
What don’t we get, you know darn well

We feel restless, we feel blue, we feel lonely and in grief
We feel every kind of feeling but the feeling of relief
We feel hungry as the wolf felt when he met Red Riding Hood
What don’t we feel, we don’t feel good

Lots of things in life are beautiful but – brother
There is one particular thing that is nothing whatsoever
In any way, shape or form like any other
There is nothing like a PIZZLE, nothin’ in the world
There is nothing with the sizzle of an authentic PIZZLE

Nothin’ else is built the same, nothin’ in the world
As a tough and chewy sinew, like the shlong of a gnu
(Apologies to Oscar Hammerstein II )

New Shoe Chew

If they’d let me, I’d vote for Mr. Romney. That’s because he makes me think of my favorite thing (aside from food and snuggling with Mommy): Flip flops. I love flip flops. All sizes, all colors, but especially pink. And blue.  Okay, any shoe color that Mommy has ever worn. Some dogs like to stare at the TV or turn over wastebaskets and root through the contents, but I love shoes. Flip flops.  I hope some day to meet Mr. Romney, so I can chew on his shoes. He must be a nice man, Mr. Romney. Yeah, I know he was mean to Seamus that one time, but Seamus is mostly to blame because he let himself be strapped into that rooftop carrier. I mean, he’s got teeth, right? Anyway,  I want to meet Mr. Romney  because he’s all about flip flops and I am just crazy for flip flops. Although I wouldn’t turn down an Etch-A-Sketch, if one was left laying around.

 

 

It’s Hard To Be Handsome

Yes, it is hard to be so good looking. I admit it. Sure, I enjoy the attention, at least sometimes. But today, walking in the park, was one of those days. There was a baseball game and a flock of kids and parents and every damn one of them had something to say, or, worse, they wanted to lay hands on me.  I mean, enough is enough. My public be damned.  There are times, good canines, when I just want to be left alone to poop or pee. Sheesh.

Food Coma (to be continued)

I don’t believe I ate the whole thing.

Good chow tonight!

Walking my human

To err is human. To have a territory to protect and explore is canine. Sometimes my human mommy forgets that she’s not a dog and tries to radically alter our patrol route.

For humans, this is called “walking the dog” and “seeking variety.”

For we alpha dogs, that’s called  changing the rules of the game while the clock is running.

My mommy thinks that the sole reason to take me on park patrol is so I can empty my bladder and poop.  It’s not. Oh sure, if it happens, I’m just as glad as mommy is. But the reason I empty my bladder is that I use urine to let other dogs know they’re trespassing on my homeland. How can I do that if mommy insists on taking me on a different route?  I’m may be only a dog, but I know how much marking fluid I carry. I don’t have enough to mark the whole damn town.

And if I don’t regularly mark my ground, what do you think will happen?

Some other dog will claim it with their own urine.

And than I’ll have to find him and bite him.

That’s a dog’s life.

Variety is fine in my food dish. Lay off the route changes!