I know he thinks I'm a few pigeons short of a coop, but FatBoy's trying to wean me off food that's mostly corn. This week, he's mixing what's left of my regular food (30 pound bag) and something called AvoDerm. I like the new food a LOT, but now I see yet another different bag sitting up high where I can't reach it. The newest one is called Grammy's Pot Pie and I can hardly wait to try it!

FatBoy had it with him when he returned from the store where he got the New! Improved! peanuts for the blue jays, so I suspect he's found a new source for all of us. I wonder if that includes the short dogs with long tails? I noticed him looking at a website for diabetic cat food a few days ago. I suspect it's all related somehow.

Today it's raining again. I HATE THAT. Whenever I go outside to poop and it's raining, I get mud between my pads. Yuch!

FatBoy took me to see Doctor Cold on Tuesday -- something about routine shots. But, geez .. I hate that place. It's not because of the people inside (they've always been very nice to me). Even the shots don't bother me. It's that %^^& sidewalk in front that makes me crazy - literally. Once I spotted that pattern of bricks, I had another seizure. On command. Everytime I see those bricks, I just lose it. This time, two nice vet assistants came outside when I had the seizure, very concerned.

FatBoy says the seizures last about a minute, followed by a minute of "groggy" and then I'm normal again. It's a good thing they only happen every 6 weeks or so, or EVERY time I go to the vet. Hmmm. He says this is the 7th one I've had, over the past 7 months or so .. they seem to be getting less frequent.

Anyway, I heard FatBoy talking to Doctor Cold this morning, and he says my blood test shows my thyroid at 2.1 (well within the 1.0-4.0 acceptable range). Today, he's going to refill that prescription. I can hardly wait!!!

FatBoy has always used 15 October 2000 as my birthday; he may be right - I don't remember the event (hey! I was just a puppy - give me a break)

Today, he was exchanging emails with Cameron and I watched him pull up a website called Dog Years Calculator and he said that her dog, Jackson, is the equivalent of 41 human years - using the formula on that site.

He's probably right; Jackson looks to be middle-aged. Once FatBoy left the computer, I sneaked (snuck?) in and ran my own calculation. Given that I'm 2727 days old (thanks, timeanddate.com), it looks like I'm almost 43 years old in human years.

How long before I can collect Canine Security?

Go ahead, pull my paw.

Laugh if you must, but I don't like it when FatBoy suddenly changes my food. The least he could do is gradually (over a week or so) get me used to the new stuff.

This happened last week, when he took me aside and said he could no longer find my Food of Choice (like I picked it out anyway) and had to switch brands .. to something called Goodlife Recipe. There for a minute, I thought he was deeply concerned that he had to switch, but then I realized he was Pulling A Hillary and the tears were fake.

Now (tonight) I caught him looking at Dog Food Analysis.com so he may be changing again when this bag is empty.

I don't know why he's concerned, other than the fact that the new brand lets me Toot On Command. Or when I'm sleeping at his feet. Whew! Who cut the cheese?

FatBoy gave me a JumBone this morning - I'm not sure what I did to deserve it.

It's nice outside - already 13C and going to 20C by 5pm. So, I went outside and rolled upside down in the grass. Now, FatBoy's laughing at me because of all the dry grass on my back. Personally, I think it looks *stylish*.

I think FatBoy is insane. A few days ago, he brought home a small fire hydrant and now he wants to wash me with it. What on Earth is he thinking?

Miles departed (with his mom) late Saturday night, or so it seems. Lacking enough brain cells to add 1+1, I didn't really notice until today. We had a good time, running and jumping and schnoozing.

The only thing I didn't like is when Miles tries to climb on top of me from behind .. I'm not sure what he's trying to do, but it seems to make him mildly happy with his wiggles and such, so I tolerate it, mostly.

Miles arrived (with his mom) Sunday night, and will be here for a few weeks, I think. Honestly, I never know when he'll leave again. For now, we'll just touch butts and catnap ...

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?