It's Been Awhile

It's been some time since I've written. Been pretty busy though; peeing, pooping, etc. I continue to chase off loiterers and suspicious people on the other side of the fence with my thundering bark (they don't learn their lessons). But when you work hard, you also have to play hard. Just the other day, Champ and I hiked up Iron Mountain in San Diego. It's about six miles 'round trip and I walked almost the whole way. Don't tell him I told you but Champ had to be carried most of the way. He got to walk the final 200 yards so he could be proud in front of the other hikers. We were very tired afterwards and slept all the way home.

I also agree with Champ's diary entry today. I'm glad that I am free to go hiking and I have my family and good health. We will never forget.

Paws Were Made for Walkin

I love going for walks. We've been hiking a lot this summer and I can't get enough of it. The sun in my face, dirt between my toes, and a ton of places to potty. It's so much fun, I keep lifting my leg even when I'm running on empty. I've always preferred a good cardio blast when I exercise. I'm not as muscular as Champ because I don't hit the gym religiously like he does, but I have a lot more stamina and I can trot along for miles. Afterwards, I'm pretty pooped and I take a really long nap. Only drawback is the dreaded post-hike oatmeal bath.

- Jack

We Don't Need No Stinkin Baths

For some reason, I get washed more than a rap star's SUV. It seems like I'm barely dry from my last torturous bath experience and it's time to go again. Now, I'm no wimp when it comes to baths. I know some dogs that act like Linda Blair being spritzed with holy water when they get in the tub. Not me. No, I just sit there and seethe. Sometime's I'll wish bad things on the poop scooper. Other times, I'll go to my happy place and try to pretend the whole experience isn't happening.

To be honest, I don't know how my proud ancestors survived all those centuries in the hot Mexican desert without being tossed in a tub, slathered with oatmeal shampoo, and rubbed raw with an old beach towel once a month. Frankly, the only thing that helps me keep my sanity is watching Champ get his bath. Hehe, funny! Then I jump up and nip his feet when he's being dried off. That, my friends, is theraputic.

For my fans: an update.

Hello peeps. I heard that you can get carpal tunnel from typing, so I hired a ghostwriter to take over the keyboard. I need to save my paws for wrestling and holding Greenies. To test my writer's skill, I'm sitting on his lap and shoving my tongue in his nostril while he types this. Please pardon any mistakes.

Anyway, we got a new bed in the house. It's like twenty feet high, so me and Champ can't jump up and play around on the sheets. Oh well, there's always the bed in the guest bedroom that we can play on.

We found a new dogpark, and it is pretty sweet. I made friends with a pit bull last time we went. I chased him and he was like "No, don't hurt me!", and I was like "Dude, if I wanted to hurt you, I would have done it already." I befriended the poor guy because I felt sorry for him.

There are some new pictures up that show my softer side. You can see the new Loofa Dog that I got. I'm not going to let Champ ruin this one, like he does all his toys.

- Jackson

Just lernd to tipe.

This is my furst diery. So I desided to releev myself on my fotografer/biografer/shef/poop scooper's bed the other day. No parent reeson, just becuz. Well, he gets all puft up and his face terns red. "No mor bed priviljes until yoo lern to hold yer water!", he sez. Well, excuze me for living mister cleen sheets! Duz this guy know that I pay his celery? Take it from me fokes, good help is hard to find.

-Stonewall