Today I learned something new; one plus one equals explosive diarrhea. This must be some of that new math we keep hearing about. One being a bar of Dove soap of unknown size, and one being a canine digestive system. Explosive diarrhea being exactly what it is. Unfortunately, the explosive diarrhea occurred while I was home alone all day. Aunt A discovered the disaster when she got home this afternoon. I couldn't decide whether to race out and greet her with the excitement of knowing I would finally get to go outside or whether I should run and hide because of the mess I made. Going outside won out. Fortunately, Aunt A understood that the mess wasn't entirely my fault. She even commended me for managing to leave only one mess on a rug, the other seven were on the linoleum or hardwood floors.
So, for tonite Boss Lady is working with the nothing in nothing out theory. If no food goes in, then no diarrhea can come out. I'd like to offer a different perspective on this in and out business. To wit: if no food goes in, then there's gonna be a whole lotta grumpy coming out real quick. I am not a happy puppy when my food routines are disrupted.
Showing posts with label Aunt A. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Aunt A. Show all posts
09 January 2009
26 December 2008
And You, Little Johnny?
"What did you get for Christmas?"
I got a whole lot, actually. Even some of what Boss Lady got was for me. First off, Boss Lady's Mother gave me a new Bone. The Bone I got last year for Christmas is looking kind of sad. Boss Lady's been thinking about retiring it, because I keep breaking off pieces. And you're not supposed to be able to break off whole pieces of a nylabone. Anyway, I really appreciated the new Bone. Of course, I would've appreciated it more had they actually taken it out of the package and let me chew on it. No, they thought it would be funny to make the poor, stupid, dog open it himself. Have you ever tried to open those plastic packages? It's impossible. I scratched it, and chewed it and I couldn't get into that thing. Finally I settled on chewing Bone through the plastic package. And they wouldn't even let me do that. What party poopers.
Bone vs One Year Old Bone. Hard to believe, isn't it.
So, on to the plain, white envelope from Aunt A. I had some pent up frustration left over from the Bone, so my initial approach to the envelope was a bit rough. I was thinking about good old fashioned paper shredding, Boss Lady wouldn't let me. Which turned out to be a good idea. That plain, white envelope was more than it seemed. It was a whole $30 to our favorite pet store. WooHoo! Doggie level treat buffet, here I come!!! Boss Lady tells me I'll have to spend some of it on non-food items. Maybe a new collar, to match my snazzy harness. I think I even heard her mention doggie shampoo. I'm going to have to veto that. Christmas presents should not be spent on implements of torture.
That was it for my presents. I know, I think I got cheated. Maybe I shouldn't have chased away that fat dude in the red suit. Or threatened to chew on his reindeer. Oh well. As I mentioned, some of Boss Lady's gifts are really for me, so I'll tell you about those.
First, she got a new adventuring backpack. Considering the old one was an original from when she was little and they all went on family hikes, it really was time for a new pack. This one is a little bigger, the better to carry 2 water bottles. And it has more padding. The better to protect ones back from the banging of 2 water bottles. And it has numurous pockets, one of which, I am promised, will be dedicated to me.
Now, for the bestest of her presents: snow shoes! Tubbs snow shoes, to be precise. And anybody who knows snow shoes knows that Tubbs makes mighty fine snow shoes. Boss Lady can't wait to get out and try them this weekend. We might have lost all our snow to the rain Wed. night, but we know where we can find plenty more. Having her very own snow shoes means she doesn't have to steal Boss Lady's Mother's pair. And it means they can go hiking together instead of only one at a time. Nothing can stop us now.
I figure I should mention the crowning glory of presents now. Boss Lady protests that it is not actually a Christmas present. She tells me that it is simply a coincidence that it appeared Christmas Morning. I don't really care. It's for me, and it's pretty grand. My very own Dog Crib. We're either going to have to amend the name, or seriously work on PR. I know it started life as a stinky diaper type crib, but I plan to convert it to my very own Crib.
It only needs a little work. A slab of plywood so it doesn't sag. A nice thick mattress so I'll be comfy. Maybe a new coat of paint. A more permament place in her room.
Are you jealous, yet?
I got a whole lot, actually. Even some of what Boss Lady got was for me. First off, Boss Lady's Mother gave me a new Bone. The Bone I got last year for Christmas is looking kind of sad. Boss Lady's been thinking about retiring it, because I keep breaking off pieces. And you're not supposed to be able to break off whole pieces of a nylabone. Anyway, I really appreciated the new Bone. Of course, I would've appreciated it more had they actually taken it out of the package and let me chew on it. No, they thought it would be funny to make the poor, stupid, dog open it himself. Have you ever tried to open those plastic packages? It's impossible. I scratched it, and chewed it and I couldn't get into that thing. Finally I settled on chewing Bone through the plastic package. And they wouldn't even let me do that. What party poopers.
Bone vs One Year Old Bone. Hard to believe, isn't it.
So, on to the plain, white envelope from Aunt A. I had some pent up frustration left over from the Bone, so my initial approach to the envelope was a bit rough. I was thinking about good old fashioned paper shredding, Boss Lady wouldn't let me. Which turned out to be a good idea. That plain, white envelope was more than it seemed. It was a whole $30 to our favorite pet store. WooHoo! Doggie level treat buffet, here I come!!! Boss Lady tells me I'll have to spend some of it on non-food items. Maybe a new collar, to match my snazzy harness. I think I even heard her mention doggie shampoo. I'm going to have to veto that. Christmas presents should not be spent on implements of torture.
That was it for my presents. I know, I think I got cheated. Maybe I shouldn't have chased away that fat dude in the red suit. Or threatened to chew on his reindeer. Oh well. As I mentioned, some of Boss Lady's gifts are really for me, so I'll tell you about those.
First, she got a new adventuring backpack. Considering the old one was an original from when she was little and they all went on family hikes, it really was time for a new pack. This one is a little bigger, the better to carry 2 water bottles. And it has more padding. The better to protect ones back from the banging of 2 water bottles. And it has numurous pockets, one of which, I am promised, will be dedicated to me.
Now, for the bestest of her presents: snow shoes! Tubbs snow shoes, to be precise. And anybody who knows snow shoes knows that Tubbs makes mighty fine snow shoes. Boss Lady can't wait to get out and try them this weekend. We might have lost all our snow to the rain Wed. night, but we know where we can find plenty more. Having her very own snow shoes means she doesn't have to steal Boss Lady's Mother's pair. And it means they can go hiking together instead of only one at a time. Nothing can stop us now.
I figure I should mention the crowning glory of presents now. Boss Lady protests that it is not actually a Christmas present. She tells me that it is simply a coincidence that it appeared Christmas Morning. I don't really care. It's for me, and it's pretty grand. My very own Dog Crib. We're either going to have to amend the name, or seriously work on PR. I know it started life as a stinky diaper type crib, but I plan to convert it to my very own Crib.
It only needs a little work. A slab of plywood so it doesn't sag. A nice thick mattress so I'll be comfy. Maybe a new coat of paint. A more permament place in her room.
Are you jealous, yet?
20 December 2008
My Grandson is Furry And Four Legged
Lots of surveys, research, anecdotal evidence and retailers will tell you that these days people spend a lot of money of their pets. People consider pets part of the family. Some people (particularly those who are approaching Old Maid status) even consider their pets to be their children. And this household certainly doesn't provide any evidence against such thinking. On our fridge there is a picture of moi, in one of those cute little magnetic frames (dog themed, of course.) In Boss Lady's wallet there are 2 pictures of moi. In Boss Lady's Mother's wallet there is one picture of moi. Whilst Boss Lady may not spend millions on me every year, I do have my very own savings account, into which she regularly makes deposits, and out of which she rarely makes withdrawals. I'm definitely more than just a dog.
When Boss Lady's Mother is asked about current grandchildren, or the possibility of future grandchildren (both Boss Lady and Aunt A being of such ages that grandchildren would be expected) she replies that yes, she does have a grandchild: he is furry and four legged, and then she pulls out her wallet. Upon further questioning, she'll divulge that quite likely she'll only ever have furry and four legged grandchildren.
When Boss Lady is asked similar questions regarding children and the having of them, she says there will likely never be any children. She prefers dogs and cats, really. At least she can lock them in a cage or the cellar when they're obnoxious, she'll joke. And when she's asked whether or not she considers me her "child," she replies no. I am not a child. I am not the equivalent of a child. I am a dog. It's a whole different category. No other explaining is needed as far as she is concerned.
I'm not so sure her actions today properly reflect her position on children vs dogs, though. Today she drove all the way to Pittsford, without me, mind you, to purchase a new bed for me. It's more than a bed really. Almost a throne. It's certainly quite the set up for a dog. It was, in it's previous life, a child's crib. It was used for a child who is probably now an adult several years older than Boss Lady currently is. It has metal bars, and metal springs, and two sides that slide up and down. Most likely today it would be considered most dangerous and anathema for children, let alone an infant.
The perk of this little piece of furniture is that when one side is down, it creates a wonderful little day bed. Or, for those who see such things, a dog bed. Thus it is that a child's crib becomes a dog bed, further blurring the line between children and dogs. Just to be sure, though, Boss Lady maintains that I am not a child, nor a child replacement. It's just that this piece of furniture was perfect, and can't adequately be described as a mere dog bed. I am the proud new owner of a dog crib. And if she ever manages to make space in her room, put the thing back together and make a cushion, I'll encourage the taking of pictures.
When Boss Lady's Mother is asked about current grandchildren, or the possibility of future grandchildren (both Boss Lady and Aunt A being of such ages that grandchildren would be expected) she replies that yes, she does have a grandchild: he is furry and four legged, and then she pulls out her wallet. Upon further questioning, she'll divulge that quite likely she'll only ever have furry and four legged grandchildren.
When Boss Lady is asked similar questions regarding children and the having of them, she says there will likely never be any children. She prefers dogs and cats, really. At least she can lock them in a cage or the cellar when they're obnoxious, she'll joke. And when she's asked whether or not she considers me her "child," she replies no. I am not a child. I am not the equivalent of a child. I am a dog. It's a whole different category. No other explaining is needed as far as she is concerned.
I'm not so sure her actions today properly reflect her position on children vs dogs, though. Today she drove all the way to Pittsford, without me, mind you, to purchase a new bed for me. It's more than a bed really. Almost a throne. It's certainly quite the set up for a dog. It was, in it's previous life, a child's crib. It was used for a child who is probably now an adult several years older than Boss Lady currently is. It has metal bars, and metal springs, and two sides that slide up and down. Most likely today it would be considered most dangerous and anathema for children, let alone an infant.
The perk of this little piece of furniture is that when one side is down, it creates a wonderful little day bed. Or, for those who see such things, a dog bed. Thus it is that a child's crib becomes a dog bed, further blurring the line between children and dogs. Just to be sure, though, Boss Lady maintains that I am not a child, nor a child replacement. It's just that this piece of furniture was perfect, and can't adequately be described as a mere dog bed. I am the proud new owner of a dog crib. And if she ever manages to make space in her room, put the thing back together and make a cushion, I'll encourage the taking of pictures.
05 December 2008
Grey's Anatomy According To Boss Lady
I was all worried about what to write in my blog today. After teasing somedog else for slacking off with his posts, I felt compelled to make sure I posted today. And, after reading another somedog else's riveting blog today, I felt compelled to make sure I posted a really good blog today. Unlike the other somedog else, a really funny thing didn't happen to me today. A really normal thing happened to me today: I got left home alone. Blah. Blah. Blah. Until a few minutes ago, when a really funny thing did happen. It was also an educational thing. I received a rather detailed lesson in anatomy.
It all started when Boss Lady's Mother returned from grocery shopping. After all the bags of grocery were in the house, Boss Lady set to putting them away. She grabbed the cold stuff first. A couple bags of english muffins, some bagels, a big pack of chicken breasts all needed to go in the freezer. In order for it all to fit, some rearranging was necessary. During which Boss Lady picked up an odd item. A single hot dog, wrapped tightly in tin foil, and frozen. Boss Lady held it up for all to see and inquired as to whether or not it was really a hot dog, and not, possibly, something naughty. Aunt A, sounding horrified, inquired as to why anyone would want something that cold near her cha-cha.
"Cha-cha?" asked Boss Lady.
"No, not cha-cha, ta-ta." Replied Boss Lady's Mother.
"Wrong. Ta-ta's are up here." Explained Aunt A.
"And ninnies. Ninnies are up there, too." Added Boss Lady.
"Ninnies?" Echoed Aunt A and Boss Lady's Mother.
"Yes, ninnies." And Boss Lady proceeded to relate the story she recently read regarding ninnies and horrible mistreatment thereof.
Aunt A and Boss Lady's Mother made appropriately horrified comments at all the right places and then Aunt A, who is, though not currently employed as, a vet tech, added her own story to the mix. While working the reception desk one day, she received a call from a woman saying she wanted the vet to look at her dog's 'box.' Aunt A, totally mystified, asked the woman to repeat herself.
"Her, you know, box. Her 'back there.'"
"Ok, well, which part of her back there?" Asked Aunt A, still totally confused about the problem.
"Um. Ok. I need the vet to check my dog's.....'area.' Her 'personal area.'"
"Ah! Alright. Let's seen when the vet is available." Said Aunt A, finally understanding what the woman was trying to say.
According to Aunt A, many pet owners have a lot of difficulty using the anatomically appropriate names for the dog's vagina.
"And the penis, too!" says Aunt A, motioning to me, I suppose as an example of one armed with a penis.
"No, no, no. That's not a penis, it's a pink highliter. I learned this from Dogster, from one who isn't shy about flashing it around. Or, alternatively, it's a protractor." And Boss Lady explained how those nicknames became. Something to do with studying geometry and for the Mdogs, with a lot of excitement.
"Oh, I've got a much better one." Claimed Aunt A. "Back this summer when I was up at the farm hiking with L and Rusty the dog. Well, Rusty has a little problem with containing his 'donger' when he's really excited. L turned to me and ask why Rusty's donger keeps falling out. You try explaining to a 4 year old why the dog's 'donger' keeps falling out, in such a way that her teacher will not be phoning the next day asking what L is witnessing at home. I had to come up with some story about underwear and how Rusty's skin is his underwear and that's why you can't always see Rusty's 'donger. I thought I did a pretty good job."
So, there you have it. A discussion starting a frozen hot dog, and ending with a dog's donger. I hope you feel more enlightened and educated than I did after that discussion.
It all started when Boss Lady's Mother returned from grocery shopping. After all the bags of grocery were in the house, Boss Lady set to putting them away. She grabbed the cold stuff first. A couple bags of english muffins, some bagels, a big pack of chicken breasts all needed to go in the freezer. In order for it all to fit, some rearranging was necessary. During which Boss Lady picked up an odd item. A single hot dog, wrapped tightly in tin foil, and frozen. Boss Lady held it up for all to see and inquired as to whether or not it was really a hot dog, and not, possibly, something naughty. Aunt A, sounding horrified, inquired as to why anyone would want something that cold near her cha-cha.
"Cha-cha?" asked Boss Lady.
"No, not cha-cha, ta-ta." Replied Boss Lady's Mother.
"Wrong. Ta-ta's are up here." Explained Aunt A.
"And ninnies. Ninnies are up there, too." Added Boss Lady.
"Ninnies?" Echoed Aunt A and Boss Lady's Mother.
"Yes, ninnies." And Boss Lady proceeded to relate the story she recently read regarding ninnies and horrible mistreatment thereof.
Aunt A and Boss Lady's Mother made appropriately horrified comments at all the right places and then Aunt A, who is, though not currently employed as, a vet tech, added her own story to the mix. While working the reception desk one day, she received a call from a woman saying she wanted the vet to look at her dog's 'box.' Aunt A, totally mystified, asked the woman to repeat herself.
"Her, you know, box. Her 'back there.'"
"Ok, well, which part of her back there?" Asked Aunt A, still totally confused about the problem.
"Um. Ok. I need the vet to check my dog's.....'area.' Her 'personal area.'"
"Ah! Alright. Let's seen when the vet is available." Said Aunt A, finally understanding what the woman was trying to say.
According to Aunt A, many pet owners have a lot of difficulty using the anatomically appropriate names for the dog's vagina.
"And the penis, too!" says Aunt A, motioning to me, I suppose as an example of one armed with a penis.
"No, no, no. That's not a penis, it's a pink highliter. I learned this from Dogster, from one who isn't shy about flashing it around. Or, alternatively, it's a protractor." And Boss Lady explained how those nicknames became. Something to do with studying geometry and for the Mdogs, with a lot of excitement.
"Oh, I've got a much better one." Claimed Aunt A. "Back this summer when I was up at the farm hiking with L and Rusty the dog. Well, Rusty has a little problem with containing his 'donger' when he's really excited. L turned to me and ask why Rusty's donger keeps falling out. You try explaining to a 4 year old why the dog's 'donger' keeps falling out, in such a way that her teacher will not be phoning the next day asking what L is witnessing at home. I had to come up with some story about underwear and how Rusty's skin is his underwear and that's why you can't always see Rusty's 'donger. I thought I did a pretty good job."
So, there you have it. A discussion starting a frozen hot dog, and ending with a dog's donger. I hope you feel more enlightened and educated than I did after that discussion.
03 December 2008
False Accusations
This evening Aunt A clomped down the stairs, partially eaten bag of potato chips in hand, and inquired as to whether or not Boss Lady had moved said bag of potato chips at some point during the day. Boss Lady answered to the negative and waited for Aunt A to continue. "Well," said Aunt A, "I was positive I put the bag of chips next to my computer last night. I remember closing the bag and setting it down and putting the computer against it to keep it closed."
"And?" Prompted Boss Lady.
"I thought maybe you had noticed it sitting within reach of the dog and you'd moved it, or something."
"And?" Prompted Boss Lady again, the whole time anticipating an accusation involving a certain furry four legged animal and an empty bag of chips.
"And, I just found the bag on the other side of the room, inside another plastic bag." Replied Aunt A as she carefully removed a chip from the bag, sniffed it, and then ingested it.
"If you're accusing Colyn of moving your bag of potato chips across the room and then putting it inside another bag, then you're barking up the wrong tree." Boss Lady laughed hysterically.
"Yeah, I didn't really think he would do that. I guess I'm remembering wrong."
Safely cleared of the potato chip thievery charge, I continued sleeping on the floor. I did make a mental note of the fact that, should I feel hungry in the middle of the night, there might be a bag of potato chips to be found in Aunt A's room.
A couple hours later, Boss Lady's Mother lodged another accusation. It seems Boss Lady's Mother was enjoying a steaming cup of tea at work this afternoon, when she discovered what appeared to be a black hair floating in it. Apparently the fact that I am covered in black hair caused her to immediately blame me. Nevermind the fact that I was not anywhere near Boss Lady's Mother's place of work, not to mention her cup of tea. Boss Lady pointed out this fact in my defense. Her Mother noted it was true, and also noted that I probably shed the hair on her sweater this morning just so that it could fall in her tea this afternoon.
What happened to innocent until proven guilty?
"And?" Prompted Boss Lady.
"I thought maybe you had noticed it sitting within reach of the dog and you'd moved it, or something."
"And?" Prompted Boss Lady again, the whole time anticipating an accusation involving a certain furry four legged animal and an empty bag of chips.
"And, I just found the bag on the other side of the room, inside another plastic bag." Replied Aunt A as she carefully removed a chip from the bag, sniffed it, and then ingested it.
"If you're accusing Colyn of moving your bag of potato chips across the room and then putting it inside another bag, then you're barking up the wrong tree." Boss Lady laughed hysterically.
"Yeah, I didn't really think he would do that. I guess I'm remembering wrong."
Safely cleared of the potato chip thievery charge, I continued sleeping on the floor. I did make a mental note of the fact that, should I feel hungry in the middle of the night, there might be a bag of potato chips to be found in Aunt A's room.
A couple hours later, Boss Lady's Mother lodged another accusation. It seems Boss Lady's Mother was enjoying a steaming cup of tea at work this afternoon, when she discovered what appeared to be a black hair floating in it. Apparently the fact that I am covered in black hair caused her to immediately blame me. Nevermind the fact that I was not anywhere near Boss Lady's Mother's place of work, not to mention her cup of tea. Boss Lady pointed out this fact in my defense. Her Mother noted it was true, and also noted that I probably shed the hair on her sweater this morning just so that it could fall in her tea this afternoon.
What happened to innocent until proven guilty?
24 November 2008
Wanted: Guard Dog
So, only a couple days after I fired Boss Lady for breaking my blog, Boss Lady fired me for not properly fulfilling my guard dog duties. As the sole dog residing in this home, I am expected to fulfill all guard dog duties. These duties involve announcing the arrival of any strange or unexpected animals into my yard, announcing the arrival of any strange or unexpected people/vehicles into my yard, announcing any strange or unexpected people who wish entry into my house, greeting any strange people who are admitted into my house, greeting any special humans who arrive home after an absence (absence being defined as any length of time outside of the house without me), scaring away any foolish Mormons who want to harass us, and generally sounding menacing whenever necessary.
Lately I have been failing at one of these important duties: that of greeting special humans when they arrive home. Twice I have failed to greet Boss Lady at the door when she arrived home late in the evening. Not only did I fail to hear her vehicle pull into the drive, I also failed to hear her open the door, and I even failed to hear her call to me. Boss Lady's Mother had to actually wake me up and warn me Boss Lady had arrived home. Then she had to instruct me to get up and say hello. Similarly, Aunt A has arrived home several times lately and I've not so much as twitched an ear. I used to loudly announce her arrival home as soon as she pulled into the driveway. While, Boss Lady is happy that I am now familiar enough with the sound of Aunt A's car that I needn't announce it as the arrival of a strange vehicle, Boss Lady deems me derelict in my duties for failing to properly greet Aunt A at the door.
Each time this has happened, Boss Lady has warned me that she expects better. "What if a stranger had just walked in?" she asks. "We could be robbed and you wouldn't even open an eye."
"But, it wasn't a stranger," I remind her. "It was you or Aunt A. Neither of you are robbers."
"Yes, but it could have been a robber," she maintains.
"Look, if it had been a robber, I would have announced him properly, but it wasn't a robber so I don't see what the problem is."
"What about C, then? Huh? You've let C just walk right in countless times lately. C doesn't even live here. You should definitely be announcing C."
"C doesn't live here, eh? Have you counted the number of times C has slept here lately. I have, it's a lot. Besides, C is over here all the time, she might as well live here. As such, she hardly qualifies as a stranger and definitely does not warrant an announcement. "
"There is still the issue of greetings. You are failing to greet us at the door. It's not as if you have a lot of work to do around here. Your chore list isn't exactly lengthy. The least you can do is greet us at the door. The bringing of a toy is totally optional, but you must come say hello."
"Fine. I'll work on the greetings. Now, can I get back to sleeping? I had a particularly tiring day, today. There were two squirrels in the yard this afternoon, and they couldn't be bothered to use the same bird feeder. I had to keep running from the living room to the dining room to keep track of them both."
Lately I have been failing at one of these important duties: that of greeting special humans when they arrive home. Twice I have failed to greet Boss Lady at the door when she arrived home late in the evening. Not only did I fail to hear her vehicle pull into the drive, I also failed to hear her open the door, and I even failed to hear her call to me. Boss Lady's Mother had to actually wake me up and warn me Boss Lady had arrived home. Then she had to instruct me to get up and say hello. Similarly, Aunt A has arrived home several times lately and I've not so much as twitched an ear. I used to loudly announce her arrival home as soon as she pulled into the driveway. While, Boss Lady is happy that I am now familiar enough with the sound of Aunt A's car that I needn't announce it as the arrival of a strange vehicle, Boss Lady deems me derelict in my duties for failing to properly greet Aunt A at the door.
Each time this has happened, Boss Lady has warned me that she expects better. "What if a stranger had just walked in?" she asks. "We could be robbed and you wouldn't even open an eye."
"But, it wasn't a stranger," I remind her. "It was you or Aunt A. Neither of you are robbers."
"Yes, but it could have been a robber," she maintains.
"Look, if it had been a robber, I would have announced him properly, but it wasn't a robber so I don't see what the problem is."
"What about C, then? Huh? You've let C just walk right in countless times lately. C doesn't even live here. You should definitely be announcing C."
"C doesn't live here, eh? Have you counted the number of times C has slept here lately. I have, it's a lot. Besides, C is over here all the time, she might as well live here. As such, she hardly qualifies as a stranger and definitely does not warrant an announcement. "
"There is still the issue of greetings. You are failing to greet us at the door. It's not as if you have a lot of work to do around here. Your chore list isn't exactly lengthy. The least you can do is greet us at the door. The bringing of a toy is totally optional, but you must come say hello."
"Fine. I'll work on the greetings. Now, can I get back to sleeping? I had a particularly tiring day, today. There were two squirrels in the yard this afternoon, and they couldn't be bothered to use the same bird feeder. I had to keep running from the living room to the dining room to keep track of them both."
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