No JackKnife Sophii

Mom has resumed her relationship with the Wii Fat Plus, er, Wii Fit Plus. Pennii likes Mom to use the Wii Fat. Pennii lays upon the futon and murmurs encouraging words at Mom, except when Mom is doing "Super Hula Hoop." During "Super Hula Hoop," Pennii likes to suddenly goose Mom in the arse with Pennii's cold, over long wet nose. This makes Mom move those hips faster. Pennie thinks that if Mom is in better "shape," that Mom will have better endurance for Walks and playing "Fetch" with Pennii.

I think the Wii Fat is a stupid waste of time. In fact, I WANT Mom to be Soft and Fleshy. A Soft and Fleshy Mom is far, far, more comfortable surface upon which to take a nap.

I am usually banished from the basement while Mom uses the Wii Fat. It is well known that once I find a place to nap, then I might as well be left alone, because even if I am moved, I will return over and over again to that nap spot, no matter how much inconvenience I cause.

On Friday, Wee Lass let me down into the basement while Mom was using the Wii Fat. I decided that the perfect Nap Spot was right next to the Wii Balance Board. That was fine, until Mom was all set to do the "JackKnife" exercise. Then I decided that a perfect place to nap would be ON Mom's soft and fleshy belly. Of course, a Sophii laying in the exact target spot of the JackKnife was not going to work, unless I was going to get JackKnifed right into oblivion OR Mom was going to give up. Mom MOVED me. She moved me over to the futon, and when I returned, in the middle of one of Mom's JackKnifes, over to laying on Mom's soft and fleshy belly, she pushed me away!

I may trade my gnaw bone in for chewing up the Wii Balance Board.

Electrical Protection

This afternoon there was a knock on the door and a badged, uniformed employee of the local Gas and Electrical Company was on the door step, explaining that he, as per the previously sent postcard, was here to fiddle around with the electric and gas meters.

Shockingly, Pennie was all about being "Hostess Pennie." These past weeks of Exploding Suburbia have certainly given her Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, for it is not at all like Pennie to simply allow a strange man into the house without complete inspection. I further conjecture that perhaps Pennie may have been suffering from some psychological giddiness and relief that her Annual Veterinary Molestation, which occurred this morning, was over, and Pennie was just not herself.

It was up to ME, Queen Sophine, to protect my Queenly Realm of 0.46 Acres!

Certainly the Gas and Electric Man "looked" authentic enough, in his official looking hard-hat and badge and jump suit. But I was not to be fooled. No, I gave him the full bark, bark, bark treatment. I followed him around the house as he turned on our stove -- all four burners (!), manipulated our thermostat, and even turned off the pilot light to our furnace and hot water heater!

In the meantime, Pennie had found another Gas and Electric Man in the front yard and was getting a Butt Rub! Most Un-Pennie-Like Behavior.

I stood full guard the entire time the Gas and Electric Men were within my Realm, and gave full attention to bark, bark, barking. I am most disturbed that Pennie, Dependable Pennie, who is quick to perceive any dangers, was having an emotional melt down.

I fear that I shall have to lower myself from my throne in future days, and (gasp!) get my paws dirty, to serve and protect my Realm, in light of Pennie's obvious psychological instability.

Bedtime book and gnaw

Despite my status as Queen Sophine, I do realize that I must provide some services to my minions, in order to promote order amongst my realm. Pennie and I are firm believers in education, following in a long line of family dogs that have pushed the Lads to read, and are now teaching Wee Lass to read.

Samson taught Oldest Lad to read. Tyler taught Middle Lad to read and started the process with Little Lad. Mulligan finished teaching Little Lad to read. It is up to Pennie and I to carry on the process.

Nightly, after her bath, Wee Lass surrenders to her room for a book. Pennie and I join her, anxious to encourage the proper mix of whole language and phonics.

I have taken to settling down on Mom's right side with a gnaw bone. It is indeed a favorite nighttime ritual -- a book and a gnaw. While "Dr. Seuss," is a perennial favorite, I admit I do enjoy hearing of the antics of "Harry, the Dirty Dog," while I find "Bad Dog, Marley," to do nothing but teach further ill manners to an already rambunctious Wee Lass.

Sadly, I am ALWAYS the one who hurriedly rushes around the house to find a gnaw bone as soon as I realize it is Story Time, but often Pennie steals the gnaw from me, and then we race around Wee Lass' room, tackling each other, until Mom can barely read the pages, for all the flying dog parts.

Playdate Doglover

This afternoon Wee Lass had a preschool friend over for what has been termed a "play date." Who cares about Preschool Friend. I instantly realized that Preschool Friend's Mom was easy prey for falling under the spell of my Brindle Eyes. With my Brindle Eyes, I gaze upon my victim, and as they look into the deep brown pools of my eyes, the encircling brindles surrounding my eyes bring them further in, the circles causing dizziness and an inability to stop petting me.

Pennie, meanwhile, made a fool of herself, sniffing for Weapons of Mass Destruction underneath Preschool Friend's Mom's shorts. Mom should have warned Preschool Mom that Pennie insists on a full crotch-tal inspection of all who come to my Suburban Realm of 0.46 acres.

Preschool Mom wasted at least 15 minutes of her child-free time caressing my head, my ears, and my neck, while reminiscing and becoming teary-eyed over her past dog-love, a Doberman named Micah. Preschool Mom claimed that even after two years she was not ready to replace Micah, but I wonder if my Brindle Eyes and Brindle Love may push her over the edge towards needing to reconsider.

Mom and the Power Tools

Mom and Dad have been working a lot on the outside of my Suburban Realm of 0.46 acres. Although I would rather that Mom or Dad spend their time sitting on the couch, holding me in their laps, I do realize that some upgrades are necessary. In particular the shades on the screened in back porch needed fixing, as I like to lay upon the chaise lounge and look out about the back yard, but without proper shading I get too hot.

Today Mom was using the electric hedge trimmers to whack away at the front hedges. Mom does not normally use "Power Tools," unless one counts an electric mixer, and oven, or the vacuum as power tools. However, long ago it was determined that Dad does not know how to trim hedges, so Mom wields the hedge trimmers.

I thought Pennie was going to pace herself into a nervous fit.

Pennie has lived her since August of 2007, so she has no doubt witnessed Mom wielding Power Tools before. What was different about today? Was Pennie picking up on some strange emotional vibration or hormonal scent that Mom was giving off? Pennie was very agitated about Mom using those hedge trimmers. Pennie insisted on supervising, and on several occasions, when the trimmers were "off" and Mom was surveying the strewn trimmings, Pennie insisted that Mom give Pennie a reassuring kiss.

I decided that if Pennie was nervous about Mom using power tools, then my best line of defense was to stay inside the house, where it would be difficult for Mom to suddenly decide to trim Me, without going through brick first.

Just a Sophie Thought

This morning Mom drove Middle Lad to school. This is the last day for the school year, and it is the end of year exams. He did not have an exam for the first session, but had to show up for the Band Exam. He actually did not have to take the Band exam. Yes, there is a Band Exam -- Band is SERIOUS business in this Public School District, especially Wind Ensemble, the Upper Band. Middle Lad did not have to take the Band Exam because he performed two solos at Solo and Ensemble Contest. To exempt taking the Band Exam, he had to achieve the highest score (a "one") on a Solo or Ensemble. He actually achieved a "One" Rating on his Piano Solo and a "One" Rating on his Alto Saxophone Solo.

Anyhoodles, on the way to dropping Middle Lad off, as I sat in Middle Lad's lap, basking in the assured knowledge that all the High School Girls milling about the parking lot were taking notice of ME, Sophie, Mom asked Middle Lad if he had "actually" taken his AD/HD medication that she had given him. With all the excitement of the last day of school AND exams being over, AND the fact that during the Band Exam, the Wind Ensemble was actually going to watch "Nightmare Before Christmas," or some other movie; Middle Lad was fairly bouncing off the walls even more than normal with his AD/HD.

This is when I had a revelation. I do know that I can never, ever, take Middle Lad's AD/HD medication, for it would harm me. Mom is very careful to make sure that medications do not get left out where a dog could get to them.

However, as Queen Sophine, I am ALL about ME, Sophie. If I took Middle Lad's FO-CUS ing medication (FO-CUS is what gets said to Middle Lad, sometimes kindly, sometimes in a fit of exasperation) think of what I could do:

If I took Middle Lad's AD/HD medication then I could spend a day even MORE Focused all about ME, Sophie. Just think of how I could Focus upon my beauty, my brindles, and even licking myself. I could be so self-centered that I might actually become the center.

Is that how Mulligan's head got so big?

As Queen Sophine, I am Queen of my 0.46 acres. Certainly Pennie is the Alpha here, but that is quite different from being The Queen. Pennie is welcome to be the Prime Minister, the Four Star General, the Supreme Commander, or whatever Alpha Role she chooses to Alpha Command. It doesn't bother me that I am Queen of only 0.46 acres of Suburbia.

Dad continues in his habit of refusal to effectively co-sleep. I have discovered that a perfect slumber-throne for a Queenly Sophie-ball is right between Mom and Dad. I can be gently soothed by their breath and the warmth of their bodies, while at the same time I can actually minister to them: I am gently aiding the cleansing of their nasal and bronchial passages with the healing vapors that emit from both my mouth and my bottom, and of course my snoring helps them to focus all night long, in a rhythmic fashion, upon their slumber.

Dad is constantly pushing me out from my spot. I have taken to laying across Mom, with my poor delicate noggin hanging over her side, in an attempt to at least still administer my healing vaporage and snoring.

I fear that this position of laying over Mom with my head hanging down is going to force my head to enlarge.

Is that truly what forced Mulligan to have such a large head? Did he constantly hang his head over, and the force of his great ego, the blood flow, and his great vaporage just built up over time to increase his noggin? Mulligan had the body musculature to support his massive cranium, but as Queen Sophine I am more of a delicate nature, strong, but not overtly brutish.

I do fear that I shall have to be more persistent, for does Dad truly wish for my beauty to suffer (as well as his health, for lack of my healing vapors) just so he can hog his entire half of the Concrete Queen?

Not a Cheap Dog

The other day I had the misfortune of being mistaken for the type of dog that wears cheap accessories. Yes, I have appeared in a luxurious Crown and cape, which "could" be mistaken for children's dress-up items, but rest assured, those items came from a "high-end" catalog -- not some cheap Wal-Mart or Target discount bin, but a fine quality "high-end" toy catalog.

The other day, Wee Lass was playing with some cheap interlocking bead type things that Mom had secured from the discount aisle end-cap of Toys R Us. Unbeknownst to Wee Lass, Mom only bought said items as a way to motivate the acquisition of "fine motor skills," which Wee Lass needs to hone.

Wee Lass, with some consternation, was able to construct the interlocking plastic parts into a long length, which provided Wee Lass with satisfaction of accomplishment, and Mom with satisfaction that Wee Lass was using her small finger muscles.

Then Wee Lass decided that the item she had constructed made a fine LEASH.

I do NOT wear cheap plastic leashes procured from the discount aisle end-cap of Toys R Us. I was shocked. I was sitting in the chair, in utter dismay at the low level that my life had brought me to, when Middle Lad discovered my misfortune. He "mistook" my lack of jumping up and removing myself from the situation as me just being pathetic, when in actuality, it was the fact that I was in such a state of despair and depression over my cheap plastic adornment, that I was immobilized.

Wee Lass was lucky. If she had attempted to adorn Pennie in cheap plastic, Pennie would no doubt have bitten her.

Mother's Day all about ME, Sophie

I thought that I should make Mother's Day special for Mom, and make it all about ME, Queen Sophine. Unfortunately, Dad and the rest of the family think that Mother's Day should be all about THEM.
Pennie has pointed out that we have all completely forgotten that the day is supposed to be about: MOM.

Medidogitation

It is my job as Queen Sophine to be the center of attention. I do of course realize that Mom IS a better person now that she is trying to "center" herself, however, as Queen Sophine, I MUST be a part of it. Queen Sophine knows best.

Mulligan may have invented Compression Therapy, with it's healing warmth and naturally humidified healing vapors, from both ends of the dog, but I have invented: Medidogitation.

It is extremely beneficial that when Mom is meditating, listening to her Meditation Chants/Rituals, or whatever it is that she has on that MP3 player, that I sit upon her, and gnaw on a bone. The focus on "The Breath" and dog knows whatever else Mom is focusing on, is greatly aided by the gnaw, gnaw, gnaw, and the gases from my body. After all, the gnaw, gnaw, gnaw, is better than me scratching and whining at the door, if I get evicted from the room, isn't it?