Is Mom up to the task?

I am having doubts that Mom is capable of being Mom to a Queen, specifically ME, Queen Sophine. I fear that Mom did not understand, when she took me home from my exile, at the Shelter, that I had Queenly Needs that required regular attention. While I was Rental Dog Sophie, and living in University House, nicknamed "The Structure," because to actually call it a "House" was insulting to houses everywhere; I was able to "make do." Living with Oldest Lad as Rental Dog Sophie was far better than living in exile at The Shelter, and certainly far better than other Royalty that have fallen from grace have fared: in particular Tzar Nicholas II and his family. Or Napoleon Bonaparte, who suffered either slow poisoning or unattended stomach cancer during his exile.

Anyhoodles, Mom has been focusing much unwarranted attention of Little Lad and Wee Lass. Little Lad came down with a stomach virus. I even managed to minister to Little Lad, snuggling up to his back has he curled up on the floor on towels, with an emergency basin near by. Despite the overt risk to myself of Little Lad Germs, I realized it was my Queenly Duty to minister to my Subject in his time of need. I am certain that the warmth of my body and my healing vapors aided immensely.

On Saturday, Wee Lass was extremely grumpy with a Mucousy Cold, while Little Lad remained out of sorts with stomach pains. Mom then cut her finger on a dish that she did not realize was chipped. While it did not require outside medical attention, the wound bled quite a bit and required a long time of Direct Pressure. During this time of Direct Pressure, I "needed" to sit on Mom's lap. Mom kept pushing me off! Then Mom managed to get her wound somewhat stabilized, but had something in the oven to attend to. She kept a gauze wrapped around her index finger, while she worked the best she could with her other hand and remaining fingers. In between checking on the baking item, Mom would sit, gauze finger in the air. I would jump on her lap. Mom would push me off. Then Mom attempted to read her Kindle. I did not want the Kindle laying upon my back. No, I wanted Mom to stroke my head and to hold me close. She kept nudging me away. She also refused to allow me to "gnaw" the deer antler upon her lap.

I find myself in a conundrum: despite my Queenly Status, even aging Queens are not popular adoptees in The Shelter, and I have experienced exile to The Shelter before. Do I really wish Exile again? No, I dare not risk Exile, so I fear I shall have to continue to groom Mom to better minister to my needs, while accepting her faults.

Gnaw Wars Smell

This morning after dropping Wee Lass off at preschool, Mom drove by the apartment building that burned, then used that as an excuse to get Pennie and Me a New Gnaw. There was a Phone Call this morning from the Public School Phone Alert System that the Public School Buses may be delayed due to an apartment building that was burning and had a major road closed. Mom decided she had to do some Rubber Necking after dropping Wee Lass off at Preschool. The building was empty, so hopefully no one was injured.

Of course the important part was that it put Mom's homebound path passing the Pet Store. Mom stopped in to get a New Gnaw. The Deer Antler Gnaw is still causing Gnaw Wars between Pennie and Me. I will Gnaw, then Pennie will take away the Antler and Gnaw. When she gets up, I go over and Gnaw. The constant gnawing is annoying Mom, as well as Pennie constantly taking the Gnaw away from me, and then me taking it back. Mom thinks there is enough fighting between Wee Lass/Little Lad and Little Lad/Middle Lad so Pennie and I should just try to get along. Sorry, Mom, but that is just not how it works. It probably won't help to have TWO Deer Antler Gnaws, now, instead of one, but it was worth the car ride.

Mom then noticed this about the blankets that are on the Blue Couch: they smell like Pennie and Sophie Gnaw Breath. Pawsonally, I think the blankets smell lovely. Mom thinks they STINK! She washed them. She also noticed that the blankets had little specks of Gnaw Flecks on them. Those Gnaw Flecks came out in the wash, as well as the smell, but I'm not worried. I am sure that Pennie and I can get those blankets back to smelling properly soon enough.

Gnaw Wars

Pennie is being, well, as Queen Sophine, I shall simply not use the word that I should use. I shall simply say that she is being "disagreeable."

Last night Pennie and I both assembled in the room of Wee Lass for Story Time. The chosen books were "The Foot Book," and "Clifford, the Big Red Dog." "The Foot Book" was quite entertaining, and it was determined that both Pennie and I have "fuzzy fur feet."

I found "Clifford, the Big Red Dog," to be rather inaccurate. While certainly Clifford seemed like an amiable sort of dog, I do not think that the human heroine of the story, Emily Elizabeth, was letting on to the true complexities of living with Clifford. I, Queen Sophine, weigh only 33 pounds and have short hair. Pennie weighs 50 pounds and has short hair. Between the two of us, shed hair starts to re-accumulate approximately 4 nano-seconds after Mom vacuums. Can one imagine the amount of hair that Clifford sheds? I doubt that a standard vacuum cleaner bag could hold one vacuum-ing worth of Clifford hair.

Then of course is the question most weighing on my mind: who cleans up after Clifford? Mom gets biodegradable poop bags that come in a 250 count roll. It is fairly easy to pick up with these bags, and they are more than adequate for, um, a larger sized dog. What size bag would hold a Clifford Poop? I can only imagine a Lawn/Leaf Bag lined Garbage Can to hold ONE Poop. Calculate two poops per day. Does the Clifford family have over 14 Garbage Cans, lined with lawn/leaf sized bags, dedicated solely to Clifford Fecal Matter? And honestly, our local Trash Company allows unlimited trash pick-up, if one pays the higher fee, but 14 Garbage Cans (or more) of Dog Poop per week? I just don't see this being in compliance with the local garbage laws.

Anyhoodles, I brought my Deer Antler up to have a good gnaw while I listened to Story Time. Pennie stared at me, then she walked over and stole it from me! Later on, I joined Mom and Dad while they watched TV. Pennie was gnawing the Deer Antler on the floor. She eventually stopped gnawing and got up on the couch. I jumped off the couch, sniffed around, and found the Deer Antler to gnaw. Pennie got down from the couch and stole the Deer Antler from me again! This went around and around. Finally when it was time to go to bed, I ended up on Mom and Dad's bed with the Deer Antler. Pennie jumped up and was going to grab the Deer Antler. Mom and Dad had enough and said "No." Pennie was in a huff, and laid on the floor, but with her glaring at me I was too nervous to gnaw. Mom took the Deer Antler away from both of us, and we slept in a heap, leaving Mom no room or blankets, huddled at the top of the bed.

Civic Duty

Dogsters, My predecessor, Mulligan, recently wrote about the need for Americans to Save Hostess. Hostess is the fine purveyor of the Twinkie, the HoHo, the SuzyQ, the DingDong, the donette, oh, the list goes on.

Hostess products are: Well Labeled. Middle Lad is not able to go to any of the fine, grease and fat-laden fresh bakeries for fear of Cross Contact with that dreaded legume, the Peanut. Therefore he is stuck eating wrapped, factory-made products.

Hostess consistently delivers a quality product. Those out there capable of eating Dunkin' Donuts, Servatii Pastries, Krispy Kreme, Tim Horton's, or any of the other too numerous too mention bakery products may scoff, but when it's between the Epi-Pen and the Hospital versus a Hostess Donette, that Hostess Donette is mighty tasty.

Last night, while purchasing ice cream at the local United Dairy Farmer store, a NEW Hostess discovery was made. A big bark out to United Dairy Farmers, who for years did NOT have ice cream that Middle Lad could eat. He still can not eat the "dipped" ice cream, but there are now several "cartoned" ice creams that Middle Lad can eat, due to a change in manufacturing practices.

Anyhoodles, back to Hostess. Middle Lad and Mom noticed: Hostess Sweet Rolls, cinnamon. Oh. My. Dog. As soon as that package came into the house my Sophie Senses were tingling. While the rest of the family chose to eat ice cream, Mom must have seen my whiskers vibrating, for she opened the Hostess Sweet Rolls, cinnamon. Pennie and I were all over Mom like Icing on a Cinnamon Bun. We even licked the non-existent crumbs off of Mom's fleece jacket.

Dogs: It is our American Civic Duty to buy Hostess Products and Save Hostess. Hostess Products have a long shelf life; usually at least a week -- that means less trips to the grocery, saving GAS, saving MONEY. Hostess Products are good for Middle Lad. He is a pathetically underweight Nerdling, and NEEDS the fat and vitamin-enriched, well-labelled calories.

Save Hostess for America! (and get yourself some Donettes, Twinkies, or Sweet Rolls; don't worry about unwrapping, trust Mulligan, Pennie, and Sophie, the wrappings will slip on through, if ya know what we mean.)

Stop Picking!

On Saturday night, Pennie and I got into one of our little scuffles. Dad had been working on destroying the Boy's Bathroom all day, and everyone's nerves were a little frayed from all the constant noise. Then Middle Lad ate some pizza and made a mistake while distributing his pizza crust edges. Normally, if anyone is going to share something like pizza crust, then first Pennie and I are separated by a large distance and bites are distributed equally. Well, Middle Lad broke protocol and distributed the pizza crusts too close together. Pennie got over-zealous, and we had a scuffle. Pennie was very sorry afterward and even came and licked my snout and teeth! It didn't matter, I stayed away from Pennie all day Sunday and into Monday. Mom put Pennie's Thundershirt on her as well, as the constant pounding, drilling and mayhem added to Pennie's stress.

Yesterday as Mom was rubbing, rubbing, rubbing my head and ears as I so enjoy, Mom found some little scabs. I swear nothing sets that Woman to a-picking than a few scabs. I was thoroughly enjoying my head rub until the picking started. Then Mom would stop picking and rub and I would think I was safe. Until she found another little scab. It's not as if they were giant blocks, just little specks. I am going to forego any head rubbing until those little scabs dissolve on their own.

What happened to the ground?

Last night before I went to bed, I was forced out into the cold to relieve my bodily functions. Although I returned cold and wet, the yard at least seemed normal.

This morning, with no formality, Pennie and I found our bottoms shoved firmly out the front door. Pennie stopped at the front porch. Apparently she plans another day of Bowel/Bladder Holding.

"Sigh," I wish had a larger bladder and less regular bowels.

It was up to Me, Queen Sophine, to venture forth into the yard.

What happened to my yard? It was completely impossible to walk up the grass! My poor little feet could make no purchase, and the ground was all uneven. Mom looked out at me and was laughing! There was an ice storm during the night and the grass had frozen into uneven shapes of slippery hills and valleys. I could barely walk!

I managed to do my business, and then it took several minutes for me to even make it back to the front door!

Sophie Sewing

Mom sat down at the end of the couch today, and was doing absolutely nothing. I decided that I should sit upon her lap, with my deer antler gnaw, and get in a good gnaw.

Mom would not let me up on her lap. Mom claimed she was "sewing." Middle Lad needed his Tuxedo Pants hemmed. Of course Middle Lad does not have Tuxedo pants for some "cool" reason -- only a nerd-ly reason. He is part of the Public School Symphonic Orchestra and the uniform is a tuxedo. The previously used tuxedo is his to use while he is in the Public School Symphonic Orchestra, and then gets returned for the next student.

Mom already hemmed Middle Lad's Tuxedo pants once. Right before the Christmas concert, Middle Lad was issued the numbered, student tuxedo. Since the Cincinnati area has been covered with gloom, gloom, gloom, and very brief periods of sunshine, Mom hemmed the tuxedo pants with what she "thought" was black thread. When Mom went upstairs to iron the pants, post-hemming, there was a brief, minutes long interval of sun peeking through the window. Mom then realized that the thread was Navy Blue. Banking that the preponderance of Gloom would no doubt continue, Mom decided that the Navy Blue would do until she had a chance to get black thread.

Today was the day that Mom decided to re-hem the pants with black thread, for the tuxedo must go to the Dry Cleaner. Middle Lad volunteer recently ushered at a school event where it was asked that the students wear uniforms and Middle Lad spilled coffee all over his white tuxedo shirt and the tuxedo. (The shirt was soaked for a long time in OxyClean and seems to be salvageable.)

I was quite insistent that I sit ON MOM, TODAY. Mom was equally insistent that I NOT SIT on her. Mom said that with her lack of sewing skills that assuredly if I even sat near her that the tuxedo pants would have ME, Queen Sophine, attached to the leg. She did not think that I would appreciate having to attend every concert event with Middle Lad, attached to his pant leg.

Pawsonally I think that MY needs are more important than some Geek Pant Hemming, and I made sure to glare at Mom and make her feel guilty the entire time she neglected me.

Queenly Paws

Pennie had to have a B-A-T-H on Sunday, but I, Queen Sophine did not!

Dad took Pennie and I to the Play Trail for a hike. Dad seriously underestimated the amount of MUD that record precipitation causes. Dad's boots, as well as the boots of Wee Lass and Little Lad were thick with mud, as well as their jackets. Pennie was thick with Mud.

Me? Queen Sophine? My delicate paws just required a bit of a wiping.

How do I manage this? A queen must walk with a delicate step, with Queenly Paws. I fully exercised myself, and fully supervised the outing, but I did not stoop to reduce myself gallivanting in the mud like a commoner.

Klondike Sleep-In

Middle Lad is out today enjoying the frigid temperatures of the tri-state as he joins his fellow Boy Scouts in the annual Klondike Derby. The Boy Scout Klondike Derby is based on the Iditarod. The Iditarod is of course the annual Sled Dog Race, long with history and freezing cold temperatures! The Klondike also has a long history --the Boy Scouts designed it as a Boy Scout version of the Iditarod.

The Iditarod suits Me, Queen Sophine, perfectly -- it is completely DOG FREE.

Pennie and I did have to awaken early this morning to see Middle Lad off; especially as he thought the meeting time was 8:00, but suddenly entered Mom's room at 6:55 and said he had to be at the Legion Hall by 7:30.

Pennie and I did due diligence to Middle Lad, our Sled Dog Scout, and hovered around him, generally making his rushed exit more frantic.

Then, since the Klondike is obviously meant to be Dog-Friendly, Pennie and I rejoined Mom in the nice cozy bed, and proceeded to spend morning having a Sleep-In.

Found It!

Last night I frightened Mom when she let Pennie and I outside before bed. Usually at night I go straight out into the yard, do my business, and come back. Last night, Pennie went out, used the grass, and came back to the door. I was gone. All Mom heard was strange sounds coming from the bushes.

I never go in the bushes. Pennie goes in the bushes to hunt for rodent snacks, but I only hunt for snacks on the kitchen table, counters, TV trays, etc. Mom started to call for me, and just heard more rustling! She was getting worried that I was gone; snatched away by a coyote, or some other bush rustling night creature.

After several minutes, I triumphantly emerged from the bushes, with a Gnaw Bone! The Gnaw Bone was marinating in the bushes outside for days. It was all wet with rain and mud and just ripe for a night of gnawing on the couch.

As soon as Mom saw me trotting into the house so triumphantly with something in my mouth, she grabbed it from me! She took one look at that Bushes Marinated Gnaw Bone and she threw it in the kitchen garbage! She told me that between Pennie and I we got four Fresh Gnaw Bones and two deer antlers for Christmas, and she did not want that yucky, muddy, bushes marinated Gnaw Bone in her house!

I stared at the kitchen garbage can, and I GLARED at Mom. I can NOT believe that woman is so unreasonable.