Bark, bark, bark at teenage boys

Middle Lad has two friends over today to play video games. Every time one of the two visiting teenage boys comes up from the basement, returns to the basement, or even moves, then I bark, bark, bark. The boys do not seem to be doing anything wrong, other than they all could use a strong swipe of deodorant under each armpit, but still, I have felt the need to bark, bark, bark. They must know who is in charge; teenagers must know there is a firm paw about, watching their every move, and I shall bark, bark, bark, getting Pennie all riled up so she can monitor them as well.

Starving Sophie

The Family went out to eat on Saturday and did not invite Pennie nor Me, Queen Sophine. Before leaving the house, Mom made sure that the Pineapple/Cherry Cobbler that she had made had been safely stowed inside the microwave. Mom completely forgot that there were leftover brownies on the kitchen table. On Friday Mom was forced to make Band Brownies and offer them up to the ungrateful teenagers as some sort of reward for Mom managing to make it through the Indoor Percussion Season. There must have been a lot of food at the Indoor Percussion Party, because Middle Lad returned home with some actual physical Band Brownies, not just crumbs. Perhaps that is why Mom forgot there were brownies.

When The Family returned home, it was suddenly remembered that the Band Brownies had been left out -- perhaps due to "probable" evidence that a dog and or dogs had been atop the kitchen table, based upon the crumb distribution and rubbermaid container distribution.

Mom was Not Happy. She decided to STARVE Pennie and ME!

After my recent bout as Exploding Sophie, Mom feared that it was ME, Queen Sophine, that had eaten one or more Band Brownies. Considering the sensitivity of my intestinal tract, Mom was certain that if I was one of the Perps, then Exploding Sophie was imminent! Pennie has been blessed with a rock solid intestinal tract and rarely succumbs to upset after eating trash, rodents, or Band Brownies.

Mom gave us ZERO dinner. No kibbles. My tummy rumbled all night long. I nuzzled Mom and ran to the Kibble Bin. It was useless. Finally on Sunday morning Mom relented and gave Pennie and Me our kibble. She is still not convinced that I shall not become Exploding Sophie, Weapon of Terror.

Sophie Essence

This is what my Mom likes to do:
She takes my head in her hands, cupping my jowls in her hands. Then she puts her lips on my forehead, right between my eyes, and gives me a kiss.
She calls this Breathing in Sophie Essence.

Sophie: Weapon of Fear

I appear to be back to normal after my episode of Exploding Sophie. I spent most of the week eating brown rice and cottage cheese. While rice and cottage cheese are both delicious, I did not find them as filling as either my twice daily Kibble Ration or the usual junk I eat just by wandering around the house and yard.

What I have discovered is that I have become a weapon of fear, almost a weapon of terror: one fart or cough, and I am out the door! I suddenly have a strange, mystical, manipulative power over my family members for fear that I shall suddenly explode, like a Sophie Land Mine!

I do like to go outside at frequent intervals. I confess it is not always necessary. Sometimes I just am bored and want a brief change of scenery before I settle back into a more comfortable Sophie Ball. However, one cough, and WHOOSH! I am hastily escorted out the closest available exit of the house.

One tummy rumble (no doubt because this week of rice and cottage cheese was seriously lacking in pizza crusts and deer poop) and I am held in a warm hug to determine if I am "feeling well."

I'll be the first to admit that I did NOT enjoy my time as Exploding Sophie and did not enjoy my poking and prodding at the Vet. However, if the reward is to be this Mystical Power as Sophie, Weapon of Fear, then perhaps I am happy in the end.

Exploding Sophie

Sunday and Monday were just not good days for Me, Queen Sophine. As Royalty, I must keep a certain air of mystery about me, some might claim that air had evolved into a foul stench even, but I refuse to reveal this mystery that caused me to become Exploding Sophie.

Midday Sunday, I detected a sudden urgency in my bowels. This urgency lasted at irregular intervals all through Sunday night, into Monday morning. Mom wondered if perhaps I had failed to inform her that I had a Colonoscopy scheduled for Monday morning and was in the midst of that most dreaded Bowel Prep.

By Monday morning I was also showing a sign of weakness about my back legs, and an inability to walk straight.

In my hours of need, Mom forced me into my Crate, from which I was removed frequently so that Mom could cleanse the crate and attempt to de-stench the house. (The de-stenching failed miserably, and the house still smells faintly of Exploding Sophie.)

I finally ended up at the Vet on Monday, where I was x-rayed, poked, prodded, and given medication that finally stopped me up. I had to stay for several hours at the Vet for torture, but I did not talk. My x-rays showed no obstruction or injury, but the blood work shall not return until Tuesday at the earliest. Mom picked me up late afternoon, and Oldest Lad added insult to injury by giving me a bath. (Honestly, I did need a bath.) In the meantime I am completely starving, for the Vet insists that Mom rest my poor evacuated bowels, and then I can start a diet of rice and cottage cheese.

After all this trouble the only positive thing is that at least I can look forward to cottage cheese.

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.

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!

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.

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.

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.