Doing Housework

Pennie is always complaining that she works her paws to the bone while I, Queen Sophine, am a slacker.

I have been doing housework today -- cleaning the kitchen.

The other night Dad was making Little Pizzas in the oven. Little Pizzas are a wondrous delight -- a crust from the store with a big glop of marinara sauce, then cheese, and added spices depending on the family member. The best part is of course the crusts, which go to Pennie and ME.

Dad is not much of a cook -- his version of cooking usually means talking into a speaker and getting items in bags. He thought he could manage Little Pizzas.

When Dad took one of the Little Pizzas out of the oven, the entire topping fell PLOP! Sizzle! all over the oven door, the oven seal, and then crept down between the space of the oven door, some ending up in the oven drawer below.

Dad said some words that I am not allowed to bark.

Today, I have discovered that I can stick my tongue at the bottom of the oven door and get some tasty bits; I mean I can help with the cleaning process. It's not just Pennie that works -- no, I am working too, working at getting that oven door de-cheesed.

Helping Out Mom, More

The quilt on Mom's bed is getting old. It's also been washed probably more than it was meant to -- seeing as there are four that share the Concrete Queen (Mom, Dad, Pennie, and Me,) Mom usually washes the quilt every time she changes the bed linens.

Anyhoodles, it is high time for Mom to get a new quilt or other top covering for the Concrete Queen. I am certain that Mom can not just buy a new quilt, install it, and have Dad not notice it. So she can't use the usual female trick of a new purchase: "oh that, I have had that for ages." (Ages meaning any length of time, including freshly back from a shopping trip.)

I found the de-stuffing of the mattress pad very satisfying, so I have decided to start de-stuffing the quilt.

I feel very satisfied -- I am practicing my paw/eye coordination AND helping Mom in her attempt to get a new bed covering!

Stylish Sophie

Not only am I Queen Sophine, but I am Classic Queen Sophine. Even Dogster admits that I am a Classic. Dogster has taken to offering up fashion articles each week, and the topic this week is: Stripes!

"Dogster's Style Pick of the Week"
"Classic prints that never go out of style are a wonderful thing. You can feel good about investing in classic print pieces knowing that they’ll stay in your closet forever — well, your closet and your dog’s, that is.

One of my favorite classic prints is the stripe. There’s just something so crisp and pulled-together about a great stripe, wouldn’t you agree? I’m loving the way they’re punched up with bright colors and accent stripes right now."

As a Brindle, I am naturally striped. Beautifully striped, of a light, reddish brown and a darker brown. Therefore I am a Classic,

My only concern is: Can I WEAR stripes? Or will wearing stripes clash with my natural stripes?

Never Appreciated

I am never appreciated for the work I do around here. It is so hard to nurture and train up the Lads and Wee Lass, and yet all I face is criticism.

Today, after school, Little Lad made a bagel, a Panera bagel, with cream cheese. Dad called and Little Lad had to talk to Dad on the phone. Little Lad left his bagel completely unattended. I took one half of the bagel, made a dash under the kitchen table, and ate that bagel.

I was accused of being a "bad dog," a "pig," and Little Lad said I did not deserve any dinner.

I was simply trying to teach Little Lad an important Life Lesson. And it's not like I ate the "whole" bagel, I only ate half.

A person should never leave their personal items unattended -- the items might get stolen.

Little Lad carries a saxophone to school -- is he going to leave that unattended and expect Mom and Dad to buy a new saxophone when the old one gets stolen?

Food: Little Lad was just a babe when the 9/11 Terror Attacks occurred, so he has virtually grown up in an Age of Terror. Does he not think that when he leaves a Bagel unattended that some Terrorist might come along and put Ricin on top of the bagel?

I shall remain firm in my resolve to teach important Life Lessons to Little Lad, but I could do with a little appreciation now and again.

Gnaw vs Dad

The other night at bedtime, I was all ready to hop up into bed, when I realized I needed a Gnaw Bone. I put on my Sophie Scurry look, and headed down the stairs. Dad yelled after me:

Dad: "Sophie, there will be no gnawing in bed. Do not go get a Gnaw."

I had already Sophie-Scurried down three steps, but I stopped, mid scurry. I returned to the bedroom and hopped up on the bed. I stayed on the bed for a few seconds. Then I began the Sophie Scurry back down the stairs. Again I heard Dad's voice:

Dad: "Sophie, you are not going to gnaw in bed."

I kept Sophie Scurrying all the way down the stairs, sniffed around and found a Gnaw Bone. I raced back upstairs, triumphantly holding my Gnaw in my mouth. I hopped up on the bed, and commenced Gnawing.

Sophie Gnaw vs. Dad: Sophie wins! Paws down!

University Walk

Today was a warm, sunny day, so Dad issued forth a proclamation that there must be a Family Activity. Little Lad received a call from a friend, so he was not forced to bond with the family.

Mom and Dad loaded up Daisy, Pennie, and Me into the Mini-Van, along with Wee Lass and Middle Lad. We decided that we wanted to try a "new" walk, but it must be "dry" as the ground is very muddy, and it must be nearby, as we did not have a long time. Thereby we decided that despite Oldest Lad being absent from University, as he is spending his Spring Break in drunken debauchery with other males and females of similar age, we would walk around the University.

I quickly recognized that I was at University, where I spent my Foster Days, as Rental Dog Sophie, and began the lookout for Sidewalk Sandwiches. Despite Mom warning Dad to be on the lookout as well; I managed to snatch a few Sidewalk Sandwiches, since Dad was attached to my leash. (It's an open secret that if anyone in the family wants to get away with something -- go through Dad.) Mom was attached to Pennie's leash, and Middle Lad was attached to Daisy's leash.

We quite enjoyed our University Walk, although I discovered that Alpha Pennie has a fear! In the midst of campus, somewhere between the Lindner Building, the "Shoe," and Nippert Stadium was a metal staircase with waffle grated steps. Pennie was NOT happy. Daisy and I trekked won those steps happily, while Pennie sprawled her legs and toes out wide, shaking, and walking slowly. Mom feared that she was going to have to carry Pennie down all those steps. Finally at the bottom, Mom realized that Pennie had caught some of her toenails in the waffle grated steps. No toenails were bent or actually broken, just chipped badly. Mom thinks perhaps if Pennie had just bravely walked down the steps she would have been fine; or perhaps she chipped some nails immediately at the top and then got scared. Regardless, the rest of the walk was without incident, except for having to stop at the CCM building (College-Conservatory of Music) to let Middle Lad and Dad use the restrooms.

Pennie stopped to poop just as a University Police Car drove by, but Mom already had Poop Bag on Hand, so all was good.

The hopes are that Daisy and Alpha Pennie are sufficiently worn out now to sleep well and leave me alone.

Illogical Woman and a new gnaw prop

My Mom can be completely illogical.

Every night I love to enjoy a Gnaw Bone. It is my Nightly Gnaw, and it is a ritual much like an after dinner cigar or pipe. Of course my Nightly Gnaw does not cause cancer or second-hand smoke; it cleans my teeth, leaving them shiny and bright.

In fact, humans should take up a Nightly Gnaw Bone -- it would be much healthier than smoking and instead their teeth shine and bright. Mom does not smoke, but I am certain that she would enjoy the relaxation and teeth cleaning of a Bleached Beef Bone Nightly Gnaw.

Couch and Mom Space has been much contested these last few days due the presence of Daisy, who is staying here while Her Man spends Spring Break in drunken debauchery in Florida. While Daisy misses Her Man, she is rapidly adjusting to the Suburban Life of dropping Middle Lad and Little Lad off at their destinations.

I managed to find a spot on the couch with Daisy at one end, Pennie at the other, and Mom curled up in the Middle. I plopped behind Mom and found the perfect Gnaw Prop: the back of Mom's Calf. The lower calf has a bulge of muscle, or most-likely fat in Mom's case, and I propped my Gnaw Bone against that leg calf and proceeded to Gnaw.

Mom stopped my Gnawing. Instead of appreciating my hard work at relaxation and teeth cleaning, Mom just claimed that having my Gnaw Bone drilled into the back of her calf muscle just gave her "the willies." The woman is just impossible.

Coyote Sense

All day Monday I was acting strange. Mom thought that I was feeling out of sorts due to Daisy leaving on Sunday. Pennie was also acting strangely, but that was easily attributed to Pennie going to the Vet first thing Monday morning. In the early evening, Mom was out in the yard playing with Wee Lass, and I would NOT leave her side. I ended up sitting in Mom's lap. When Mom had to stand up, I would NOT get down. I physically clung to Mom, with my front legs around Mom's neck!

Then Mom talked to the next door neighbor, and Next Door Neighbor told Mom that early Monday morning, Next Door Neighbor was awakened to strange sounds. She went outside and in the yard across the street were two coyotes! Next Door Neighbor's bedroom is in the FRONT of her house, so Next Door Neighbor hears more sounds from that direction than Mom does, because Mom and Dad's bedroom is in the BACK of the house.

I do NOT want to be carried off by a coyote. Pennie would be evenly matched with a coyote, and would probably end up dragging coyote parts into the house, no doubt just after Mom had vacuumed and mopped the floors.

Me? I am Queen Sophine. I have STAFF to take care of Coyotes. I am no match for a coyote, and would no doubt be quite a prize -- Queen Sophine of Suburbia carried off to her end by a coyote.

Mom is certain that I was acting strangely due to the coyotes. Mom has been careful to keep Pennie and I supervised outside since she heard the news from Next Door Neighbor.

Not that kind of dog

On Friday night, Oldest Lad stopped by after coaching swim practice. He asked if either Pennie or Me, Queen Sophine, would like to spend the night at University with him. He was coming back home on Saturday to watch Wee Lass and Little Lad so that Mom and Dad could go watch Middle Lad participate in the Indoor Percussion Championships.

I eagerly jumped at the chance to spend the night at University. I have not slept over at Oldest Lad's apartment. When I was Rental Dog Sophie, Oldest Lad lived in a House, "The Structure," because to call it a house was an insult to houses everywhere. This school year, however, Oldest Lad lives in a building with several apartments.

Daisy, who was our recent HouseGuest, lives at Oldest Lad's apartment. This is what I learned: Apartment Dogs have to learn to: Be Quiet. Daisy learned after a few days that she did not need to bark at every noise, or the coming and goings of other apartment dwellers.

I like to bark. I am good at barking. In Suburbia, I am free to bark all I want, as long as I am inside my house, because I must protect my 0.46 acres of Suburbia, and definitely the Side Walk. It is a Suburban Dog's Foresworn Duty to bark, bark, bark, at every animal or human that walks, runs, or bikes, on the Side Walk.

When I am outside, in Suburbia, when I bark, bark, bark, too much, Mom brings me inside so that I do not "disturb the peace," and "no one calls the Sheriff." I can then continue to bark inside the house, where the neighbors can't really complain about it.

Anyhoodles, on Friday night, I was really enjoying bark, bark, barking, inside Oldest Lad's apartment whenever I heard noises from the other apartments. Oldest Lad even held my muzzle shut a few times!

I did not sleep much, what with all the noises from the other apartments (University students do not keep the regular hours of Suburbanites) and all the muzzle-holding.

When I returned home, Oldest Lad decided that he should spend some time with PENNIE.

What? I travelled all the way to University and "spent the night," with Oldest Lad. Was I then to just be "cast aside" with a promise of "I'll call you?"

I am just not that kind of dog.

I kept jumping up onto Oldest Lad, and he kept pushing me off, insistent that he was going to spend time rubbing Pennie's belly and rubbing Pennie's head.

I was finally forced to curl up on the opposite end of the couch, in the Lap of Wee Lass, no less. And Wee Lass, weighing a scant 40 pounds, does not have a comforting Lap to curl up in. I felt and looked, absolutely pathetic, and I say this again: I am not that kind of dog!

Hoorah! for Picky Eaters

Middle Lad is a Picky Eater. Most of his friends are Picky Eaters. Mom gets exasperated at Middle Lad and rolls her eyes at his friends.

I, Queen Sophine, like Picky Eaters.

This evening, Dad grilled hamburgers, then most of the family went outside to eat, and Pennie went outside to meet Bella, the new German Shepherd that lives across the Street.

Picky Eater Friend ate one bite of his hamburger and decided it was not acceptable. He foraged in the 'fridge until he found leftover cold pizza to eat. (That brings up another subject: why are non family members allowed refrigerator privileges, when Me, Queen Sophine, who lives here full time, does NOT get refrigerator privileges?)

Sometime while Pennie was outside with the rest of the family and Middle Lad and Picky Eater Friend were playing video games in the basement, Picky Eater Friend's hamburger went "missing."

My lips are juicily sealed about what happened to Picky Eater Friend's hamburger, but I do stress that I like Picky Eaters.