K9 Kamp Part Deux: Playing with my balls

Hi gang, it’s me Pocket reporting from K-9 Kamp glad to say that Daddy and I have completed our favorite challenge: Play with your balls. In fact I think Daddy and I helped name this challenge last year because we have two minds that have not expanded much beyond pupdom.

Now there is nothing I enjoy more than chasing my own balls. Or, should I say my own ball, because I am a one ball girl. For those of you unfamiliar with how particular I sm with balls I have several balls of various shapes and sizes but there is only one ball I will chase. I will chase it until I have gutted it and it doesn’t bounce anymore. We will then have a small ceremony to honor the ball, then put it out for the men who give it a proper burial in what the humans call the landfill, then Daddy lines up my brightly colored balls, and I sniff them, paw at them, and then choose one with my paw, pull it out of line and nose it to Daddy. He puts the rest back in my playpen and I play with that one ball for months. If it is lost we cannot play with another ball, we have to find that one. The only way for me to move on to a new ball is for me to destroy it. My balls are like horocruxes. You must rid the world of one and move on to the next.

Now for me this challenge is easy. All I do is chase the ball. And, being such a small dog, I chase the ball inside. Now, you might comment, this seems quite an easy challenge for a biped. Well, my friends, you would be wicked wrong, because, when we play ball inside the house, I darn near kill Daddy.

For a human to get the most benefit from this challenge they must strictly follow the Daddy rules. First, like flat on the floor. Then throw the ball....and wait. Sometimes I bring it back. Sometimes I don’t. And that is where the challenge begins.

Because I have hidden my horocrux ball and Daddy has to find it. And because I am closer to the ground than hedgehog who is retaining water it is going to be on the floor under something. First Daddy has to lift himself off the floor (push up) then crawl along the floor (cardo and good for arms strength). then get back flat on the floor to look under furniture, then back up to crawl to the next spot. There is no running done but this up and down, crawl and lay down, and the peering is a great work our for him.

So play with your balls is the best of all challenges, it is great fun for me and a great workout for Dad. In fact I think it the best workout any human can have: Except for the standing and moving.

This is a bog hop

Dog Bite Awareness Week: I Wasn't Born This Way

Recently it was dog bite awareness week. I was unable to blog that week but I want to take this opportunity to speak to the humans to make them aware of one important way to avoid getting bit: Stop pissing us off.

First, let’s deal with our tails. They have many functions. Mostly they are used to express our joy. But they are not a handle. Don’t pull them, don’t squeeze them, don’t wrench them. When you do we are have protect ourselves and, since we were not born with sharp claws, machine guns attached to our under quarters, or boxing gloves on our paws. Our only protection is our mouths: hence you get bit.

Second, and this applies to our big dog friends, don’t try to ride us. We are not ponies. Our backbones are not meant to support the weight of a human or a child. Hey, we are willing to drag you on a sled in the middle of the snow and willing to bring you a bottle of whiskey when your dumb ass gets lost on a mountain. You don’t expect horsies to do that, don’t be expecting to ride us.

Thirdly doggies who bite were not born that way. We are not Gaga’s Monsters. Doggies are Foley’s Monsters. We are born sweet, innocent, and only wanting a human to love and be loved. If you abuse us that love turns to fear and we start lashing out with our teeth to protect ourselves. We are not here to bring out the tough in you. We are here to bring out the love in you. Let us change you. Don’t be changing us.

Lesson number four is be careful not to startle us. Are one job is to protect our humans and, if a mean human is smart, he will hurt us first so we can’t do our jobs. If you come up to us suddenly, or in a manner that seems threatening we are going to go into survival mode to save our families. If you get a nip from that don’t be blaming us.

Lesson number five is, unless you have owned us since we were a little pup, you don’t know how we were mistreated by bad humans, and those memories stay in us for a long time. One day, out of nowhere, a sudden movement may bring us back those days of being mistreated and we move to protect ourselves. We are very sorry, but again, we are Foley’s Monsters, and we weren’t born that way, some bad human made us that way.

Remember, behind every non biting do is a wonderful human who brought us up to be what we are supposed to be, and behind every biting dog is a mean human, usually deep in our past, who turned us into the wrong kind of monsters.

And if you find a dog who does bite just keep in mind

Oh there there is another way
I wasn’t born this way
I wasn’t born this way
Oh there there is another way
I wasn’t born this way
I'm on the wrong track, baby
I wasn’t born this way

Chelsea and Ashton are our May 27, 2012 Pup of the Week

I never want to be accused of favoritism but today I am willing to take that chance because I am recognizing two pups, Chelsea and Ashton, who are both members of the mightiest of dog breeds, the Yorkshire Terrier.

For almost an entire month we did not hear from our sweet friends. We became very concerned because they lived in the part of Texas where there were terrible tornadoes, and while there were no fatalities the human news reporters rarely count dogs among their casualties so there was still reason for concern. We all sent messages, e-mail, tree mail, pee a grams, but we got no response.

Finally our little friends (little to most of you, to us they are properly sized) posted an update. Her ‘puter got sick and she called the tech support so much the phone system crashed and no one could order Chinese food in New Dehli for a week. That was on April 21 and we were so happy the Yorkie silence was over.

Then we heard no yelping from them for another three weeks. Now, as you kind readers, and my friends, can tell you, it just isn’t natural for a Yorkie to stop yapping. Then they posted again and they were still having ‘puter problems. Chelsea and Ashton live, like we do, in a Senior community, and sometime in these places, thinking goes a bit sideways, and they start spending their money of things like shower chairs, higher toilet seats and something called a Commode which I can only compare to the drivethru of bathrooms for poo lovers.

I took the time to send a scathing e-mail to the AARP saying that instead of sending old folks key rings, flashlights and magnets they should send them laptops with free wi-fi. I am still waiting on a response. But you know, old folks, takes them awhile to respond.

Then, further down in the posting, I realized my genetic sisters had buried the lead along with a bone. Their Mom needed eye surgery which is bad for dogs but worse for humans because we can smell everything around for six square acres and poor Moms don’t have that ability. And let me tell you, from experience, us Yorkies make really bad seeing eye dogs, unless the only place blind humans want to go is after anything that runs across their path or something that smells new in the grass.
In an odd twist, Chelsea’s and Ashton’s Mom decided to become a pirate. She got herself an eye patch. And she has made all the elderly women in her building refer to her as “Big Mama.” All she needs is a parrot, which she is not getting, because us Yorkies don’t take to anything that weighs the same as us and has wings.

In their last post they said they had professional computer help which makes me wonder how a Yorkie can be affording that. Hopefully we will be hearing more from them soon and their Mom will be on their new computer. But for now they are doing what us Yorkies do best, keeping close to their Mom until she feels better.

Take care of your Moms my friends, and we will keep the Yorkie spirit going on the old Internet for you.

K9 Kamp Challenge I: "Walking on Sunshine" or "Dragging Foley on Pavement"

We have successfully completed our walking on sunshine task but not without a few problems.

Daddy and I were getting ready. He pulled on his training pants, his tube socks, his sneakers. I licked my pads to make sure there were no obstructions and was ready to go. Mommy then interrupted us. She said words I dreaded to hear: Why don’t you take Foley along.

Geesh. Here I am. Four years old, in the prime of my prime, I am ready for my challenge, and not only do I have to drag tubby Daddy but now I got the Betty White of Yorkies to drag along. If we were going to win this challenge it came down to me: Pocket Dog. And I am never more worried than when things came down to me.

So we started our walk. Daddy used a purposeful stride. I walked with pride next to him. Foley dug in her paws and use her low center of gravity to imitate a turtle wearing a leash. If I may suggest to my K9 Kamp Kreating friends, that next year they add the stubborn Diva Yorkie drag challenge.

This lasted until our little modular home cottage disappeared from view. This was, like on all walks, when Foley gave in. Daddy says it’s because she knows she’s going for a walk. I think it’s because she’s not smart enough to know she can just turn around and thinks she has to take that long walk to go home again. But don’t tell her that because she will definitely give me a butt nip if she hears about it.

There is also one problem with this challenge. It’s the problem with almost every challenge we do. Many of us dogs are inside dogs, and when we go outside, and for a walk, well while we are in nature, nature calls. And it is very embarrassing in the middle of a challenge. Really, you humans don’t know how difficult it is. Imagine this. “Here we are at the Olympic gold medal 100 meter dash, and we’re off, and Bolt has a huge lead, but no, he’s taken a giant crap in the middle of the track and cost himself the Gold.” That is our life.

But the good thing is, once you have an early walk cleaning out, it gives you quite the skip in your step. Unfortunately Foley is a sniffaholic so we could never build up a healthy head of speed before something caught her scent and she had buried her nose in it. But once Foley was scentually satisfied we maintained a pace that I’ll Have Another would admire. Then we came to the office with the mailboxes.

There is a ramp there, but on the other side there is small stairway, and we walked up it, then across the porch, and down the ramp. We did this three times until the little old man who runs the office thought we were Occupation Wall Street picketers and asked us to leave.

Then we began walking down the longest road. It was here that we tried the running portion of the challenge. But Foley don’t run unless there is fried chicken at the end of the track.

Daddy tried picking her up and running with her but she didn’t like that either. We passed a home under construction. There were stairs that led nowhere.
Daddy said we could do more stairs and we climbed up them. Suddenly the top seemed very small and we were like the flying Wallendas up there. We climbed back down and headed home.

All in all it wasn’t a bad challenge. We would have done better without Foley but it is the first time she completed a challenge so a tip of the tail for her.

And I got my badge for doing something for the elderly, helping Foley in a challenge.


Oh my gosh, here she comes at me, I gotta run!

The eternal Bubs are our May 20, 2012 Pups of the Week

This is for the Bub in all of us.

Wednesday will be the third anniversary of the Tanner Brigade: A ragtag group of dogs, some who did not feel wanted on Doggyspace (or, like Pocket and I, and Tanner Bub and Cocoa, were barred) while others stayed on DS and joined the Tanner Brigade to keep in contact with their friends.

For those of you who don’t know we will repeat the story of the founding of the Brigade, as humans do the story of the nativity of Christmas Eve, because Pocket and I take ourselves way too seriously. It all began with a group named Yellow Labs on Doggyspace.
Tanner Bub founded the Yellow Labs group, but one day he found it gone. He questioned the old DS management and was told his Yellow Labs group was assimilated with another Labs group. But Tanner was upset that all the Yellow Labs threads and comments were gone. He asked me what to do Being a wise dog who has studied history I suggested, in the words of Franklin Douglas, that he agitate, agitate, agitate. Well Tanner sure took my words to heart. He agitated his butt right off of DS.

At the same time the vet gave Tanner some very bad news. He had cancer and did not have much longer to live. Pocket and I sat down and wrote a well thought out letter to the DS owner asking that Tanner would be allowed to stay on DS until he went to the Bridge so his friends could comfort his Mom. We received the following response, which is to TB members as remembered as the Gettysburgh address.

“As you know the rules are laid out clear, and we can not allow this bickering to continue, nor slander. It may be unforchunit for her personaly, however she knew she should not have done that before she even posted it, and we can not make exceptions in this case due to the size of the event. Dont expect it to be the last eather, the entire admin/support team are hunting down anyone that was part of the event on bothsides as its a clear break of the community rules. Its sad to see so many adults act like children.”

When we read the letter Pocket and I were both stunned over how mean it was, and how hilarious it was. We forwarded it to many of our friends. This got our account suspended. When we wrote a blog on the site that is now known as Small Tales we got terminated from DS. Hey we were just sticking up for our friend, and, perhaps in doing so, showed that the former DS owner was either a drunk illiterate or just illiterate.

Our good friend Teddie Earnest told us about a site where we could all be friends and that lasted until the night Tanner went to the bridge. Some of us created fake e-mail accounts and used them to create fake dog names, sign into DS, and post Tanner’s pictures as ours. Others, who stayed on DS, changed their profile pics to Tanner’s. Wherever anyone looked they saw Tanner’s picture.

There was one mean dogggy owner who came to our site just to start trouble and some of our friends fled for parts unknown. Someone had to be a dog of action, and that dog was me. I began my own site on the Ning Network naming it after my friend Tanner and calling it a Brigade because it was a Brigade that went into DS and posted Tanner’s picture. Little by little some of our friends chose to join us and we became a happy family.

This year we noticed our DS ban was lifted and we created our account and we have found lots of old friends and made lots of new ones. We have had an excellent time talking and playing with them.

Us members of both sites like to think of the Tanner Brigade as a small town where everyone knows each other and we care about each other very much. We only get a few new members a year. Sometimes members leave but we hold the door open for them if they want to return.

DS is like the big city where you can meet a new best friend every day. You might not see someone everyday but when you do you get a big hi. There is more drama but that is life in the big city.

There are things that work well in DS that don’t on TB, and those that work well in TB but not is DS. There are some that join TB and don’t take to it, and some that feel the same about DS. And there are some who enjoy both but don’t have the time to devote to two sites.

But what we all have on these sites is a record, a record of our lives. Although our futures may be short we are going to fill those short futures with many, many, memories.

In the Tanner Brigade the youngest human is our grandbaby Maddie. She is only 11 years old. Maybe someday, when we’re all at the bridge, human and pups reunited, Maddie’s dog will be running the Brigade, and deep in the belly of it’s archives, we will all live, forever.

If not Maddie then maybe Brody’s little human Blake. Maybe he will someday learn how to make money off a doggy site. Maybe he will sell it as public stock. And if he misuses the money maybe he will end up like this.

So this is why we will tell our story each year. So that is remembered, and passed down, and our memories never die.

There is a picture on my Mom’s bureau. It’s of a great grand Mom, leathery Portuguese skin. You wouldn’t know she was related to my Mom except for the two dogs in the picture, one in her lap, the other at the end of her fingernails as she scratches it. Someone found the picture among boxes of family things. We don’t know who those pups are, but in the picture they are living forever.

And thanks to our Internet friends so are we.

K9 Kamp Rap

Spent most of the winter wearing my snowcap
Gaining the pounds as I ate mounds of crap
Gonna hook my workout booties with a strap
‘Cause now we’re getting together to do the K-9 Kamp rap

Can’t wait to go walking with Daddy in the sun
Rules say we’re supposed to but I don’t think I can make him run
People are going to be behind me watching me shake my little bun
But remember we’re workin folks so it’s not just fun

Gonna watch what we eat, no more Frosty Paws
Gotta lose some weight so I can see my claws
And some of Daddy’s eating got to be put on pause
I am worried about layoffs at the local Shaw’s

Week two we are going to play with our balls
I’m tiny so mine are small
We’re going to play until Daddy keels and falls
For a little dog getting him to bed is going to be a haul

In two weeks we shouldn’t be fat
I’ll be able to get up a tree after that brat cat
I’ll fly from tree to tree like an acrobat
Though I’ll likely go splat if I fly into a bat

We can’t wait to play minute to win it
Although it might give Daddy a fit
But we won’t let him quit
If his pants don’t fit you won’t acquit

Gotta get Daddy’s weight down
Can’t keep buying him pants in the department that says clowns
His huffing and puffing makes Mommy frown
He’s either gonna bet moving or move out of town

Finally it will be reader’s choice week.
I am so worried I think I am going to freak.
I hope it’s nothing that will make Daddy shrek
He’s no athlete just some geek

Truth is I am still sleek and slim
I’m doing this mostly for him
Left to his own devices he is quite dim
But if he doesn’t lose weight the future is grim

So there will be no more wearing my snowcap
No more eating mounds and mounds of crap
Gonna work real hard and get Dod under my bootstrap
‘Cause now we’re getting together to do the K-9 Kamp rap

Bear is our May 13, 2012 Pup of the Week

On March 4, 2012 we recognized a dirty, wet, black dog who was abandoned by his family during a storm and left to die then had to depend on the kindness of strangers to survive. Well now that black dog has a name, Bear, and a new home with those kind neighbors, Sandy, Maggie, Nikki and their wonderful parents.

After his parents returned, over more than two months this beautiful black baby was further mistreated, left alone, left outside, covered in ticks and fleas. Whenever he saw Sandy’s parents he would give them that pleading look, but instead of begging for a treat this poor baby was begging for a home.

Sandy’s Daddy kept knocking on the neighboring door telling the bad parents that they obviously didn’t care for the dog and to just surrender him to a family that would love him and each time they were met with a curt no. Sandy’s Daddy would then sit and pull ticks off the black dog who looked up at him begging for love.

Finally, after watching Bear have one too many close calls while chasing cars Sandy’s Dad gathered all his kibbles together and went next door, threw them at the black dog’s owners and was declared the new owner of the black dog. There was an exchange of paper work too which is a very smart thing to do for humans.

As soon as he was in his proper home he got his name, Bear, after one of our most popular dogs, now at the bridge. He got to play the zoom game running around the yard with Nikki. He got a flea and tick bath to get rid of all those parasites. And he even got to sit on a human’s bed.

Despite some initial diva dog attitude from Nikki Bear settled into his new home, no more fleas, no more ticks, just good loving and a good home. Oh, except for that vet trip.

First came the leash. The newly named Bear had never worn a leash before and when he got attached to it he rolled over on his back and refused to move. His new Mom coaxed him into the car and he finally found out what was in them and that they really weren’t worth all that trouble chasing them.

There were lots of things done that never been done before. Poking, prodding, listening, sticking something where? There? He did have worms, but not serious worms, and got medicine for that, and he did have a skin infection from years of ticks and fleas but outside of that he was one healthy dog.

There will be yucky medicine, and some nipping and fighting, but Bear is no longer the nameless, cold, wet dog. He is Bear. A member of the pack. And he has been saved by a great family. And on this Mother’s Day we should recognize a Mom who has taken in Nikki, and Bear, while providing a great home for Sandy and Maggie. So happy new home Bear and happy Mother’s Day to one of the best Mom dogs in the world.

With a very unpleasing sneezing and weezing the utility pole crashed to the ground

HAA-CHOO! Oh, excuse me. I’m sorry. That was impolite. But I have issues without tissues. Since it stopped raining here I am not three steps out the door until I start sneezing and hacking. It has made my daily bodily functions into a bother. I got sneeze stuff coming out my nose, cough stuff out my mouth, not to mention the usual stuff that gets produced during the process.

I am even having trouble licking. I lick Daddy and mid lick I begin to cough and sneeze. This is very frustrating. The allergies have affected Pocket. She goes WHO HAW WHO HAW. Yesterday morning we only got a couple of driveways past ours before Daddy took our sniveling butt home.

Last night Mommy gave us both a little bit of Benadryl and I can lick Daddy without coughing and sneezing. The truth test will be when I go outside again. If I go outside again. Right now I feel like being a housecat. Give me a box, I’ll go in it. I just don’t like sneezing Foley I am.

Two nights ago the power went off during the night. Mommy and Daddy were awake, reading in bed, and Pocket and I were snuggling when suddenly everything went dark. I will let the overly excitable Pocket take over from here.

POCKET: OH CHEESE AND CRACKERS! I JUST GOT USED TO THAT COLD AIR BLOWING BEAST, WHEN SUDDENLY IT SHUT OFF. NOT ONLY DID IT SHUT OFF THE WHOLE WORLD SHUT OFF THE FAN, THE LIGHTS, EVERYTHING. SUDDENLY, WITH MY HEIGHTENED SENSES I COULD SMELL EVERYTHING AND HEAR EVERYTHING. MOMMY SAID MAYBE THERE WAS A CAR ACCIDENT AND A UTILITY POLE FELL OVER. OH NO! A CAR ACCIDENT. YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS? ZOMBIES! I SNUGGLED CLOSELY TO MOMMY HOPING TO SAVE US FROM THE ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE, AND TREMBLED THE ENTIRE NIGHT LONG.

Foley: Normally I would tell you that Pocket got everything wrong but let me say this: The lights out situation scared the sith out of me. The zombies come out when thelights go out, and here in the village of the pruned, there are plenty of zombies, so I was nervous. When I get nervous I lick. I lick the sheets or Daddy. I believe if my tongue is connected to something everything will be allright. I learned that from Bill Clinton. Everything came back on near dawn and I finally settled down. Pocket stayed awake all night looking for zombies. I agreed with her, you can’t be too careful.

Today Mommy and Daddy went to Daddy’s doctor in Randolph and on the way home she got car sick. They had to stop at a Dunkin Donuts so Mommy didn’t womit in the car. I found this to be ironic. Most people leave Dunkin Donutus in a car then womit. Mommy left her car to womit in Dunkin Donuts. After that Mommy and Daddy had to travel on the highway.

Daddy decided he needed something in case Mommy started to womit again and, get this, he grabbed my car seat for her to use Not Pocket’s Mine. Thankfully she did not womit but if she had my seat would be violated. She told me that I had thrown up in her seat so why can’t she throw up in mine? I know that makes sense in human terms but in dog’s terms it makes no sense what so ever.

I am a little better now with the sneezing and wheezing. But I still upset Mommy and Daddy if I have a hacking cough now and then. I am sitting in her recliner in case something comes up throat wise. If she can upchuck in my chair then I can upchuck in hers. That’s dog logic.

Mexico City's Dog Dump for Wi Fi Minutes Angers Foley Monster Attorney at Paw

I, Foley Monster, with the help of my able assistant Pocket Dog, who is currently hiding under the bed trembling, is declaring war on Mexico.

You may be wondering if I have joined the right wing of our political world taking a heavy paw to our immigration problems. No, this is not an immigration issue. This is an emigration issue.

In Mexico City the government has set up stations where our humans can deposit our excrement. And, to encourage the use of the stations you get free wi-fi through a port in the station for each deposit. Honestly, I can’t make this siht up. This is a true story. Mexicans can now exchange our waste for free access to porn. This is what Pancho Villa dreamed for Mexico.

Now, you might be asking yourself, why is the most famous dog attorney in the country taking exception to a system that would turn our excrement into power? First, I think we are being used. While it is our bitter droppings that are the source of power are we getting to go on the sites we want to go on or is it being controlled by the humans? My guess is the humans are taking advantage of this. It bothers me that, after centuries of humans cleaning up after us, they are now being rewarded for it. This may upset the delicate balance where we rule and they be the fool.

My second reason is that it discriminates against the small dog and the small dog owner. The amount of time humans get on the Internet from the Doggy Dump spot depends on the weight of the dump. If you have a big dump and they leave a huge deposit of said dump it will get the owner more time on the web. But if the owner has a small dog, like say, Pocket and I, the dumper will only have time to sign on to Facebook before our tiny droppings cause them to have to power down.

I fear that these dump for the amp stations will lead to the end of breeding smaller dogs. These surf the turf dropping outlets rewards the larger dog owner. Also it encourages the humans to fatten up their dogs. If you want to be able to watch an entire ten minute video of a cat who plays Mozart with it’s tail you are going to have to either have to save a week of Yorkie droppings or feed a Newfounland an entire chicken then pick the feathers out of the poo. I think it is a shame that you cannot get enough power to read the siht I write by using the siht I make. John Lennon was wrong: The sith you make is not equal to the sith you take. My siht is being discriminated against and I can’t stand for that siht.

And I am concerned for Mexico’s most famous dog, the Chihuahua. They, like us Yorkies, don’t generate much energy with our butt refuse. All I can picture is some poor Chihuahua owner in Mexico upset he can’t watch an entire Cheech and Chong video on You Tube shoving the entire Chihuahua into the station so they can find out if Cheech can find where he hid to pot.

They told us we were all created equal, then they said it wasn’t so; they told us we all had an equal chance,then they said it wasn’t so; they said we would all be treated the same, then they said it wasn’t so. At least we knew that all our siht was equal. But now they are saying it ain’t so.

I for one will not take this squatting.

Hobo Hudson is our May 6, 2012 Pup of the Week

It has been a quiet week here on the Brigade. I like quiet weeks. No friends who are sick,or parents that are ill or in dire financial situations. No one is knocking on the Bridge door. This does make picking Pup of the Week a bit of a challenge. But a challenge Pocket and I both enjoy.

It gives us a chance to pick members who are there for us every week, making us laugh and smile. There is no one who does that better than our gentle friend Hobo Hudson. And Hobo is on the verge of making us all famous. With the help of Zoe Boe’s Mom Hobo is working on releasing his first collected works.

Pocket and I have been talking about doing our collected works too. But I think it is easier when you’re an only dog. No arguments about whose name come first and who gets the most stories.

Hobo has risen from a dog whose first owner left him tied to a tree to a dog that has become known through cyberspace. His Mom Bruny writes a very popular column. Our Mom posts it on the Facebook for her human friends and she always gets nice comments. I think without Hobo his Mom wouldn’t know so much about dogs and be so influential.

And then there are Hobo’s many businesses. I may be creative but I don’t have a head for business. Hubo has a number of businesses growing with lots of workers from all circles of nature.

Hobo's News and Tales blog is very influential. He has become the official spokesdog for Camp Bow Wow, where he stays when he needs a break from the family. Camp Bow Wow help dogs find needy humans so this counts as charity work for tax purposes. Friend to all no matter of type or classification Hobo had translated the works Charlene Squirrel from Squirrel to dog to give us a better understanding for the flying rat world.

Hobo not only has translated Charlene’s works but he has entered into a work relationship with her. Charlene and her crew do the digging for Hobo’s many project including peanut harvesting.

Hobo also runs a very successful dead fish perfume enterprise. For any dog who wants to put on the ritz there is nothing better than dead fish perfume. (Warning, neither Moms or Dads like the scent of dead fish perfume.) With his farm and on line writing Hobo is just about the busiest dog I know. But he is also an excellent friend.

In the efforts of full disclosure I am Hobo’s lawyer and he is my biggest client. I try to help him with his most difficult contracts. I also try to advise him against some of his less thought out ideas. Like today he wanted to adopt 50 cats for his work force and bring them on to the farm in his red wagon. Sounded a little bit too much like Mexican day workers to me so I told him he had to pass.

So I take this moment to recognize Hobo for him being a true Renaissance Dog: Writer, editor, gentleman farmer, wonderful companion, and good friend. His mother writes a very popular web column to help in pet causes. . And his Mom and Dad are very sweet and wonderful people.

So this is a tip of the tail to my good friend Hobo. One of the luckiest days of our lives is when you trotted into it.

What's Happneing in Monsterville

There have been lots of doings around my castle lately and while it has cost me lap time I haven’t minded, but it’s starting to gnaw at my infinite patience. As some of you may have learned on Riley’s blog on TB we have a new member of our extended family. My human sister Kim, who was my bestie’s Bailey’s Mom, got picked out by a little male Shih Tzu named Neely to be his Mom.

I must admit he is a cute little thing. He is going to stay with us in July and that’s when the real test will be. I take a backseat to no interloper in the cuteness department. And Mommy’s lap is mine if I want it. If Neely hasn’t been fixed yet and tries anything funny he’s got a nip of a surprise waiting for him. But may I say to him my casa is Sue’s cases. So consider yourself at home. But if you wander into my leopard skin vagina condo the fur is going to fly.

Now you would think, for my sister Kim’s family, that would be enough of a story line, even in May sweeps. But my sweet grandbaby Maddie had her knee pop out of place Sunday. They took her to the human hospital where they had to wait forever to find out what they were going to do, which wasn’t much, pain meds and an immobilizer. Mommy and Daddy stayed up way past our bedtime waiting for news of. I was very cranky, because I want to go to sleep at bedtime, but I was a worried grand Yorkie too. She should be fine but she has a dance recital during Father’s Day weekend. She is 11 and was going to get her five year trophy. So, if you have some spare prayers can you throw some her way? She has been working on this dance for so long it would be a shame if she couldn’t take part in the recital.

Our human brother Chad got inducted into his high school’s Hall of Fame Saturday night. (Note to myself: Why isn’t there a Dog’s Hall of Fame and if there is why am I not in it?) He got inducted for playing baseball. I never saw him play in high school. I did see him play some semi-pro ball at a nice field in Easton Ma, that had a huge spreading chestnut field in the middle of centerfield. He once hit a ball clear over that tree. It was the furthest thing I ever saw struck. I also saw him hit a line drive right off the pitcher’s noggin. I looked at Mommy and said “that boy’s dead.” He wasn’t though. He got up and fell down a lot but he wasn’t dead. The only dead guy I’ve ever seen is that one in Reno I killed just to watch him die.


My big sister at the Bridge Blake went to a lot of his games when Chad was at High School. Once, at Harvard Stadium, it was so hot Mommy and Daddy had to hold Blake up to the car air conditioner until she stopped panting. Another time there was a foul ball falling down right on top of Mommy and Blake, who was in her lap. Daddy, and one of his friends, saw the falling ball and got the hell out of the way running for their lives. The ball missed Mommy by about an inch. She still hasn’t let Daddy forget that.

Chad made Mommy feel good singling her out for all she did for him which was very nice of him. Pocket and I give him two tips of the tail for that. Even though he took away a lot of Saturday night lap time we forgive him.

Mommy and Daddy have spent lots of time outside working under our supervision on the lawn. Some of the prune people have come by to say how much they like the new garden. My Mommy tells them thank you very much. Like it was her idea. Wow, first no Hall of Fame then I get dissed on my garden.

Finally an update on our Grandpaw. He is still in rehab. When Lindsay Lohan went to the Correspondents dinner Saturday night he finally got some peace being without a roommate. He is out of the wheel chair and getting around with a walker. We are a little worried because he is losing weight and they are trying to give him some food to put some weight on him. I have told him to eat more kibble but again my well thought out advice has gone unheeded. Humans, can’t live with them, would be hunted and killed by rabid squirrels without them. But thank you for your many prayers for Grandpaw. Hopefully by next month he will be back here for supper on Tuesday nights while I try to stay out of the way of his walker and Pocket nips at his tennis balls.

So I would have to say that the status of the Monster Family is not too bad right now. Hope you and your families are all in good health and enjoying the spring. Good night and God bless.

Everyday Agility

I have read several blogs lately about pups who compete in agility courses. I am proud of all these dogs and try to give them a big congratulatory kiss at the finish line. (This is also the best way to get your picture on the cover of Dog Agility Magazine without having to break a pant.) But I am tired of having the dogs who do agility on courses getting all the glory.

What about the dogs like me? The ones who do agility all day long without getting any glory or ribbons. Well I am here to sing their praises.

My agility course begins in the morning when I am gently lifted out of my warm bed and placed on the cold floor. I have to walk from the bedroom rug to the hardwood floor in the living room, back on to a rug, then the hardwood and then finally the linoleum on the kitchen. The changes in paw placement and force going from one surface to another is very difficult. And I have to use a great deal of balance on the hardwood floor so your paws don’t slip out.

The next step is holding my head still so my sleepy eyed Daddy can hook my leash. Then I need to go one step down to the porch and four steps down to the driveway, then cross it, all with a screaming full bladder, then squat and pee. Next I need to walk on either a sidewalk or side of the road where the ground dips, rises, heaves, and cracks. I must do this with bursting bowels. Most humans, when in similar circumstance, run hunched over like Groucho Marx after committing a murder.

Then I have to find to use my sniffer to find the exact right spot on this vast planet to deposit my deposit. Once I find it I have to go through the technically difficult sequence of squatting while having my tail rise over my back so it doesn’t interfere with the discharge. There should be extra points if the weather is bad. Doing this on snow and ice should illicit tens from every judge except the German. Doing it in the rain could cause an ill advised shiver and slippage. And, being only seven pounds, a gust of wind could knock me off my squat and into my poo.

Then I have to return home, up the stairs, on to the porch, into the house, where I am scheduled to receive a treat but in my Daddy’s more sadistic moments I need to sit up, beg, or stand on my back legs for his amusement. After all this I am in need of a much needed nap.

There are other every day occurrences which call for extreme agility. When Mommy sits she does so in a recliner which has a back end that goes up and down, and, unlike most recliners, spins. So, between the time I decide to jump and when I land the whole chair could be in a different spot. I have to time the jump and be able to use my tail to guide myself in the air in case the chair moves.

There are times when Daddy and Pocket are playing ball when the ball is carelessly thrown. Either the ball or Pocket totally focused on the ball are flying at me. I have to duck, back up, or moonwalk to get out of the way. I have to be aware, and agile, to keep from getting bowled over in my own kitchen.

If you sleep in bed with your parents agility training is extremely important, especially if you have a sibling. Pocket tends to sleep snuggled up between Mommy and Daddy. I like to sleep on top of the covers near the bottom of the bed for half the night. Then I go down to the top and snuggle down. To do so I need to jump over Pocket, in the dark, land on the other side, nose under the blankets and climb under. Because I am only a few inches tall falling off the bed is like falling off the Empire State Building.

So, while I have mad respect for dogs who do agility lets not forget those who make agility a part of their everyday life. And if vicking in the wind become a agility event I am in.