Pandora is one lucky dog - FatBoy found out yesterday that she has diabetes, too, just like Samantha. Why can't I have diabetes? Oh, woe is me.

I passed my blood test - whoopie!

I overheard a message on FatBoy's answering machine, where Dr. Cold said everything looked normal except for something called a Thyroid Test, where I scored 0.9 instead of 1.0 or higher. That's close enough, right? Since they never let me attend school, I'm not sure ...

Woopie! I got to go visit my friend, Dr. Cold Stethoscope today.

FatBoy seemed concerned about my bad dream at 3:30 this morning. (okay, so I did "wet the bed" right afterward - my bad!). This seemed to spook FatBoy enough to take me to the vet. As soon as I got out of the car - I saw The Bug again and had to have a taste. And, just like last time, I started frothing like crazy out in the parking lot. Then, as soon as I got inside .. well, I don't remember what happened. FatBoy says I had a seizure right there in the waiting room, all legs extended & twitching and frothing badly (I don't remember any of this - he could be making it up).

Anyway, Dr. Cold took me in the back room and gave me a diazepam (Valium) and drew some blood and took an X-ray of my back left leg (it's been bothering me for a couple weeks, hence my hopping). He told FatBoy that I may have something called "epilepsy" but that's hard to diagnose. He also said that the results of my blood test will be back tomorrow. Gee, I sure hope I pass!

I waited until FatBoy left the house, then I uploaded a photo of one of the short dogs (that purr) onto this website: Scrooge yourself. I wonder if anyone will notice?

I wonder why FatBoy's spending so much time with Samantha (the little black dog with the long tail) lately?

Every morning, he picks her up and strokes her until she purrrrs and then he gives her a little white pill, then strokes her some more. I heard him tell someone that she has "dye a beet ees" (or something like that). It must not be good, since she's been really out of sorts lately, just sitting in the hallway and acting groggy. She also had a couple accidents near her litter box .. very unusual. She's just not herself .. she hasn't even hisssssed at Pandora for several weeks!

Me, I've been hobbling around the past week after I stepped on something while running in the backyard. FatBoy's been giving me a "baby aspirin" (whatever that is) every day and I'm feeling a little better now. There's not much else going on, so I think I'll sneak into the living room and watch Animal Planet.

I'm really glad that I don't live in Pasadena, California. Today, while FatBoy was out running errands, I read the story about how Marina Batkis (d/b/a "Mutts and Moms" - a Pet Nazi organization) took a dog away from a family, because they judged them "inappropriate" (children under age 14 at home).

It turns out that Ellen DeGeneres (I watch her instead of Animal Planet sometimes) gave an adopted dog to her hairdresser, who has two teenage daughters at home who bonded immediately with Iggy (a Brussels Griffon mix).

Egads. The proper treatment would be to spay and neuter the humans who run "Mutts and Moms" so that THEY can't reproduce. The world doesn't need scum like them (I can say that because I'm a bitch).

Oops .. I hear the garage door. Gotta go. Too bad Iggy doesn't have a blog.

I hate it when FatBoy can't sleep through the night, because it interrupts my beauty sleep. And by now you probably know that I must stick to my routine. Every day, I want everything to be the same. From the moment the sun comes up and FatBoy lets me into the backyard (to do .. you know .. what bears do in the woods) .. and then he fills my water bowl, and my food bowl.

Some days (I think 4 days a week) he goes outside to get something called a "newspaper" off the front lawn. I think it falls from the sky in the middle of the night. The other days, he heads for the kitchen to feed from the refrigerator. I don't understand why he doesn't eat from a bowl-on-the-hearth, like me .. it's so very convenient .. just at the right height and everything. Maybe it has something to do with his desire to show off .. walking on only two feet instead of four.

Anyway, back to FatBoy sleeping through the night. I like to leap onto the bed at night and sleep, with the idea that I can take it easy for a few hours while the small dogs that purr guard the house. But, when FatBoy's tossing and turning it makes it harder for me to sleep uninterrupted, and I'm grumpy the next day.

Maybe if I smother FatBoy with a pillow one night? I saw that done in a movie once. But then, who would feed me and water me and let me into the backyard to squat and Do My Thing? Hmmm. I'm going to have to sleep on this. If I can.

Rambo was here for a visit last week. Apparently his owner was in the hospital. You may remember that he's short; I heard FatBoy say something about "Welsh Corgi" but he didn't look like grape jelly to me.

Anyway, he has some weird habits. One of them is his reaction when FatBoy presses that button on his desk, many times a day. I think he calls it a KVM Switch, but I can't see up there, so I don't know what it does, other than make a little sound which drove Rambo crazy every time he'd press it. And, Rambo never learned - he'd bark like crazy every time the switch was pressed, which often interrupted my cat naps.

Honestly, I'm glad he's gone. Now I can get some uninterrupted rest.

Why do the short dogs get all the best toys? Yesterday, FatBoy came home with some yummy cookies (he calls them "dog treats") and he also had a small brush (comb?) which he used on the small dogs that purr. Neither of them has a name tag like mine, since they never-ever get to go outside - he must be punishing them.

It seems like the little dogs with the long tails have their own "annual examination" coming soon - they each got a postcard from Doctor Freeze. Why do they get all the fun? I wanna go! I wanna go! I wanna go!

Anyway, back to this new comb. I heard FatBoy tell someone on the phone that he paid ONE DOLLAR for it. Geez, that sounds like a lot of money, the way he emphasized it. "A DOLLAR!" he said .. "ONE ENTIRE DOLLAR!!".

Anyway, the little dogs seem to like it. The fat dog rubbed up again FatBoy's leg this morning, and he scratched her back and she started that purrrrrring again. Geez, I hate that! I have tried and tried and tried and tried and tried and tried to purrrrr but I can't. Mine comes out like a growwwwwwl.

My breath's not bad - is it?

Today, FatBoy came home from some place called "Sprouts" (I read the bag) and had a box of Good Buddy dog cookies from a company called Castor & Pollux. He's brought home their cheese cookies before, and they are very tasty.

Today, however, he bought their "spearmint & parsley flavor" which is supposed to improve my breath. Harumph! My breath's already perfect, and doesn't need improvement. To prove it, I'm gonna go chew on my possum in the backyard again ... then breathe on everyone in the house. Mmm .. minty fresh!

What a day.

I've been limping the past few days, ever since Miles (my BFF) left. So FatBoy apparently called The Vet and pretended not to be concerned, but I knew he was. He still has pictures of Tori (she was a black Lab before me, who died of something called "mast cells"). Apparently her downfall started with a limp, too.

Anyway, I stopped limping when Vet Day rolled around (what exactly is "Murphy's Law" anyway?). But I couldn't see Doctor Freeze (why does the vet keep his stethoscope in the freezer?) without having something wrong with me, so .. I spotted a bug on the sidewalk, just outside the vet's office, and proceeded to swallow it. Blech! I was frothing at the mouth for several minutes, before FatBoy led me inside. I was the only patient at the time, and we went back to The Tiny Room for a few minutes.

When the time had come to see Doctor Freeze, he led me to a back room, drew a blood sample and gave me a pedicure! It was then that I decided to Show Off and started frothing again, but I added a few spasms (dramatic effect). This seemed to concern Doctor Freeze, until FatBoy spilled the beans and told him about my encounter outside. I then decided to froth some more. Doctor Freeze said that FatBoy should watch me and see if this gets worse. As if!

Hey, FatBoy! Reach up there and hand me another Mr. Barky's - pronto!

I brought Pammy (my opossum) to the backdoor for another visit last night. She lives under the storage shed in the backyard, and keeps getting bigger and bigger, so she must be eating plenty of bugs. FatBoy says I'm no longer a Labrador Retriever, and am now an Opossum Retriever.

This is the third time I've brought it to the backdoor, but this is the first time I wanted to bring it inside (it was 1AM - and YES I can tell time!).

FatBoy politely (!) told me NO and I dropped it in the threshold; he then got a broom handle and pushed it fully outside, and invited me in for the night. By morning, Pammy was gone.

FatBoy says there are some good 'possum recipes on the web, so maybe he'll cook it up if I bring it home again?

I just heard that my Best Friend Forever (Miles) isn't feeling good. He's on anti-inflammatory meds and muscle relaxants. He was in the emergency room yesterday morning! Every 8 hours he gets one large pill, then once a day he gets some anti-inflammatory liquid. And NO activity for the next 5-7 days.

Poor little guy! At least he quit shaking!

(all this info from an email that Miles' mom sent to FatBoy, which he read to me)

FatBoy gave me the new password this morning, so I can now blog again - wheee!!

I don't know if he forgot to pay the water bill, or what, but lots of water has been falling from the sky in the past few weeks. And if there's one thing I (a Labrador Retriever) cannot stand, it's water.

When FatBoy opens the back door so I can go potty (or tinkle) the water gets between my pads and feels squishy. I don't like that. So often I'll just step five or six steps outside the back door and squat right there. I never understood why FatBoy doesn't do it this way. Instead, he sits on the Big White Chair. I'm happy to guard him, just in case.

Well, that was sure different. FatBoy's on holiday this week, so he's busy doing stuff around the house. At about 4:30 (bet you didn't know I can tell time!) he asked if I wanted to Go For A Ride? What a stoopidt question - OF COURSE!

Let's go! Let's go! Let's go! Let's go! Let's go! Let's go! Let's go! Let's go! Let's go! Let's go! Let's go! Let's go! Let's go! Let's go! Let's go! Let's go! Let's go! Let's go! Let's go! Let's go! Let's go! Let's go! Let's go! Let's go! Let's go! Let's go! Let's go! Let's go! Let's go! Let's go! Let's go! Let's go! Let's go! Let's go!

What he forgot to tell me is that he was taking me to The Dog Wash. I don't know if this was punishment or what, but when we arrived, he lifted me (with help) into a metal container and proceeded to squirt water and soap and rinse all over me. Then he tried (ha!) to blow dry me, but I was NOT going to fall for that. I tried my best to excape (is that how you spell it?) but they had me tied down with two harnesses, so I couldn't get away. Meanwhile, there was a tiny-tiny dog (looked more like a hotdog to me) sitting in a basket, laughing. Yes, she was laughing at me.

FatBoy used a couple chamois rags to dry me down, and then it was time to go home.

When we got home, there was an email in FatBoy's mailbox:

Hi Beta,

We sure did enjoy meeting you today. Boy did you look super when you left--You just about knocked our socks off! We can't wait until your next visit when special doggy treats await you!

Bow Wow,
DiRty DaWgz

The only part I don't understand is about "socks" - what are those?

what's a yoof-a-mism?

I heard FatBoy talking into The Magic Box again today, and he said "Beta's as dumb as a box of rocks. And that's an insult to the rocks." And then he laughed.

Then he said something about my elevator not going all the way to the top. Then he said I was several tacos short of a combination plate.

I don't know what ANY of this means. Why can't he speak Dog, like everyone else around here?

I'm working on an ad I hope to sneak into the local newspaper:

"SINGLE BLACK FEMALE seeks male companionship, ethnicity unimportant. I'm a very good girl who LOVES to play. I love long walks in the woods, riding in your pickup truck, hunting, camping and fishing trips, cozy winter nights lying by the fire. Candlelight dinners will have me eating out of your hand. I'll be at the front door when you get home from work, wearing only what nature gave me. Kiss me and I'm yours."

Okay .. I actually found this ad on the Internet, written about 3 years ago by some humans associated with the Atlanta Humane Society, whatever that is. It was written by one of my cousins, a female black Lab named Daisy.

Word is that 15,000+ humans called in response to that ad, but I'm suspicious.

Purina Naturals for cats

Purina Naturally Complete for Dogs

I'm not much into Change. Routines make me happy. FatBoy change my dog food. Me now eat Purina Natually Complete. It very yummy. I notice he change food for small dogs with long tail to Purina Naturals. Both "black one" and "fat one" like it muchly. What is "cat" anyway?

Now, I'm hungry. Woof woof.

Okay, I don't get the joke. FatBoy just put this on his car, then took me out to see it. What does it say? Doesn't he know that I can't read? Or laugh?

Dog Smarter Bumper Sticker

When FatBoy asked "do you want to take a break?!?!" I happily hopped to the backdoor. He didn't tell me that he had the backyard redone overnight.

Now, there's white paint (or something) covering some parts of the ground. Not sure I like it. It's cold, but tastes pretty good. Maybe it could stand a little beef seasoning?