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.