Where I Decide to Join the Social Media Craze!

Well, you all will be glad to know that I have finally decided to become a social media-lite. Yes, that’s right, you can now find yours truly on Facebook.

I know, I know, I have always been pretty open about not liking all this Facebook stuff. Dogs competing with each other about who has the most friends, I mean how it is possible for anybody to have 35,000 “friends?” Then some pets get carried away with talking about their swimming pools and spas and massages and they make everybody else feel like hobos. And what about the ones (and we all know them) who feel like they have to keep the world posted on their every move?

7:05   Still sleepy

8:10   Ate my morning kibble

8:30   Tinkled in the backyard, number two sure to follow….

Do I really want to know all this? Do I really care? No.

But along the way, I also heard about other dogs who found old buddies and pals that they hadn’t seen in a long time and I thought that was nice. And I’ve seen a lot of videos that humans posted about their pets and I love those. Plus, I do feel the need to keep an eye on Mom as every time she posts a stupid story or picture about me on Facebook, I have to deal with all the heat from the guys in the ‘hood. So, I made up my mind to take the plunge. But I draw the line at Facebook. No Instabark or Twitterdog for me! And don’t even get me started on the whole “pinning other dogs up to a board” thing!

So, anyways, when you have a free minute, please go to my Facebook page and help me get “Likes” which are really just a collection of belly-rubs owed to me on the ‘puter. Mom only gives me belly-rubs in the morning, after supper and at night, so you can see why I need all the help I can get!

Where I Think About Starting My Own Security Company

Hi Guys! I know it has been a long time but we have all been busy with other things. Mom has been busy being sad about Grandma and I have been busy trying to find ways to make her cheer up.  Anyways, I think things are a little better lately so I can get back to making some plans of my own now that she doesn’t need me so much. One of the things I have been thinking about is forming my own police-dog team. Wait now, just hear me out…This wouldn’t be just your average run of the mill “Rent-A-Dog” place.

First, it will be my company and I will be in charge of everything. My job title will be something like “Super Alpha-Dog Boss” and I will have a badge (just like my Mom’s) with my picture on it that I will wear on a string around my neck. I will handpick all my employees, probably mostly shepherds, but with some Rotties and Dobies and Pitties mixed in. I am still deciding about the company name and am open to any suggestions. I think “K-9 Enforcers” is the best one I have come up with so far. Our motto: Protect. Enforce. Secure. Terminate

Customers could hire my company for a lot of different reasons. Government customers might want to hire us to keep everybody out of their buildings but the people that work there. They don’t want terrorists coming in 'cause of bombs and such, but they also don’t want regular humans coming in sniffing around and voicing their ‘pinions all over the place. My team could make sure that all the terrorists and voters and pizza boys stay away so that the government can work the way it wants to!

Or think of a bank, for example, where humans sit at desks all day talking on the phone and working on ‘puters. My team could do recon and patrol the building to make sure everybody is working hard and not going to the bathroom too much. Shepherds are born to herd so we can clear out any break-room or cafeteria in a red hot minute. Any slackers on the ‘puter will get a steely-eyed look and if that doesn’t work, a low growl and a show of teeth. After two warnings, all bets are off and the culprit will be dragged…uhm.. escorted off the premises. While we are doing all that, we could also fight off any robbers or shady-looking characters who say they want to make a withdrawal.

Well, the possibilities are endless. I think I really have a good idea here if I can just sell Mom on it. Honestly, she treats me like a baby when I am just about full-grown now! I will have to somehow talk her into giving me some start-up cookies to pay my team with and then I will p-mail my posting around the neighborhood. We won’t discriminate, but NO POODLES NEED APPLY!

Where I Talk About My Grandma's Death

I am sorry that it has been so long, but something very sad happened since the last time I wrote to you. My Grandma got very sick, went to the hospital, and died earlier this month. I never did get to see my Grandma as much as I wanted to because I still sometimes jump when I get excited and Mom was afraid I would knock her over. But she was always nice to me when I did see her and petted me and gave me cookies. I know that she loved me and I think I was her favorite grand-dog.

Mom told me that Grandma had been the best mother ever. She had always been loving and patient and understanding and she told her kids they could do anything if they put their minds to it. She taught them right from wrong and how to put themselves in someone else’s shoes to keep from making a decision they might be sorry about later. In her younger years, she played fast-pitch softball for a team that went on road trips around the country and she was athletic with a lot of energy even after she got older. She loved to laugh, she loved to have adventures and she loved life. Mom said Grandma was a truly good person who tried to help anybody she could and that a light went out of the world with her passing.

Mom has been so upset because everything happened sudden-like with Grandma whom she loved her very much, so I have had to be on my best behavior lately because she needed me. Many nights, I would lay with my (giant) head on her chest and watch her cry while she held on to my ears. One night, I lay across her like a big German Shepherd blanket until finally she had to scoot me off because she said she was being crushed. Mom was so busy with going to the hospital and the nursing home and helping to arrange the funeral that she has not had much time to spend with me, but I have hardly done one bad thing because I know how sad she has been. That shows you what I good boy I am.

I told Mom that Grandma was up in heaven now with Grandpa, her Mom and Dad and some of her sisters, Max, the angel dog, and lots of people she loves. They are all young again with no pain, or trouble or worry. I think they are in a big field, running and laughing and eating and playing ball. They will wait there for us no matter how long it takes, right by the Rainbow Bridge, to make sure they see us as soon as we cross over.

Goodbye for now, Grandma. We love you and will keep you always in our hearts until we meet again.

Where I Fuss About Holidays For Rabbits!

Well, I have seen it all now! We have just had another stupid holiday, and, believe it or not, it was a holiday celebrating rabbits! Of all the hare-brained ideas! Why would anyone want to have a holiday for them? Human puppies think rabbits are soft, sweet, cute little animals that bring them baskets of candy, but dogs know better. Rabbits are actually evil, furry little terrorists who live and thrive in darkness. And, not that I’m bitter, but I never saw any rabbit with a basket and none of them ever brought me any candy.

As usual, of course, Mom wanted to dress me up in a dumb old costume. But when she came toward me with a headband of bunny ears, I just flat out said “No.” I mean, you have to draw the line somewhere. What’s next? Is she going to try to dress me like a squirrel? Is she going to make me wear a mailman costume? My reputation is already in shreds, pretty soon I won’t even be accepted in decent society any more.

Mom said “Let’s talk about this.” She told me that she knew I was having trouble catching rabbits although I hadn’t said anything about it. She said with them being so fast and able to hide in tiny places where I can’t fit, that I might not ever be able to catch one. But then, she said, “I have an idea. What if you put on the bunny ears and go out in the yard? Maybe they will think you are a bunny, too, and won’t run away from you and then you can catch one!” Well, I have to say, I never did think about that before. Mom can be pretty smart every once in a while.

So, she put the bunny ears on me and took about 300 pictures which she promised to destroy later on. Then, I went out in my yard and lay down real still so that the rabbits would come over to welcome me and that’s when I would ‘neak up and pounce. Things didn’t work out the way I planned though. I waited and waited and none of them ever came over.  When I squinted, I could see them looking out at me from under the shed and if I didn’t know better, I would swear they were giggling. Who knows why, I swear rabbits never do make any sense. I finally gave up and went back in the house and told Mom somebody must have tipped them off. “We must have a mole,” she said and then it hit me that I just might know who it is. I will probably have to go undercover though, to get the evidence I need, so you might not see me for a while. Now, I have to go figure out my disguise.

Where I Discover That I'm Giant and Have a Huge Head!

When I went out for breakfast this morning, it was already a beautiful day and I was so happy. Mom wouldn’t let me go out in the backyard for about 35 weeks because of all the rain, she kept saying it was too muddy, although why that matters, I have no clue. Anyways, I was like, finally, I can spend all day playing in my yard. I can chase balls and sneak up on the squirrels, talk trash with Reese, the chocolate lab, and race her up and down the fence, and try to get to the rabbits who (most unfairly) hide away under a stupid shed where I can’t reach them. And it was while I was dreaming about all this that Mom dropped the bomb. She said I had to go have a bath today. REALLY? You’ve got to be kidding! Somehow, I get the feeling that my play schedule is not regarded as seriously as it deserves by one who shall remain nameless.

So, off we go. My bath place, called the Hound’s Tooth, has moved since the last time we went there, Mom said it’s now on Taylorsville Road.  It is much bigger and brighter than their other home and everything is brand spanking new. My friends, Carla and Jeramie were waiting there and were so excited to see me. I got lots of kisses from them both  and they called me their “baby” and “little man” and told me how handsome I was, all of which was true, of course, but did go some way toward soothing this savage beast.

Mom went off and left me there, which was OK, because she knows Carla and Jeramie and knows they love me and are nice to me whether she is there or not. So, they brushed about 1,000 pounds of hair off me which they call “getting fumigated,” and gave me a bath with shampoo that makes me not so itchy. I was nice and clean and it felt pretty good although I will never admit it to Mom. They did lots of other things, too, but fellow dogs listen up! They are a couple of odd things I have to mention. Carla and Jeramie seem to have a strange obsession with wanting to cut on my toenails. It doesn’t hurt, but I usually whine when this is going on as a form of protest and today, I even gave Jeramie a love-nip on his ear. Also, sometimes they stick a weird, fuzzy brush in my mouth and move it around, but I don’t mind this too much because I eat the paste which is yummy. This time, they sprayed some stuff in my mouth, too, and chipped some yucky gunk off my teeth. I am not sure what to think about these strange behaviors, I would sure hate to think my good friends are going koo-koo.

Mom wanted to take a picture of me, all cleaned up, with Carla and Jeramie so she made me lie down and wait because a man came in the door just then to pick up his dog. The man started petting me and told Mom “Boy, I would sure hate to be around if he got mad” and I puffed my chest out a little bit to show him how fierce I was. Then he said, “What does he weigh, about 105 pounds?” I thought he was kidding, at first, but then I saw that he was serious! Did he mistake me for an elyphant? I only weigh 85. Mom made it worse because she said people thought I was bigger than I was because I was so tall and HAD A HUGE HEAD!!!! Thanks a lot, Mom!

Does anybody know where I can find somebody named Jenny Craig? Oh, and maybe  a head-shrinker?

                                                     

                                                         

Where I Talk About Learning to Swim

Sorry it has been so long, but my Mom went on a trip way far away and left me all by myself at the Bed and Biskit Lodge. I know, I couldn’t believe she would do such a thing to me, but she did! She said she was going to the Washington capitol and that I couldn’t go because they didn’t allow dogs, but I have heard her talk about this place before and she said something about a few skunks that lived there. Now, what kind of city has room for skunks and not for dogs? Just asking… Anyways, I planned to give her two cold shoulders when she came back, but I didn’t. I was so happy to see her that I jumped up on the counter, spun around in circles and tried to give her 4,200 kisses while almost knocking her down. She said she was happy to see me, too, and called me her “bubbi, but she did not stand on her head or do any flips, so I think I missed her more than she missed me.

Well, now that it’s getting warmer outside, I can start thinking about swimming again. I didn’t know what swimming was until I came to live with Mom and Dad and they took me to a pool one day. Friends, just so you know, a pool looks like a gigan-enormous water bowl. A guy that worked there put me in a strange contraption that buckled around my belly and tried to coax me into that water, but at first, I was like “nothing doin.” But somehow when I walked, the floor ran out and all the sudden, I was in the water whether I liked it or not. The water must have been magic, though, because I did not drown, I just floated along. I still did not like it too much, though, until we started playing water-ball and that was lots of fun. My legs became like big flippers and I was so busy chasing the ball all over the pool that I forgot to be scared. I never did have to wear that thing around my belly anymore once I knew how to swim.

I asked Mom for a cool new pair of swimming goggle this year, but she said that I would probably have to wear a swimming hat instead. She said we have to try something to keep my ears from getting nasty and sick. Somehow, the idea of a hat in the water doesn’t sound right to me, I am sure I am heading once again for dork city. All that remains is for her to dress me in socks and sandals and then my humiliation will be complete.

Where I Talk About How I Like to Howl

Friends, did I ever tell you about how I like to howl? Well, I do. I live nearby something called a hospital and all the cars that have screaming machines on top like to go there. When I hear them go by making all that noise, it just seems like I have to join in. It feels so good to let loose…you know, point your nose toward the sky and shout as loud as you can. I don’t know why this feels great, it just does. It must be a dog thing. Mom says I am loud enough to shatter glass when I get going. She calls me “white fang” or “call of the wild” when I howl and it’s almost dark and cold and she can only see my shadow out in the yard. This is a private joke because my grandma was convinced when she first heard me that I was secretly a wolf. I think I could be a wolf if I wanted to, but I would rather just be a good boy.

One time, my Mom and Dad were in the car and I was with them in the back seat. (By the way, I don’t see why I always have to be the one in the back seat, I am thinking about making a complaint to the German Shepherd Society.) Anyways, Mom was driving and she pulled into a place where they have little tiny humans inside small gray boxes that talk to you. I heard her say something about hamburgers and my ears perked up. I was trying very hard to think of some way of getting her to order a hamburger for me when all the sudden, I heard something. Mom had time enough to say “Oh, God, no” and then I commenced: AAAARRRRROOOO! AAARRRROOO!   RUFF! Ruff! RUFF! AAAARRRROOOO!  AAAARRRROOOOOOO!   AAARRRROOOOO!  Ruff!   Ruff! Ruff! Mom had her hands over her ears and she and Dad were laughing real hard. The tiny human in the box kept talking the whole time, but Mom and Dad couldn’t hear a word he was saying.

Sometimes, Mom will howl and bark with me, but she doesn’t do it right. My guess is that she failed Basic Howling 101. I have tried to teach her, but you know how hard it is to catch up once you fall behind. Sadly, I think she will always be a little bit below average in this area, but I will bite any dog that says so. Nobody hurts my Mom and lives to tell about it.

Where I Talk About the Games I Love

There are a lot of games and stuff I like to play when I am not playing ball outside. But truthfully, I have to say that most of my inside games involve balls, too. I like it when Mom tosses me a ball, I catch it, and throw it back to her with my mouth. Sometimes, we play speedball where Mom gathers up a bunch of my balls, asks if I am ready, and pitches them to me one after another,  real fast. I usually get bonked on the head during this game because I forget what we are doing and pause to chew on one of my favorites. When we play soccer, Mom rolls the ball to me and I act like a goalie and use my feet to stop it from getting past me. We also play this same game with Mom using my toy hamburger like a hockey puck. She does a victory dance if she succeeds and I squeak the toy if I win.

Mom is teaching me a new game right now. She makes me sit at one end of the hall, puts a ball in the middle, and then she goes to the other end. She will hold up one finger and say “Ready” and then “Set” and after about 22 hours, she will finally say “Go.” Then I race to get the ball before she does. (Sshh!  It really is not much of a race, I could beat her on one leg.) The problem with this game is that I get so excited, I forget to wait for “Go” and then Mom calls me a cheaterbutt and makes me go back to the beginning. But, at least this is one time I don’t hear the dreaded “No running in the house” rule.  

We also play “Find” where Mom hides my ball around the house and I have to find it. A cousin of this is when she scatters a few treats around the house and I use my nose like a vacuum cleaner to locate and eat them. Other times, Mom lies in bed and hides my ball underneath the covers.  She really likes this game, I am not sure why. Sometimes, she tries to hide from me, herself, but she can never get far enough away to hide very well, I always find her in one minute.

Mom likes to torture me by putting my ball underneath an upside down laundry basket or in my toy rubber cage and I have to figure out how to get it out. I think this game should be banned along with the stupid game where she puts toys in the middle of the floor, says a name, and I have to go pick out which one she says.

I like agility and swimming and tetherball and singing with Mom, but I will tell those stories another time. But I do have to say that I learned how to play with Kong  last week. Kong is a fat red rubber thing with a hole in his belly. Mom puts little cookies down inside Kong and I have to beat him up and throw him around to make the cookies come out. I think this game is very instwukshunal.  That means it teaches me many things and we should play it at least ten times a day.

Where I Talk About Playing Ball

One of my most favorite things to do in the world is to play ball. Believe it or not, I am not sure Mom ever played ball before I came, but I have taught her how to play, and now I believe she loves it, too! Oh sure, she jokes with me sometimes about it. When I beg her to come out and play in the yard and its 98 degrees and the skitas are biting or when there’s snow on the ground and the wind is so cold it freezes your patooties off, she’ll tell me I’m crazy if I think for one minute she's going to come outside and play. But she does come out, more often than not, even when it’s dark outside and she stumbles around the yard because she can't see too good.  She’ll say “You’re killing me, Newlie,” but I know she doesn’t mean it. Honestly, if she really and truly didn’t like to play ball, she wouldn’t come out, would she? Mom says it’s not the ball she loves, but I don’t know what she means.

Mom is actually a terrible thrower. She is so bad that I think sometimes she must have some kind of birth defect. I tell you, when she throws the ball it never goes more than two feet away from her and never in the direction that she means for it to go. Early on, Dad told her to use an old tennis racket that was down in the basement and that has worked out fine. She can hit pretty good with it, from the front to the back of the yard, and our yard is nice and big. Mom likes to hit balls from corner to corner so that I get a work-out running back and forth across the yard. She has to stay very still, though, when this is going on, otherwise she will get mowed down by a hairy, 85 pound freight train. I like to fake her out, too, and start running for the corner where I think she is going to hit next. Sometimes I get there before she hits the ball and that’s a bummer. But I really love it when she hits a line drive and I jump up and catch it in my mouth! Mom always yells “Good boy!” when I do that and then starts muttering about how much it will cost to have a dentist fix my teeth.

Mom bought me a ball machine way back when I first came here, but it might be dead now. She used to use it sometimes as a change from hitting the ball with the racket. The way it works is that you put balls in a basket thing and then they roll down to the bottom and pop out. You can hear a little noise when it’s getting ready to go off and then Bam, it shoots the ball out into the yard. Mom actually hits it farther than the ball machine, but there is something so exciting about watching it pop out, hearing that little noise and waiting for it to fire. Sometimes, I couldn’t wait and would try to grab it away from the machine and then Mom would fuss and tell me that I was going to get my eyes put out if I wasn’t careful. Moms are awful silly sometimes.

Where I Learn to Face New Challenges

Now that the holidays are over, we can finally get back to talking about some of my other adventures. When I was still seeing Jerry-the-trainer, Mom had the idea that she was going to try to teach me how to pull a cart. I wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, but in my usual easy-going manner (Mom snorted!) I told her that I would give it a try. Mom first put a harness on me and used a piece of rope to tie an empty gallon plastic bottle behind me. We walked up and down and up and down the street with me dragging the stupid thing, and although every dog in the neighborhood thought I was a big dork, nothing else happened. Mom was worried because she had read in a book that sometimes dogs think they are being chased, but here’s the million dollar question….Why would I be afraid of a plastic bottle, even if it was chasing me? It’s a shame that people think we are such wienies.

So, from there I graduated to two empty plastic gallon bottles (double-dork) and then Mom over time started filling first one bottle, then the other, with water.  Then, she upgraded me to pulling a tire. These activities made so much noise and became such show that the neighborhood dog association began talking about selling tickets. So, anyways, the next time Mom took me to see Jerry, I noticed that he was fooling around with my harness and connecting something, but it wasn’t until he tugged on my leash that I realized there was a big metal devil thing with wheels running after me and I started spazzing out and crying “SAVE ME, MOM, SAVE ME!” Jerry and Mom moved very fast and got the devil thing off me. Then, they let me calm down as I was very shaken up. I thought about asking for a doggie Xanax, but then decided that a nice hamburger might be a better idea.

After a bit, Jerry and Mom told me the metal thing wasn’t a devil but a cart. They put it back on me again, and though I didn’t like it, I only looked back at it every thirty seconds or so. Jerry whispered something to Mom and she went in front of me and started walking and calling my name. I didn’t have time to pay much attention to the cart after that because I was too busy trying to keep up with Mom. Me and the devil cart chased her all around the yard several times. We would have caught her, too, but the devil cart had a tree stump riding on his back, so he was very heavy to pull. In the interest of fairness, I am going to suggest next time that Mom carry a tree stump, too!

At the end of my eight week basic training with Jerry, he decided to give me something really hard for my final exam. He had Mom put me in a “down-stay” and then brought several of his own dogs out in the yard and put them in a down-stay, too, right next to me. That was hard enough, but then he opened the gate to his yard and in walked a rooster and a couple of chickens!  You could have knocked me over with a feather and Mom, too!  I heard her say under her breath, “Oh God, here comes a bloodbath.”  The chickens and rooster clucked and waddled through the yard, but all of us dogs pretty much maintained our position. One or the other of us would start to get up at different times and Mom or Jerry would say “No” and we would lie back down. So I got a big A+ on my final exam and Mom was very proud! Here is a picture in case you think I am telling a big fib.

Where I Develop the Christmas Spirit!!!

Well, I didn’t think I was going to like Christmas and I‘ll tell you why. First of all, Mom kept leaving me at home to do something called shopping. (I would like to bite shopping.)She would leave me at the door telling me that she would be “right back” and come waltzing back in thirty-two years later carrying a bunch of bags in her hands. Also, there were other times when she had to go to something called Christmas parties. I would be mad the whole time she was gone and would plan to wear my evil wolf face when she came through the door, but I was always so happy she was home that I would forget.

Then, Mom got the creepy idea to plant a tree in our house. I am not exactly sure how, but someway this tree was strangely connected to the Santa creature.  It had spooky little lights on it and did not smell like any tree I have ever been around, and believe you me, I have been around quite a few. As if that weren’t enough, she proceeded to hang red and silver balls all over it. Now, as every dog knows, part of our job is to seek, gather and control all balls in our house and yard as well as any within reach.  Humans honestly don’t seem to understand how seriously we take this responsibility. Balls are incredibly fast and sneaky. They fly through the air, they bounce, they race along the ground and worst of all, they try to hide from us. A couple of times, I tried to grab the red and silver balls off the tree-but-not- tree so I could herd the pesky things and then Mom would shake her finger at me! She will be sorry one day when they start to run riot all over the house.

I have already told you about having to pose with the red velvet monster, but there were lots of other Christmas irritations. Mom kept spraying something, she said it was apples and cimanim, and I would spend hours trying to find where the pie was hiding. She played that awful Christmas music till I was ready to stick marshmallows in my ears. And I got awful tired of being good so that Santa Claws would come and see me!

Mom said we were going to celebrate our own family Christmas one night as we always do it a little late. For my supper, I got a can of Merrick’s “Grammy Pot Pie” which was very tasty although I was little bitter about the fact that Mom and Dad were having steak. They also ate carrots and little bushes with a name that sounds like bwoklie which had zero appeal to me. While Mom and Dad were eating, I caught a whiff or two of something interesting that smelled like it was coming from under the imposter tree. There were three paper things lying there that I knew I must have immediately. I jumped up to sniff more closely, but Mom told me to “leave it” and lie down. I did what she said but then something made me jump up again. She had her eye on me, though, and told me to lie down again and "wait.”

After they finished eating, Mom told me that the paper things were presents for me (!!!!) and got down one of them so I could open it. I tried very hard, but at first I had trouble given the simple fact that, you know, I HAVE NO THUMBS!  Finally, Mom got it started for me and away I went. The first one was a yummy rubber chicken, but it unfortunately died quickly after I accidentally chewed its head off.  The second one was a green lizard with a little piece of something sticking out of its mouth. I tried to help the lizard by pulling at it, but the more I pulled, the more stuff came out. Mom thought it was very funny, but to me it was yucky. What was that stuff and where would it all end? Well, the lizard finally died as, without knowing it, I was actually pulling his guts out. I am very sorry, lizard and chicken! My third present was a rubber ball which I love and so far, it is still alive. After all this, Mom gave me a “Frosty Paws” ice-cream for a treat! What a day!  I think I like Christmas after all!