Easter Rebellion

I say Pennie started it.

Wee Lass, Little Lad and Middle Lad all hunted for plastic Easter Eggs filled with candy, and put them in baskets. As we live in the MidWest, and NOT in Politically Correct Seattle, Washington, they were indeed Easter Eggs and NOT "Spring Spheres."

Wee Lass actually had TWO Easter Baskets! Other Woman gave her an Easter Basket as well.

Wee Lass left her Other Woman Easter Basket on the bench in the foyer. Technically, it was an Easter BUCKET, filled with candy, chalk, and crayons.

On Monday Morning, after our Ritual Preschool Drop-off, Mom realized that Pennie was sitting in the foyer, growling. Mom took all the candy out of the Easter Bucket and put it in a bag in the pantry.

Later in the afternoon, while Mom was monitoring homework, she heard growling again in the foyer.

Then full scale war broke out between Pennie and ME! Rolling on the floor. Biting at each other. Baring of the teeth. Mom screamed! We stopped.

No one was injured, except for hurt feelings. Despite the Easter Bucket now only holding chalk and crayons, the candy smell still lingered and was enough to spark a fight.

Pennie and I avoided each other for the rest of the night. Pennie is running on little sleep. Thunderstorms kept her awake most of Friday night. All day Saturday she was Scoutmaster Pennie, supervising work on the Boy Scout Trailer. More thunderstorms kept us awake Saturday night. Sunday, Pennie again spent hours supervising Dad's work on the Troop Trailer.

With the constant rain, thunderstorms, and then the Easter Basket, it was the perfect brew for an Easter Rebellion.

No, you go first!

For all her claims to being Scoutmaster Pennie, Pennie did NOT get invited to go get pizza with the Scouts when they took their lunch break from working on the Troop Trailer. No, Scoutmaster Pennie was forced to stay home with me, Queen Sophine, and the Wee Lass. And, for all her claims of bravery with power tools, Pennie was no braver than me when it started to thunder.

It soon came to be time to go pick Little Lad up from Taekwondo. Mom was forced to park the mini-van in front of the house, due to the Troop Trailer being in the driveway. Just as Pennie, Me, and the Wee Lass went out into the garage to walk out to the mini-van: Boom! Crack! Thunder claps!

Pennie, the Wee Lass and I all planted ourselves firmly in the garage. Little Lad? Little Lad who?

Mom said: "We HAVE to go get Little Lad. Now out!"

She grabbed Me, Queen Sophine under her arm, and pushed Pennie and the Wee Lass out of the garage. CLAP! More thunder. Pennie and the Wee Lass ran back in the garage. I jumped from Mom's arms and ran back in the garage. Mom attempted to shove Pennie and Me back in the house: no, we were not abandoning Mom to the thunder. We refused to be shoved.

Mom grabbed me once again under her arms, and firmly dragged the Wee Lass, who was crying and screaming, and rushed us to the mini-van. Pennie stayed in the garage. Mom drove the mini-van back into the driveway, opened the door to the mini-van and Pennie made a flying leap in.

Despite all that, we managed to be right on time to pull up in front of Taekwondo, open the door, and let Little Lad take HIS turn at taking a flying leap into the mini-van.

Minimal Work Ethic

Oh.
I did not realize that living in Suburbia required a Minimal Work Ethic.

Since discovering the Bay Window and it's glorious Sun, that's where I have been spending all my time.

I have a view of most of the back yard. I firmly maintain that I, Queen Sophine, am overseeing My Dominion.

Mom claims I am Slacker Dog.

Today when Mom came home from the grocery store, Pennie greeted her profusely, tail a-wagging, hugs all around.

I did manage to lift my head when Mom discovered me laying in the bay window and stare at her, groggily.

Mom was not pleased. Apparently there is some Minimal Work Ethic around here, and that involves greeting Mom profusely.

Shelter Honor

My very own Shelter is featured on Dogster! Circle Tail, Inc, trains dogs to be Service Dogs. It has an extensive Prison Dog training program.

I pawsonally was never part of the Service Training Program, as I was "Owner Surrender" at the ripe old age of FOUR. I suppose FOUR is consider geriatric for Service Dog Training. Regardless, it doesn't matter as I became Rent to Own Sophie, which was even better! My very own Bay Window with Sun Spot beats where I could have ended up if my former owner had surrendered me somewhere else. (Shudder.)

This is the article about my former Shelter:

http://dogblog.dogster.com/2011/04/15/sugar-is-s weet-and-so-is-cortez/

Sophatethic.

Sophathetic is Mom's new word for me. Yesterday we were riding home from an errand when we passed Oldest Lad. Mom stopped and Oldest Lad stopped and Pennie and I barked and greeted Oldest Lad. When I got home I searched all over the house, whining and crying for Oldest Lad. When he was finished coaching swim practice, he stopped by the house. I was so happy to see him! But who did he take to University? He took Pennie! He said that I went last time and that it was Pennie's turn to spend the night or a few days.

I began acting Pathetic as soon as I realized Pennie was going and not me.

Now Mom calls me: Sophathetic.

Featured Diary Pick

Today I am one of the Featured Diary Picks of the Day. One would think that I would deserve some HONOR; or if not HONOR, at least a little RESPECT.

No. First off, Mom went off to Church this morning as usual. Dad stayed home, as he is a heathen. I was looking forward to watching the Sunday morning Political Talk Shows. Mom returned home, not five minutes after she left, with a DOG. When Mom drove by the Public School, she saw two dogs attempting to be hit by cars. One dog ran off, but Mom captured the other dog and brought it home. The dog had on a collar and tags, so Mom was able to call the County Lost Dog Hot Line and find out the address of the Dog. When she returned Izzy to her home, the other dog was already at that same house. Mom went on to Church and Dad and I returned to the couch and our heathenism.

Feeling sufficiently politically annoyed, Dad decided to resume his attempts to burn down the back yard. Thus far there is no Chain-Saw Wielding Maniac, but I do NOT plan to go outside today, except perhaps in the front yard. Perhaps if Dad had not decided to accumulate some 10 or so years of sticks in one giant pile, he would be done by now, and I would not be afraid to leave my home on the very day that I am a Daily Diary Pick.

Royal Food Tester Needed!

I believe my Cheese has been poisoned.

Yes I do agree that I have allergies. I do act quite pathetic when I reverse sneeze. Mom and Dad were awakened several times during the night to me standing up in bed, reverse sneezing, and attempting to clear my throat. Mom and Dad were quaking with fear that I would hack up a phlegm ball right on the sheets.

I am Queen Sophine. I do NOT hack up Phlegm Balls on the sheets. Perhaps I have been known to vomit upon the sheets, but as of yet I have never hacked up a Phlegm Ball upon the sheets. (Pennie has.)

This morning Mom gave me a piece of cheese. I should have known that lazy woman would not just voluntarily walk over to the refrigerator and unwrap a piece of individually wrapped processed American Cheese. Soon enough I felt sleepy and calm.

There was no doubt a Benadryl hidden in the orange lump Mom fed me. I have stopped reverse sneezing, but I am soooo sleeeeppppy . . . .

Banished!

This is terrible! Yesterday a large box was delivered by the UPS Man. Mom unpacked the box contents and put the contents together.

This is what it is: A long gate.

The gate blocks off the Boy's office so that Pennie, Wee Lass, and ME, Queen Sophine can no longer have access to the Office!

The supposed "intention" was that Wee Lass can not go into the Boy's Office and steal interesting items such as pencils, markers, calculators, and the interesting "Brain Toys" (aka Geek Toys) that are in the Office.

The other CLEAR Intention is so that Pennie and ME, Queen Sophine can no longer walk upon Posters and Homework. Little Lad likes to work on Homework on the floor, and Posters/Projects are usually spread out on the floor while being worked on.

What is Homework, a Poster, or a Project without Dog Hair or a Dog Foot Print?

I am clearly POUTING! I am resting my lips upon the gate bars, and whining, to express my disdain for this banishment and display my contempt for this disregard of all MY effort in helping the Lads with homework.

Suburban Terror!

Yesterday, Dad attempted to burn down the back yard. It all started out so seemingly pleasant: a sunny, but chilly day in Suburbia. Dad pulling great sticks out from the thicket and piling them in the center of the yard.

Until the Chain-Saw Wielding Maniac showed up! There is nothing more terrifying than a middle-aged man with a PhD wielding a Chain Saw.

I did the only smart thing I could think of: Hide in the House.

Pennie is either far more foolish or far more brave than me: She barked and barked AND barked from the other side of the yard.

After the Chain-Sawing, Dad and The Maniac had a Bonfire.

Dad pulled out old paperwork and ritually burned his Stock Portfolio. He said it had already been burned in 2008; he was just doing the final act of cremation.

Later on, Dad and The Maniac came INSIDE the House. I barked and growled at The Maniac. He was no longer wielding his Chain Saw but I knew who he was! The Maniac kept trying to befriend me! Mom was getting annoyed at my barking and growling. It usually takes me a few minutes to warm up to any man, but there was no way I was warming up to a Chain Saw-Wielding Maniac, even if he was now without Chain Saw. Did he think I had no memory? For all I knew he had that Chain Saw hidden in the pocket of his flannel shirt, ready to come out and hack off one of my ears!

There is still a giant pile of wood to be burned. (Apparently if one allows sticks and branches to accumulate for nigh on a decade they don't flame up in one afternoon.) I shall have to remain on high alert for the return of the Chain Saw.

Carnival Cake Walk

Today was the Public School Carnival. As a Room Rep (it is no longer Politically Correct to call Room Moms, Room Moms, for indeed the job is an equal opportunity position for either gender,) Mom had many Carnival Duties. Yesterday, Mom made many cakes. Delicious smelling cakes, that she left cooling well pushed back from the edge of the kitchen counter, and she also was sure to take Pennie and Me on any errands.

The Carnival Cakes were donations for the Cake Walk. To my dismay, about 4:25, Mom Cake Walked those cakes right out the door and donated them to the Public School! All I got was a finger lick of icing from Oldest Lad when he stopped by with his Rental Dog, Lil Dud.

Then today, Mom volunteered at the carnival all day! Poor Pennie and I were left home alone, suffering in an empty house (OK, Middle Lad was home, ostensibly he was doing homework, but was really looking at video games sites on the internet) while the rest of the family was at the Public School Carnival.

Dad returned home early because Wee Lass was NOT enjoying her Carnival Experience.

Mom did not come home for hours, along with Little Lad.

Little Lad had a CAKE!

Now first off, WALKS are for: DOGS.
Therefore a Cake Walk Cake must be for: DOGS.

Little Lad left his Cake Walk Cake on the counter. Mom went to rest from bending over and picking up footballs from the Football Toss Game for 4 hours.

Mom soon heard what she thought was just Me, Queen Sophine, licking myself. Then she realized that even though I am "short" I was still tall enough, with the proper motivation, to stretch my paws up onto the counter, and get my tongue onto that Cake Walk Cake. One whole side of the Cake Walk Cake was gone!

I still think the Cake Walk Cake was for ME, anyway, due to the obvious logic that if Walks are dogs, then Cake Walk Cakes must be for dogs, by extension.