Sputnik Sophie

Hello Dogster!
Sputnik was the first earth-orbiting Satellite. Me? I must orbit my favorite people at all times. My favorite person is Oldest Lad. I was his Foster Dog, but Mom and Dad decided to adopt me. Now I orbit Mom all the time. I often emit little sounds, much like Sputnik's constant chirping.

So far I am causing a great deal of stress because I have been home almost 48 hours and have not eaten anything. Oh, I did submit to eating a piece of cheese with a Benadryl not-so-cleverly hidden in it. I seem to be a bit itchy, so Mom gave me Benadryl.

I barked at Middle Lad when he came downstairs this morning. I guess I forgot that he was a member of the family. I threw up in bed the first night. Other than not eating and throwing up in the bed, I have been a model citizen.

Sputnik, but with a purpose

Last night I was snuggling on the couch with Mom, Dad, and Pennie. Mom kept asking Dad if his Cell Phone was ringing. He had it on the Vibrate setting and Mom was certain that she kept hearing the low tone and the vibration of Dad's cell phone. Mom finally got up and checked. No calls.

It was me!

As I was snuggling, I was making little purring sounds, that also made me vibrate.

The original Sputnik, despite being the First Satellite. Despite setting off the Race to the Moon, it really didn't "do anything." It just beeped and emitted random sounds.

Me? Maybe I do emit random sounds, but I certain have "A Purpose."

Sophie Madame Hiss

A girrl has to use her talents and this is one I have: Eye Brindles.

I have Brindle Circles around my eyes that I can use to hypnotize my family to put them under my spell. I have a habit of staring with my dark, deep pools of brown eyes, and then as the victim is drawn in, the brindles begin to go around in circles.

It is just like "Sir Hiss" from the Disney Movie of "Robin Hood."

Next thing the victim knows, I am nestled on them, and they are powerless to move or to stop rubbing my head.

It's normal, get over it.

The Wee Lass doesn't remember having Mulligan here, although she should. Her first English word was HIS name: "Mo."

Anyway, since the Wee Lass doesn't remember having TWO dogs, she has been a big taken back by a perfectly NORMAL Dog Behavior: Butt Sniffing. Pennie and I regularly inspect each other. We inspect everyone else. We lick our Personal Privates. Pennie is known as "The Personal Hygiene Princess," but I suppose Wee Lass has gotten used to those regular cold-nosed body checks, and so this re-newed Butt Sniffing has brought it all back to the point of Preschool Obsession.

Fortunately, the Wee Lass does not have a firm grasp of Understandable Language, as is normal for her scant years of age.

Mom was out with the Wee Lass shopping, and the Wee Lass spontaneously decided to talk to a stranger about Butt Sniffing. Mom understand perfectly well that Wee Lass was attempting to explain to this stranger that Wee Lass has a new dog named Sophie, and there is a whole lot of butt-sniffing going on. However, the Stranger, did NOT understand this.

Yoko, Oldest Lad's new Rental Dog, stopped by last night, and trust me, Wee Lass was treated to an exhibition of even more of her new obsession. And Yoko and Pennie and I all played and wore each other out.

Orbital Politics

Apparently I have to learn to Play Politics.

I have been happy at home, orbiting Mom, for the past couple of weeks. I sleep with Mom. I sit on Mom. I ride in the car with Mom. I follow Mom around. I orbit Mom within about a one meter circle at all times.

Until Friday. Oldest Lad came home from University to visit. I was Oldest Lad's First Rental Dog, until a scant few weeks ago when The Family adopted me.

Now I scarcely notice Mom, unless Oldest Lad is not home. Then I constantly look for Oldest Lad, but do deign to allow Mom to comfort me.

This is not sitting well with Mom.

She thinks she is being used.

Pennie has learned to Play Politics. Pennie loves Oldest Lad, too, but Pennie has learned to still act like she loves Mom, even when Oldest Lad is around. Pennie throws a few tokens of affection Mom's way to keep Mom interested. Last night Pennie even slept with Mom, giving up the chance to sleep with Oldest Lad, just to stay in Mom's good graces (and probably with a mind to Christmas as well.)

This afternoon Oldest Lad went off to Whore Around with the dogs at the Animal Shelter. Mom thinks I should be back to orbiting HER, but I am too focused on waiting for HIM to get home.

Bark

I am disappointed in my bark. The family assures me that I am "big and brave," but I have a high pitched, although loud, bark.

This is not meant as a criticism of other dogs who have high-pitched barks. Chihuahuas and many Terrierists such as Yorkies and Rat Terrierests have high-pitched barks. Their high-pitch is actually an early warning of their inherent threat, much like many poisonous frogs have bright colored skin as a warning: don't eat or lick the poisonous frog or death will follow.

All who have insulted any of the terrierist breeds know that they are the land mines, the Improvised Explosive Devices (IEDs) of the Canine World, ready to explode at any moment.

But ME, Sophie? I am just a 33 pound, shelter mutt. I don't look overtly threatening. I don't have the reputation of a terrierist. And I have a bark that sounds "cute." A bark that makes a human want to lean over and say: "aww, whatcha barkin' at little girl?"

But I am not a little girl. I am big and brave. Perhaps Santa can bring me Voice Lessons.

That Santa Man

Pennie and I visited That Santa Man today.

I couldn't think of a thing to say! I felt like Ralphie from "A Christmas Story." All I could hear was the noise of "HO HO HO" ringing in my ears, while I wanted to say "I want an Official Red Ryder BB Gun with a Compass in the Stock."

Only "I" don't want a Red Ryder BB Gun. Pennie does. Pennie wants a Red Ryder BB Gun so she can finally catch a squirrel. Or perhaps The Cat that always hangs out by the play set.

ME? I couldn't ask for a Red Ryder BB Gun or anything else! I was a quivering mess!

I did sit nicely for the picture, and accepted kind words from the photographers, but I forget to tell Santa what I wanted!

Dogs Versus WiFi

DOGS!
I was one of those dogs left at the shelter due to one of the typically lame human excuses: Moving.

I am not sure why Pennie was brought to the Shelter.

Oh, the list is endless. Mulligan was found wandering the streets and was lucky enough to be found, skin and bones, by a Shelter volunteer.

Tyler was abandoned at a Boarding Kennel. His humans divorced and they never came back for him!

I just never anticipated this latest threat: WiFi.

To be more exact, it is the WiFi Routers that are to blame. My new home is a "wireless community," with a Router that somehow connects the computers, SmartPhones, Wii, and Dog knows what, to the Internet.

The problem? It doesn't Route half the time. (And I shall not name names, but this is not some cheap Router, either.)

According to the Thursday, December 23, 2010, Wall Street Journal, the problems with Routers is well known. The article is titled: "No Signal: Homes Often Baffle Wi-Fi From Routers."

Here is the pertinent excerpt from the article: "Every home is a different combination of size, building materials and potential competition for precious wireless bandwidth, such as other Wi-Fi networks and cordless phones. Even pets can obstruct signals."

There it is. "Even pets can obstruct signals."

How many dogs (or cats) will end up in shelters because their owner's internet ran slow too many times? Or their Smart Phone was Stupid? Or their Movie wouldn't load onto NetFlix?

Will we soon just be considered "signal blockers?"

Intelli-Sophie

I am exhausted with all the intelligence I absorbed today! Mom and Little Lad were playing a game called QWIRKLE. It has little colored tiles that they were playing with on the floor. I played on Mom's side. I really wanted Mom to win, so I helped her cheat by laying on some of her tiles. Despite my help, Mom still lost. What is a Sophie Dog to do?

Then the Tutor came over. At first I was really, really worried. Middle Lad can be very troublesome, what with forgetting his assignments, and needing to be reminded at least 729 times to practice his piano and saxophone, but to just get him Tutored? And since when did Home Tutoring start? I am pretty confidant it is usually done at a Vet's office or a clinic.

I most relieved when I realized it was a Geometry Tutor, not a "gulp" Male-Part Tutor. It seems like most male dogs don't miss anything after their Tutoring, but Middle Lad? I think just a low Geometry Grade doesn't warrant such a full scale assault.

Regardless, I had to sniff and inspect the Geometry Tutor thoroughly. Then I listened in. I am now certain I know more about Geometry than Middle Lad. Perhaps I can get that Router to Triangulate and keep the Internet running.

What about a Heated Carriage?

As one can see from my recent photo, I do look quite Queen-like when dressed in my Princess garb.
Shouldn't I then expect a Royal Heated Carriage?

This morning Mom wore: pajama bottoms, jeans, pajama top, fleece shirt, wool socks, boots, mid-weight coat, down mittens, and a hat.

Sophie wore: harness and crocheted sweater.

I walked for about 5 minutes until we hit the end of the sidewalk and were walking in the street. Then I began to limp. Mom thought perhaps I had Salt in my paw pads from the pavement. We turned around.

I was certain we were heading for home.

Then we passed right on by My House! I stopped limping once we were back on the salt-free, although snow-covered sidewalk, but I was still cold! Mom insisted on walking past the house, in the opposite direction, for about a walk of probably about a mile!

Trust me, I was growling "off with her head!" under my breath by the time I finally returned to my heated Castle.