Hello from Puppy Dog - Smelly Welly

Hello Friends!

Last night Mama came up to my bed to say goodnight to me, and I happened  to have just cut the cheese/beeped my horn/floated an air biscuit/hummed a rroid/puffed the magic dragon/blown my trouser trumpet.  

Now she's been calling me "Smelly Welly" all day!

It's NOT FAIR!

It's not my fault I farted!  I didn't do it on purpose!  It just happens! 

And it's not my fault she came over at that moment!  I didn't ask her to come and say goodnight!

And at least my farts aren't noisy like Mama and Dada's are!

Sometimes I jump up from my bed because I think there's a stranger in the house with a trumpet, or a kitten mewing, or some crazy 1st Amendmenter shooting off a few rounds!

Then Mama or Dada - whoever is the culprits - start to giggle at me!

I don't think it's very funny!

And if they think their farts are funny, how come mine aren't?  Huh?  Huh?

IT'S NOT FAIR!

Lots of licks and woofs,

 

Puppy Dog

  

Hell is other people - Shut the FUCK up!

Last night we went to see a movie.  It's so damn hot that my friend Bill called around to see who had good aircon, and we went to see what they were showing.

We therefore abandoned our dogs, which I feel bad about, but Puppy Dog seems to have survived.

So... the cinema we choose is a little upscale.  Let's face it, no-one has the tolerance for the proletariat when it's hot.  We needed a baseball-cap-free-zone.

This place is over 21 (the ridiculously high American age when you're allowed to drink), has full bar, armchairs, footstools and drink delivery to your seat half way through the movie. 

Very civilized.

Very cosmopolitan.

Very downtown.

But, sadly, not everyone watching the movie was.

Perhaps it's a sign of our times, but young people who have grown up with flatscreens and DVDs don't seem to know how to behave in a cinema.

Take my niece, for instance.  The first time she was taken to see a movie, it was something like The Little Mermaid.  She got popcorn, diet soda, candy - she had a great time.  Then, as the credits rolled and other people got up to leave, she turned to her mother and said:

"Rewind, Mommy!  Rewind!"

No amount of explaining could pacify her and, as my sister-in-law tells it, she was dragged screaming and crying from the cinema.

This generation - in many ways and in many situations - simply has no idea how to behave correctly.

So here we are, about to watch The Hangover.

I'm with good friends, the aircon is blasting, we have great seats.

I'm set.

I have my champagne, I have my glass of water, I have my Nicorette.

I'm set.

I'm an intelligent woman, I have a great sense of humor, I have a keen appreciation of irony.

I'm set.

But, no.

No.

You see, I clearly am not able to truly "get" what is going on without the help of the couple sitting in the row behind me.  And they - Good Christians that they are - will help me out.

And so, after each line that they thought was funny, or each line that they felt confident they could predict before the character voiced it, they articulated - loudly.

Alan: It's time to let the dogs out!

Good Christians: "Let the DOGS out! WAAH HA HA HA HA HA!"

Cellphone rings.

Good Christians: "It's Doug!"

Phil: It's Doug!

Baby is heard crying somewhere in the suite.  Stu, Phil and Alan open a closet.  They see a baby.

Good Christians: "It's a baby!  WAAAH HA HA HA HA HA!"

Alan wakes up, hungover, and stumbles into the bathroom for a pee.  As he is taking a leak, we hear a growl.  He looks to his right and, not quite believing his eyes, sees a tiger.

Good Christians: "It's a TIGER!  WAAAH HA HA HA HA HA HA!"

Hell - blistering, piercing, eviscerating, lacerating hell - is OTHER FUCKING PEOPLE!!!!

Diary of an Ex-Employee - Day 86.0

 

It's too hot.  It's too damn hot.

Yes, I know there are other people who live in hotter places than I do.  Arizona, Texas, the Kalahari Desert.  Well - guess what? - they have air conditioning! 

OK, maybe not the whole Kalahari Desert.

But, still.

I am not set up for this kind of weather.  I lived in England, for God's sake - that's gonna thicken your blood and acclimatize you to the mild-to-wet-to-chilly continuum only.  Nothing else. 

Note the absence of the "Fucking hot" category on that scale.

So here are all the crazy things I've been doing to try to keep cool:

1. 3 cold showers a day
2. Standing outside in the yard, putting my finger over the spout of the hose to make a wide jet of water, pointing it up in the air and creating rain for myself
3. Dumping ice into tubs in front of the fan to make swamp coolers
4. Wetting my hair under the bathroom basin about 6 times a day
5. Going out to meet friends with a bandana on my head, which I could wet in the restroom and tie back on
6. Eating ice
7. Eating whole pints of sorbet
8. Sleeping with two fans pointed right at the bed
9. Prizing open every previously stuck sash window in our 1910 house that I can
10. Not caring if the neighbors see me walking around naked
11. Wading into the river at the park with Puppy Dog and his pals - my cellphone didn't like that one too much
12. Wetting T-shirts and then putting them on
13. Feeling my way around a dark house at night instead of turning on the lights - my left big toe, when it hit a door, didn't like that one too much
14. Wetting baseball caps and putting them on
15. Sitting in the car, aircon blasting, long after I've arrived at my destination - my petrol (gas) gauge didn't like that one too much
16. Driving around for ten minutes or more, looking for any parking in the shade close to my destination - the woman juggling her shopping cart and her baby, that I nearly ran into, didn't like that one too much
17. Buying 6 bags or more of ice at a time
18. Wetting towels and then lying down with them covering my whole body

And I'm still fucking hot.

Hell is other people - Sometimes you just gotta boom

 

It is hot today where I live.  Very hot.  Damn hot.  Pizza oven hot.  Searing fires of hell hot.  Blazing branding-iron hot.

We are uncomfortable.  We are sweaty.  We are tetchy.

So I go out into the garden with my laptop to sit in the shade.  Somewhere from across my back alley, from a house up the hill from mine, live the cliche - the Loud Americans.

Not all Americans are like this but, in Europe, we tend to unfairly stereotype those kinds of tourists who stand in the middle of a busy piazza, neck bedecked with massive camera, and yell "Isn't it just great, Herbert?"

Suffice to say, it's a type of person, irrespective of nationality - one who insists on talking at a volume inappropriate to the proximity of those around them - that I detest.

And just because you are in your own back yard, doesn't mean that consideration isn't necessary.  We live in the city.  The back yards are postage stamps.  I can hear you flush your toilet.  You can probably hear me fart.

So there I am, hot and bothered - and not in a good way - trying to literally and figuratively chill out.

And then I hear it.

Screeching little girl:"I won, Daddy, I won!"

Muffled conversation.  That kind of conversation where you can't hear every word that is being said, but it's loud enough, and - in male base tones - deeply booming enough, to distract and annoy.

Screeching little girl:"I won, Daddy, I won!"

Continued muffled conversation.

Screeching little girl:"I won! Did you see? I WON!"

Continued muffled conversation.

Screeching little girl: "Daddy!  DADDY! LOOK! I WON!"

Continued muffled conversation.

Screeching little girl: "I WON! I WON! I WON! DADDY! DADDY!"

Continued muffled conversation.

And now I shall let you in on a little secret.  I studied Speech and Drama.  In fact, when I was 11, I won a competition in my province for the best recital of a poem and got free Speech and Drama lessons.  My parents kept them up and I did this as extra-curricular activity (outside of school - they were private lessons) from the age of 12 through to 18.

One of the things you learn in Speech and Drama is to project.

You imagine hitting the back wall of the theatre with your voice.  It's not about shouting, it's about speaking normally and yet achieving a huge range at the same time.  It's about allowing your mouth and throat to open up to create caverns which let the sound circulate, amplify and BOOM.

"Daddy," I boomed.  "Please take a moment to tell your daughter that it's great that she won."

Pause....

"Good job, honey!"

"Thank you."

Silence.

Hell is other people.

Dogs will be Dogs - Dog Park Dog Patrols

 

I took Puppy Dog to the little dog park in the city the other day.

I didn't want him to run much, because he had sore back legs that morning, so I just let him run about, rather than throwing the ball for him.

This gave me a chance to really observe some of the dogs in the park, and I realized something - some of them were on some kind of patrol.

Play patrol

A little Dalmation, about a year old, wanted to play. Now. With anyone. Just play with me. Please.

He communicated this by bounding around and barking. He went up to just about every dog and every human.

Bounce! Bounce! Bark! Bark!

Smaller dogs skittled away, bigger dogs ignored him. There was one dog - a little pitbull - who did the let's-do-it dip-down, but he was soon distracted by his daddy throwing a ball for him.

And so play patrol continued. Bounce! Bounce! Bark! Bark!

Bark patrol

The little dog park has a wire fence and, being in the middle of town, it constantly has people walking by.  Now and again you'll get the one dog who seems to think that the park is his temporary den, that pedestrians are marauding hordes and therefore it's Defcon 3.  

They run along the fence, barking and growling madly, ignoring calls and whistles and pleas from their owners.  

They're noisy little buggers.

Treat patrol

There was a big dog - I don't know what breed, except that he looked like a small pony.  

Big dog was obviously food motivated, and must have been given a treat one day by a kind - perhaps petrified - stranger.

And so big dog was checking if this might happen again.

It can be a little disconcerting to have a massive dog bound up to you, ignore the empty hand of introduction you stretch out, bend down away from your potential head stroke, sniff your purse and pockets, and bound off again.

I was a little confused till I saw him go and do it to the next person.  And the next.  And the next.

I have no idea if he got a treat in the end or not.

Sniff patrol

Puppy Dog, not having his favorite game - chase the tennis ball - to play, went off to sniff out the scene.

He ran here and there, sniff-sniff, sniff-sniff.  He ignored other people throwing balls, he ignored other dogs introducing themselves.  He just kept inspecting the park.

And, as dogs do, whenever he came accross a spot that another dog had marked, he had to mark it too.

This being a dog park, there were rather a lot of those spots.

Hence:

Sniff-sniff, psst-psst.

Watching him, a little song came into my head...

 With a sniff-sniff here

And a psst-psst there

Here a sniff

There a psst

Everywhere a sniff-psst

Puppy Dog's on sniff patrol, Ee-eye ee-eye oh!

Eventually, as he always does, he ran out of pee.  But that didn't stop him cocking his leg... Ever the optimist, our dog.

Being a Doggy Mama - Don't mess with the process

 

Dogs are like toddlers.  They sometimes get over-excited and have to be calmed down before they injure themselves, they sometimes rebel and need to be brought into line, and they sometimes like boundaries and routine.

A friend of ours inherited his dog when his dad died.  The dog is old and has certain ways she likes to do things.  

When our friend and his wife sit down to dinner... 

1. the dog has to be let out the back door, 


2. spend a few minutes in the yard, 


3. be let back in and 


4. be given a treat.  

In that order.  

Every night.  

Puppy Dog has his own routine.  I don't know if it started with his previous owners, came from his time in the pound or if he just invented.

1. He wakes us up in the morning,


2. one of us gets up and puts out his food so he can eat,


3. we open the back door so he can go out,


4. he does his business


5. he comes back in and comes into the bedroom


6. he jumps on the bed and lies with his pack 


7. he moves when we get up.

If, like this morning, we have to go the gym and we jump from No. 3 right to No. 7, he is pissed.  Then we had the audacity to go out the house and leave him behind!

Boy did we get the pouty lips when we got home!

Do not mess with the process!

This changed my life - Sex and the City

Sex and the City changed my life.

First, being someone living in a foreign city far away from home, Sex and the City showed me that your friends can be your family.

Second, it showed us that, as women, we were allowed to be out there having cocktails, fun and sex and be choosy about men. We didn't have to be like our mothers, and "settle".

Third, it showed us that the didn't have to have everything figured out. This is best summed up by Melissa Grego, from Television Week, being interviewed on "The 100 Greatest TV Characters."

The thing about Carrie Bradshaw is that she is a cultural game changer. At her age, most people have their life figured out. They're a wife, mother, maybe a working mother or they've decided to be single. She's sorta still figuring out who she is and what she wants. Is she defined by her work? Is she defined by a man? Is she defined by her friends? Is she defined by where she lives or what she wears?

And finally, a quote which shows how this amazingly written, acted and produced show could shake up a young woman of my generation, and make her question everything she'd been taught growing up...

Carrie: "Did you ever think that maybe we're the White Knights? And we're the ones that have to save ourselves?"

Charlotte: "That is so depressing."

Carrie: "Is it?"

Divided by a Common Language - The Tram Tour

England, as you probably know, is a very small place. Imagine Texas farted. That would be England.

Some might argue that, historically, it's the other way around, but let's not go there.

There are malls in England. Some are relatively big, but nothinglike what you have here. We just don't have the space. Thank God.

So there we are in LA and we stumble on a new mall in Glendale. The mall is a hollow square, with a big area in the middle - let's call it a piazza.

The piazza has grass and fountains and little carts where more stuff is sold. In one corner there's a cinema, there are restaurants with patios and lots of high end stores. It's all very clean and nice. Too clean and nice, when you come from Europe and cities are old and dirty.

But, OK, I can live with that.

The fountains shoot spurts of water in constant accompaniment with piped show tunes. On top of the stores, there are condoes. It's a mystery to me who wants to live in a place where "Fly me to the Moon" and similar songs blast out from 9am to 6pm but hey - it takes all sorts to make a world, as my mother used to say. They choose to live there - it's their problem.

I can live with that.

I am starting to get used to the idea of the Mall being a destinationfor the day. Something to look at, to experience, like the beach or the mountains. It's depressing, but it's a fact - families go to the mall as an outing.

I can live with that.

There was a fake San-Francisco-type tram going round the outer edge of the piazza. It was cute and fun for kids with the conductor ringing the bell.

I can live with that, too.

What I couldn't stand was - wait for it - it had a tour guide. I actually heard him as the tram rumbled past...

"And here we have Crate and Barrel. There's the Gap on your left and..."

A tram tour of a mall?

Are you fracking kidding me?

Flavors of America - Hollywood!

In the distance and fuzzy because of the smog, but still uber-cool to see it in person.

Flavors of America - The ABCD of Santa Monica

We took a virtually free vacation to LA last weekend.  Flights on airmiles, a dear friend to host us, etc. We had a great time! 

Mulholland Drive, Chinese Theatre, Hollywood sign... all the classic stuff.

Continuing the tourist thing, we went to Santa Monica pier.  It was a blisteringly hot day, and the mad folks were all out...

The Doggie pram...

The Hair Fashion Crime...

The Mylie Cyrus Wannabe, who God has cruelly cursed with a mediocre voice...

Next, the beach.  Who knew what wonders awaited us?  

It was packed to the gills with people... under umbrellas, paddling, body-surfing.

Our experience was a little different.  I chose not to illustrate the two nastiest with photos... you don't need that.

A is for Armband

Lying on the sand, one of those rubber things drug addicts tie around their arms, pulling one side with their teeth to tighten and make their veins bulge before they shoot up.

B is for Butt

Say no more...

C is for Condom

Yes, we paddled into the water and there it was... a used blue condom.  There then followed one of those Charlie Chaplin moments where we tried to run out of the sea and the little waves kept washing the condom after us.  I started singing the jaws theme while breaking into a sprint up the sand.

D is for Disgusting

You thought the condom was bad?  Nope.  Further horrors awaited us.

We started to leave the beach and got to the outdoor showers.  There was a woman in a bikini with a wrap around her waist.  At first she seemed to be rinsing off like everyone else... but then I saw her take out shower gel.  And then I saw her take out a razor.  And then she proceeded to shave her inner thighs.  Seriously.  Patootie shaving in public.  Lovely.

Hello from Puppy Dog - Treat time!

 

I wish Mama could talk dog.  She just doesn't listen to me. 

Here's an example:

Mama: "Do you want a treat?"

Me: Yes, please.

Mama: "Have you been a good boy?"

Me: Well, yes, I think I have, frankly.

Mama: "Does my good boy want a treat?"

Me: I already said yes, Mama.

Mama: "Should we go get my boy a treat?"

Me: Is the Pope Catholic?

Mama: "Should we?  Should we go get a treat?"

Me: Does a dog mark in the woods?

Mama: "Maybe he should get a treat.  Should he get a treat?"

Me: Are squirrels the scourge of suburbia? Are cats plotting to take over the planet?  Are tennis balls there to be skinned and chewed till they break?  Are dog prams an abomination?  Are pigeons flying rats?  Do humans pretend chocolate is bad for dogs to keep it all to themselves?  Is peanut butter proof there is a God?  In sniffing a butt the best way to introduce yourself?  Is shedding Nature's way of telling you to brush me?  Do Hairless Apes blame their farts on dogs?  Is the toilet my backup water bowl?  Come on woman!  There are small ducks bathing in my pool of drool! 

Mama:  "Here's your treat!"

Me: About F-ing time, woman.

Sigh.

Hairless Apes are so dumb.

Lots of licks and woofs,

 Puppy Dog

Quote Unquote - PC vs. Mac

Fluffy Bear on a business trip, via IM:

[2:48:35 PM] crappo music in this coffee shop

[2:48:41 PM] too fucking hippie by far

[2:48:56 PM] I can see 10 laptops from where I'm sitting and mine is the only PC

Diary of an Ex-Employee - Day 72.0

Today may very well go down in history as the beginning of the end of my sanity.

For the first time in my life, I had a real OCD moment.

Not a mini-OCD moment, like when you think you've left the oven on as you are locking the front door, so you go back in just to check.

A real "I have to clean" OCD moment.

The day started with me going to the gym.  Our gym is in a strip-mall thing, and I decided to try and get one of the precious parkings out front, rather than go into the garage, where there are lots of empty bays.

Mistake No. 1.

So I get to the small parking lot and see one tiny parking and think: "Hey, I can squeeze into that."

Mistake No. 2.

I drive the car in, and the left wheel catches on the sidewalky bit.  Then I see that I am under the outside stairs, and there is a pipe hanging down over where my hood needs to be.  So I think "OK, I can't use this parking. 

But now my left front wheel is kinda stuck on the vertical bit of the sidewalky thing and so I need to get that loose before I can back out.  So I pump the gas a tiny bit.

Mistake No. 3.

Suddenly the wheel is free of the sidewalky thing and, in slow motion, the car luuuuuurches forward, the hood hits the pipe and the pipe scraaaaaapes the hood of the car.

Four inches of parallel grooves.  At one point, through the red paint to the grey gizzards of the car.

I get out of the car.  I look at the damage.  

Freak out No. 1.

Fluffy Bear is going to kill me - slowly and painfully.

Frack gym - I'm going home.

I go home.  I call the dealer about the scratch.  Not much help.

I do yoga to calm down.  I have an interview.  Standing strong in Warrior 1, 2, and 3 poses will help my confidence and still my mind.

It works.

I put Puppy Dog in the car, I put the address in the sat nav and we drive over to the interview.

I drive into the wrong strip mall office block. 

Mistake No. 4.

So now I am on the phone with the potential employer blabbing about being lost and not being able to find their building and I am parked next to the basketball court and can someone direct me?

"We don't have a basketball court," she replies.

Great first impression I made on her, then.

I find the right place... interview, chat, chat, bla, bla.

Not my dream job.

I head back out to the highway, and listen to my messages.  Turns out a dear friend of mine is in hospital.  

Freak out No. 2.

I call her, I drive to her house, I ring her doorbell, I call her again.

She's not released yet, someone is with her, she's going to be on her way home soon, all is fine.  

What I don't think I am adequately conveying here is the low-grade evil of niggling anxiety which flowed through this entire day.  And it wasn't just me.  Puppy Dog was utterly uncontrollable on the leash, bouncing around with manic energy.

I had started the day being growled at (really badly) by him when I touched his hind legs.  Three times.  So I'd set up an acupuncture vet appointment, more of which later.

I took Puppy Dog to the small downtown dog park, but didn't throw balls for him.  I didn't want him sprinting around when he had something odd going on with his legs.

So I am standing chatting to some other dog owners and I explain that he has something wrong with him, so I am laying off the tennis balls today.  So this guy - either deaf or dumb - picks up a ball and throws it for him and Puppy Dog chases it, skids, turns his body awkwardly... all the stuff he usually does.  But with sore legs.

Freak out No. 3.

Time to leave the dog park.

We head up to Hippieville, where I am going to see the vet acupuncturist.  In my mind, I visualize the route, remembering the right road.  Except my mind is seeing Seaville, not Hippieville, and I get totally lost.

Mistake No... what number is it now?  I've lost count.

Anyway, I wrestle with the sat nav in the car - if you don't have a definitive address, it doesn't want to help you get where you are going - and find which direction to head in.

We get there, I meet a friend for a drink, and realize my phone hasn't synched and I don't know the name, address or phone number of the vet I am supposed to be seeing.

Mistake No. 6.

Freak out No. 4.

My friend - let's call him Oliver - kindly Googles and Bings till we figure out where the hell I am meant to be going.

I head to the vet.  Puppy Dog gets acupuncture, and starts to calm down a little.  Then he grabs a needle out of his thigh, and we both immediately grab his mouth, but we think he might have eaten it.

So now I have killed my dog.

Freak out No. 5.

The vet talks to me about how the needle is very slim and bendy and tells me stories of other dogs who have eaten them and been just fine.

Yeah, whatever.

I go to the store to get canned pumpkin.  I need to feed this to Puppy Dog with bread so he has bulk to surround the perhaps-swallowed-needle and fibre to poo out the perhaps-swallowed-needle.  I feed the dog.  

I'll need to check his poo in the morning.

Oh, yay.

And then, out of nowhere, at 8:30 at night, the impulse to clean.  I clean the kitchen counters, the stove top, even behind the microwave.  Then I get down on my knees and scrub the kitchen floor.

Please understand that the only way I would ever contemplate such a thing was under extreme duress.  I hate cleaning.  

But there I am, manicure ruined, scrub-a-dub-dubbing, baby.

Oh.

See.

Dee.

Big time.

And it made me feel better.

And the kitchen looks clean for the first time in over a month.

And that's not such a bad thing, I guess.

As long as I never do that again, of course. 

Diary of an Ex-Employee - Day 69.0

I have always liked the French word "malaise". Irrespective of the dictionary defintion/translation, to me, the word has always meant something between "Disease" and "Ill at ease."

And that's really how I've been feeling this last week.

Before the 4th of July holiday, it felt like there was momentum, movement, progress. Interviews - even a tentative job offer.

Now it feels like everything has ground to a halt.

Of course that isn't really true - I have an interview this week - but my energy level is lower, networking seems to be drying up and I am resorting to online job board applications... and we all know how effective that is.

So what to do to shake out of the funk?

Going to the gym at 11 - that should help.

I should go to yoga - starts in 15 mins, I could make it if I hurried - but I am stuck to the couch.

OK, OK, I'll go!

Sheesh!

Ittybittycrazy has left the building

Later...

Well, as per usual, yoga has done the trick.

I prayed, at the start, for energy and forward momentum. And I got it.

It crystallized for me in the moment when we did Crow Pose. It's a pretty scary pose to get into.

"Don't think about going down," said the instructor, "think about moving forward."

And so I did. I got my head onto the block in front of me, balanced on my arms and, for a just a few seconds, got my head off the supporting block and felt "right" in the pose.

I have never got even close to that before with this pose.

YAY ME!

So now it's back home, preparing for tomorrow's phone interview. I've pulled out my Interview folder, full of answers I prepared two years ago to questions like "Tell me about yourself" and "If you could start your career from the beginning, what would you change?"

Also need to sit a while with my PMP Project Management manual, so the terms fly off my tongue like Jack Nicholson throwing up cherry pips in The Witches of Eastwick.

Wish me luck!

Health is Wealth - Weekly Tally

Good Girl

• 5 mile walk
• 1 gym session with weights
• 1 yoga class
• 4 mile walk

Bad Girl

• Half a plate of fries
• Half a Sundae
• Half slice Banana Bread
• Half slice Chocolate Bundt Cake

Good Times

• Dinner with an old friend
• Coffee with an old work friend
• Dinner out with a group of friends

Hello from Puppy Dog - Hide and seek

Hello friends!

 

Mama and Dada are playing a new game with me!  

  

It's called Hide and Seek. 

 

Mama makes me sit on my cushion, then shows me my toy.  Then Mama says "Hide and seek!  Hide and seek!"

And then Mama makes me stay there while she runs into different rooms of the house.  I can hear her running on the wooden floor... Doof!  Doof!  Doof!... so I know which rooms she runs into.

 

Then Mama comes back to me and shows me her hands and tells me the toy is gone!  Then she says I can leave my cushion and I have to run around the house and find my toy!

It's such fun!!!

I always find my toy and Mama tells me what a good boy I am! 

Then Dada did it!  Mama kept giggling because Dada was skipping around the house with his hands behind his back.  He kept his back away from me so he was backing into rooms.  He looked very silly and I was giggling! 

  

Dada was pretty good at the game, though!  It took me a few minutes to find my toy that time! 

I love this new game! 

Again! I told Mama.  Let's play again! 

We played lots of times and I got better and better.  Mama doesn't seem to realize that I can tell which room she pauses in so I know my toy is in there! 

We played a few more times but then Mama said something about being tired and that being "her exercise for the day." 

Hairless apes are so lazy! 

Anyway, it was fun while it lasted.  Maybe we'll play again tomorrow! 

Lots of licks and woofs,

  

Puppy Dog

Hello from Puppy Dog - Defending the Den... Again

Hello friends!

This morning I woke up and ran to the door because hairless apes were going past the house on strange wheeled things.  They were talking and making noise and I had to defend the den!

Dada came to the door and told me to stop barking and said something about "Sunday", "7am" and "I am bloody well awake now." 

He was standing next to me so I knew he was awake.  What a silly thing to say!

I explained to him that hairless apes on wheeled thingies are the modern version of Marauders on Horseback and dogs are taught the stories of old when we are little puppies in the litter.  It's my job to defend the den and that's what I did!

But Dada wasn't listening.  He was tapping his fingers in front of his light screen.

So I went to lay down on the bed with Mama.  She was making funny noises, kinda like a those machines the strange men use next door to cut the grass.  Then she moved and her foot hit my back leg and I growled to tell her that is not OK and jumped off the bed.

Mama yelled something about "Sunday", "8am" and "I am bloody well awake now."

Mama was sitting up so I knew she was awake.

Why do hairless apes keep stating the obvious?

Lots of licks and woofs,

Puppy Dog

Hello from Puppy Dog - My special names

 

Hello friends!

Mama has new names for me. But this time they are flattering!

She calls me John Wayne.  I think it's because, like him, I'm strong and handsome and great in a fight.  

Mama says it's cos I bring the Wild West into our house.  She says the little clumps of my shed hair that end up in the corners are tumbleweeds.  

Then she forgives me and names me after a younger cowboy.  I like this part because I get scratched behind the ears.  She runs up to me and says "I just don't know how to quit you, Jack Twist!"  

She also calls me after a famous TV presenter.  I think it's because, like him, I am a great guy and good with people!

She says that the carcasses of my dead soft toys, the little clouds of toy guts and my small tire toy make it look like we have a White Trash Yard.  Whenever we go outside and she notices that things don't look so great she points at me and starts to yell-sing "Go Jerry!  Go Jerry!  Go Jerry!"

My Mama loves me.

Lots of licks and woofs,

Puppy Dog

Hello from Puppy Dog - Flashing lights

Hello Friends!

Today was a great day!  

First Mama took me for a walk up to the coffee shop, where she met a friend.  A nice man walked by, patted my head, went away and came back with cookies!  He was my new bestestest friend!

Then a big lady hairless ape came long with a very small hairless ape strapped to her chest.  The small hairless ape's feet were hanging down and I had a sniff and a little lick of it's toes.  It's a good thing that dogs and hairless apes are friends, because otherwise that little foot would have made a nice snack!  Mmmmmm...

Then we walked home, said hello to Dada and got back in the car.  Mama drove me to the big park!  I ran and chased the ball and said hello to a tiny 6 month old Dachshund and two massive Burmese Mountain Dogs.  

Then I went for a swim!  It was great!

There were other hairless apes and dogs and lots of tennis balls in the water!  I got a bunch of them - I can get three in my mouth!  I thought I was being really fast and strong and clever but Mama got cross with me.  She took the balls away and threw them to the other dogs.  No fair!  If I can swim faster than them, that's their problem!  Mama can be very weird.

Then we drove home.  Mama was behaving very strangely.  There were lots of moving dens and we weren't going very fast.  

Mama was yelling strange words that I didn't understand.  I thought she said something about "You mustard!" and "Sheet!" but that didn't make sense.  Dada once let me sniff his mustard and it had a very different smell to Mama and Dada's sheets.  

Then Mama turned off the big road and we went faster down some little roads.  Then we went down a hill and a big moving den with pretty flashing lights was behind us.  Mama stopped and a lady came up to her window.  

I didn't know why she was coming up to our moving den so I was barking really loudly.  It didn't make her go away.  I don't know why - call it animal instinct - but I could tell that Mama didn't want the lady to be there.  

The lady said something about "40" and "25" and asked Mama to give her some cards and some paper and then she went away.  Then she came back and said something about "A warning" and gave Mama her stuff back.  I could tell Mama was cross.  She even turned off the music on the radio.

So then we were on our way again... but very slowly.

It took a very long time to get home.  We got back on the main road with the other moving dens.  It was so slow!  Thank God I was still damp from my swim, so I didn't get too hot.  

What a busy day!

Lots of licks and woofs,

Puppy Dog

Health is Wealth - Watching Silent Evil

As you know, distractions at the gym tend to save me from giving up/never going/descending into madness.

Yesterday we went in the middle of the afternoon, so the gym was pretty empty.  No distractions.  Boring.  Unable to tune out the pain of lifting weights.

Then she arrived.  Silent Evil, our personal trainer.  

She had a strange blue mark on her face.  Apparently DIY, wooden planks and the force of gravity combined to give her a fat WHUMP! on her left eye.  The dangers of doing chores around the house on the holidays.

Silent Evil couldn't talk for long - she was there to torture someone else.  This poor, sweet, pretty girl was a lamb to the slaughter.  

First we saw Silent Evil give the Lamb a very thick rubber band, about 2 feet wide, and make her put it around her ankles.  Lamb had to keep her legs three feet apart and walk up and down the length of the gym.  The poor girl looked like she was holding in diarrhea.

Then Lamb had squats, lunges and ten minutes running fast on the treadmill.  Thank God we've never been made to do that!  We always get the elipticals.  

As we were leaving, Lamb was lunge-walking the length of the gym, holding heavy dumbells above her head.  Her face was purple, her arms were red, she was panting.

"Just imagine," I told her, "that each step is you kicking Silent Evil."

"Yes!"  she squeaked.  "In the eye!"