January 27th 2012 10:53 am
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On Saturday night, Pennie and I got into one of our little scuffles. Dad had been working on destroying the Boy's Bathroom all day, and everyone's nerves were a little frayed from all the constant noise. Then Middle Lad ate some pizza and made a mistake while distributing his pizza crust edges. Normally, if anyone is going to share something like pizza crust, then first Pennie and I are separated by a large distance and bites are distributed equally. Well, Middle Lad broke protocol and distributed the pizza crusts too close together. Pennie got over-zealous, and we had a scuffle. Pennie was very sorry afterward and even came and licked my snout and teeth! It didn't matter, I stayed away from Pennie all day Sunday and into Monday. Mom put Pennie's Thundershirt on her as well, as the constant pounding, drilling and mayhem added to Pennie's stress.
Yesterday as Mom was rubbing, rubbing, rubbing my head and ears as I so enjoy, Mom found some little scabs. I swear nothing sets that Woman to a-picking than a few scabs. I was thoroughly enjoying my head rub until the picking started. Then Mom would stop picking and rub and I would think I was safe. Until she found another little scab. It's not as if they were giant blocks, just little specks. I am going to forego any head rubbing until those little scabs dissolve on their own.
January 30th 2012 6:26 am
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Dogsters, My predecessor, Mulligan, recently wrote about the need for Americans to Save Hostess. Hostess is the fine purveyor of the Twinkie, the HoHo, the SuzyQ, the DingDong, the donette, oh, the list goes on.
Hostess products are: Well Labeled. Middle Lad is not able to go to any of the fine, grease and fat-laden fresh bakeries for fear of Cross Contact with that dreaded legume, the Peanut. Therefore he is stuck eating wrapped, factory-made products.
Hostess consistently delivers a quality product. Those out there capable of eating Dunkin' Donuts, Servatii Pastries, Krispy Kreme, Tim Horton's, or any of the other too numerous too mention bakery products may scoff, but when it's between the Epi-Pen and the Hospital versus a Hostess Donette, that Hostess Donette is mighty tasty.
Last night, while purchasing ice cream at the local United Dairy Farmer store, a NEW Hostess discovery was made. A big bark out to United Dairy Farmers, who for years did NOT have ice cream that Middle Lad could eat. He still can not eat the "dipped" ice cream, but there are now several "cartoned" ice creams that Middle Lad can eat, due to a change in manufacturing practices.
Anyhoodles, back to Hostess. Middle Lad and Mom noticed: Hostess Sweet Rolls, cinnamon. Oh. My. Dog. As soon as that package came into the house my Sophie Senses were tingling. While the rest of the family chose to eat ice cream, Mom must have seen my whiskers vibrating, for she opened the Hostess Sweet Rolls, cinnamon. Pennie and I were all over Mom like Icing on a Cinnamon Bun. We even licked the non-existent crumbs off of Mom's fleece jacket.
Dogs: It is our American Civic Duty to buy Hostess Products and Save Hostess. Hostess Products have a long shelf life; usually at least a week -- that means less trips to the grocery, saving GAS, saving MONEY. Hostess Products are good for Middle Lad. He is a pathetically underweight Nerdling, and NEEDS the fat and vitamin-enriched, well-labelled calories.
Save Hostess for America! (and get yourself some Donettes, Twinkies, or Sweet Rolls; don't worry about unwrapping, trust Mulligan, Pennie, and Sophie, the wrappings will slip on through, if ya know what we mean.)
February 1st 2012 11:48 am
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Pennie is being, well, as Queen Sophine, I shall simply not use the word that I should use. I shall simply say that she is being "disagreeable."
Last night Pennie and I both assembled in the room of Wee Lass for Story Time. The chosen books were "The Foot Book," and "Clifford, the Big Red Dog." "The Foot Book" was quite entertaining, and it was determined that both Pennie and I have "fuzzy fur feet."
I found "Clifford, the Big Red Dog," to be rather inaccurate. While certainly Clifford seemed like an amiable sort of dog, I do not think that the human heroine of the story, Emily Elizabeth, was letting on to the true complexities of living with Clifford. I, Queen Sophine, weigh only 33 pounds and have short hair. Pennie weighs 50 pounds and has short hair. Between the two of us, shed hair starts to re-accumulate approximately 4 nano-seconds after Mom vacuums. Can one imagine the amount of hair that Clifford sheds? I doubt that a standard vacuum cleaner bag could hold one vacuum-ing worth of Clifford hair.
Then of course is the question most weighing on my mind: who cleans up after Clifford? Mom gets biodegradable poop bags that come in a 250 count roll. It is fairly easy to pick up with these bags, and they are more than adequate for, um, a larger sized dog. What size bag would hold a Clifford Poop? I can only imagine a Lawn/Leaf Bag lined Garbage Can to hold ONE Poop. Calculate two poops per day. Does the Clifford family have over 14 Garbage Cans, lined with lawn/leaf sized bags, dedicated solely to Clifford Fecal Matter? And honestly, our local Trash Company allows unlimited trash pick-up, if one pays the higher fee, but 14 Garbage Cans (or more) of Dog Poop per week? I just don't see this being in compliance with the local garbage laws.
Anyhoodles, I brought my Deer Antler up to have a good gnaw while I listened to Story Time. Pennie stared at me, then she walked over and stole it from me! Later on, I joined Mom and Dad while they watched TV. Pennie was gnawing the Deer Antler on the floor. She eventually stopped gnawing and got up on the couch. I jumped off the couch, sniffed around, and found the Deer Antler to gnaw. Pennie got down from the couch and stole the Deer Antler from me again! This went around and around. Finally when it was time to go to bed, I ended up on Mom and Dad's bed with the Deer Antler. Pennie jumped up and was going to grab the Deer Antler. Mom and Dad had enough and said "No." Pennie was in a huff, and laid on the floor, but with her glaring at me I was too nervous to gnaw. Mom took the Deer Antler away from both of us, and we slept in a heap, leaving Mom no room or blankets, huddled at the top of the bed.
February 3rd 2012 7:59 am
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This morning after dropping Wee Lass off at preschool, Mom drove by the apartment building that burned, then used that as an excuse to get Pennie and Me a New Gnaw. There was a Phone Call this morning from the Public School Phone Alert System that the Public School Buses may be delayed due to an apartment building that was burning and had a major road closed. Mom decided she had to do some Rubber Necking after dropping Wee Lass off at Preschool. The building was empty, so hopefully no one was injured.
Of course the important part was that it put Mom's homebound path passing the Pet Store. Mom stopped in to get a New Gnaw. The Deer Antler Gnaw is still causing Gnaw Wars between Pennie and Me. I will Gnaw, then Pennie will take away the Antler and Gnaw. When she gets up, I go over and Gnaw. The constant gnawing is annoying Mom, as well as Pennie constantly taking the Gnaw away from me, and then me taking it back. Mom thinks there is enough fighting between Wee Lass/Little Lad and Little Lad/Middle Lad so Pennie and I should just try to get along. Sorry, Mom, but that is just not how it works. It probably won't help to have TWO Deer Antler Gnaws, now, instead of one, but it was worth the car ride.
Mom then noticed this about the blankets that are on the Blue Couch: they smell like Pennie and Sophie Gnaw Breath. Pawsonally, I think the blankets smell lovely. Mom thinks they STINK! She washed them. She also noticed that the blankets had little specks of Gnaw Flecks on them. Those Gnaw Flecks came out in the wash, as well as the smell, but I'm not worried. I am sure that Pennie and I can get those blankets back to smelling properly soon enough.
February 5th 2012 7:47 am
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I am having doubts that Mom is capable of being Mom to a Queen, specifically ME, Queen Sophine. I fear that Mom did not understand, when she took me home from my exile, at the Shelter, that I had Queenly Needs that required regular attention. While I was Rental Dog Sophie, and living in University House, nicknamed "The Structure," because to actually call it a "House" was insulting to houses everywhere; I was able to "make do." Living with Oldest Lad as Rental Dog Sophie was far better than living in exile at The Shelter, and certainly far better than other Royalty that have fallen from grace have fared: in particular Tzar Nicholas II and his family. Or Napoleon Bonaparte, who suffered either slow poisoning or unattended stomach cancer during his exile.
Anyhoodles, Mom has been focusing much unwarranted attention of Little Lad and Wee Lass. Little Lad came down with a stomach virus. I even managed to minister to Little Lad, snuggling up to his back has he curled up on the floor on towels, with an emergency basin near by. Despite the overt risk to myself of Little Lad Germs, I realized it was my Queenly Duty to minister to my Subject in his time of need. I am certain that the warmth of my body and my healing vapors aided immensely.
On Saturday, Wee Lass was extremely grumpy with a Mucousy Cold, while Little Lad remained out of sorts with stomach pains. Mom then cut her finger on a dish that she did not realize was chipped. While it did not require outside medical attention, the wound bled quite a bit and required a long time of Direct Pressure. During this time of Direct Pressure, I "needed" to sit on Mom's lap. Mom kept pushing me off! Then Mom managed to get her wound somewhat stabilized, but had something in the oven to attend to. She kept a gauze wrapped around her index finger, while she worked the best she could with her other hand and remaining fingers. In between checking on the baking item, Mom would sit, gauze finger in the air. I would jump on her lap. Mom would push me off. Then Mom attempted to read her Kindle. I did not want the Kindle laying upon my back. No, I wanted Mom to stroke my head and to hold me close. She kept nudging me away. She also refused to allow me to "gnaw" the deer antler upon her lap.
I find myself in a conundrum: despite my Queenly Status, even aging Queens are not popular adoptees in The Shelter, and I have experienced exile to The Shelter before. Do I really wish Exile again? No, I dare not risk Exile, so I fear I shall have to continue to groom Mom to better minister to my needs, while accepting her faults.
February 6th 2012 3:17 am
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I worked very hard the last few days, for ME.
I put myself at great risk by snuggling up to Little Lad while he was writhing in agony with the stomach virus. Where was So-called Nurse Pennie? Faux-Nurse Pennie fled in terror at the moans of agony and threats of imminent eruption coming forth from Little Lad. I took off my Queen Sophine white gloves, donned a pair of delicate white vinyl gloves, and comforted my Subject during his time of need.
Then I cleaned up the kitchen floor, underneath the cabinets, by Snuffling up all the crumbs. Yes, there I was, busy as a Common Scullery Maid, Snuffle Sophie, vacuuming up all the tasty, still useable crumbs accumulated in the space where the cabinets overhang the floor. I have never seen Pennie help with the vacuuming. Snuffle Sophie sneezed quite a bit during the process, as there was more than just crumbs that had drifted underneath the cabinet overhang.
So, in your snout, Nannie Pennie, Nurse Pennie, Tutor Pennie, Just-Say-No Pennie, and all those other jobs that you take on, and perform so well.
I, Queen Sophine, did TWO jobs over the last few days, quite a work record for me.
February 13th 2012 10:10 am
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Last week while Mom stopped at the Pet Store to pick up a bag of Kibble, she decided to grab an extra Deer Antler Gnaw. Pennie and I still have one almost intact Deer Antler left from Christmas, but chewed through the other one, and then chewed almost through a replacement Gnaw. Mom is not sure why the Un-Gnawed Gnaw is not a favorite. I won't tell her. Perhaps that deer was just not as flavorful.
Anyhoodles, the New Gnaw stayed in the mini-van for some reason, along with an alto saxophone, saxophone music, piano music, two winter coats, an old coffee travel mug, the belt parts that Oldest Lad left when he got a new belt over Christmas, etc.
I suppose I should just be thankful the New Gnaw made it into the house at last.
When Mom went up to bed, I grabbed the New Gnaw, Pennie immediately took it from me, and we went up to bed. Pennie gnawed for a short time, and then I grabbed the Gnaw and settled in for a long, grinding Gnaw.
Mom took the Gnaw away from me. Yes. She said that she did not mind if I was going to Gnaw for a little while, but I had obviously set myself in for a long night of Gnawing, and Mom wanted to go to sleep.
First Mom just put the Gnaw in her hand, up at the top of the bed. She soon felt me tugging it out from her hand, so she put the Gnaw under her pillow.
This is what I think: Mom put the Gnaw under her pillow so that she could Gnaw on it herself, in secret. She has been known to hide in the bathroom when she has some particularly delectable bit of high-end chocolate that she doesn't want to share with her offspring.
I think Mom was hiding the Gnaw and Gnawing on it. No wonder Mom needs dental work -- she keeps blaming it on her parents, who did not provide her with braces, despite her desperate need for them. But I, Queen Sophine, have discovered that Mom likes to Gnaw on Deer Antlers, and her teeth are just not up to the task.
February 16th 2012 8:09 am
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I am in trouble. While Mom was taking her shower, I was taking a nap on her bed. The Concrete Queen doesn't have any sheets or blankets on it right now, as they are "in the wash." The Concrete Queen just has two mattress pads on it. The bottom mattress pad is a felted waterproof type material that Mom bought back when Mulligan leaked. She didn't want Dad to ponder the fact that Mulligan might actually leak on the bed, so she just covered the water proof pad with the regular quilted pad. Even though Mulli is gone, Mom still figures with Pennie and Me sharing the bed, it doesn't hurt to just keep two pads on the bed.
The top quilted mattress pad has a few worn spots, where Dad's abdomen lays, and where Mom's butt lays. I shall presume then, that Dad's Belly and Mom's Butt are the heaviest parts then, of their bodies. That's probably going to get me in further trouble.
Anyhoodles, since it is presumed that it was only ME, Queen Sophine in the room, with a closed door, that it must have been ME, Queen Sophine, that decided to start picking and fluffing at the threadbare mattress pad spots, in order to make a nest. When Mom came out of the shower, she discovered ME laying next to big puff balls of mattress pad fluff pulled out from the mattress pad.
This is only Circumstantial Evidence. There is no direct evidence pointing to me. Just because I happened to be laying on the mattress pad next to big pulled-out fluff wads doesn't mean that "I" did it.
However, it is all about Guilty until proven Innocent around here, so I am in trouble for trying to build a comfortable Sophie Nest. If I was doing that at all.
February 17th 2012 11:49 am
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I was sent to my crate today. Yes, I, Queen Sophine, was unceremoniously scooped up from the floor and placed inside my crate, and the door was latched shut.
Mom made Meatloaf last night. Mom likes Meatloaf. Dad likes Meatloaf. And it goes without barking that Pennie and I also like Meatloaf.
Mom does not prepare Meatloaf often because Oldest does not care for Meatloaf. However, he strongly insulted Mom by letting it be known that when the Mother of one of his Apartment Mate's sends down a Meatloaf from Cleveland, Oldest Lad consumes that Apartment Mate Mom Cleveland Meatloaf with glee.
Then, it was discovered that Little Lad ate Meatloaf at a Little Friend's house one evening when he was invited for dinner.
Mom prepared a Meatloaf. Oldest Lad was not here, but Little Lad was informed that he better shut up and consume some of that Meatloaf. Little Lad was politically savvy enough to compliment Mom's meatloaf and proffer that Little Friend's Mom's Meatloaf was "Hard" and "Dry," and Little Lad took seconds of Mom's Meatloaf.
Anyhoodles, today for lunch, Mom was sitting on the couch eating some re-heated Meatloaf. Dad came upstairs from his office and began to converse with Mom.
Mom's plate was just swaying in the air, her fork stabbing about emptily, and there I was, staring at a huge chunk of Meatloaf. I do swear and firmly avow; that Meatloaf looked completely available. It looked to me that Mom was finished, what with her plate gesticulating in the air while she and Dad discussed Middle Lad's latest school antics.
I grabbed that big chunk of Meatloaf, leaped across the room and gorged myself. Then I was unceremoniously plopped inside my crate. At least I still had Meatloafy whiskers to lick.
February 18th 2012 4:46 pm
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Fear. That is all that I felt. Last night Dad loaded Me, Pennie, and Wee Lass into the mini-van in order to take Middle Lad to Indoor Percussion Practice.
Imagine my shock and dismay when Middle Lad climbed into the Driver's Seat.
Maybe Mulligan was so eager for rides that he rode with Oldest Lad when he was learning to drive that he was willing to risk whiplash and concussion, but Me, Queen Sophine? I have zero desire to be Crash Test Sophie.
Dad was sitting in the passenger seat and I climbed underneath the Shoulder Harness. Dad was shocked, but there I was, buckled in under the shoulder harness, attached to Dad's chest.
I shall no longer go for a ride if I see it's Dad and Middle Lad.
(and for those who wonder about the whole strapping the Dog in thing: Mulligan was strapped in, and proudly sat wearing his Mulli-Vest Harness. Then Pennie was strapped in, but used it as an opportunity to chew through the seat belt. The seat belt had to be replaced, to the cost of over $600, and of course the wrong one was ordered the first time, so it turned into multiple visits. Since then dogs have travelled unstrapped -- blame Pennie if we all become trajectories in a accident.)
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