Saturday, October 14, 2006


Guess what I figured out? When the humans fail to recognize my signals that I need to perform #2, I run to the nearest toilet and leave my poopies right next to it. This makes perfect sense, doesn't it? Isn't that what the humans use this cold, white contraption for? I believe this exhibits a great deal of intelligence, decorum and resourcefulness on my part. Now, if I could just straddle the seat without falling in and drowing, I might be THE smartest canine anyone ever knew. Besides that, I'd never have to deal with the wet and cold again!

Tuesday, October 10, 2006

Plugging Along

Mom has come up with a new nickname for me and dare I say it is not very flattering. In fact, I may require therapy soon to deal with the emotional scars. She calls me Rump Roast. Actually, she says, “Come here my little rump roast with legs.” She tries to disguise her insult in that sing-song voice, but she’s not fooling me. T-Bone is a more masculine reference, which I would be more than happy to respond to. But, rump roast? I have decided that I will not respond to that unless she is referring to a large piece of meat cooking on the stove and is about to give me a big juicy taste.

“Exercise” is another word that keeps cropping up in conversation lately. She calls us both pudgy and claims that a good walk around the neighborhood every day will cure our stoutness. So far, all we’ve done is discuss the matter for several days. I am patiently waiting for her to actually open up the cabinet door which houses my leash. If I knew how to open that door, I would take the leash out and bring it to her myself because it appears that we’re going to be in the talking stages for a good while.

Tuesday, October 3, 2006

Popcorn is the Bomb!

Apparently, it is frowned upon if you jump into a fresh, steaming bowl of popcorn. Yep, dove head first. Mom yelled my name really loudly and then yanked me out tout de suite. It was so warm and smelled oh-so-yummy. What did I do wrong?

Monday, October 2, 2006

Life is Beautiful

Greetings pup pals! I wanted to update everyone on my latest developments – with mom’s help of course.

First, I now weigh a hefty 2¼ pounds! My health and weight are improving every day. More importantly, my sarcoptic mange is clearing up, so there is less scratching. My white coat is getting thicker too, which is a plus.

The horrid vaccine process is almost over. Due to my size I must get vaccines in small increments. Next weekend will be my 4th and last time to undergo this monotonous, painful process. I’m glad my mom knows a doctor who is familiar with extra small puppies. There has been some side talk lately about something called a “spay”, but mom says I have to weigh over 5 pounds before that can happen. If I watch my calories, perhaps I will never have to find out what spaying entails. It doesn’t sound pretty. I think they butcher you. *gasp!*

In other news, my palate has become quite discriminating. I no longer lap things up just because they are waved under my nose. For instance, the bright pink Amoxy medication was palatable a couple of weeks ago, but I was recently prescribed Clavamox, a white liquid, which is intensely bitter. Lately, I have chosen to fight mom and dad on this issue, practically swiveling my head around in a complete circle to avoid the foul concoction. Well, maybe that’s a slight exaggeration. At any rate, they always manage to get it down my throat despite my vehement protests.

I am starting to realize that I don’t have much of a chance fighting these large, strong human parents. I do, however, have a weapon at my disposal that I use as often as possible: my large, black eyes. When I give them the super sad look, I make sure my ears are laid back, which accentuates my eyes. This look has proved successful in almost everything except getting out of taking medicine. It has even afforded me a few tiny morsels of human food. I think Sparky’s big black eyes are what caused him to get so fat, so I’m still weighing whether or not I should employ this pitiful look to get my way where food is concerned. I don’t want to end up looking like a pork roast with legs. Maintaining a girlish figure is of utmost importance.

Okay, this you will not believe: I can run all the way up the stairs by myself. The human parents didn’t even try to coax or teach me. One day, I just decided to go for it. The downfall is, I’m too afraid to come down. When the humans realize I’m missing, mom rounds the corner to look at the top of the stairs. Nine times out of ten she will find me up there waiting to be carried back down. I’m sure I will learn to do this myself eventually, but right now it is a very scary ordeal for me.

In essence, I'm exploring the world, growing by leaps and bounds, and developing a charming personality. One day I hope to be crowned Queen over these other large beasts I am forced to share my domicile with. They're nice enough, but sometimes can be a bit ill-mannered. Chance is least affected by my presence; he just sniffs a lot which can get annoying over time. Spenser barks (shouts) at me if I get too close. It's so loud it practically blows me across the room. Not to mention, it is unnerving to be playing and suddenly get shouted at. Sparky is very tempermental. I never know when he will be receptive to playing with me. That's okay because I will rule this pack one day. Very soon.