Foley Could Be Named in Westminster Doping Probe

On Monday and Tuesday we watched the Dog Super Bowl, the Westminster Dog Show. Being a Yorkie, we root for our breed, and, when they are unfairly eliminated, I root for whichever member of the Toy Group defeated them.

This year it was a little affenpinscher named Banana Joe. I quickly got over my jealousy when I noticed something special about Joe. The proud way he walked. The beautiful curve of his tail. That certain something that said born leader, a big dog in a small dog world.  In short, Banana Joe reminded me of me.

I was rooting for him in the final and when he won I was ecstatic, then when I found out that he was a Massachusetts dog, living in a town just a few miles from my house, I was even happier. This elation soon turned to fear when I realized that I could be the reason Banana Joe is stripped of his title, and he probably doesn’t know did done anything wrong.

Did you read my blog a few weeks ago about the different vets that we have had?  The vet before our new one I said was from North Attleboro and the cost filled my Mom with sorrow.  Money be darned not going to this vet turned out to be a hellacious mistake.  First, I must publish a correction, because while he lives in North Attleboro, his clinic is in Seekonk.  And second, this vet, William Truesdale owns Banana Joe. So, the same doctor who last year squeezed my anal glands also squeezes the anal glands of the World’s Top Dog.  My first thought was how cool is that?

And then I thought about the chain of events. Banana Joe was just this ordinary little house lap dog going nowhere special. Then there is me.  The only two things that have stopped me from winning best in show for 12 years running is my refusal to let my tail be cropped and that someone flushed my ovaries.

What if Dr Truesdale squeezed my anal glands just before I left?  I wasn’t paying attention to the sequence of events.  After squeezing my glands he got special Foley juice all over his hands. Then he went into his office without taking off his gloves where loyal Banana waited for him.  He picked up the little Affenpinscher and without anyone knowing some of the secret juice that makes me so awesome was secreted into Banana.

What happens if they have run a blood test on Joe?  Are they going to find traces of Performance Enhancing Foley Secret Anal Juice?  And if they do are their going to strip him of his crown because of his use of PEFSAJ?  As everyone knows if you are on the juice, you’re out. So please, Westminster humans, do not punish Joe for using PEFSAJ. He did not seek it out and only came into contact with it because his Daddy is sloppy.

(P.S.  To Hobo, the Richest Dog in Town:  I am asking my Daddy Minion to squeeze my glands every day.  I am sending you the juice.  Florida seems to be a place where athletes go for performance enhancement. Please take the juice, copy it, mass produce it and we will split the profits.  Then get ready for thousands of show dogs to come sniffing to your door.  And plan to be so Rich and Famous that by next year you will be hosting the Celerbdog Apprentice.

Wordless Wednesday

Pokey, Maggie and Toby are our February 10, 2013 Pups of the Week

If you have read my Mom’s whinings the last few days you will know we had a giant buzzard hanging over our area this weekend.  It parked right over us, dumped 21 inches of wet snow, and it breathed so hard it knocked over trees and it’s breath howled around our little home all night long.

Honestly, for Pocket and me, except for a few short trips outside to do our business, which left us cold and wet, it was the best 24 hours of our lives. The power went out at 7:30.  For the next two and a half hours we were able to sit peacefully with no annoying television blaring or bright lights interfering with our napping.

Then we went to bed, the greatest bed ever. We climbed in around 10:00 and except for a couple of trips outside we stayed snuggled in bed for hours, with it freezing outside the bed and warm and toasty under the covers. For us, while the cold, wet, freezing snow was quite problematic, and the howling winds annoying, the Buzzard was Snugglefest 2013 and we wouldn’t have missed it for anything.

Just a few miles to the north of us Pokey, Maggie and Toby didn’t have as pleasant a night.  Their Mom is what is known as a “necessary person” and she had to go to the hospital where she works to help the sick people there.  The Governor who is like the big dog of the state had ordered that no one could drive on the roads but the trio’s Mom is so important he sent her a special pass to drive.

While we were tucked safely in bed with Mommy and Daddy knowing that all of us were safe Pokey, Maggie and Toby had to stay up all night, worried about their Mom traveling and worrying about the Buzzard over head dropping more and more snow and howling like it had it’s foot caught in a buzzard trap.  

And their Mom, while knowing she was safe at work, had to worry about her babies home alone with no human to protect them if the power went out. if the temperature dropped or if a neighboring tree came crashing through the roof. Her work done she hurried home and there was a wonderful reunion at the door when everyone licked, kissed and hugged one another in relief knowing they were all safe from the storm. Then there was one last bad moment for our three friends, they had to to bound through the snow looking for a place to do their business which I can tell you from experience was no day at the beach unless their was a giant buzzard over the beach.

While so many of us on the East Coast were affected by this terrible buzzard we were all able to ride it out together.  Aunt Laura and her babies had to do it apart and that is why we recognize them and are sending them virtual hugs and kisses. May you never go through another bad storm apart.

Pocket Laments Having Become House Trained

For five years I have worked very hard to become housetrained. Last year I made a vow: No more embarrassing pee puddle, no more wet spots on the rug, no more boom booms left on the kitchen floor. With concentration, and learning to control the muscles in my netherlands, I became housebroken and put aside my blue denim diaper forever.

I was a Pocket triumphant. Then came winter, and I was left to wonder why had I ever bothered to become housebroken at all?

Foley has always told me to watch the humans and learn from their strange ways. She says she learned housebreaking while still a pup and now it is a behavior she cannot unlearn. When I was going in the house Foley would publically call me unprofessional but privately she told me that humans didn’t go outside and I shouldn’t either.

I wished I had learned from her.  I have gone from a life of getting out of my warm bed and taking a whizz in the corner to getting out of my warm bed, putting on a slight jacket, going into the freezing cold, where, not only am I supposed to urinate and risk getting frozen to the ground but then I have to get into the least protected position in the animal kingdom, the poo squat, and while I relieve my bowels for all the world to see I have no protection from wind, rain, ice, and evasive squirrel.

The Daddy comes in the house, walks into the warm bathroom, does his business, and flushes it away.  I asked Daddy why I can’t pee in the bowl and he says it’s because we haven’t evolved like he has. I guess he’s right because when I have to pee or poo I need to revolve in a circle and it’s a rule of nature that, if you have to revolve you will never evolve.

Tomorrow night they are predicting that we will be getting four Foleys of snow which is a lot of snow. Humans will be making extraordinary efforts to ensure that every human is safe inside during the storm. While this is occurring we will be taken outside and stand with nothing protecting us just to pee.

And to think I had to learn to do this. If there is one thing I have learned from this is to never learn again.

Wordless Wednesday

Of Bundesrat and zoophiles or Fred and Fido a Love Story

First, before I begin my rant, I would like to thank my friend’s Cassie’s Dad for bringing this story to my attention.  It ran in today’s New York Times, and, sadly, it is true.

And now, I rant.

The Bundesrat, which is the upper house of Parliament in Germany and not, as I had originally believed, the German manufactured car driven by the Pillsbury Dough Boy, voted on Friday to criminalize “using an animal for personal sexual activities” and to punish the humans that do so with fines of as much as $34,000

$34,000? Let me tell you buddy, if I don’t know you and haven’t given you a good sniffing I wouldn’t let you stroke my tail for $34,000.  No wonder they called the Nazi march goose stepping, they had to get their legs that high to mount the goose. I guess when Hitler’s few defenders said he was OK because he loved his dogs they meant he really loved his dogs.

Amongst the new regulations contained in this legislation is: “using an animal for personal sexual activities or making them available to third parties for sexual activities and thereby forcing them to behave in ways that are inappropriate to their species” is no longer legal. And this law was passed is 2013? I know pimpin’ ain’t easy but it should be a little harder than taking the dog for a walk and leaving it tied to a lamppost then hoping for the best.

Apparently there is a group who opposed the Bundesrat legislation. They are known as zoophiles and they are represented by Michael Kiok who claims that animals are perfectly capable of expressing whether or not they desire sex.  That is true, and, as a representative of dogs everywhere let me state our expression is “Oh hell no!”

David Zimmermann, an animal caretaker who is also a director of the zoophilie group, says that he had a sexual relationship with his Great Dane until it passed away.  He said “It’s a sexual aspect that is entirely foreign to most people. They just see a man and think, ‘What terrible things is he doing to that dog?’ ”  Yes, they do, now step away from the dog!

Let me sum up by saying that we call you Mommy and Daddy for a reason. If you wouldn’t do that to your children don’t be doing it to us, and if you would be doing to your children then you got problems no dog can solve.

And my friends, if a human ever comes at you with that intention, well, I wouldn’t tell you to bite the hand that feeds you but everything else is fair game.

Hobo Hudson is our February 3, 2013 Pup fo the Week

We have several friends of are very accomplished in their deeds but none of them have become successful in the human world. My friend Hobo Hudson has done what we thought was impossible.  He has entered the human world and has conquered it.  While I am a very successful dog lawyer I only represent other dogs.  But Hobo has surpassed me.  He is drawing income from actual humans.

Hobo has written a book.  He did it by using words.  He didn’t see an open book on the floor and pee on it, then claimed the novel as his own because he had bookmarked it.  He did not take a giant poo in a book (I did this once halfway through Moby Dick.  American classic my butt. Who wants to read 300 pages on whale blubber?) No, he put paw to pen (or keyboard, he is very secretive about his methods,) and now he is an author.

The book is called The Richest Dog in Town and can be bought at Amazon here.  We have not had a chance to dig our paws into the book yet but we are looking forward to doing so.  If you would like to get an idea of Hobo’s very creative storytelling technique you can read his blog here. 

Hobo is a very wise dog who has figured out how to turn some of our natural enemies, squirrels, cats, and other things that most of us chase away, and make them work for him. He has squirrels working for him in his farming business and he has a large number of cats working for him, including his personal assistant Thomas. Plus no one knows more about the dog bone futures market than Hobo.

Hobo is a very stay at home dog. Many of the older members of DS will remember him, but, when issues with the former owners made many of us leave, and join the upstart Tanner Brigade, Hobo led the way.  While some stayed at DS, and others, like my sister and I, came back, to DS, Hobo has been happy at the small town Tanner Brigade, like a gentleman farmer sitting on the front porch with no need to ever leave town.

His parents don’t do Facebook either. They are too busy helping Hobo with his businesses to spend much time social networking.  But we don’t want his brilliance to be hidden in the shadow, and it is our honor to bring it into the light.   

Hobo’s writings never fails to raise a smile even on the sourest of pusses.  His stories are very clever, his writing very clean and professional.  This is a book you will read and want to share, but don’t share, because Hobo needs as money book sales as he can get.

So here is to my friend Hobo, who went from a dog left abandoned, tied to a tree, to a soon to be best selling author.  His book is called The Richest Dog in Town and he is, because he is such a gentleman and a good friend, even if he couldn’t write, he would be rich with friends and love.