Sometimes, I think FatBoy doesn't think I'm smart.

Yesterday, he returned from fetching the mail (I can't do that because the box is too high off the ground) and removed his long-sleeved shirt and draped it over my back. For the life of me, I don't know why he does that. I can't reach back there to remove it, and I ended up walking from one side of the house to the other until it slid off somewhere. He seemed to think this was funny.

He did a similar stunt a few days ago. After buying something at the drive-thru, he brought home French Fries for me! This is always a lot of fun -- they're tasty, and he only eats the smallest (crispy) ones in the container. But this time, he'd place one or two between my shoulder blades. Argh! I cannot figure out how to get to them! I tried grabbing them with my tongue, but it's not long enough. Next, I tried reaching from the left side, instead of the right. Still nothing. And there FatBoy sits, laughing and pointing at me.

I'll get him back. Some night when he's sleeping, I'll gnaw off one of his legs. That'll teach him to torment me.

When I finally get a driver's license and a car, I'm going to have vanity plates:

DOFUBO

get it -- Dog Food Bowl! Pretty cool, huh?

I hate having to sneak around behind FatBoy's back, but he's been grumpy the past few days. I don't think it has anything to do with me or the small dogs (with the long tails) .. he's just in one of Those Moods.

Last Saturday, my little friend Rambo left after some Giant Woman (well, okay, I'm only 24 inches tall, so everyone seems giant to me) came to get him. I gave the house a sniff-over when he left, and then decided to take a nap. I deserved it.

Rambo's been here over a week, and I think he'll be leaving soon. I overheard a message on FatBoy's answering machine, about "bringing him home", so ... it's probably just a matter of time.

This canine (I think someone said he's a Welch Corgi) gets away with murder. This morning, he decided to whiz (and whiz and whiz) on the black cat's litterbox; I guess he got a smell of the fecal matter inside and couldn't avoid contributing to the aroma. I heard FatBoy say a few choice words before grabbing the paper towels. At least Rambo had the courtesy of letting loose on a tile floor instead of the carpets .. this time.

wow! what a surprise - Rambo's here!

FatBoy told me he was leaving "for a few minutes" so I took a Dog Nap, and when I awoke, my old friend Rambo was with him. No clue how long the little tyke'll be here. I sure hope he doesn't whiz on every piece of furniture in the house. If I'm not allowed to do that, he shouldn't be allowed, either.

Plus - how does he whiz without squatting? What's with the leg lift maneuver?

Well, I'm going to sleep early tonight. Miles and I had a great time while he was here this week. There's nothing like having a creature of your same species with whom to play .. to, well .. lift your spirits. Sadly, he and his mom left this afternoon about 5pm, according to the clock on FatBoy's wall.

We both recovered nicely from that brief encounter with The Cat Under The Shed, but I suspect she's still out there, waiting for me to stick my nose underneath for a look-see.

Quite a few humans seem to think that Miles is my puppy, but since he's several years older than me, I don't think that's possible. I do acknowledge the family resemblance, though. Both of us have four feet, a tail, a red collar, black fur ...

My good friend Miles (another Wonder Dog) arrived Sunday night. It is sooo nice to have another canine in the house. Sharing it with one human (FatBoy) and two short dogs (with long tails) is okay, but when you have someone of your own species around, well .. life is gooder*

* please pardon my lack of grammer sometimes. I pick up what I can by reading the old English textbooks, but (without opposable thumbs) sometimes it's hard to put them back on the shelf.

Yesterday, we were minding our own business in the backyard when an Evil Feline (feral, no doubt) attacked Miles, without provocation. Naturally, I rushed to help and succeeded in minimizing his injury (a scratch on his nose) .. but now I'm wondering if this dog has given birth to doglets (or whatever young dogs are called) under the backyard shed. Hmm. Life as a bitch (female dog) is a bitch.

When FatBoy leaves the house, I sometimes turn on the TV and watch the Animal Planet network. I'm not sure why, but when he went to run errands yesterday, I turned to the Weather Channel for a few minutes, and see that they've run out of names for 2005 Hurricanes (the small-brained ones didn't like the few choices for names beginning with Q/U/X/Y/Z) .. so they're going to use the letters from the Greek alphabet next.

Well, isn't that a fine How Do You Do? In two more storms, there could be a Tropical Storm Beta (or even Hurricane Beta). And then everyone will blame ME! I demand a recount.

Reference: CNN.com - Atlantic storm names may go Greek - Sep 20, 2005

well, I almost tore the fence down again. those squirrels were running along the top, and I did my usual BODY SLAM against it, trying to make them fall into my mouth, but it didn't work. come to think of it, that has never worked. but I'll keep trying. I hope FatBoy doesn't notice where I dislodged the fence planks. maybe I can sneak out when he's not looking, and eat one of those short dogs (with the long purring tails) that live across the street.

Have you ever farted unexpectedly, such that it startles you? I was laying on the floor of FatBoy's office today, and an unexpected pop under my tail made me shoot up off the floor. It didn't scare me, so I didn't bark at it, but I did look around the room to see if there was anyone I could blame this flatulence on. Sadly, the small dogs (with the long tails) were at the north end of the house.

I heard FatBoy giggle at my plight. I'll get back at him sometime; he does enough stupid things that it won't be long before I can laugh at him. Once I learned how to laugh, that is.

Does anyone have a copy of Campfire Songs translated into Labrador Retriever?

All the Humans are preparing for something called a "Hurricane," so FatBoy has decided that he and I (along with the short dogs (with the long tails) should practice by turning off the electricity and singing campfire songs in front of the gas-burning fireplace.

There are a few problems with that:

1- it's still September. It's over 100 degrees outside. It's too hot for a campfire. The short dogs and I vote FOR keeping the air conditioner on.

2- I'm a dog. I don't DO campfire songs. Look it up on Google if you don't believe me.

3- Now will you double-check my water bowl and food dish? I'm bored and hungry.

Published in The New Yorker July 5, 1993 

I'm not sure what's happening, but FatBoy's been watching more television than usual the past 10 days or so. Every once in awhile, he yells out "doggie!" and points to the screen. Naturally, I don't take the queue; instead I go to the front window and don't see any dogs, and eventually I trot back to the living room.

A few days ago, he muttered something about getting another dog and naming it Katrina. I wonder if he's trying to replace me?

When FatBoy tells me how long he'll be gone, sometimes I "run out" for awhile.

Today, I ran to the local Palm Reader, but she sent me away. She said I didn't have a palm .. only "pads".

If I had tear ducts, I'd cry. This is so unfair.

oh, man! cat food is Y-U-M-M-Y.

not that I can reach it, usually .. FatBoy keeps it on the countertop, where Black Cat can jump up and munch as much as she wants. But TODAY .. her tummy must've been upset since she coughed up the food in the big bathroom. Yes, right there on the floor, where I had easy access.

Mmm, mmm .. that stuff's tasty even after Black Cat "pre-digested" it.

Well, it's a bit brighter red and fits better, so .. maybe FatBoy did something right for a change. I'm (of course) talking about my new 22" collar. It's the only clothing I wear. Good thing, since it's in the high 90's most days, this time of year. The 78F air conditioning is much nicer.

Back to my collar: before he tossed it in the trash, I saw the tag for my collar. Turns out it's called a "Comfort Cushion" from Aspen Pet, and since it was in a Petco bag, I'm pretty sure that's where he got it.

Well, time to take a nap. I do that often, and am very, very good at it.

While FatBoy was out, I was web surfing, and found this site: Sam ... World's Ugliest Dog

Yeesh! That is one U-G-L-Y mutt.

Jill Bob sent FatBoy an email with some Cat Haiku: how revolting. He laughed, but I didn't see the humor.

Since I recently learned to use A9, I easy found some Dog Haiku that's much more on target. Maybe I'll write some of my own?

Dammit, Janet! FatBoy tricked me - again!

Here he was, praising me and telling me what a Good Girl I am, then he leaned over and <squirt> he put that flea stuff between my shoulder blades, where I can't reach to lick it off. Argh!

Then, he tricked me again by offering a treat, which turned out to be that heartworm prevention pill. It tastes like chalk! I know it tastes like chalk because I used to eat chalk when I was young.

Oh well, what's done is done. I'll not fall for this trick again next month! (or will I?)

Arooooooooooo!!

Bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark.

<pant pant pant>

Bark bark bark.

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