If you're looking for trouble
You came to the right place
If you're looking for trouble
Just look right in my face
(Elvis Presley's "Trouble")
I would say I didn't do it, but I can't hide the evidence. It's stuck all over my white fur. I could blame it on the fact that it was left out in the open, but it wasn't. I dug it out of a pile of clothes. Then ripped it open, chewed it, rolled in it (I must have--it's all over me AND stuck to the carpet). I completely enjoyed it. I am not repentent. I am a dog. (Hey, Tiger Woods, there's one for you to try out!!)
I can only hope my family learned a valuable lesson. A fool and her gum (all 20 pieces) are soon parted. You can't hide it well enough. You can't discipline me enough. You can only shut the door and hope my overly intelligent terrier brain doesn't figure out how to turn doorknobs.
I could continue writing about the expense of big city, Sunday afternoon emergency vet clinics, but I won't. Humans have great inferring skills. What I will share with you is that Xylitol, which is found in sugar-free gum, can be deadly to dogs. I'm not an average dog. I didn't eat any Xylitol-laced gum. Which is great, because Alpha Pants says she would have gone all "death panel" health care on me. Whatever.
Gum is awesome.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Friday, December 4, 2009
Do you see what I see?
A snowflake is one of God's most fragile creations, but look what they can do when they stick together! ~Author Unknown
There's one good thing about snow, it makes your lawn look as nice as your neighbor's. ~Clyde Moore
Winter came down to our home one night...Quietly pirouetting in on silvery-toed slippers of snow,And we, we were children once again.~Bill Morgan, Jr.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Little Guy Packs a Big Punch
It is very difficult to write this post given the amount of discomfort I am in. Not to mention the humiliation I am feeling. Two words for you: burn, itch. Here's two more: fire, ant. Got it?
I was completing a private job in the backyard, which is never private enough for us canines, if you know what I mean. Either we're being stared at, shouted at to hurry up, or having crass comments made about what we are doing. Anyway, I was doing my business when I felt sudden, repeating stabs of pain. If I were Alpha Pants, I would have screamed obscenities. But I am only Brady, and I was rendered voiceless with the combination of pain and my hideous fear of insects.
I tore madly around the yard, trying to escape the agony. My idiot owners thought I was playing a game, and laughed at me. When I came into the house, I did everything I could to communicate my need for assistance, besides standing up on my hind two feet, pointing at my belly with a paw, and demanding immediate intervention. Instead, they followed me around, commenting and giggling on how silly and adorable I was. FAIL!!! FAIL!!!! FAIL!!!!!
To make a long and probably useless story short, Alpha Pants finally decided to see if something was wrong with my rear end (as if!), and discovered that I was literally CRAWLING with fire ants in my nether regions. Things swiftly turned in my favor as three genuinely repentent humans scrabbled through my fur, braving fire ant bites and removed many of the evil critters from me. But the damage was done. My poor belly is speckled with red, swollen bites that will itch, burn, and discomfort me for days.
My closing advice: look before you squat.
I was completing a private job in the backyard, which is never private enough for us canines, if you know what I mean. Either we're being stared at, shouted at to hurry up, or having crass comments made about what we are doing. Anyway, I was doing my business when I felt sudden, repeating stabs of pain. If I were Alpha Pants, I would have screamed obscenities. But I am only Brady, and I was rendered voiceless with the combination of pain and my hideous fear of insects.
I tore madly around the yard, trying to escape the agony. My idiot owners thought I was playing a game, and laughed at me. When I came into the house, I did everything I could to communicate my need for assistance, besides standing up on my hind two feet, pointing at my belly with a paw, and demanding immediate intervention. Instead, they followed me around, commenting and giggling on how silly and adorable I was. FAIL!!! FAIL!!!! FAIL!!!!!
To make a long and probably useless story short, Alpha Pants finally decided to see if something was wrong with my rear end (as if!), and discovered that I was literally CRAWLING with fire ants in my nether regions. Things swiftly turned in my favor as three genuinely repentent humans scrabbled through my fur, braving fire ant bites and removed many of the evil critters from me. But the damage was done. My poor belly is speckled with red, swollen bites that will itch, burn, and discomfort me for days.
My closing advice: look before you squat.
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Such goin's on!
Rarely have I enjoyed a spectacle such as I did this evening. It's homecoming season, and there were fireworks in the air the past month as Alpha Pants does not have warm feelings for teen dances, but teens, well, they do. Since the oldest teen is about sixteen, she was allowed to go in spite of it all.
Erica, the teen we speak of, had a friend and the friends date over to get ready and have dinner. Alpha Pants was going to prepare a lovely feast of shredded pork tacos, Mexican rice, etc. Right in the middle of browning the rice and two children emptying the dishwasher, Alpha Pants ran outside to start her sprinkler. Why, you may ask? What was so important about watering the lawn at that moment? I can hardly say.
I tried to follow her. She had no idea I had an upset tummy. When she came tearing back into the house to stir the rice, she unfortunately stepped with her bare feet in my barf, which I left lying on the slick floor right next to the back door. Since there was company in the house, and since she was cooking their dinner, she tried to be discreet. She hissed hysterically at the two younger children to bring her paper towels. They stared at her for several moments, then ineffectively tried to locate paper towels. Meanwhile, a very pungent burning smell was coming from the stove.
As they hand the increasingly irate Alpha Pants the requested paper towels, into the kitchen walk the infortunate Erica and her friend (whom, before this very evening, Alpha Pants has never met). Oblivous as only teens can be, Erica says, "What smells so good? Can I have the guacamole? Oh, did the dog throw up?" And enters the fray, tearing open the chips and digging into the fridge for cokes.
Well, Emily Post would be shaking her head in horror, as Alpha Pants pulled back her lips in rabid dog style and ordered the girls out of the kitchen. Company or no, I guess there's only so much a mom can take.
Alpha Pants did explain her behavior later at dinner (sans the rice), and shared what I hope was equal amusement with the teens. Hopefully, when those girls are adults, something similar will happen to them and they will remember her with understanding.
As for me, I thoroughly enjoyed myself. I didn't get in trouble for barfing. Erica and friend distracted Alpha Pants from that. Instead, I eavesdropped, barked, got fed under the table, and successfully got dog hair all over the dressed-up almost-adults. What a great evening.
Erica, the teen we speak of, had a friend and the friends date over to get ready and have dinner. Alpha Pants was going to prepare a lovely feast of shredded pork tacos, Mexican rice, etc. Right in the middle of browning the rice and two children emptying the dishwasher, Alpha Pants ran outside to start her sprinkler. Why, you may ask? What was so important about watering the lawn at that moment? I can hardly say.
I tried to follow her. She had no idea I had an upset tummy. When she came tearing back into the house to stir the rice, she unfortunately stepped with her bare feet in my barf, which I left lying on the slick floor right next to the back door. Since there was company in the house, and since she was cooking their dinner, she tried to be discreet. She hissed hysterically at the two younger children to bring her paper towels. They stared at her for several moments, then ineffectively tried to locate paper towels. Meanwhile, a very pungent burning smell was coming from the stove.
As they hand the increasingly irate Alpha Pants the requested paper towels, into the kitchen walk the infortunate Erica and her friend (whom, before this very evening, Alpha Pants has never met). Oblivous as only teens can be, Erica says, "What smells so good? Can I have the guacamole? Oh, did the dog throw up?" And enters the fray, tearing open the chips and digging into the fridge for cokes.
Well, Emily Post would be shaking her head in horror, as Alpha Pants pulled back her lips in rabid dog style and ordered the girls out of the kitchen. Company or no, I guess there's only so much a mom can take.
Alpha Pants did explain her behavior later at dinner (sans the rice), and shared what I hope was equal amusement with the teens. Hopefully, when those girls are adults, something similar will happen to them and they will remember her with understanding.
As for me, I thoroughly enjoyed myself. I didn't get in trouble for barfing. Erica and friend distracted Alpha Pants from that. Instead, I eavesdropped, barked, got fed under the table, and successfully got dog hair all over the dressed-up almost-adults. What a great evening.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Be in the Light....
What a glorious day it was today. First of all, I was unexpectedly allowed to roam through the house all day while everyone was at school. It has been a very rough ten days for me...everyone gone all day, and poor me locked in the crate for eight hours. Abusive, I tell you! So this morning, when Ms. Alpha Pants commanded me to go up to my "bed" (what a misleading euphemism for my three foot by two foot jail cell), I put on an Oscar-winning performance. I dropped my head down to the floor, chest down, and then turned my head away. It was fabulous. Ms. Alpha Pants was like putty in my paws. So she brought down my cushy pillow and a pile of toys, and joy of joys, the house was mine!
I cannot begin to tell you of the bliss of barking all day at whomever I pleased. Ahhh...but then tonight, it got even better. For once, it was about 90 degrees and cloudy. If that sounds hot to you, then you are definitely not from south Texas. It was beautifully cool, at least for this time of year. Off Ms. Alpha Pants and I went into the bayou. The lights in the sky were beyond description, and the frogs were making the most outlandish noises I have ever heard. It was truly one of the greatest evenings yet this late summer. Ms Alpha Pants had been whining about being tired, but I did not take no for an answer, and she was exceedingly grateful that I coaxed her out into such an evening.
A faithful dogs work is never done.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Things that go "Whirr" in the Night
I will happily attack any dog bigger than myself. I gamely alert my family to dangers like the thumping washing machine, creepy reflections in windows, and buzzing sprinklers. I am an adept hunter of toads, whom I bravely attempt to squash with my paws. I am terrified of bugs.
My life the past few days has been a torment of terror. Flies keep getting in the house, and I am ashamed to admit to pathological, fear-driven obsessive behaviors. For some reason, when a fly buzzes by, my heart pounds and I compulsively check my, ahem, nether regions. I have no explanation, it just happens. When not peeking behind me, I am scooting underneath furniture. I feel the safest under beds upstairs. Flies do not usually frequent the darkness underneath furniture. Ahhh, but there are certain things that DO frequent dark areas under furniture...
Remember, I live in south Texas, in the tropics. Where yellow roses give birth to gargantuan things like cockroaches. Now, if you've never encountered a cockroach, cross yourself three times and stay where you are! These little demoniac critters are so fast it makes your skin crawl. They like to come out at night. There are cockroaches who FLY!! And they can live for a week without their head. Need I say more?
It was a quiet, normal summer night. Mr. Will was reading, and I was snoozing on the pile of pillows by his bed. He was cheating, and reading a scary book long past lights out. His mother was snoring obliviously in her room. Suddenly, we heard a "whirring" noise. Now, if "whirr" doesn't give you chills, then you are not in cockroach country. It was like a science-fiction/horror movie: the black, blurry smudge zooming from dark corner to dark corner, eluding identification, until landing on the wall only inches from Mr. Will's head. Mr. Will, bless him, bravely spent .0125 seconds identifying the gruesome thing, then abandoned me and took off at a dead run to his mother!!!
I will spare you further details, if only to not embarrass Mr. Will. Although I bravely spent the night guarding Will from the creature, which of course refused to show itself when thrown a challenge by Ms. Alpha Pants, I did not rest well. We were all relieved when the small demon was found dead in the bathroom yesterday morning. However, THIS morning, poor Ms. Erica stepped barefooted on yet another one in the kitchen! Ms. Alpha Pants finished the thrashing creature off for her after falling down the last half of the stairs at 6:30 in the morning (but that's another story). I have been extra affectionate to Alpha Pants today, as I overheard her on the phone with her pest control company. They will be coming on Monday.
Can we make it til then?
Wait, was that a "whirr"?
http://www.roachcom.net/rofacts/
My life the past few days has been a torment of terror. Flies keep getting in the house, and I am ashamed to admit to pathological, fear-driven obsessive behaviors. For some reason, when a fly buzzes by, my heart pounds and I compulsively check my, ahem, nether regions. I have no explanation, it just happens. When not peeking behind me, I am scooting underneath furniture. I feel the safest under beds upstairs. Flies do not usually frequent the darkness underneath furniture. Ahhh, but there are certain things that DO frequent dark areas under furniture...
Remember, I live in south Texas, in the tropics. Where yellow roses give birth to gargantuan things like cockroaches. Now, if you've never encountered a cockroach, cross yourself three times and stay where you are! These little demoniac critters are so fast it makes your skin crawl. They like to come out at night. There are cockroaches who FLY!! And they can live for a week without their head. Need I say more?
It was a quiet, normal summer night. Mr. Will was reading, and I was snoozing on the pile of pillows by his bed. He was cheating, and reading a scary book long past lights out. His mother was snoring obliviously in her room. Suddenly, we heard a "whirring" noise. Now, if "whirr" doesn't give you chills, then you are not in cockroach country. It was like a science-fiction/horror movie: the black, blurry smudge zooming from dark corner to dark corner, eluding identification, until landing on the wall only inches from Mr. Will's head. Mr. Will, bless him, bravely spent .0125 seconds identifying the gruesome thing, then abandoned me and took off at a dead run to his mother!!!
I will spare you further details, if only to not embarrass Mr. Will. Although I bravely spent the night guarding Will from the creature, which of course refused to show itself when thrown a challenge by Ms. Alpha Pants, I did not rest well. We were all relieved when the small demon was found dead in the bathroom yesterday morning. However, THIS morning, poor Ms. Erica stepped barefooted on yet another one in the kitchen! Ms. Alpha Pants finished the thrashing creature off for her after falling down the last half of the stairs at 6:30 in the morning (but that's another story). I have been extra affectionate to Alpha Pants today, as I overheard her on the phone with her pest control company. They will be coming on Monday.
Can we make it til then?
Wait, was that a "whirr"?
http://www.roachcom.net/rofacts/
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Leader of the Pack
As previously mentioned, I am on a mission to get my beloved owners out of the house and out having fun. So I am now the personal trainer for my owner. I have been walking her in the morning and in the evening, which has been great for her! However, yesterday we went too far and she panicked. You should have seen her frantically googling articles on how far to walk with a dog (all this at 10 p.m., and if you know my owner, you know how remarkable that is!). While she was doing this, I was laying spread out on the daybed behind her, pretending to be near death with exhaustion, all the while smirking at her back.
It's her fault, really. You see, recently I have allowed myself to become, well, more myself, if that makes any sense. Doesn't everyone do that in a relationship as it strengthens and lengthens? Well, she has rudely began to say the word "terrier" as if it were profanity. At first I chose to accept it as a compliment, but that soon grew old. Then to my utter horror, she began compulsively watching episodes of "The Dog Whisperer" on National Geographic.
Cesar Milan doesn't do much "whispering", if you ask me. He does a lot of Alpha Dog behaviors, like "gently" forcing a dog down at the neck until they show submission. Oh, it works, all right. So there I am, trotting along, taking my owner for her nightly walk. My owner, who henceforth will be referred to as Ms. Alpha Pants, was praising me for all my good behaviors. I was studiously ignoring her.
All I did was head over to introduce myself to two labs. I may have led Ms. Alpha Pants to the wrong conclusion, but at 20 pounds, I feel obliged to make sure I am respected. Well, within a millisecond I was pinned to the sidewalk by the neck. I was not pleased. So I relaxed, tricking Ms. Alpha Pants into thinking I was all submissive. She let me up, and I swear all I did was look back to see if those labs were laughing at me, when BAM! I was back down on the sidewalk. And did I mention this all occurred at the busiest four-way stop in the neighborhood?!! HU MIL I A TING. Needless to say, I don't try to be friendly anymore on walks. Oh no! I humbly follow Alpha Pants' lead and keep to the trail.
So now she is all bragging about needing to show me who the leader of the pack is. Hmpf. Okay, baby, it's on. Just remember that the next time you use the name "terrier" as an epithet. I just want to gently remind all my readers that dogs only allow you to think you are in control.
Problem: Humans doing mundane, human things which divert their attention from the DOG.
Solution: Vomit on the carpet.
And just who is controlling who?
It's her fault, really. You see, recently I have allowed myself to become, well, more myself, if that makes any sense. Doesn't everyone do that in a relationship as it strengthens and lengthens? Well, she has rudely began to say the word "terrier" as if it were profanity. At first I chose to accept it as a compliment, but that soon grew old. Then to my utter horror, she began compulsively watching episodes of "The Dog Whisperer" on National Geographic.
Cesar Milan doesn't do much "whispering", if you ask me. He does a lot of Alpha Dog behaviors, like "gently" forcing a dog down at the neck until they show submission. Oh, it works, all right. So there I am, trotting along, taking my owner for her nightly walk. My owner, who henceforth will be referred to as Ms. Alpha Pants, was praising me for all my good behaviors. I was studiously ignoring her.
All I did was head over to introduce myself to two labs. I may have led Ms. Alpha Pants to the wrong conclusion, but at 20 pounds, I feel obliged to make sure I am respected. Well, within a millisecond I was pinned to the sidewalk by the neck. I was not pleased. So I relaxed, tricking Ms. Alpha Pants into thinking I was all submissive. She let me up, and I swear all I did was look back to see if those labs were laughing at me, when BAM! I was back down on the sidewalk. And did I mention this all occurred at the busiest four-way stop in the neighborhood?!! HU MIL I A TING. Needless to say, I don't try to be friendly anymore on walks. Oh no! I humbly follow Alpha Pants' lead and keep to the trail.
So now she is all bragging about needing to show me who the leader of the pack is. Hmpf. Okay, baby, it's on. Just remember that the next time you use the name "terrier" as an epithet. I just want to gently remind all my readers that dogs only allow you to think you are in control.
Problem: Humans doing mundane, human things which divert their attention from the DOG.
Solution: Vomit on the carpet.
And just who is controlling who?
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