Archive for the ‘The Dog House’ Category

Happy and our friends over at Serendipity Park came across a list I found intriguing.  I must say though it’s one I’m sure glad my humans didn’t see before adopting me.  They might have changed their minds.


10. A large-breed puppy is fully capable of eating your brand new, hideously expensive, as-yet-uninsured digital camera.

9. By the time your puppy is a year old, you’ll be on a first-name basis with all of the vets and staff at the local animal hospital.

8. You don’t have to worry about the sock your puppy ate because it’ll come out all right in the end.

7. A small-breed puppy is perfectly capable of getting up on top of your fridge if he really wants to.

6. It is no longer safe to have an elegant and attractive arrangement of candles on your coffee table.

5. You follow safe food-handling practices and thaw meat in the refrigerator because you no longer have a choice.

4. Even the smallest puppy with gas can clear a room.

3. When your puppy reaches the age of six months, you will no longer be physically capable of wearing him out.

2. While you’re teaching your puppy basic obedience commands such as “Sit” and “Stay”, she is quietly reorganizing and running your entire household.

And the most important thing no one told you about your first puppy…

1. No one sleeps until the puppy sleeps.


As Happy asks at the end of her post, which ones can you relate to?

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Dogs I\'d invite if I actually had a birthday party.

This past Thursday, I turned two (I guess that actually means 14).  But for the second year in a row, my mom human wasn’t here to celebrate with me.  Don’t get me wrong, my dad human is pretty awesome, but there’s something about my mom human that makes me miss her terribly when she’s gone (it may be the hugs and kisses she’s so generous with). 


She and her sister, along with nephew Luke, are in a place called “Holiday World” in Santa Claus, Indiana.  There’s a big water park plus a bunch of rides and stuff.  According to mom, it’s the best place on earth.  I guess they don’t allow dogs though.  Surely she would’ve included me otherwise.  Apparently, they don’t allow dads either.  He’s here while she’s gone, and, she went without him last year too (I suspect he’s not a big water fan though). 


Needless to say, it wasn’t what you’d call a “happy” birthday.  No fanfare, no presents, no surprises and, of course, no mom.  But at least I got to hang out with Keely (my girlfriend) on my birthday.  That was the lone highlight of the day, although her human sister Sophie just about drives me crazy sometimes (mom says I deserve it for the way I harrass Keely). 


I’m sure mom loves me and misses me as badly as I miss her, I just hope she’s not away for all of my birthdays.  Unfortunately, we dogs don’t get as many of those as you humans do.  😦

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What is it exactly about humans and the remote control?  If I didn’t know any better, I’d think it was some sort of holy grail by the way they go hunting for it whenever it’s been misplaced.  One thing’s for sure: it’s not likely to leave their hands when the TV is on.


Such is the case with my man human.  He’s usually got one hand on the remote and using the other hand to either scratch himself or launch an index finger “rocket” into the nose “silo” (and he wonders why I don’t stay on his lap very long). 


Guy sleeping on couch


During one momentary lapse in judgement earlier tonight, I was on his lap chewing on my favorite rawhide while he watched some mindless TV (our girl human was out with the ladies on this Friday the 13th).  Then, in an instant, I found myself seeing those cartoon stars and birds floating like a crib mobile around my head.  Dagnabit if I hadn’t just been bonked with that thing.  


It took me a minute or two to gather my thoughts.  Had I gotten out of line causing him to feel the need to redirect my focus?  Had I inadvertently stuck him in the groin with my claws making him jerk uncontrollably?  Maybe he dozed off and dropped it right on top of me.  I gotta tell ya, for a moment there, I was pretty cheesed off. 


It was none of those, however.  As I pulled myself together, I realized I had instinctively whipped my head around to my back left hip to scratch an itch with my teeth (weird, I know, but I couldn’t reach it any other way).  As I did that, I hit the underside of the remote with my noggin.  It was my fault.  But I quickly realized it hadn’t been interpreted that way. 


Whether or not he knew how it all went down I’m not sure.  All I know is, in an instant, he began fawning all over me wanting to make sure I was okay and going into that annoying combination of baby/puppy talk where you can’t understand half of what he’s saying.  


Needless to say, I took advantage of the moment and milked it pretty good.  And boy do I need to learn to do that more often.  I not only scored a snack, but the couch, a magazine and of course, the coup de gras.  The remote control. 


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A New(er) Dog House?

May was a busy, busy month for my humans – so busy that I wasn’t able to post for much of the month.  They decided to put the building we live in up for sale.  I’ve been hearing the word “staging” thrown around recently, but I’ve yet to see an actual stage.  I just know that it means a bunch of their stuff is in storage (i.e. Grandma’s house).  There was even an Open House yesterday.  It lasted two hours so we all had to leave.  I heard them say a whole “two people” came. 


Let me just say I am NOT happy about this upcoming move.  After a year and a half of being in one place, I’m finally feeling like I’ve got some stability in my dog life.  I’m not even two yet, but before I was four months old I had three homes.  Nobody wanted me it seemed, and I was beginning to feel a little sorry for myself.  My humans (especially the mommy one) have helped me build my confidence and come out of that funk a little, but the idea of moving brings back so many bad memories. 


There’s also the Keely factor.  Keely is one of my Dachshund neighbors and the apple of my eye.  I’m not at all happy about the prospect of seeing a lot less of her.  We live close enough to each other now that I can hear her bark when I’m in my front yard.  The good news, I guess, is we won’t be that far apart.  If we move into the neighborhood I think we are, it’s bout a 20-minute car ride according to my humans (and I love a good car ride).   


I’d like to ask that you keep me in your doggy prayers if you don’t mind.  Pray that this move won’t stress me out too much.  Pray that I’ll adjust quickly.  Oh, and pray that, on the positive side, I might end up the beneficiary of a fenced in back yard.  I just thought of that one.  Maybe, if I focus on the possibilities, this could be really cool.  I’ll keep you “posted.” 

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