Secret Snoring

I, Queen Sophine, snore. Not only do I snore, but I mutter. There have been several nights that Dad has accused Mom of snoring. Mom, who admits to snoring on occasion, has been most bewildered because at the time she was not even asleep. Then one evening while I lay in Mom's lap, crooning softly, Mom asked Dad: "Is this what you hear?" Dad realized that he was wrongfully accusing Mom, and it was Me, Queen Sophine, who was delicately crooning to him a lullaby of slumber.

The family "thought" that Pennie had all dogs beat by her voracious snoring. With Pennie's long snout, great roars thunder throughout the house.

Then the family met me. However, my snoring is a blessing that I bestow upon all to hear. The family should be thankful to be graced by hearing the lullaby of my breathing.

My only worry? What Royal Secrets might I accidentally reveal while I mutter in my sleep? Is my family trustworthy to keep quiet about my royal thoughts? Or perhaps my mutterings are too complex for them to understand, anyway, and my secrets are safe, though muttered.

Some humans never pleased.

This past school year has been most challenging for Middle Lad, and one of the chief contributors has been Geometry. I did not arrive on the scene until November, but I do hope that I was able to add valuable contribution to this heroic endeavor. We even had to hire a human tutor!

This morning is the fateful final exam in Geometry. Middle Lad has been working tortuously all week on exam studying, and torturing all of us as well.

Last night, as part of Pennie's Educational Plan, Pennie and I used the TET method (Transcendental Educational Tutoring) ALL NIGHT LONG. It would appear that we were merely slumbering, but we were TETing.

(Incidentally, Middle Lad sleeps in a loft, so no dog can sleep with him. Also, he has strong environmental allergies, so Mom discourages dog-sleeping, not due to "us" but because we may have pollens upon our fur.)

And Pennie and I were using TET in: a Geometric Fashion.

I thought it was utterly brilliant on the part of Pennie and I.

We slept in Parallel Lines.

Sophie Straight Line.
Mom Straight Line.
Pennie Straight Line.
Dad Straight Line.

All we got for our efforts was whining from Dad because Pennie crossed over onto Dad's side of the bed. For Dog's sake the rest of the family has been working hard for Middle Lad's Grades, could Dad not have a Dog on his side of the bed for one night?

Street Ownership

This morning, as Pennie and I walked Mom, we simply avoided a certain cul de sac. The first house on this cul de sac is guarded by two small white dogs who have an electronic fence that gives them the run of the whole yard. Their house is actually not the first house on the street, but the first house, across the street, has no dog(s), so all are free to pass.

My first question is: what will these two dogs do when the vacant lot next to them, which will be the TRUE First House, is sold, and is built upon, and these dogs no longer "own" the street?

Question two: what will these two dogs do if the house across the street, which is "for sale" is sold to a family with a dog or dogs?

We just don't usually bother to go up this cul de sac, for it is not worth the ruckus these two dogs make, and quite frankly, Pennie and I "own" our portion of our street, so I suppose even I must cede ownership of this street to these other dogs.

Our house is not a Corner Lot, but IS a Stop Sign. There is simply no doubt that it is Pennie and Sophie Territory. The house next door will probably never have a dog, as their owner is not fond of dogs. (Shameful.)

I suppose these two little dogs will be in for a rude awakening sometime soon, so in the meantime, I will let them simply "own" their street, for there are far more interesting places to walk, such as where the geese hang out, than that silly cul de sac, anyway.

Brindle on the Tracks!

Mom put away the Thomas/Brio wooden trains that had been spread out all over the living room, and vacuumed.
Then she got out the Duplos. The Wee Lass, Little Lad, and Little Lad Pal settled down to play with the accumulated mass of three Lads plus a Wee Lass collecting Duplo sets over many years.

Surprisingly, there were also train tracks with the Duplos.

Oh, NO! There was a Brindle on the Tracks! I was asked to move. I refused. Mom picked me up and moved me, but true to my nature as Queen Sophine, I had found a comfortable spot, train tracks or no tracks, and I went right back to laying on the tracks.

The TransContinental Railroad was built despite avalanches, mountains, weather, and language barriers; I think that The Wee Lass is just going to have to put up with a Brindle on the Tracks now and again, unless she finds a stray stick of dynamite to move me.

Privacy, Please!

Pennie and I usually accompany Mom to the Indoor Backyard. One of us almost always supervises her in there, or the very least, waits in the adjoining room. Mom usually uses the Indoor Backyard that is upstairs.

I am quite certain there is no escape from the Indoor Backyard, but I must make sure that Mom is never left unattended for fear that she will attempt to escape her life of Repression.

Anyway, Little Lad and Middle Lad are now home for Summer Vacation. The Wee Las was only going to Preschool two days a week, which hardly counted, but she has been done for several weeks anyway.

It is MY job (or Pennie's job) to be Mom Monitor. Instead, while Mom is using the Indoor Backyard, there is a constant stream of interruptions: inevitably Little Lad will start yelling: "Mom, Mom, MOOOOOM!" He will relentlessly hunt Mom down until he discovers the closed bathroom door, and then insist on having a conversation with Mom. Yesterday, Middle Lad, despite Mom requesting for him to "take a message," insisted on giving Mom the phone while she was in the bathroom. (The Wee Lass, meanwhile, is smart enough to use this unsupervised time to get into trouble with something she is not supposed to be doing.)

I must insist on an end to this disruption of Mom and Sophie time. It is MY job to be Mom Monitor. It is MY time to spend with Mom, and I do not care for these ceaseless interruptions.

Three's a Crowd!!

Oldest Lad arrived home yesterday, with Rental Dog Camille alongside him. The "first" plan was that Rental Dog Camille was to go back to the Shelter at the end of the University Term, as Oldest Lad logically realized that having the Lads home for the summer, plus The Wee Lass, plus Pennie, and Me, Queen Sophine, was enough.

Unfortunately, Oldest Lad has changed his mind. Rental Dog Camille is cute enough, I suppose, if one goes for the long legged, mischievous type. She has had several people ask about adopting her, but no formal interest as of yet.

Mom is too soft-hearted to force Rental Dog Camille to return to the shelter.

In the meantime: Rental Dog Camille has taken over Mom's Chair. Yes! Rental Dog Camille has realized that the chair perfectly cups the body, while providing a view of the family room antics, and one can loll one's head over the side for a good nap, or tuck the head in to a good Sophie -Ball. Or in Camille's Case, a Rental Ball.

Rental Dog Camille has discovered the Key Sofa Spot, where a dog can lay in comfort, yet view out the front window to watch Suburbia go by.

Rental Dog Camille is not bound by the e-fence, so she runs into the neighbor yards! She even found tasty garbage-snacks laying around the neighbor trash-cans that the raccoons had left after they dumped the trashcans out all over the yard.

I do realize that I must be accommodating, as I was once Rental Dog Sophie, but isn't it enough that the I have Little Lad and Middle Lad home for the summer, without having Rental Dog Camille here?

MY Bone

Oldest Lad has brought his Rental Dog Camille home to live with us, while she awaits adoption. She does have an appointment on Saturday to be viewed, so I am keeping my paws crossed in the hopes that she finds a furever home.

In the meantime, Camille and I have been having a bit of a disagreement over MY BONE. I like to gnaw on MY BONE, particularly in the evening, while the family watches TV. Camille has decided that she wants to gnaw on MY BONE.

Camille has even gone so far as to attempt to gnaw on MY BONE at the same time that I, Queen Sophine, gnaw on MY BONE. MY BONE is only about 5 inches long. It is NOT long enough for TWO dogs to gnaw on it at the same time. I have had to resort to just hiding it under my body, and forgoing the pleasure of my nightly gnaw, just to keep Camille from "sharing" my gnaw.

I am quite content to let Pennie be the "Alpha" female in the family. I don't view it so much as Pennie being the Alpha, but Pennie and I playing different, but much needed, roles in the pack. I am quite content when other dogs come over to play to sit on the sidelines (and in the case of that over-grown Sasquatch of a dog, Calbert, keep my bottom firmly planted to the ground to avoid his domination.)

However, it has become clear that Camille will not Alpha-herself over me. Sure, Camille and I get along, and I don't mind having Camille here, but she is not going to exert herself into a position above me.

WHAT?

I am not sure what is going on upstairs.

Mom slept late this morning. First off, Mom, Little Lad, and Middle Lad were up way too late watching Harry Potter Movie Number 6. Then Mom had trouble sleeping, with a tummy ache, so when she finally got to sleep, she slept late. It was quite annoying, as Mom would not lay still, which caused MY sleep to be disturbed.

When we all finally got up, Oldest Lad had left for work and Rental Dog Camille had been out, fed, and put back in her crate.

Now we hear all sorts of strange sounds through the ceiling, from the room above us, where the Camille Crate is.

When I am in the crate, I lay quiet and regal, using it as a time for calm reflection and to center my soul. Apparently Rental Dog Camille does not understand about centering herself through quiet reflection.

Snack Cabinet

The best spot in the house is the Snack Cabinet. It is a tall cupboard in the kitchen, located right at the start of the kitchen. I can not officially call it the "entrance" to the kitchen for alas, the house has an open floor plan, so it is difficult to ascertain where the kitchen actually begins.

Regardless, most denizens and many visitors to the house go straight to the Snack Cabinet upon entry to the house.

Other Woman heads straight to the Snack Cabinet or the refrigerator, and peers in. Since she was a "friend" long before she became Other Woman, she has been engaging in this behavior for years. I have no objection, as when I visit Other Woman's house, I follow Other Woman's Mother around, look cute, and she feeds me morsels and tidbits for my entire visit.

Pennie and I of course, view the Snack Cabinet as the Optimal Hang Out. We are anxious to Browse anytime it is opened.

Now Rental Dog Camille has learned about the Snack Cabinet! The door was open as one of the Lad's perused it's contents, and there was Rental Dog Camille's Big Puppy Head sniffing and browsing!

Rental Dog Camille has not EARNED the right to access the Snack Cabinet. Plus, as I am shorter than Pennie, therefore, Pennie and I can both browse the snack cabinet at the same time, while the door is open. Rental Dog Camille crowds ME OUT.

I am certainly more than kind to Rental Dog Camille, considering that she continually gnaws upon MY BONE. But she must learn MANNERS!

I thought perhaps she would be gone this coming weekend, but apparently the family that was interested in her has discovered that one of the children is dog-allergic. It appears that Rental Dog Camille shall be chewing MY BONE and Browsing MY Snack Cabinet, for the foreseeable future.

Attack in Suburbia!

I am wounded. My insensitive family has not idea how I became wounded. I refuse to share the details of the crime, but instead insist on acting as Pathetic as possible, thus my name, Sophathetic, while allowing the guilty party to roam free.

Here are the facts: I have a hole in my head and an irritated eye. Sometime on Sunday, either Pennie or Rental Dog Camille and Me, Queen Sophine, obviously had an argument. In the evening, Oldest Lad discovered that I had a hole on my head and a droopy eye. I was also acting QUINTESSENTIALLY Sophathetic. I shuddered and quivered all night long.

Mom slept hardly at all, for fear that I would pass during the night. She called the Vet as soon as the office opened. I was whisked to the Vet's Office for thorough probing and violation.

The Vet shaved the top of my Brindle Head, and discovered a definite tooth mark upon my skull. My eye was injured, but not punctured. I was given a shot, antibiotics, an anti-inflammatory, and eye drops. I was then dispatched home.

I did get back at Mom by releasing the odor of my anal glands. I believe Mom may have to get a new mini-Van.

It is unclear who is responsible for my terrible injuries, but I shall continue to act Sophathetic to insure that neither Rental Dog Camille nor Pennie gets any attention at all.