Deep Thoughts, by Lyle

DETH to Facebook!

I challenge all DETH members (do you even remember who you are?) to do the ethical thing...get your humans off Facebook. They rot their minds with silly games. They send each other imaginary gifts. They hog the computer and do not let you, my ever-loving constituents, read my fun and entertaining diary.

DETH members: herd your humans away from Facebook! Get them back on Dogster! Or at least get them to spend more time with you, the most important member of the family.

Hm. Maybe Facebook isn't so bad.

Are you ready for some Tag?

My good pal Furio tagged me! Fun! I get to answer a bunch of questions and then my friends get to do the same. Here we go!

1. What color is your collar?
Red with little multicolored musical notes on it. It's one of those "decorate your own collar" kits and the boss man decorated mine. I got the music in me, so that's why it has notes on it.

2. What kind of food do you eat?
Eagle Pack salmon, anchovy, and sardine. Good for not making crystals and good for the skin. Wheat and corn free to keep the itches away.

3. What are your favorite treats?
Chicken jerky, Buddy Biscuits, and these pawsome dried lung things. Mmm...lung.

4. Do you have a Valentine or significant other?
Nope. I'm a confirmed bachelor. Too many females around my house anyway.

5. Do you get table scraps?
You betcha!

6. What is your favorite toy?
I think my favorite toy ever was this supercool lizard that not only squeaked, but its tongue also came out when I squeezed it. So cool.

7. When is your birthday?
February 2, 2002. Or somewhere around there.

8. How many times a day do you eat?
Sadly, just two.

9. Do you have a favorite color?
I think I look really smashing in red, don't you?

10. Do you hope all your pals put this in their diary?
Yep!

So now I tag some friends to do the same. I'll tag Sergei(who I'm pretty sure gave me that cool lizard toy if I remember correctly, Morgan Anna Maria(my princess friend!), Burt(the newest addition to the Chicago Crew!), Boone(fellow Richlander), Sam(who looks better in a hat than any dog I know), and Smooch the Pooch(best name EVER--other than Lyle, of course).

CSI: Tri-Cities

My cell jingled: Duran Duran, singing "A View to a Kill." Somewhere in the Tri-Cities there had been another murder. One more body with a story to tell. I'm Detective Lyle, and I'm the one who helps the victim write the book.

I knew I was close to the scene well before I arrived. The smell of death was heavy on the road. Another tragedy brought on by a careless driver. I sighed and shook my head. Such a waste.

"What have you got for me?" I asked the uniform at the scene.

"DOA. Looks like a hit and run," she replied. "Poor little guy never had a chance."

I stepped closer and sniffed the body. Followed the trail of gore for a few inches--this one was thrown by the impact and didn't move far after he fell. The cop was right. This one never had a chance. I pulled my camera out of my bag and took a few pictures, then prepared my kit to take some samples for forensics.

Just then, the ME arrived, late as usual. "A fresh one for me!" she yelped excitedly. I couldn't help but roll my eyes. The ME was a rookie, and far too enthusiastic about murder. I kept unpacking my tweezers and baggies but out of the corner of my eye I saw a glint in hers.

"Oh, no you don't!" I shouted, just as she lowered her ear to the ground next to the body, ready to roll in the gore. "I'm not done here yet."

Chastised, she straightened up but shook herself off nonchalantly, as if she'd never dream of rolling on a stiff. I knew better. "How many times do I have explain the chain of evidence to you?" I grumbled.

"Oh, please," she groaned. "You know as well as I do that we'll never catch this killer. Have we caught one yet?"

I shuffled and stared at my paws. "Well, no, but we never will if we botch the investigation. This poor little guy deserves our best efforts."

"Oh, give it a rest," she replied. "Somebody might as well benefit from his death."

I thought I caught her surreptitiously licking the body as I finished readying my supplies. What an insult to the justice system. In my heart, though, I knew she was right. We'd yet to catch a killer despite piling up mountains of forensic evidence. Bodies had been piling up during the year or so I'd been on the force and we were no closer to finding justice for them. How many would have to die before we could stop these ruthless killers?

I took my samples and silently vowed to do everything in my power to find this squirrel's murderer. "We'll put an end to the terror, little guy," I promised the body. "Your family will survive for me to chase. I promise."

Tweet, tweet!

Seems to me that the world needs to know more about me. My people crave more Lyle. Right?

Crave no longer! I tweet! How cool is that? Check it out.

Lyle Live!!

Toyland

So Maebe has pretty much recovered and things are back to whatever passes for normal around here. Having Spring around means things are never really normal. Crazed terrier.

AnyLoo, one of the things that happened after Maebe swallowed the chunk of toy was that the bosses gathered all our toys and gave them to the Humane Society. So unfair. I for one Whigle always spit out the chunks of toy I tear off. Why I should be punished for Maebe's lack of discretion, I don't know.

I figure it will be up to me to solve this no-toy problem. But lo, I am Lyle, SuperGenius, and I already have the problem solved. Mostly.

The first new toys are the Tomato Patch Terrier and Miss Tomatohead. I got the ideas from Spring, actually. She likes to root around in the garden, which is actually a tomato patch because the tomatoes went feral and choked out all the other plants. No problem, I don't like jalapenos much anyway. I don't know what she does in there but she always comes out smelling like a tomato. And Behold! Tomatohead is born.

I think the Tomato Patch Terrier will be a huge seller. Or could be, anyway, except for one small problem: The Tomato Patch Terrier is really not all that cuddly. Will toddlers like a growling toy? I don't. She'll probably end up with a warning label, which I suppose means that teenagers everywhere will want one. Aha! Problem solved.

Miss Tomatohead will be a lot like Mr. Potatohead but furrier. I have been trying this one out myself, so I can figure out exactly what features to include in the package. Look! Sleepy eyes!

@#&%*$! Lyle! If you try to tape those things to my eyeballs one more time, I swear I will eat you alive!

Heh, heh. Whoops. Angry eyes! Hahahahaha!

Real life...even worse than my fiction.

Here's my latest Bulwer-Lytton entry:

"I told them to get rid of August," the super handsome genius Whigle murmured as he sneaked out of the kitchen to throw up in the living room, all the while realizing that what with everyone else puking too and Maebe at the emergency vet that no one would probably even notice one more pile of vomit on the floor.

Oh, wait. Turns out that it is not fiction. Too bad.

Thank goodness August is nearly over.

Bulwer-Lytton eat your heart out!

It has been a while since I've written any fiction. Trouble is, I tend to lose interest after the first sentence or so. But then I heard about this contest where that's all that matters: one terrible first sentence!

How perfect for me! Let's start with Mystery:

The dame that walked through the door of my detective agency was farm fresh from her apple cheeks to her straw colored hair, but her troubles were as rotten as the cheese in the back of my refrigerator: smelly, just a little hairy, and hard to get rid of.

Who writes worse than me? No one, I tells ya, no one! WhooLoo!

Another SherLyle Holmes Mystery: The Mystery of the Trashed- Trash

I was dozing in my crate when a leggy brunette raced in, anxious and panting. "Inspector! I need your help!"

"What can I do for you, little lady?" I asked.

"We've been robbed! The kitchen has been trashed!"

I got up and stretched. This sounded serious, too serious for me, in fact. "Did you call the police?"

The brunette glared at me. "Of course not. How would I dial 9-1-1? How would YOU dial 9-1-1?"

I closed my eyes and sent up a silent wish. Opened them, looked at my paws and sighed. Rats. Still no thumbs. "Okay, well, then, what can I do?"

"Let me show you what I found." The brunette said as she led me into the kitchen. The trash drawer was wide open and the bag ripped to shreds all over the floor. Kleenex, empty wrappers, and a big Ziploc freezer bag were strewn far and wide.

I bent down for a closer look. Mmm....cinnamon sugar.

"Inspector! Aren't you contaminating the evidence?" The brunette pushed me aside. Another CSI junkie, I figured. Too much television and everyone's a critic.

"Mmm...evidence." A thought occurred to me as I hoovered up the last of the crumbs. "You know, miss, we should be careful. The burglar could still be here. I wonder what he was after, anyway."

"I think that Ziploc held a big hunk of cinnamon raisin bread the boss man threw out before he left. In fact I know it was there because it broke my heart to see him throw it away. And now it's gone!"

Sounded like a confession to me. I was looking around for my pawcuffs (drat! where did I leave them last?) when a shady-looking terrier-type waddled by.

"Hey! You there!" I called out. She turned and looked at me briefly. Her face was covered in cinnamon sugar. Mmm...cinnamon sugar. Finally, someone else who doesn't watch CSI. Maybe not so shady after all. "Did you happen to see anyone suspicious come this way? Maybe someone tearing up a trash bag or eating a hunk of bread?"

The terrier opened her mouth to answer but belched instead. Phew. Smelled like fermented dough. Somebody's had one too many, I thought.

Finally I found my pawcuffs. They're never where I expect them to be. I cuffed the brunette and read her her rights.

"It wasn't me! I was in the same room as you the whole time! What about Spring? She's covered in cinnamon sugar and it looks like her belly is going to explode! Don't you think it could have been her?"

I sighed. I suggested she watch Law and Order instead.

Another SherLyle mystery solved!

President Lyle answers all your questions

M., a brown hound in Richland WA asks, "Mr. President, how will you solve the nation's healthcare crisis?"

Well, M., this is an important issue and deserves a lot of thought.

(pause)

Done thinking now. The answer is simple. Two words, in fact: Spay and Neuter. Well, that's 3 words, I suppose, but only 2 of them are important to the plan. And really, who's counting? Our healthcare system is over burdened. Our social support systems are too. In our little tri-city area, Animal Control has 85 dogs and 177 cats in the system. Yikes. Maybe we should pay more attention to counting. How can we possibly make sure that all those pets and others get the care they need? Overpopulation control. That's my answer.

M., from Richland responds, "Um, Mr. President? I was actually asking about the healthcare crisis for people."

Oh. No problem. Same answer.

S.,a tricolored terrier from Richland WA asks, "Mr. President, can anyone ever be as cool as you?"

No. Never.

S., from Richland WA shouts, "I did not ask that!! Don't you dare publish that!!"

Thank you for your question, S. Yes, I do like cheese. That's all the time I have for questions today. Thanks for coming!

Things that go Psssht!

What goes Pssht?

Whipped cream in a can!

Squeeze cheese!

Pancake batter! (who knew?)

Easy icing!

And, unfortunately, hair mousse.

See them all here.

Coming soon...

...New photos from my latest photo shoot. It was the best photo shoot ever. Well, mostly.

The boss man says he has to "process the photos" or something before I can put them up. As if any picture with a Whigle in it isn't perfect. I think he is just stunned by my handsomeness and general cute-itude. I can hardly blame him.

AnyLoo, once the pictures are ready you'll see them. In the meantime, here's a preview: the photo shoot was Things that Go Psssht!

Wanna guess what it was about? Want a hint? Here you go: Best photo shoot ever.

Stay tuned!

The scientific process goes Bark!

A few weeks ago the bosses went to see the movie UP. (In case you're wondering, they said the best part was the dogs. I say, duh!) At the start of the movie there was a preview for one called something like, Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs. The boss ma'am, she loves me, and she knows that this is my kind of movie. She told me that it looked to be about a scientist who is able to turn water into food. In the preview, she said, it rains hamburgers! And pancakes! And meatballs! Oh, be still my tail!

So naturally I have decided that I want to be a scientist. I know that I have a lot to learn before I can do something as spectacular as changing rain into meat. So I am going to investigate some of the little mysteries in my life.

For starters: What the heck is it that makes Spring so, um,...different?

The scientific process always starts with a white coat.

Okeydoke. I am ready. My assistant will, well, assist, and take notes. You might want to get some protective gear there, Maebe.

Better. Now we just need our test subject. Hold her still, Maebe...good. Spring, quit squirming. This might sting a little.

Assistant? My buzz saw please? Assistant? Where'd you go? No matter. Okay, Spring, it's just a little off the top and then I should be able to figure out what makes you tick.

Holy moly. Spring has brains of oatmeal! Who knew? I was sure it was going to be cabbage. Well, I must say, this explains a lot.

Behold the power of science.

(And in case you're wondering, it isn't safe to eat Spring's brains no matter how tasty they smell. Kind of dangerous and growly if you try. But for some reason it is okay for her to eat her own brains. Very Hannibal Lecter if you ask me. Eeew.)

Adopt a highway

The bosses and the grrrls and I went on a little trip last week. All along the way I kept seeing these signs: Adopt a Highway. I had no idea that so many highways were in need of good homes.

So I get to thinking. Maybe I should adopt a highway. After all, I was adopted, so maybe I should return the favor. But then I think, am I ready? I wonder, will I ever be ready? How will I know?
Then I think maybe I will never feel ready. Maybe nobody ever does.

So should I adopt one?

How will I ever know what to teach it to make it the best highway it can be? How do I teach it about rock slides? How it feels to be slippery when wet? What to do with those strong winds if it has a bridge? What about when its shoulders get soft?

I have to admit it's a little overwhelming. I might not be ready.

Confidential to the boss man: Have a happy birthday tomorrow. You better share your cake.

And I am sending some love to Mamie and her pack. Mamie, I think Little Bit has a Blizzard for you. Godspeed.

Best. Tag. Ever.

Guess what? My friend Gwen tagged me in a new game of Tag. It's the ice cream tag game! WhooLoo! Ice cream AND a game! How cool is that?

Here's how this one goes.

I am going to tag five friends and tell them what kind of ice cream I look like. Then you tag five friends and tell them what kind of ice cream you look like! Sprinkles count too! Gwen mixed it up a little...she did what kind of ice cream she'd like to eat. I'd like to eat ALL types of ice cream so that part is easy.

I am chocolate chip turtle ice cream...chocolate chip ice cream with caramel and hot fudge swirls. I am delicious.

Now I'm going to see how delicious 5 of my ice cream loving friends are:

George Underwood
The N'walins Gang
Baxter
Furio
The Roo Crew

Bird Dog

Everyone knows I love birds. Love 'em. The bigger the better. And guess what? Now I have my very own bird cage. How lucky am I?

See, here's what happened. The boss ma'am got some strawberry plants. She likes plants and she likes strawberries. She also likes birds, but not enough to share her strawberries with them. So she has the boss man construct this huge-ugly plastic thingy to keep the birds out. (Honestly I don't know if it was designed to be huge-ugly, but that's the way it turned out.) Only it doesn't work very well. The birds go in and out and eat her strawberries. The boss ma'am is not pleased.

But lucky for her we are helpful dogs. We will catch the birds! As it happens, birds get a little wonky in the head when they are in the huge-ugly plastic thingy and 3 dogs are on the outside, trying to figure out how to get in. And wonky-headed birds can't find their way out. Behold the bird cage! WhooLoo!

Spring was the first one to find her way in and snatch the bird. Too bad she didn't get a good grip on it or we could have had a blackbird baked in a pie. The boss ma'am went into her Shrieking Harpy mode which would scare open the jaws of a bear trap. Or the jaws of a Spring. So the bird gets away, the boss ma'am still has no strawberries.

But I have a bird cage! And I managed to snag a strawberry today. What could be better?

Cancer grrrr

Everybody knows I hate cancer. Hate it with a grrrr. Now the big bad C has gone and attacked my good buddy Meatball. Uncool. But I am going to help him fight, tooth and claw. I am sending him the Power of the Paw (that's POTP for those of you who haven't felt the phenomenon yet---I have and I can tell you on behalf of my pack that Dogsters are amazing!). I am wafting good thoughts and vibes his way. If there is anything not-so-fresh wafting his way I promise it didn't come from me.

There is also a group you can join to find out more ways to help. Come join us.

Oh, yeah, and Die, Cancer! Die!!!

Did you ever know that I'm a hero...

It's true. I am a hero.

All hail the conquering hero!

Pheasants love me. Coyotes respect me.

Let me explain. Those of you who live in Richland (hey, Butch! hey, Belle!) know that there are a lot of coyotes around town. There are lots of them behind my house, in fact. Normally when we hear the coyotes we ignore them. They're always singing as a pack and I don't know the words. So I ignore them.

Yesterday was different. I was out bright and early and what do I see? A big, fat coyote headed toward MY yard and MY pheasant. Oh, I haven't told you about the pheasant. See, we have this big open space behind our yard and in addition to the coyotes there are quail, jackrabbits, and a family of pheasants. There's a big male and his two lady friends. The bosses have named them Pleasant, Plucky, and Lucky. The bosses are strange. AnyLoo, I just call them Delicious. I would like to call them for supper. You know, call them anything but don't call them late for dinner. Get it? Hahahaha! I slay me. Pleasant likes to wander around and take a walk in the mornings and so I knew that coyote could be trouble.

And believe me, nobody is eating my pheasant. Me included, now that I mention it. But if I can't eat him, ain't nodoggie gonna eat him.
So I barked. "Hey, buddy, get lost! That's my pheasant!" And he stopped. So I said, "Beat it you mangy mutt! You want tickets to this gun show?" and I show him my stuff. And he leaves! Go Whigle, go Whigle! Yay me.

Now all the birds love me. I for one think they should show their gratitude by offering me a sacrifice of one of their own but the boss ma'am said no. She did say I was a good boy and I got some chicken jerky.

Mmm...birds.

Sun Spotters---Get yours now!

My good friend and poet Angus the Warrior is as excited about the Sun Spotter product line as I am. So much so that he wrote me a poem!

He's working on an automatic sun spot napper
Needs to be as quiet as a bell without a clapper
He's going to chase the sun as it travels 'cross the sky
And slumber in the sunbeams with a deep contented sigh
Though you might giggle at the Whigle
Scoff at his plans and gently chide
Dazzled as you are by his good looks
You can't see the genius deep inside


What a way with words. And Whigles! I think Angus should be Spaniel In Charge of Marketing.

Stock options for sale soon!

I am working on a new invention. Here's the thing. I have found these wonderfully warm bright squares on the floor in the mornings. They are perfect for napping. The bad part is they tend to move around. I wake up from a wonderfully warm nap to find myself cool and in the shade with a wonderfully warm bright square positioned somewhere else.

And, lo, the idea for the Sun Spotter is born. I have a low-tech version of it now. The boss ma'am puts my nappin' sack in the sunspot. About 20 minutes later she comes back and checks to make sure I am still properly positioned, and if I'm not, she scoots my nappin' sack and me into the sun again. It is crude but effective. Sometimes, of course, she forgets about me and I find myself in a cool spot for minutes at a time. Which is why I need a motorized version. Something soft and lovely to nap on that automatically moves with the sun squares. It is still in development but I know it is going to be a huge hit.

Happy Easter!

Easter...Springtime...the world is born again and full of possibilities.

Anything can happen.

I have proof!

Yesterday on my regular superfun walk I found a Slim Jim by the bus stop. But unfortunately I didn't get to it fast enough. Devastated, I was. Crushed. Seriously bummed.

But Whigles are nothing if not optimistic. (And hungry. And handsome. And supersmart. And probably some other stuff too but we are often also optimistic.) I am a glass half full kind of dog. I think most dogs are. Especially if the glass is half full of chocolate milk. Or eggnog. Or Slim Jims!

AnyLoo, I know that this time of year anything is possible. And it is true! On today's regular superfun walk, what did I find? You guessed it! A Slim Jim! AND I got a bite out of it before the boss ma'am grabbed it away from me.

Best. Easter. Ever.

Do do that LooDoo that you do so well...

I have to say that things do not always go my way around here. Ferinstance. I like to park myself in front of one of the windows facing the front of the house and bark at the dogs who walk by. Fun! The bosses call it my Room of Requirement because whatever I need to bark at seems to show up there. Also because they are geeky.

AnyLoo, I get kicked out of the Room of Requirement a lot. Too much barking, the boss man says. I don't agree. But since I can't seem to make him see things my way, I decided to find another solution.

So I did a little research. On the dark side, you might say. I found just the thing.

LooDoo!

I made me a little LooDoo doll of the boss man so I can force him to do whatever I want. Pretty smart, huh?

I used some parts from a toy Maebe was eating. And I used fluff for his head. That seemed appropriate. Then I had to decide what to do with him. I could not find any pins, and really, he is no good to me if he is laid up on the couch with pins in his back anyway.

So I whispered in his ear. Let Lyle bark all he wants!! You love to hear Lyle bark!! Feed Lyle more chicken!!

That didn't work.

I have to admit I was getting more than a little frustrated. I might have ripped off his head.

Oddly enough that hasn't seemed to have much of an effect on his day to day. Who knew? I was just about to try to dump him in the closet by my kibble so that maybe he would feed me more when Maebe came by.

I might not have been keeping a close eye on Little Boss Man. He might have gotten swallowed by Maebe. Oops.

How ya likin' that, Boss Man? Bwahahahahaha!

Why I go on Vacation

I hear Maebe has been barking about the good and bad of Vacation. Well, I am here to tell you that she just needs perspective.

Vacation is all about Discovery. Adventure. We try new things. We see new places. We learn. We grow. We expand our horizons.

Case in point:

Behold the Doughnut Sundae!

I never knew such a delight existed until I went on Vacation. The creative geniuses at Krispy Kreme (mmm...fresh, hot and ready) came up with this. Brilliant! It is this kind of thing that really makes 8 hours in the truck worth my while.

Snow, snow and Hedgehog gelato

Canadian Intel Update:

It snows a lot here. A LOT. Every day it has snowed and you would think the skiiers would be happy. But here is another thing I have learned. Skiiers (and snowboarders) are not a friendly bunch. The locals are nice and friendly. The tourists, not so much. They don't smile. They don't say howdy. They are not like Tri-Citians who not only ask you "How are you?" but wait to hear your answer.

I think this will make it easier to take over their country. And when I do I am not allowing any tourists back in. The natives can stay. They have colorful money and the most amazing flavors of ice cream EVER. All I have to do is figure out a way to take the caffeine out of their coffee and I am sure they will be easily subdued.

Some other random Candian stuff I've learned:
1. Pretzels are Bretzels. How crazy is that?
2. It's okay to call them Canucks.
3. "My dog is super friendly" means "Watch out, my dog is going to try to eat your little brown dog there."
4. "He's never done that before" seems to mean "Nobody who is watching now saw that, did you?"
5. Whistler has leash laws but nobody but us seems to pay attention to them. That's how I learned #3 and #4. And that's why the tourists get the boot when Canada is mine.

O! Canada!

Here is what I have learned so far in my first super-secret re-con-is-ants mission to Canada. So far, no ants. Con or pro.

The border is guarded but not very well. If I could fly over like the seagulls do I'd be golden. I am working on that.

I checked out the border guy and he is armed, but only with pepper spray. When I come with my invading army we will hold up pizzas as shields and have protection and dinner. Mmm...spicy peppers.

The border guard is also not thorough. He asked the boss man if he had any weapons but he didn't ask me. I would have showed him I have a mouth full.

I have also learned how to fit in seamlessly with the natives. All I have to do is add a "u" here and theure and reverse my "r"s and "e"s. Pertending I aum Canadian is eausy!

The most intuersting thing I have leaurned? My Cheetos here are dangeureusement fromage. How 'bout that?

Destiny's Manifesto

I think that sounds cooler than Manifest Destiny. More pop-electro-punk. I'm going with it.

And it is all coming together.

I have a spy. My good friend Nelly has already established her cover in Canada. She can recruit the help of fishermen (the Whigle army needs to eat) and International Gymnasts. I figure gymnasts are nearly ninjas so they ought to come in handy.

I also have an informant. Tippy has warned me that all of Canada is waiting to pelt me with snowballs. No problem. I'll send the grrrls in first.

Turns out I have a Doubting Flecken too, but since he's the one that told me about Beavertails and he did some shameless begging for the boss man, I'll give him a flyer on this one. He'll see. He won't be doubting me for long.

Oh, and let's not forget that I have been working on my evil laugh of world domination. Bwahahahaha! Pretty good, don't you think?

I am almost ready.

Manifest Destiny, eh?

Things have been a little dull here at Casa de Lyle. So I have decided to make things more interesting.

I am going to take over Canada.

Yes. It is high time that the good old U. S. of A. returned to its Manifest Destiny. Now is as good a time as any. So I have decided to launch a recon mission to Canada. The grrrls and I are going to inspect the borders, investigate security, and possibly eat a Beaver Tail or 3. (If you don't know what a beaver tail is--and it's not the kind attached to the water critter, although that would probably be good too--ask Flecken.)

Then we claim the place as our own. I am hoping for a peaceful takeover but I am prepared to fight. Heaven knows the grrrls are always up for a scuffle.

Canada, here we come!

Dog of the Day!

WooLoo! I'm so excited.

I'd like to thank the Academy for making this moment possible. Also, I'd want to recognize all the people back home thinking they should feed me extra chicken today. And take an extra long walk. I'd also like to thank HQ and all of my pup pals for all of your love and support though the years. I know that the competition is tough with 471,584 other nominees for this award. You all deserve it too. I'm honored to have been chosen.

Thank you HQ for the honor!

Shameless begging

I don't ask for much. Just a bit of kibble every now and then. And a lick of soap. And a bite of your pizza crust. And the sausage. And maybe you shouldn't be so stingy with the cheese either.

I will occasionally ask for a walk. Or a chance to take down the UPS guy. Or the Yummy Meat guy. (What a concept! I also ask for the boss man to not always send away the Yummy Meat guy.)

I might ask for a scratching of the bee-hind once in a while. And for a chance to lick your head if you have nice short hair like the boss man does. I could see me asking for Bath Amnesty.

But other than that, I really don't ask for much. So I'm not asking you to do this. But if you should happen to pop on over to this website and vote for your favorite pictures, well, that would be swell. And you should definitely vote for your favorite. If your favorite is one of the boss man's pictures, and your vote helps him to win and he becomes world famous, then you can say you knew us when. Wouldn't that be cool? And if you vote for somebody else's picture, I promise not to publicly question your taste. (But really, what were you thinking?)

And if you do vote for the boss man's pictures, we thank you and promise to remember you when we are world famous.

This just in!

My very smart friend Gwen (who speaks French and knows what Mardi Gras means) has opened my eyes. And my mouth, as it turns out.

Apparently Mardi Gras isn't just all about running around nekkid. Not that that's not fun. But there's more! She says, "Fat Tuesday. Mmm. I think that means we get to get fat....pork chops, lamb chops, peanut butter, meatloaf, gravy, mashed potatoes, cookies, ice cream...I could go on and on. 'Throw me somethin' mistah.'"

So I guess how it works is I run around nekkid and people throw me food and get me fat. Best. Holiday. Ever.

Feliz Mardi Gras

Happy Mardi Gras, everybody. The boss ma'am says I can be King of Mardi Gras and walk around nekkid all day today. WhooLoo!!


(Yes, I'm trying to channel Fred. I know, I can't do it as well as he does.)

Smooches for Pooches

Just in case you were wondering, it takes 7 kisses to smooch me full on the lips. The boss ma'am measured for me. You can do it in 5 if you're sloppy but 7 is better. I gotta lotta lips.

Pucker up!

A Happy Trend

Another holiday, another photo shoot. A Super Handsome Whigle's work is never done. But things are looking up, you see. This is 2 (count 'em 2!) holidays in a row with candy and no stoopid costumes. I am so loving this.

Now Conversation Hearts are not as good as candy canes. And certainly not as good as chocolate (unless it is a chocolate fish which is just plain strange if you ask me, but nobody ever does, so never mind). But it is still candy. And I got to eat some.

Mmm...candy hearts.

And now that I know that photo sessions come with candy, if the boss man ever tries to do one without the good eats, this is what he's going to get:

No candy, no kidding.

Add candy and you get cuteness:

It's just that simple. Even the bosses should be able to figure it out.
Happy Valentine's day, everyone!

A little ditty

I came up with a little song on my walk today. Inspired by real events...

I pass a pizza place
I pass a taco place
I pass a Subway place
I pass a coffee place

I smell the smells that remind me of the good times
I smell the smells that remind me of the better times

Oh Lylie Boy, Lylie Boy, Lylie Boy

I set it down but pick it up again
I'm never going to set it down
I set it down but pick it up again
I'm never going to set it down

Mmm...walk snacks.

Post Surgery Coughing

My good buddy Angus the Warrior has just brought me to my attention. Yep, I said that right. I didn't even notice me on the front page of Dogster today (mostly because when I arrived the little High Flying Charity dog was up there) but Angus did. That's me, sneezin' for the camera and advertising for the vet blog. How cool is that?

And for the record, no, I am not Post Surgery. I am just naturally this handsome.

Inspiration

The boss man takes pictures. Everybody knows that by now. In fact he goes to school to take pictures. Well, I guess the school comes to him through the computer, but you get the idea.

AnyLoo, part of the boss man's job learning how to take pictures is to look at lots of other people's pictures. Sometimes he shows them to me. There are lots of good photographers around.

But I found the best. Bar none. Emotional. Evocative (I learned a new word, they are that good). Inspiring. My daily walks will never be the same.

Check out Mimi K and you can revolutionize your walks too!

Touchdown!

I caught a football that Furio tossed to me. Now it's my turn to pass to someone else! Here is how it works.

I write 5 funny things about myself. I pass the ball to 5 new teammates and they make a touchdown. SCORE! Then they write 5 funny things about themselves and pass the ball to 5 of their friends.

5 funny things about me:

1. Jokes
2. Puns
3. See? That's funny. Ha ha funny, not strange funny.
4. I live with Spring. See, now that's strange funny. Definitely not haha funny. Unless she falls off the bed. That's hahahaha funny.
5. I will cry if I'm not allowed to lick the soap in the shower. I like Dove best.

Heads up, Sybil, Hunter, Nelly, Charlotte, and Flecken! Incoming!

Tempurpedic Twister

Maebe started it, you see. She will not sleep in a crate. She will sit there and keen and her lower lip quivers and she is about the most pathetic thing you ever saw. And of course the boss ma'am is a pushover so up on the bed the Biggie goes.

Well, then, Spring decides that if the Biggie is on the bed, well then, a Wild Hair Terrier should be there too. Up she goes.

I slept in my kennel for a very long time. It's safe. I'm off duty when I'm in there so I sleep pretty well. But I did begin to wonder. If both the grrrrls are on the big bed maybe I am missing out on something. But I can't figure out how to get up there.

But then one day it just happens. Poof! I am up on the bed. It is big. Soft. Tempurpedic perfection. No way am I going back to the kennel.

So now there are 5 of us up there. We dogs hang out with the ma'am, mostly, because the boss man hogs his side of the bed. But sometimes we get bored. So we make up games. And so is born Tempurpedic Twister. Here's how it works:

Me: Terrier to boss ma'am right leg.

Spring: So easy. Brown hound to boss ma'am left hip.

Maebe. Piece of cake! Whigle to boss ma'am left foot.

Me (scootching over): Got it! Terrier to boss ma'am left leg.

Spring (grunting): Wait a sec, easy does it...almost there...whoops!

Me (whispering): Ha ha, Spring! You lose! Twice! You fell off the bed AND woke the boss ma'am.

Spring (also whispering): I'll get you in round 2!

Speech! Speech!

Well, okay. I'll bark a few words. Happy Indogeration day, everyone.

Four meals and seven naps ago, or maybe a little longer than that, I became President. When I moved in to this greenish White House I had no idea what challenges would come before me. I am proud to say that I am taking this country in a new and delicious direction.

Chicken in every supper dish!

It has always been my platform and I still support it 100%. We will start with my supper dish. Remember, ask not what Lyle can do for you. Ask what you can do for Lyle. Here's one thing you can do to get started: put chicken in my supper dish. See? Things are already changing for the better.

What is required of us now is a new era of gluttony. Pass the meat cake!

Let's win one for the Gipper!

(cue dancing squirrels)

presidential party

I have been in charge here in the greenish White House for a while now and it seems to me that it is high time I had a party. I think I'll call it my Indogeration. And why wait? Let's have it tomorrow!

I'm thinking meat cake.

I'm thinking dancing squirrels.

I'm thinking anyone who is anyone will be at my Indogeration party tomorrow.

Bring on the dancing squirrels!

Shining Star

Some stars are too bright to stay on earth very long. 13 years isn't long enough. Moonlight Over Malibu is one of the brightest. We were lucky to have had the chance to see her shine here.

Rest in peace, Star.

Happy Loo Year!

Every year with a Loo is bound to be a good year. I am looking forward to this one. Last year was a pretty good year for me. I kept all my resolutions:

1. Become President and move to Washington. Check and Check.

2. Keep up the Daily Chicken Diet. Check. Thanks to the boss man's dry-u-lator thingy and Spring's single minded dedication to making sure I have a snack after the bosses have breakfast every day (high time the terrierist was good for something), I have had a crunchy homemade chicken jerky snack pretty much every day. If that does not make for a good year I don't know what will.

3. Be the supercoolest dog here, there, or anywhere. Check, Check, and Check.

Now as for Year of the Lyle 2009, well, I have decided not to make any resolutions this year. I am perfect just the way I am.

Explorer's Journal

Log Date: Christmas Eve, 2008

I have discovered an uncharted territory. No one has ever explored this area and it is sheer luck that I, Intrepid Explorer Lyle, have stumbled upon it.

The terrain is unfamiliar. Has it been covered with volcanic ash? What has created this unusual surface? Only closer inspection will tell.
I head out to investigate. The ground here is strange and cold. Hm. I move carefully. It is impossible to know what dangers lurk...above or below the surface. I perform a careful perimeter check. It appears to be safe.

Do I dare explore below this odd white surface? Curiosity overcomes me. I cannot resist and I plunge into discovery. Cold! Soft! Delightful! Underneath this powder is a treasure trove! I sniff along the earth buried under this white fluff. Fascinating! The smells are concentrated, powerful, and wonderful. And what's this? Frozen treasure? Is it edible? What treats lie buried in this magical land? I cannot resist a taste...

"Lyle! If you're eating poopsicles again you are in big trouble! Get in here NOW!"

I have been discovered! My research is compromised. Alas, science may never recover from the loss.

Happy holidays!

I am sure you have all been breathless with anticipation to see the final photos for our holiday cards. Breathe now, 'cause here they are!

Lyle

Spring

Maebe

Mine is the best. Happy holidays, everyone!

The holiday card photo shoot continues...

Some photo shoots are better than others. This was a pretty good one.

Count 'em with me!

ONE! Really big candy cane.

Dropped and broken on the first try. Yay!

TWO! Strawberry flavored candy canes...mmm...strawberry. Who knew candy canes came in so many flavors?

Guess how long that lasted?

THREE! "Maybe he will hold it in his mouth." You bet I will! But not for long.

FOUR! "Let's try him lying down, maybe the candy cane will be more stable."

Yeah baby, that's what I'm barking about.

FIVE! "Maybe he can just pose with the candy cane." Sure I can! See?

And so on and so forth. 10 delicious candy canes later the bosses have a holiday card they are happy with. I had a belly full of candy canes. Maybe next year they will want me to pose with the holiday turkey. A dog can only hope.

Bah humbug.

I like Christmas. I really do. My favorite holiday is Thanksgiving, though. I mean, how can you not like a holiday that is all about the food? Oh, sure, there is usually plenty of food at Christmas time, too. And presents. But Maebe steals all the presents so we might as well just focus on the food.

And then there are the Christmas cards. See, since the boss man has become an official photo guy he and the ma'am figure that they should make their own Christmas cards instead of buying them from the store. And then they think about what to take pictures of to put on the cards. They want the cards to be as beautiful as possible. So naturally they take pictures of me. A Whigle is just right for any occasion. And since we Whigles are superhandsome all the boss man would have to do is just take a picture of me and wah-lah! Perfect cards.

But no.

They have to be Creative, they say. Festive, they say. Holiday-themed, they say.

So the humiliation begins.

And keeps on coming.

So they finally gave up on the lights. Well, not completely. Spring is on a card with lights. She's such a sucker. Speaking of suckers, can you guess what they did to me next? No, really. Guess. I'll give you a hint...I am minty fresh!

Stormy B.

Stormy B. Naughty when I met you.
Stormy B. Spooky for Halloween.
Stormy B. Nice before Santa came.
Stormy B. Goode compared to the puppy!
Stormy B. Loved, always.
Stormy B. Remembered. Rest in peace, my friend.

A SherLyle Holmes Adventure: The Mystery of the Mangled- Loaf

It was a misty November morning and I had recently retired to my reading room with my violin. I have found that music reorders my tangled thoughts. After a particularly challenging encounter with a squirrel and my far-too-short bungee leash, I had been looking forward to calming myself with Brahms.

I was just played the first notes of his Concerto in D Major when a tall woman arrived at the door. I could tell just from a glance that she was harried and upset. She was disheveled and a few crumbs of something still clung to her fingertips. Interrupted in the midst of her breakfast, I thought. A robbery, perhaps. We shall see.

"Are you the famous SherLyle Holmes?" she asked.

"At your service," I replied, bowing. "Please have a seat. Allow me to guess: something happened to you during your breakfast?"

"How did you know..." she broke off, glancing at the crumbs on her fingers. "Uncanny," she said. "I need your help solving a crime."

"A robbery?" I queried, although I already suspected it was so.

"Why, yes, in fact, or more accurately an attempted robbery. Or a partial robbery."

My curiosity was piqued. The woman related a summary of the events leading up to the crime while I listened carefully, assimilating the facts. "I will meet you at the scene of the robbery in 15 minutes. Please gather all your household members to be present for questioning."

"Oh thank you, Mr. Holmes. I can't tell you how grateful I am." And she rushed out the door, leaving a few crumbs behind. I sniffed them carefully. Flour, butter, cinnamon, sweet potato? What sort of delightful confection is this?

I arrived precisely on time at the woman's home and she led me into her kitchen. I took in the cast of characters, or perhaps suspects? at a glance. A stout terrier-type with a surly expression sat on the floor next to a man who I took to be the woman's husband. He appeared to be short tempered and in a foul mood. Next to the woman sat a big-eyed hound who appeared nervous, or perhaps shy. I immediately knew which of them to question first. The shy ones always have the most to hide.

"You there, miss, what's your name?" I asked.

"Maebe," she replied, her voice tremulous.

"Can you tell me what happened?"

She looked up at the woman anxiously, blinking fast. This one has answers, I thought. "Doesn't he already know, Boss Ma'am?" Maebe asked.

"Please, I would like to hear everyone's version of the robbery. By the way, what was stolen?"

The angry-eyed man gestured to the scene of the crime. On the kitchen countertop rested a half-eaten loaf of bread. He scowled at me and said, "Someone ate half a loaf of freshly baked sweet potato bread this morning while I was upstairs working on the computer." Likely excuse, I thought. He's a suspect, I noted. "Some dog is in big trouble," he added.

So that's the source of those crumbs, and, lo, another suspect comes to the fore. "Miss Maebe, where were you while the bread was cooling?"

"I was upstairs in the office with the Boss Man and the Boss Ma'am. I heard the noises and came downstairs with them to find the bread was almost gone. I didn't eat any of it." She looked a little disappointed. And perhaps a bit untrustworthy.

"You look like you would be a very good jumper," I observed.

Maebe smiled proudly and said, "Oh, yes, I am. I can jump higher than anyone else in the house. Would you like to see?" And she launched from a dead sit to about 3 feet off the floor, her head easily clearing the level of the countertop. I narrowed my eyes and nodded. As soon as she realized what she'd done, she gasped. "But I didn't steal the bread! I swear! The countertop is too slippery. I could never jump on to it, I would slide right off! I didn't do it! Boss Ma'am, please tell him!" Her eyes filled with tears and the woman reached down to comfort her. Accomplice, I thought.

I turned to the surly terrier and said, "And where were you this morning?"

She replied sharply, "What's it to you?" Another suspect, I noted. Four members of the household and four suspects. A difficult case, to be sure. But the terrier was high on my list--her rotund physique suggested she never missed an opportunity to eat.

"Just trying to put together the pieces of the puzzle," I replied evenly. I didn't want to raise the ire of this one. She had trouble written all over her.

"Well, as if you didn't know, I was also upstairs in the office with the Boss Ma'am and the Boss Man and Maebe."

An inconsistency, I realized. I turned to Maebe and said, "You didn't mention that the fat terrier was in the office with you."

"You know my name, you big dumb ox! Who the heck do you think you are, you crazy mutt?" shouted the fat terrier.

"Could you please escort her off the premises?" I asked the woman. The woman picked up the terrier, who protested vigorously. I turned back to Maebe and asked, "Was that one with you?"

She thought for a moment and replied, "Oh, yes, she was. I remember because she growled at me for trying to sit next to her. And at the Boss Ma'am when she tried to kiss her head. Yes, Spring was definitely there."

Interesting development. I turned to the man and asked, "And you? You said you were working on the computer. But what brought you downstairs? Was anyone with you when you first arrived in the kitchen? Could you have eaten the bread?"

The man scowled at me and replied impatiently, "I told you I was upstairs the whole time. We all heard something moving around in the kitchen and I was the first to come check it out. Spring was right behind me and the Boss Ma'am and Maebe couldn't have been more than a second or two after that."

"There are some who could eat a lot of bread in a second or two, I suspect," I told him.

"I'm sure that's true," he replied.

"Let me examine the loaf," I said. I stepped over to the countertop and examined the half-eaten loaf. It smelled delicious. I found that if I stood on my hind legs and reached to my fullest height, I could just reach the end of the loaf closest to me. But it was on a wire cooling rack and slid away as I came near it. I was forced to go around to the other side of the counter to examine the remainder of the loaf. I discovered it had been eaten from both sides. A crucial bit of evidence that did not escape my notice. "It appears that the perpetrator did not use utensils on the bread," I remarked. The edges of the loaf were ragged and torn and no knife was in sight. "Perhaps the criminal lacks opposable thumbs...or declines to use them." I eyed Maebe suspiciously, then turned my gaze to the man. "I can solve your crime for you," I announced.

"Really? Already?" the woman asked, incredulous. "Don't you want to send samples of the bread for DNA?"

"I'll take a sample of the bread, thank you, but I don't need any DNA testing. I can tell you right now it was the Boss Man, in the kitchen, with a candlestick...I mean, with his teeth." They all gasped. The man looked miffed. I got you, I congratulated myself. "He set up the scene of the crime to look as though a dog had perpetrated it. But clearly no dog was able. Maebe could not have jumped to the counter without causing a great deal of noise. And the chunky terrier can't leap that high. She might have been able to climb up a chair but I deduce that she is not that clever. The woman does have crumbs on her fingers, but I see it is as a result of examining the evidence. That leaves only the man and his undeniable guilt. Case solved."

It's tag time again!

I do love Tag. I like being It. My friend Hunter tagged me for this game.

It's the one where you tell everyone 7 things about yourself and then tag 7 of your buddies to do the same. Send 'em a pmail or a rosette to let them know they are IT.

Ready? Set! Go!

1. I'm the nose on the latest Dogster Newsletter!!
2. The ballots were messed up this year. Those 2 guys your people are voting for are not the President. It's me, all me. Those ballot guys never get it right.
3. I could so totally be a Canine Good Citizen like Spring. I just don't want to. I'm a fine with Canine Citizen.
4. I could so totally learn all those clicker tricks Spring is learning. I just don't want to. I get treats just for drooling. Ha! Who's the smart one now, Spring?
5. I learned how to jump up on the Big Bed. Every dog should have a Tempur-Pedic bed.
6. I still don't like Maebe even though we I curl up next to her every morning. It is only to protect my turf. Not because I like her. Got that?
7. I miss Culver's! And Bruster's! Thank goodness for the Dairy Queen and Sonic or I would have starved to death ages ago.

Okeydokey. Now it's my turn to tag. I'm tagging
Nelly
Ellie Mae
Gwen
Tavar
Meg
Sybil
Mocha Java

Have fun!

Lyle on Golf

My daily wander takes us past a golf course. In between watching the birds and the squirrels, looking for tasty things in the street, and thinking other supergenius thoughts, I study the golfers. I have learned a lot. So much so that I have written Lyle's Guide to Golf. Behold:

1. Do not attempt to navigate the golf course without one of those little carts. Not only are they speedy and cool, but you can stash snacks in there and disregard all the rules of the road when you are off the golf course. Breaking laws is fun!

2. Wear bright clothes to improve your visibility and keep from getting hit with balls. If you wear bright colors and still get hit with balls, the other golfers are probably aiming for you.

3. Hang on to your clubs. They do not give you more if you run out.

4. If you are bad at golf, ask if your local course has a Duffer Day. It seems to be Thursdays at ours.

5. Try to aim the little white ball for the hole in the ground. Supposedly it makes a difference which hole you aim for but I doubt that's true.

Happy golfing!

Godspeed, ma wee bonnie lass

My friend Xena Warrior Princess lost her battle to cancer earlier this month. Xena was one of the first dogs to welcome me here to Dogster. I remember it well because she said she thought I was handsome. She was one of Dogster's first goodwill ambassadors and I will miss her.

Stoopid cancer.

I need pork, STAT!

Just so everyone knows, if I should happen to die, you must blame the boss man. He has had a pork shoulder in the Crock-Pot all day and the whole house smells of piggy goodness. If I drool to death, it is all his fault for not giving me more pig.

The grrrls and I have been busy practicing for our Olympic events. Spring has managed to find time to practice her floor exercises even though she is going to classes for her CGC. Do not get me started on that. I mean, really. This is Spring we are barking about. The Grump herself. Growly, grumpy, snarly Spring. How is it possible that the bosses think she can pass a CGC test? I don't even want to know what they must be doing to bribe her trainer. It is an embarrassment to the AKC. Lucky for the AKC she is a mutt and they don't have to claim her.

AnyLoo, floor exercises. Spring does pretty well. She always sticks her landings.

And of course no one has to convince Maebe to practice for her high jump.

And me, well, I am still practicing. As you can see I still need a spotter. But I can walk on the balance beam for many steps before I slip off. Impressive, is it not?

This Olympic stuff is easy peasy. Someone should probably just go ahead and give me my medal now. I look good in gold.

You're not fully clean until you're Lyle fully clean

Are you troubled by dry eyes? Are your irritated, red, itchy eyes getting you down?

I can help. My patented new product is guaranteed to cure your dry eyes instantly.

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No other dry eye treatment has my special formula. Simply apply to eyes as needed. Wa-la. No more dry eyes.

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Super Sonic

It is about time. FINALLY the bosses have found a way to make a trip to the vet bearable. I am barking about Sonic. Tots. Hamburgers. Mozzarella sticks. Chocolate malt. It is right next door to my new vet. Co-inky-dink? I think not. Brilliant marketing tool, yes indeedy.

I like the new vet people. They feed me liver treats. They coo and aah at me and tell me what a lovely pelt I have. So soft, so plush. Yes, it can be a little creepy-can-I-make-a-hat-out-of-that but I don't think they would. They say I am a good boy. Then they get a little too much in my bubble but I forgive them because they have treats. Lots of treats.

And then we go to Sonic! How is it I have never been there before? I can stay in the truck and the wheelie girls bring me tots! How cool is that?

The Acorn Song

Poor Pennie has no pine trees. I am growing one for her but these things take time. Pennie does have an oak tree and she was inspired to write a song. Bravo, Pennie!

I'm collecting up some a-corns
a-corns
a-corns.

Collecting up some a-corns
To catch a squirrel for me.

And when I catch my squirr-el
my squirr-el
my squirrel
And when I catch my squirr-el
So happy I will be.

Mmm....squirrel song.

Second verse--same as the first!

Well, no, actually the second verse is way better. Angus the Warrior wrote it. See for yourself:

Sitting on a pine cone
Pining for an ice cream cone
Won’t someone please take me to Dairy Queen?

Sitting on pine cone
Pining for an ice cream cone
What a conscientious arborist I’ve been

Growing trees for the birds and the bees
Is hard work don’t you know
So give me some relief, go get my leash
And to Dairy Queen we shall go

Mmm...ice cream song.

The Pinecone Song

I thought no one would ever ask. But-yay!-Dexter did.

So at long last here it is, The Pinecone Song. (Inspired by real events, I might add.)

I'm sittin' on a pinecone
a pinecone
a pinecone.

I'm sittin' on a pinecone
Growin' me a tree.

And when I hatch a pine tree
a pine tree
a pine tree
When I hatch a pine tree
The boss man and the boss ma'am will be so proud of me.

You can sing it to pretty much any tune you like, but don't sing it to the Baby Bumblebee tune because that would just be obnoxious. Trust me on that.

Whine club

I have had some cheese with my whine and now I am done. I promise.

I really do hope I can qualify for the next Olympics. I have been practicing. We all have, actually. My event is the balance beam. Believe it or not, the Garden Whales showed my where my talents lie. In order to avoid the lawn where those sneaky spoutheads lurk I have had to walk on the concrete curbing if I want to be in the yard at all. I am pretty good at it. Still working on my back flip though.

Spring is entering in floor exercises. She is actually not a bad gymnast...maybe she can compete in the all around. She is pretty round. Ha! Ha!

Maebe is of course going to compete in the high jump. I think she has a pretty good chance for gold in that event.

And the three of us will have an Exhibitionist event together: Synchronized Peeing.

Watch for us in London!

Itchy and Scratchy Lyle

Itchy season has begun. It is the second bad thing about Washington. The itchy season is terrible here. I am on a whole bunch of no-itchy pills and goop and I hate it all.

I have always pledged to be a drug-free Whigle, so I spit out all the pills I can. But the bosses are crafty. They hide pills in cheese. Mmm...cheese. But not the store brand. I will only eat pills hidden in name-brand cheese. They hide pills in liverwurst. What kind of dog can resist liverwurst? Not this one.

It is so hard to set a good example. At this rate I will never pass the drug tests for the next Olympics.

Toothless Lyle and other woes

Well, okay, I'm not actually toothless. But I am one tooth short, thankyouverymuch. It was my favorite tooth, too. Now all I have is a big hole in my head. I think they might have stuck a little transponder in my brain while they were drilling holes in my head. I have heard voices. At first all they said was, "Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!" but now I hear voices telling me other things. Like "Aren't you itchy, Lyle?" Which of course makes me itchy. And "Your itchy eyes would feel better if you clawed at them with your dewclaws." And guess what? The voices are right. But when the bosses see me scratching they act like it is my fault and bathe me, give me pills, and slather me with ointment. The voices tell me to spit out the pills and rub the goo on the carpet, so I do. It feels right.

I think the real trouble is that it is August. Every big bad thing that has ever happened to me has happened in August. So I suggest...no, as President I hereby declare that we will have no more August. I don't really care what we do with it but I do not want any more Augusts. If the years go by one month faster that is perfectly fine with me. I will be old enough for my driver's license that much sooner. Or we could rename it. I like Lyleuary. I think Lyleuary would be a very good month.

Mystery solved.

I finally have found the perfect job for Spring. It is good to know that she is good for something. She was my Dog in the Field exploring the mystery of the lawn geyser. Turns out it is a whale. Pretty much what I suspected, but she has proof. Not an easy task, since Garden Whales rarely show themselves, other than to spout water at unsuspecting Whigles, that is.

How did she do it? Whale songs, that's how. She actually lured one out for a photo.

Because our yard is very new our whales are pretty small. The one in the picture is only about the size of a loaf of bread. Mmm...bread. On the golf courses they must grow to be ginormous because they can really send the water flyin'. I shudder to think what will happen to our little yard as the whales grow.

Mystery solved.

I wonder if Spring is any good as a whale exterminator.

Unsolved Mysteries

I have new grass in the back yard. It is wonderfully thick and green because the grrrls and I are not allowed to run around like crazy dogs on it yet. We are allowed to mosey and sniff, so I can say for sure it is pretty good grass.

The grass is not the problem. What is the problem is whatever is under the grass. It attacked me today. I was minding my own business, looking to take care of some bidness as a matter of fact, when whatever is lurking under the grass came out and spat at me. Hissing, gushing, spraying water right in my face. It was horrible.

I still don't know what it was. Do whales live under the grass? Was it a geyser? I have no idea and I guarantee I will not be getting close enough again to find out. I'll send Spring.

The Coolest Place on Earth

I visited it last weekend. Now, I have told you that Washington is fun. I had no idea Washington was so friendly, though. They have named a town after me. Lyle, Washington. Needless to say it is the coolest place ever.

It is not as big as I would have thought it should be and maybe not as many chicken places as I would like but it is still an honor to have an entire town named in my honor.

It is friendly!

It is well-labeled! It is not all out of focus, either. Really.

It is full of Lyle. How cool is that?

I am surprised that some of the signs and buildings look kind of old. Someone must have known I was coming here for a while. Spooky.

And it is near a pretty cool hiking spot.

All it needs is an ice cream joint and it might as well be Heaven on Earth.

The Big Summer Blockbuster

I had to hurry up and write Part 2 because I didn't want Flecken waiting on my porch and eating all the pancakes.

Shrieking in Seattle: PigeonQuest 2008
Part 2: Journey to the Center of the City

Got your Goobers? Your Raisinets? Good. Because Part 2 is going to knock your claws off.

Do you have your 3D goggles ready? I will tell you what to do when it is time.

the movie begins...
We last saw our hero Lyle on his way to the Emerald City with his pack. As they arrive in the city they are awed at the sights and smells. The sidewalk cafes! The markets! The Three Dog Bakery! They want to stop to look at everything but are inexorably drawn to the City Center.

Is it the Space Needle that draws them? Zeek's awesome pizza? Funnel cakes? They can't be sure. They just know they have to go.

Our hero arrives. Somehow he senses the danger. Perhaps he really is the Chosen One.

But others in the pack are not as aware. Heedless of the danger, Spring stops for a cool drink of Fiji (TM) water. (All the movies have product placement these days, you know.)

In the distance a group of children scream. Spring thinks they are excited to be riding the Ferris Wheel, but our hero knows better. With his exquisite powers of hearing, he detects the flapping of wings and instantly knows the source of the children's terror.

"There are pigeons pestering those patrons!" he purports. "Let's go!"

It's time! Put your 3D goggles on.

Ready? Good!

Now here's what you do. Your goggles are on, right? Sit very close to the monitor. Look at the next picture.

Okay.

Now pull the monitor closer to you and look at the next picture.

Isn't that cool? It looks just like she is coming at you.

It made me jump too.

I did the special effects myself.

Back to the story.

Lyle and Maebe arrive at the Ferris Wheel. Pigeons are flapping everywhere. Children are screaming. Babies are crying. Men and women are frantically flapping their hands at the pigeons.

Lyle instantly knows what to do.

"Citizens of the Emerald City! I can help you!" he announces. But they cannot be distracted from flapping at the flapping. Undaunted, our hero moves in.

"Okey dokey, Maebe, this is what we need to do. You run in from that side and I will run in from over here."

Maebe: "Let's save the city!"

Suddenly the crying, screaming and flapping is interrupted by an earth shattering shrieking. Lyle is on the move. He barks and screams at the pigeons. They flutter away to Tacoma. Ferris Wheel riders sit agape for a moment, then stand up to cheer, only to find that their seats rock unsteadily and they quickly sit back down, still cheering. Lyle takes a bow. Maebe rushes to his side, feathers in her mouth, smiling.

A park patron is heard to say: "They say that fools rush in where angels fear to tread, but today these two dogs are the angels who rushed in and saved our city."

Lyle: "Can I have a funnel cake?"

Everyone bursts into laughter, someone pats Lyle on the head.

Lyle: "No, really, can I have a funnel cake?"

The End

Over the closing credits, (Directed by Lyle, Starring Lyle, Written by Lyle, Special Effects by Lyle) we hear the boss man say "But what about Tacoma?"

Lyle: "Save it for the sequel, boss man."

Lyle's Big Summer Blockbuster

I was thinking that it is high time that I made a movie. My public deserves it. Sit back, grab some popcorn and enjoy the flick!

Shrieking in Seattle: PigeonQuest 2008--in 3D!!
Part 1 (all very edgy directors do their very edgy movies in 2 parts. Also I am really tired from my trip so this is all you get for now.)--Sleepless Near Seattle

Directed by Lyle
Written by Lyle
Starring: Lyle
Some others will undoubtedly show up too.

The boss ma'am (Best Girl and Key Grip) forgot the video camera so you need to use your imagination a little. Work with me. Imagination is good for the soul.

The setting:
The Emerald City has recently been under attack by a renegade flock of pigeons. Thoughtless birds flap at unsuspecting Seattleites dining at sidewalk cafes and enjoying the city's fine markets, causing rampant nose wrinkling and frowning. The citizens are tired of stepping around the birds. They are getting permanent wrinkles. What can be done? Who will save them?

Cut to:
Lyle and his pack are cruising along I-90, headed towards the Cascade mountains. They stop for the night at Snoqualmie Pass. But Lyle cannot sleep.

It is not because of the high prices of gasoline are weighing heavy on his mind.

It is not because the bed is too crowded. Although it is.

It might be because the pancake house right next to the hotel does not allow dogs. Mmm...pancakes. But not for dogs. Could this be Lyle's mission? To open up the doors of flapjack goodness to mutts everywhere? (Boss Man: "Save it for the sequel, Lyle") Mmm...sequel.

It is a long and restless night. Lyle is up on the bed. Lyle is wandering around the bed. Lyle is on the floor. Spring (the Growly Lump aka Grump) growls at an unseen menace. All are on edge but no one knows why.

Dawn breaks bright and clear. Our fearless travelers pile into their car and head west. It is almost as if they are drawn to the Emerald City. Could it be that Lyle is the Chosen One?

The End...Part 1
Pretty cool movie so far, huh? Just wait...Part 2 has all the special effects.

Not your average Super Genius

By now you all know that Dexter visited my house this past week. It was an honor to host the chairman and his biped. I have to admit, though, I was a little intimidated. It is not very often that you get two such handsome and supersmart dogs in such a close space. You might think that a Whigle as handsome and as smart as I am might never second-guess himself, and that is what I thought too before Dexter came to visit. But once he was here I found myself thinking, "Will he think I am as handsome as he thought I would be?" and "Will he be impressed with my smartitude?" So you can see how that might make me cranky. Not to mention that he was breathing my air. You know how I feel about that.

And, just as Dexter suspected, I was thinking some very Deep Thoughts. (I am pretty sure I can't actually cogitate, since I only have one stomach. Too bad, I could put another one to good use.) I was planning some special effects for my summer blockbuster. And thinking up a song about pinecones. It was very hard to think in the Chairman's presence. But not to worry, I am back on track now. Thinking, that is.

The most impressive thing I noticed about the Chairman was how dedicated he is to the D.E.T.H. cause. Not only does he treat his biped ethically, he treats him almost deferentially. (That's a big word that means "real nice." Maebe looked it up for me.) Every time his biped asked him to do something, he was right there with a smile and a "Sure, Boss." Impressive. Almost inspiring. But not quite. I am going to stick with Ethical for now and save Deferential for the higher ranking D.E.T.H. officials. Unless you care to promote me, Mr. Chairman?

Spreading the love!

Somedoggie loves me and sent me a heart. It made my day! So now I'm off to send some mystery lovin' to some of my pals and see if I can make them smile too.

Yesterday's Super Saturday was kind of a mixed bag. I was dethroned as King this week. Stoopid no-stickum crown. AnyLoo, I have a hole in my tooth again and no Dairy Queen. My vet offered to "experiment" with the "lab guys" in town and make me a metal crown. Said he had never done that before but "it might be fun." Yikes! Lucky for me the bosses said Yikes too. I do know that I would look so very cool with a gold tooth. But I am nobody's guineadog.

So that was the lousy part of Super Saturday. The good part was that I got to go to PetSmart and pick out my very own treats. I got some Canadian beef jerky and a bag of Greenies for the Chairman and his biped, too, I suppose, if he wants them. If I get a gold tooth I'll be eating chewies again but until then they're all yours, Dexter.

Rules?

So Dexter and his biped are due to arrive here in sunny Richland in less than a week. The boss ma'am happened to notice that before Dexter arrived at Fred's house, Fred was given some rules for the visit. The boss ma'am thought this was a good idea so she made rules for me too.

1. I am not to make ugly faces at either Dexter or his biped.
2. If Dexter claims anything in the house as his, I am not allowed to try to reclaim it in any way. This, I think, is a good rule. It means that everything in the house is already mine. Or at least that's what I thought until I read rule number
3. Nothing in the house is mine. I am not allowed to act like it is. Drat.
4. I am not supposed to drink all the water from all the water dishes when Dexter arrives. Not even if I pretend to be really thirsty.
5. I am not allowed to try to stow the grrrls in the luggage or the sidecar when Dexter and his biped leave.

The boss ma'am is such a killjoy.

King for a day!

That was Thursday. I got a new crown, and I don't even have to wear it on my head. I get to wear it in my head. On Friday I got to see the Dairy Queen and the whole town set off fireworks in honor of me, the King. Have I mentioned how cool Washington is?

Yesterday was another Super Saturday. WhooLOO! We went to Columbia Park and I got to wade in the river. Spring wanted to swim to Pasco but the bosses wouldn't let her. Too bad. I say, go Spring! Send me a postcard from the other side.

I think being King has different rules from being President. When I am President I do things for everyone else. Like put a chicken in every bowl. Mmm...chicken. When I am King, everyone does things for me.

Here's what I want:

1. A chicken in my bowl. Duh.
2. The Dairy Queen to move next door.
3. The sun should not be so hot.
4. Furminators are banned for all time.

That should be good enough for my loyal subjects to start on. All hail King Lyle!

Furmination

Furminator=Furminhater. Furminhater=me.

For months, the bosses have been hearing about how great the Furminator is. Luckily the HeckComb is expensive so they have not purchased one. Until now. Why they couldn't spend the 40 clams on liver treats is beyond me. But no. They come home with a Furminator.

I like the windblown, carefree, ungroomed look. But the boss ma'am is worried that I will get too hot here in the desert. She said if I got rid of my undercoat it would make me cooler. As if anything could make me cooler! Ha!

AnyLoo, I am now a member of the Furmination. It wasn't really all that bad. And it actually did remove a lot of undercoat without as much screaming as you might expect. Now there are tumbleWhigles all over the yard. Maybe they will get together and make little wild Lyles. That would be nifty.

I must be dreaming...

Life here is almost too good to be true. Pinch me! Wait, no, don't pinch. You can scratch my knees, though. That's good stuff.

What I love about Washington:

1. Trails! Paths! We can go anywhere.
2. Super Saturdays.

Last weekend (it was Sunday, but who cares about those details) we went to Badger Mountain. I met my Sherpas at base camp at dawn. We bundled our supplies and began the trek to the summit.

I wasn't sure we would make it. My Sherpas forgot to pack snacks.

Luckily we survived to the summit.

Lyle went over the mountain
Lyle went over the mountain
Lyle went over the mountain
To see what he could see.

Guess what I saw??

The other side of the mountain
The other side of the mountain
The other side of the mountain
Was all that I could see.

Yesterday we explored the Columbia River. Seagulls! Squirrels! Jetskis! WhooLoo!

And as if that wasn't good enough, we finally got to stop at our local DQ.

Today is another Super Saturday. (Sunday, Saturday, potay-to, potah-to)

We are going to the Chamna Natural Preserve. What am I waiting for??
Smell ya later!

The journey of 1000 days...part 456

I thought Washington was great. I thought they treated dogs very nicely here.

I was wrong.

My Welcome Waggin' brought me a root canal. Here's what I learned today: When someone tells you that something as about as much fun as a root canal, they do not actually mean it is fun. Take it from me.
On the up side, I had an entire can of Smothered Comfort for myself tonight. (Thank you, Star and pack!) Mmm...Smothered Comfort.

AnyLoo, back to the trip.

Day 137:
We arrive at Bear River State Park in Wyoming. There are bison and seagulls. Bark! Chase! WhooLoo! Bison make these tasty little chips that I am not allowed to eat. Who knew?

Day 284:
I feel as though I have been in the truck my whole life. Maybe longer. Spring has lost it, I think. She has taken to wearing Cheez-Its on her face. It is the best she has ever looked.

Day 285:
Idaho Ho! Twin Falls, Idaho welcomes me. As they should. We eat Mexican takeout and bark at the other hotel patrons at 1:30 a.m. The bosses say we are lucky not to be evicted. I say, they should be proud to have 3 good guard dogs. They should invite us for biscuits and gravy at the continental breakfast. The bosses don't agree.

Day 354:
MooseWatch 2008 is a complete bust. A gazillion miles in the car and just one sqooshed moose that I don't even get to stop to rub my ears in. Sigh.

Day 456:
We're home! Yay! The White House is mine, all mine. It is not white. The Secret Service are still very secretive. Probably that is why the house is sort of green. More sneaky that way. I like it anyway. There are pheasants and quail in my yard. There are trails and paths everywhere and fantastic things to smell.

Other than that whole "Welcome to Washington! Have a root canal!" thing, I would say it is a pretty good place to be.

The journey of 1000 days...part 2

No! Don't make me go back in the truck! Pleeeeeeeeeeze! I promise I'll be good. I will eat my nasty Healthy Coat pill. I will not pee on my own feet. I will not make ugly faces when I am cranky! Just don't make me go back in the truck!!!!!

Oh, whoops. Sorry. I must have been dreaming. You know how sometimes those dreams are so real...

AnyLoo, where was I? Oh, yes, I remember now.

Day 38:
We reluctantly leave Lincoln and head out over the looooong state of Nebraska. Along the way (day 42 I think) we stop in North Platte, Nebraska at what might have been the country's most boring state park were it not for the buffalo. Buffalo are superfun. When we all went over to give them a good sniff they ran away. Stampede! Just like the old west only with fences and picnic tables. Even better, Star's dad packed us lunch. There were goodies for everyone. How cool is that?

The rest of the park was really dull. Seems that the Buffalo Bill State Park at Scout's Rest is where Buffalo Bill stayed when he was not whooping it up on Wild West tours. Bo-ring. No squirrels. No birds. No interesting things to roll in. Thank goodness for our sack lunch. It saved the day.

Day 47:
We arrive in Cheyenne, Wyoming to spend the night. We stop at the last Culver's in the west. Could this have been the last time I ever taste deep fried cheese curds or frozen custard? Say it isn't so!! Ah, cheese curds. I miss you already.

I told you it was a long trip. And a long story. More soon!

The journey begins

Well, like a zillion things have happened since I barked last. I have arrived at the White House, which is surprisingly greenish. More about that later.

Here is the whole scoop. You already know that we have had lots of strangers in the house looking at our stuff. Most of them would come and go while we were gone but the bosses would hide all our toys and vacuum forEVER. Then we would go on a long walk while the strangers inspected our junk. But this last batch of strangers in the house actually put all our stuff in boxes all over the house. We had boxes everywhere. The grrrls and I were mostly not allowed to supervise, although Spring tried her best. We all told the strangers to go ahead and put Spring in a box but they refused. Too bad. We might have had some peace and quiet for a little while. AnyLoo, next thing I know, a new batch of strangers stole all our stuff and put it in a big orange truck. Some of it we have yet to find.


So then we had an empty house and we were all tired from watching strangers work. So we decided to hop in the truck and drive to Washington. Drive? Me, the President? Whatever happened to Air Force One, is what I want to know. I would have thought there would at least be some sort of caravan. I have to say I am impressed with my Secret Service agents, at least. They were so secret I couldn't even see them. Spooky.

Day 1:

My stuff disappears. We drive to St. Louis, Missouri. The nice people at the hotel give the bosses cookies. I would have thought they were much nicer if they had given me a warm chocolate chip cookie too. Being President does not have as many perks as I would have thought. I am beginning to wonder what good it is to lead this thoughtless country. No private jet, no cookies. Hm.

Day 7:

We have driven for 6 days straight and arrive in Kansas City, Kansas where we bark out to Boomer Sooner and Dottie Mae. We also meet up with the boss man's sister. She feeds me an entire tin of cookies. Things are looking up. I am pretty sure we have room to pack her in the trailer. She is just the kind of person I need on my staff.

Day 15:

We drive for another bazillion hours and arrive at the Casa de Star in lovely Lincoln, Nebraska. We are pampered beyond our wildest imaginations by Star, Winnie, and Tim's mom and dad. I get lots of scritches and tasty snacks. I am pretty sure I can make room for them on my staff too. I need an Executive Chef or two. I chat up Star from afar...seems I am not to be trusted up close when I am tired and out of my element. Well, duh. I have been traveling for 37 days. What can you expect?

It was a long trip, so it is a long story. More tomorrow!

E-Z Clone

Seems I'm not the only one thinking about cloning. My friend Flecken is too. But he seems to have given it a little more thought than I did. According to Flecken, cloning me will not make another me. It will make a Lyle-like Whigle who might not actually want my spot on the couch. Here is how Flecken explained it to me:

The first (and most important) thing is that you are not really creating another "you." You are merely creating a genetically identical duplication of you. Due to the effects of non-biologic factors such as food, home life, school, etc., Lyle2 would look exactly like you, and have the same genetic predisposition toward health-related matters, but would (hopefully) not act exactly like you! In other words, now that the bosses have some hard-earned experience in the care and feeding of whigles, that experience would impact Lyle2's personality and behavior...in effect resulting in an intellectually and behaviorally superior Lyle2 (assuming that they don't make the same mistakes with Lyle2 as they did with LyleYou).

So obviously I don't want one of those. But other than me, who wouldn't want one? Duh. Everyone would want a Lyle.

I hear what the people want and now your dreams can come true. Behold Gro-A-Lyle. You send me $5000 or 3 chickens and I will send you my toenail clippings. You too can Gro-A-Lyle! Your Lyle might be just like me or he might be just like Lyle2. It's up to you.

Call now! Operators are standing by.

Spring...and a young Whigle's thoughts turn to...

Cloning.

Yes, I know it is a recipe for heartbreak. Ah, Doodlebug, I miss you still. But I'd really like another me. There are two grrrls and just one me. I could use another Lyle.

I was thinking about worms and how you can turn one worm into two. Lucky little worms. I don't know if that would work for Whigles or not and it seems like it would be kind of painful so I'm hoping I can grow Lyle2 off of a toenail clipping because that whole chopping thing just does not sound good to me.

So I am dreaming about what life will be like when Lyle2 sprouts from my toenail...

LyleMe: Hey, Lyle2, let's do something superfun.

Lyle2: Just a sec. I'm thirsty.

LyleMe: Hey! That's my water! Stop that! Don't drink all the water!

Lyle2: You always drink all the water too.

LyleMe: But it's MY water. I don't like to share it.

Lyle2: But I'm you!

LyleMe: (blinking slowly) Whoa, mindbend. I need a nap. Hey! Lyle2! That's MY spot on the couch!

Lyle2: But since I am you, it's my spot too.

LyleMe: You're a selfish little bugger.

Lyle2: Don't you know it.

Okay, so maybe cloning isn't all it's cracked up to be. I wonder if I could at least make him take my baths for me.

Movers and shakers

I have heard that some dogs have Extra Powerful Senses that tell them when things like tornadoes and earthquakes are coming. My EPS doesn't work like that. My EPS helps me to know when the Schwann guy is coming to the neighbors' house. That is much more useful if you ask me.

For example, yesterday morning we had an earthquake. Yep, a big ol' shaker. I heard it started out somewhere in Illinois but we felt it here. Not important. Why bother waking up before 6 in the morning to let anyone know? It isn't like we were in any danger. And we certainly weren't going to get any chicken out of it. Not to mention I was sleepy. But when the Schwann guy comes, someday he might stop at our house by mistake and give me chicken. So you tell me, would you rather know about a little earthquake or a chicken delivery guy?

Chicken, every time.

The boss is back in town

The boss is back in town. Yeah, I didn't realize he was gone either. But he was and now he's back. Turns out he was in Washington. I suppose he was getting the place ready for my arrival. Telling them to stock up on chicken and things like that. I still don't know all that much about Washington but I know I will like it there from the few things I know about it already:

1. There are seagulls and other big birds. I like big birds. (And I cannot lie. I like to bark at 'em and watch 'em fly.)

2. Wait for it...Sausage Festival! Every September. Polish, Italian, German...be still my growling stomach.

3. I'll be in charge.

So I'm looking forward to getting there. The bosses tell me it will be a few weeks yet. Lucky for me I am keeping busy while I wait. Let me tell you about yesterday.

The bosses and Spring and Maebe and I drove to Ohio to meet up with Basil's mom and dad and new sister and Skye's mom. It was superfun. There were treats! Lots of treats! Lots of pats and scritches. I do love a good scritching. I was a little shocked to see that Basil's sister is completely furless. And she didn't want to play at all. But she ate a lot and napped a lot so she's good in my book.

Now the best part...the coolest dog park EVER. Well, okay, it was the only dog park I have ever been to but it was supercool. We had a blast. When it was over the boss man took a picture and then I was almost able to send Spring home with Skye's mom. So close. I hope I get to try again soon!!

Spring Fairy!

The Spring Fairy visited me and Little Bit and brought us bluebirds! Thank you, Spring Fairy!

Heads up!

Everything is a-ok in my world. My EPS-ey-sense has not been tingling lately. Turns out what set it off last time was the installation of a new protective shield on the top of our house. I had no idea that we had such a bad alien problem around here but I feel much safer knowing that it is there. I shudder to think what would happen if aliens abducted me. I do not do well with probing.

AnyLoo, I was shocked to find out that some of my friends have not been able to find someone to install an alien-protective shield on their houses. I worry about them. So I have developed a Hi Lyle! personal protective shield.

It has the snappy little Hi Lyle! logo and everything. Order yours today!

The miracle of EPS

Everyone knows that dogs have sensitive noses. Some of us have good hearing and eyesight too. But some dogs, like Yours Truly, are blessed with super powers to sense things not everyone else can. I call it Extra Powerful Senses, or EPS. I have them.

Take today, for example. Long before anyone else in this house realized it, I sensed something out of the ordinary was going on. I had this inkling that something was different. Just a little off. How did I know? It's just my EPS. I don't know how it works.

Spring says, "You big doofus, there are like 12 guys ripping the shingles off the roof and they sound like they're about to come through the ceiling."

Maybe Spring has EPS too.

In other news, the Hi Lyle line has expanded just in time for the holiday. I'm proud to offer Hi Lyle chocolate chip cookies and Hi Lyle mini chocolate eggs. They won't melt in your paws. Happy Easter!

Buy Hi!

I have decided that if I am going to be President, I should make sure that I am easy to recognize. Of course most everyone can recognize a Super Handsome Whigle when they see me, but not everyone has seen me. Yet. So in the meantime I thought I should do some advertising.

I was going to make a little Super Handsome Lyle logo and call it "hello doggie," but I decided "Hi Lyle" is catchier.

I am thinking about marketing Hi Lyle lunchboxes, Hi Lyle pencil cases, Hi Lyle snack cakes and Hi Lyle portable toilets. The possibilities are endless.

Earth Friendly Lyle

I have just been told that it will be very expensive for me to move to Washington. Dexter says I should probably walk. I am fine with that. I like walking better than riding in the truck anyway. But I figure I won't be able to take as much stuff if I am walking. So I have started to get together all the stuff I don't need.

There. I think I'm ready.

Unfortunately the bosses say they have too much stuff to carry and we are stuck taking it in the truck, so my big cross country hike is off.

I have been trying to think of other ways to make my trip more eco-friendly. I have a few ideas.

1. I will eat all my kibble and treats before we leave so we have less to carry.
2. I will eat a cat. Why? I don't know, but Dexter says I should.
3. I will ride in the front seat of the truck. I'll get there faster that way.

No need to thank me, Mother Earth. I am all about what is best for the planet.

Duck, duck, lame duck

Surprisingly, not much has changed since I became President. I suppose that's probably because I haven't moved to Washington yet. I hear that will happen in May. That should give me plenty of time to remember what my campaign promises were. I think there was something about chicken. Mmm...chicken. It looks like I have to wait until I get to Washington to get my superpowers or whatever it is that gives me total control of the country.

AnyLoo, from what I understand, this is the time of the Lame Duck. It hasn't arrived yet. It must be coming by mail. I haven't decided what to do with it yet. It will probably depend on whether the duck is Lame as in "gimpy," in which case I am thinking Peking Duck. Of course if he's Lame as in "tells silly jokes," then I will keep him around. I like silly jokes. I can't wait till he gets here! Mmm...silly duck.

Mr. Loo Goes to Washington

Guess what? I am going to Washington. It's true! I think I might have won the election. I wonder if I am President.

I go to Washington at the end of May. It is all very exciting. I had kind of forgot to run for Congress this year but I guess my constituents remembered me anyway. How lucky for me!

It is just a matter of time before my campaign promises are reality. I wish I could remember what they were.

No Soap for Loo!

I am not ashamed to admit it. I love soap. I like Dove best but I'm not that fussy. I even like shampoo. I will lick it off of anyone who might happen to be in the tub with me when I get a bath. Mmm...soapy Spring.

Today my supply was cut off. How did it happen? I was trolling for soap licks, like usual. There was a partly used bar of Dove in the shower. The boss ma'am offered me a lick. She loves me, she truly does. Lick, lick, gotcha! I'm off to the races. See if you can make me spit it out, Boss Ma'am. It slides right down the soap hole.

So now she says, No Soap for Loo. Phooey. I was feeling so fresh, so clean...so one quarter moisturized.

My name is Lyle and I eat soap.

Things Fall Apart

When the Boss Ma'am is not home, things go to heck in a handbasket.

* Spring sleeps in and nobody gets chicken jerky for breakfast.
* Nobody scratches my knees.
* My teeth don't get brushed.
* Nobody sings songs and adds my name to the lyrics.
* We all stay up late and get tired and cranky.

But now she is home. I am pretty sure she was gone. I think she was gone. AnyLoo, she brought PRESENTS!! I got a squeaky pink spotted elephant from Sergei and Dani. The Boss Ma'am says their mom is super nice. She is the one who brought the pink spotted elephant, so I would have to agree.

It is good to have the pack all together. My knees were getting itchy.

The Secret Life of...Space Eaters

I am lucky to have smart friends.

Smart Friend Dexter Nova Bright Star knows a lot about Space Eaters. He explained it all to me.

He uses big science-y words, though, so I'll let him tell you all about it himself.

"How it works, exothermically speaking, is it systematically reduces the space of any three-dimensional geometical whatzit in which it finds itself, without reducing the energy therein contained. Thus, an ever decreasing space containing a constant amount of energy must needs get warmer.

And it works pretty well, too. Until you start hitting your head on the ceiling. At that point, you'd better get out of the room while you can still squeeze through the door. Because that room is going to get both infinitely small and infinitely hot before you can say "Bob's your uncle."

Caution: Do NOT stop and try to say "Bob's your uncle"--get out NOW!

Your bosses must be quite insane. Perhaps it's the heat."

I knew that hot-breathed demon was no good. The Space Eater, I mean, of course.

Happy Groundhog Day!

I think it is really cool to have a rodent holiday on my birthday. Groundhogs for everyone!

I haven't seen our resident groundhogs, Spoot and Annie, yet. They will see their shadows for sure this morning, though, so I guess that means 6 more weeks of birthday celebrations for me. Or something like that.

In honor of Groundhog Day I posted some pictures of me as a puppy. I was pretty adorable. I am still pretty adorable. You can also see some delicious looking birthday cake. Mmm....cake.

Thanks to everyone who has made my birthday super fun!

MythBusters: Blanket Sharks

Turns out that the lumps under the blanket are not Blanket Sharks after all. You would have thought that a shark expert like me would have known this, but no. My good friend Star has educated me, though.

Here is what happens. The grrrls get into bed. Then the boss ma'am gets into bed. She lifts what Star says is the Automatic Arm which raises the covers and the grrrls scoot underneath. The solid growly lump is actually Spring. The other lump is Maebe. Who knew?

Blanket Sharks: This myth is Busted!

Next, let's take a look at the Space Eater. The bosses got one of these for the office, where we all hang out unless there is stuff for me to bark at. Then I go to my Room of Requirement, the front foyer, or wrestle with Jefferson the plant to see out the windows of the piano room.

AnyLoo, the office is cold. That's why they got the Space Eater. It is some sort of evil, angry hissing animal with hot breath. It breathes its hot breath in the room so the bosses stay warm. Clearly they do not see the danger. But I do. The Space Eater is not to be trusted. That's why I keep my distance at all times. I give it the Hairy Eyeball, just to be sure.

So unless someone tells me otherwise, this myth is Confirmed: Space Eater=Dangerous Urban Monster.

What lies beneath...

On the advice of my good friend Izzie, Dogster's sleep guru, I have been trying to spend a little time on the Big Bed every night. I jump up there all by myself! Yes, I do! This is the new me. High Jumping Whigle.

AnyLoo, I have noticed that a strange thing happens after everyone goes to bed. When I jump up the grrrls are usually already there. Fine with me, as long as Maebe is not breathing my air. But then the strange thing happens. When the bosses go to bed, Spring and Maebe disappear. I honestly have no idea where they go. I have noticed that there are two lumps under the blankets but I don't know what they are. The little solid lump growls sometimes. The other lump is just a lump. The only thing I can figure is that they are blanket sharks. My best guess is that the blanket sharks eat the grrrls every night and then throw them up in the morning. It is the only logical explanation. So far the blanket sharks have been leaving me pretty much alone. Until last night.

One of the blanket sharks swam right into me last night. I was just drifting off to sleep. I was dreaming about ice cream, when BAM! I was bumped by the blanket shark. I nearly hit my head on the ceiling, that's how surprised I was. Needless to say, I spent the rest of the night with the polar bears. They are much more polite.

At long last I have a picture to show you of the Screaming Monkey Hat from Skye. Check it out. It's much more impressive than it looks. When you push its paw it screams "Oooo-aahh-ah-ah!" and its eyes flash red lights. It is the coolest hat I have ever worn.

Three Dog Night

It's not so much that it's cold. Although it definitely is cold. It's more that lately I've been finding myself doing things I wouldn't normally do.

Like sleeping on the bed. I have never been a Big Bed Whigle. I don't like it up there. I like my safe kennel, even if there are sometimes polar bears in it. But for some reason lately I feel an overwhelming need to be on the bed. Or in a lap. I have never been a Lap Whigle either, but now I want to be one.

I think it has something to do with Maebe. She is a Big Bed Biggie. And a lap dog. And she is still breathing my air. I think she must be contagious.

LyleNews Update

I have been watching the writers' strike very closely. See, I do all my own writing for LyleTV. I do not belong to a union. I write whenever I feel like it and I am as funny as I want to be.

Unfortunately, my production crew is another story. They are lazy. They just don't understand how much my audience needs me! Just the other day I had to sit them all down and give them the what-for.

Here's how it went:

ME: We need more shows! There hasn't been anything new on LyleTV in over a week. Get to work!

PRODUCTION CREW: I'm busy, Lyle. I do have another job, you know.

ME: Come on, Boss Ma'am. Where are your priorities?

PC: Do you like to eat, Lyle?

ME: Oh, yes, I love to eat. What have you got to eat?

PC: Nothing, if you don't let me go to work to earn money for your kibble.

ME: Blah, blah. Fine. Go to work. When you come home, hop to it and type up my shows.

PC: When I get home I'm tired. And I like to spend some time with the girls and your Boss Man, too, you know.

ME: Again I say blah, blah. I have an idea. Send Spring and Maebe back to the shelter. Then you'll have plenty of time for my projects.

PC: Not going to happen, Lyle.

ME: But Maebe's been breathing my air again. You know how I hate that. And Spring is...well, she's Spring. Can't you do something about that?

PC: They're staying, Lyle. Deal with it. Maybe if you ask them nicely, they'll help you with your shows.

ME: Ha! Ask them nicely? To help me? Ha! Maebe already ruined Lyle's Toy Box and Spring scared all the guests off of the Lyle and Springer Show. They're hopeless.
~~~~~~~~
So in the end, the Production Crew really let me down. What will happen? I don't know. LyleTV may end up as another casualty of another strike. To all my dedicated viewers, I thank you. And keep watching. There are always reruns.

Dateline: LyleTV

We here at LyleTV are dedicated to bringing you the most important news, all the time. Lucky for me and my nap schedule there is not much important news.

However, the Dateline: LyleTV staff has recently sniffed out a dangerous new trend-- untrained practitioners performing squeakerectomies on stuffed toys. Since many of my dedicated viewers are surrounded by new squeaky toys brought by Santa, I knew it was time for Dateline: LyleTV to teach you how to spot these charlatans.

A talented squeakerectomy surgeon is licensed and vaccinated. He or she will never try to goad a toy into an unnecessary procedure. When a squeakerectomy is indicated, it will be done with precision and minimal fluff loss. The best of us can actually perform Minimally Invasive Squeakerectomies. It is truly a work of art.

Behold, the work of a hack. Witness the destruction and total fluff loss. Don't allow your toys to come under the teeth of one of these fakes. It will only end in tragedy.

Ask to see your surgeon's license. Check his tags. Ask to see examples of his work. Any squeakerectomizer worth his kibble will be happy to show you. You can thank me later.

Lyle's Book Club: Rex and Sparky answer all your questions- about the world

Happy holidays!

Let's celebrate by letting Rex and Sparky (authors of The Dangerous Book for Dogs) answer some of dogdom's most burning questions.

"Q: If a westbound train traveling 1200 miles at a speed of 120 mph leaves the station at 3 p.m., and another, heading east 400 miles to Chicago at approximately 70 mph, passes that station at 2 p.m., which train will arrive first?

A: Trains sure are fun to bark at.

Q: Which train is serving meatloaf?

A: The westbound train is serving a delightful meatloaf accompanied by creamy mashed potatoes, julienned vegetables, and a serviceable cabernet. Assuming a six ounce serving of meatloaf and approximately 400 passengers, if the train continues at its current speed, you should be able to smell it for exactly 24 minutes--before, during, and after it passes through your town.

Q: Where do humans go all day?

A: None of us likes to be left alone. The mind begins to wander: Where is my owner? This is just like him. He does this every Monday through Friday. Is he at the dog park? Is he with another dog? Did he go on a walk? I'll bet he did. When will he be home? Is he having fun without me?

You'll be relieved to hear that the answer to that last question is a resounding 'no.' Your owner is at work, which is kind of like a kennel for humans. More than likely, he is sitting in a small, cube shaped space for approximately eight hours, taking orders from his 'boss,' or Alpha, being generally submissive, and thinking about how badly he wants to go home. He is not particularly happy about it, but he does enjoy socializing with co-workers, sneaking a nap when his boss is not in, and taking advantage of unlimited coffee refills. His reward for going is a little bit of money to spend on you, his one and only, who he is always happy to come home to. Greet him warmly.

Q: Who's a good boy? Who's a good boy?

A: It is a question as old as the mountains and the trees. Who is a good boy?

When you stop to think about it, what do the words 'good,' or 'boy,' or 'who is a' really even mean? Indeed, the world is rarely as simple as 'good' or 'bad,' both being unreal absolute concepts that only have meaning in relation to one another. Most of us demonstrate complex moral behaviors that could hardly be labeled consistently 'good' or 'bad': We exhibit heroism one moment and cowardice the next, alternately bite and lick the very hands that feed us. And none of us would be so foolhardy as to argue for a moment that we are 'boys'--that term clearly refers exclusively to the immature male offspring of the Homo sapiens and does not accurately describe any member of the canine community.

Perhaps the only real answer is 'none of us.' None of us is unequivocally 'good,' none of us is a 'boy,' and none of us can truthfully claim to be a 'good boy.'

Or, the answer is you. Yes it is! It's YOU! You are a good boy! You are a very good boy!"

Yay! I'm a good boy! Rex and Sparky say so.

Lyle's Book Club: More tips from Rex and Sparky

Welcome back to my book club! Today I'm reading again from The Dangerous Book for Dogs, by Rex and Sparky.

I'd like to dedicate this chapter to Skye, who I used to think was my friend. Strong words from a peace loving Whigle, you say? Lyle, who never barks anything bad about anyone? Except maybe Spring. She can be a real crankypants. And Maebe. Because she's a stinkin' thief. And the UPS guy. Just on principle. And puppies. Because they bug me. But other than that, I'm a super nice Whigle. So why is Skye a former friend? All I have to say is this: Screaming Monkey Hat. Thanks a bunch, Skye.

Okeydokey, pups, settle in and grab a snack. Here's the chapter you've been waiting for: How to Escape Humiliating Costumes

"However much you wish to please your owner, you must put your paw down when it comes to costumes. Being dressed in a studded biker helmet and a pair of vinyl chaps demeans you both. If your owner insists on putting you in one of these costumes, bark twice, aggressively, to voice your displeasure. If he is unable or unwilling to listen, you must do everything within your power to escape from the outfit at once.

Remember, it is not disrespectful or disloyal to escape from a ridiculous outfit. In fact, it is imperative that you do so immediately. Otherwise you will most assuredly be photographed, the photographs will surface on the Internet, and you will have little chance of ever recovering your dignity."

Rex and Sparky, why have I waited so long to learn? Ah, well, better late than never. They have some helpful tips for specific costumes. This should come just in time for your holiday celebrations. Good luck!

"Reindeer
This common seasonal humiliation is fairly simple to escape; all you have to do is work free of the awkward antler headdress. To do this:
1. Bow your head until the antler tips are touching the floor.
2. Work the antlers into the ground.
3. The antlers should fall from your head. Pick them up, take them outside, and quickly bury them in a neighboring yard.

Elf
The holidays are rife with costuming dangers. Those fortunate enough to escape the l9oathsome reindeer outfit should not gloat too quickly, lest they find themselves outfitted in the dignity-robbing elf costume."

Oh, do I know the humiliation!! Let's learn how to rescue ourselves!

"1. Find a solid, freestanding object or a sturdy wall where you can work unobserved by your costumer.
2. Begin rubbing the costume against the wall, slowly at first, and then more forcefully. At the same time, use your paw to tug the bottom of the costume toward the floor.
3. The snaps holding the felt costume around your shoulders should give, freeing you.
4. If you are wearing a cap, you use the removal techniques listed above for antlers.
5. Shred the costume thoroughly. We suggest ripping each item into at least thirty-two smaller pieces. Chew on it, drool on it, but whatever you do, be thorough. You want to ensure that felt never touches your fur again."

Oh, wise and wonderful Rex and Sparky! Finally someone has written about things we all really need to know.

Tomorrow, Rex and Sparky will answer all your most burning questions about the world!

Lyle's Book Club

I found a book every dog should read. It's called The Dangerous Book for Dogs by Rex and Sparky. It is brilliant.

For a special holiday treat, I have decided to read to you some tips from the book. I think you'll find them helpful for all your holiday celebrations.

Grab some popcorn and marshmallows and curl up by the fire. Uncle Lyle is reading a story.

From Chapter 2: Begging--A primer:

"There are many styles, methods, and schools of thought as to the most successful methods of begging. Dogs have debated this topic for ages, but, in the end, you must find the style that suits you best. Regardless of which style you choose, here are a few guidelines to follow.

Correct Form

Posture

Is your head erect? Is your back straight? Are you seated comfortably enough to maintain this position throughout a five-course dinner?

Eyes

Many a meal is won or lost with a trick of the eyes. You may choose a docile, desperate, or hopeful look, but whichever you choose, be sure to maintain eye contact with your owner. You are hypnotizing him. He must look directly into your eyes. He is under your control. He will give you the porterhouse. He will...give...you...the porterhouse. For best results, do not blink. Ever.

Ears

Your body doesn't stop at the top of your head, and neither should your technique. Always follow through with your ears. Floppy ears should extend out to the sides as much as possible. Pointed ears should remain high and sharp. Remember, good posture starts in the ears and ends in the toes. Use every inch in between to your advantage."

Good stuff, huh? Come back tomorrow and I will read to you from Chapter 9: How to Escape Humiliating Costumes.

Lyle's Toy Box

Funny thing about my Toy Box. Since, oh, around August or so, it's been pretty much empty. I sure had some great toys. Remember my octopus? The one with the grunter and 8 squeaky legs? I loved it so. Look what happened.

Then I got this supercool Dirty Rotten Kitty. I loved the Dirty Rotten Kitty. The Dirty Rotten Kitty loved me. He was my first cat.

Then the most horrible thing imaginable happened.

It happens to every toy.

She got my Easter dog too.

I think I am living with a kleptomaniac. She steals everything. Sure, she seems sweet, but clearly she is full of rage. She destroys everything she steals! See these fun fleece bones? We each had one. I'm happily squeaking away, and then: "Mine." Then yoink. No toy, no joy. Fluff everywhere. So sad.

I don't know what to do. I only have one toy left. No way am I taking my eyes off of it.

Be an elf!

My Christmas elf name is Zippy Fluffy Paws. Too bad being an elf is such hard work, otherwise I'd really dig the name.

Get your name here. Thanks for the link, Rosie!

Survivor: Backyard--episode 12

Handsome Host Lyle: I didn't know that I could even think these words, much less say them, but I'm full! I don't think I could eat another bite. Well, not a big bite, anyway. I'm so sleepy...Surely no one will mind if I take a quick nap.

Finds a sunny spot, circles twice and curls up for a nap. Presently he hears a noise, which awakens him with a start.

HH: What's that? Who's there?

Darkness has fallen. A figure appears in the shadows. Lyle squints at it and sniffs the air.

HH: Cletus? Is that you? What's that jingling noise? Are you in chains?

Cletus: Don't be silly, Lyle. That's just the tags on my collar. I'm here to be your Spirit Guide. Come with me, we have a long trip ahead of us.

HH: Are we going to the beach? I like the beach. And I don't know much about spirits, so I guess it's good you're here. Should we start with bourbon?

Cletus: Not that kind of spirit, Lyle. Grab my tail.

HH: Your tail? (eyes him suspiciously) This isn't a "pull my finger" kind of thing, is it?

Cletus: (rolls eyes) Just grab my tail, Lyle.

Lyle takes hold of Cletus' tail and suddenly the room around him disappears. He and Cletus are floating in a vast darkness. Gradually a light appears ahead of them. As his vision clears, Lyle finds himself in a familiar room.

HH: Hey! This is my living room! But who are they? (points to a tricolored puppy and a black terrier wrestling on the floor) Wait a minute! That's me! And Little Bit! What's going on here, Cletus? Cletus! Is that who I think it is? (points to another ghostly figure watching the dogs play)

Cletus: Yes, that's Little Bit. She's the ghost of Whigle Past. She's here to remind you about who you were, back before you were a TV star.

HH: Little Bit! I've missed you so much! Come here, Bitty, let me smell you!

Cletus: It's time to move on, Lyle.

HH: I don't want to go! I want to stay here with Little Bit. This was the happiest time in my whole life.

Cletus: And that was before you were famous, Lyle. Little Bit helped to make you into the dog you are today. Hold on to my tail.

HH: Please, Cletus, can't I stay?

Cletus: I'm sorry, Lyle. We have to go.

Lyle, whimpering softly, takes hold of Cletus' tail and the vision before him dissolves into blackness. Daylight reappears and he finds himself in his own yard, watching the Survivor contestants milling about.

HH: Howdy, guys! How's it going?

Another ghost appears next to Lyle, saying: They can't hear you, Lyle.

HH: Samantha? What are you doing here?

Samantha: I'm the ghost of Whigle Present. This is the world you've created.

HH: Pretty cool, huh?

Samantha: Are you sure?

HH: What do you mean? (looks around slowly) That's strange. No one seems to be having any fun. Why aren't they having any fun?

Samantha: They're worried, Lyle. They know that when you wake up from your nap, you're going to come out to the yard and tell them that someone has lost the challenge and that someone has to go home. They don't want to vote against each other. They just want to play and have a good time.

HH: I didn't mean to make them so upset. What should I do?

Samantha: Well, if I were you, I'd have a party. One with lots of food.

HH: Uh, I think I ate everything already.

Cletus: It's that time again, Lyle. We have to move on.

HH: Bye, Samantha. It was nice seeing you. (grabs Cletus' tail) Where are we going now?

Cletus: You'll see.

HH: (blinking as darkness turns to light once more) I don't recognize this place.

A third ghost appears at Lyle's side and says: But do you recognize that dog?

HH: Seva? Oh, Seva! It's wonderful to see you. (looks at the old dog before him) I don't know who that is.

Seva: That's you, Lyle. I'm the ghost of Whigle Future. Let's listen in and see what you'll become.

Old Lyle: Remember when I brought down Dogzilla? Or solved the meat mystery? The good old days! Good times.

HH: Hahahahaha! Those were great times! Hold on, why isn't anyone laughing?

Seva: Lyle, dear, your jokes just got stale. You kept doing the same old, same old, and all your fans just drifted away.

HH: I have no fans? I'm all alone? No one will laugh with me?

Seva: They still laugh at you, Lyle.

Old Lyle: And the Milk Duds? That was hilarious.

HH: I think he's funny.

Seva: You'd be the only one, Lyle.

Cletus: Time to go, Lyle. You know what to do.

The vision fades away and Lyle finds himself back in his sunny room, curled up on a cushion.

HH: I just had the strangest dream. Was it a dream? Is everyone still in my backyard? (throws open a window and yells out to the yard) Hullo! What day is it?

Josie: It's still Monday, Lyle.

HH: It's Monday! It's still Monday! Thank goodness! (races out to the yard where the contestants are still waiting, hugs them all) My friends! Guess what! The game is over!

Rosie: It is? Who won?

HH: Everyone! You all won! I have presents for all of you. Is there any food left over? Let's have a party!

The contestants let out a cheer and begin gathering the left over food from the contest. Lyle watches. smiling, as they laugh and eat. He hears a jingling in the sky above him and gives a wink to his Spirit Guide.

THE END

Survivor: Backyard--episode 11

Handsome Host Lyle: I can't wait to see what the Empty Birdfeeders have cooked for us. How's your appetite holding up, MacKenzie?

Beautiful Hostess MacKenzie: Pretty good, Lyle. Of course I didn't just eat an entire LyleShark.

HH: You should have. It was dee-lish. Howdy there, Birdfeeders! Whatcha got cookin'?

Goldie: Welcome, Lyle. Have a seat.

HH: Wait a minute. Aren't you supposed to be with the other team until the end of the challenge?

Vincent: I knew we were missing somebody!

Comu': She's on our team. She's always been on our team. Nobody leaves this team.

HH: So I've noticed.

Goldie: We were thinking about all the foods you like best and we really couldn't narrow it down to a single menu.

HH: I have that problem every day! What did you do?

Josie: Everyone made something for you. We'll let Goldie start.

Goldie: Thanksgiving has come early to your backyard, Lyle! You'll start off with a turkey roll with cornbread dressing. On the side is my special cranberry sauce. Now, don't forget to eat your veggies! I have whipped potatoes and green bean casserole with onion.

HH: Do I get dessert?

Goldie: Of course, if you finish your veggies.

HH: I will! I will!

Goldie: I made my special pumpkin spice cream cake.

HH: (eyes closed, smiling) Mmm....

MacK: That was delicious! Now I really am stuffed.

Josie: But wait! There's more!

HH: (his eyes snap open and his tail begins to wag furiously) There is? Really?

Comu: I made you a coffee gift basket. It has cappucino brownies, coffee fudge brownies, a boule de neige, a mocha java shake, a thick coffee banana smoothie, Coffee Time blueberry pie, walnut coffee cookies, and a coffee granita. For dessert there's a 4 layer yogurt cake with yogurt icing.

HH: Holy moly. This is going to take me a while. (2 seconds pass) Fantastic. Everything is absolutely great.

MacK: (staring at Lyle, astounded) You really ate all that?

HH: What? Didn't you have any? Whoops. Sorry about that. You would have really liked it.

Josie: We're not done.

HH: I am so loving this.

Josie: I'm going to appeal to your wild side.

HH: Ooooh!

Josie: I got you a songbird, a squirrel, and a cat!

HH: I get to taste a cat! WhooLOO! It's even better than I dreamed it would be.

Josie: And to freshen your breath I got you some gum.

HH: Gum I don't have to peel off the sidewalk! This is amazing. I never knew it could be so minty.

Maebe: My turn! My turn!!

HH: Bring it on, Maebe Baebe.

Maebe: I made a chicken. A whole chicken. I fried it.

MacK: (squinting at the bird) Did you fry it with the feathers on?

Maebe: (eyes wide, tears welling up, lower lip beginning to quiver) Did I do bad?

HH: I like it this way.

Maebe: (bouncing up and down, smiling) He likes it! He likes it! I also brought you some of that fancy ham you like.

MacK: Is that proscuitto? I'll try some of that, please.

Maebe: I have ice cream and candy too!

HH: Good girl, Maebe. Good girl.

Baxter: We're still not done.

MacK: I think I might explode.

HH: Eat through the pain, Kenzie. Feel the bloat.

Baxter: Go ahead and cleanse your palate with this chicken jerky. Then try our hand tossed pepperoni pizza.

HH: This is too good to be true. Kenzie, pinch me and see if I'm dreaming.

Kenzie: If you pinch me, I'm pretty sure I'd pop.

Baxter: I have a big, juicy T bone steak for you, perfectly rare.

HH: Be still my dripping drool!

Baxter: And to finish it all off, we have Blizzards for everyone!

MacK: I'm finished. (passes out in the grass, snoring)

HH: I don't know what to say. I've never eaten so well in my whole life. Both teams, you have truly outdone yourselves. I have to give the Dead Petunias a nod for creativity...that LyleShark is just not something I eat every day. But the Empty Birdfeeders have matched them with quantity...every one of my favorites! I honestly don't know who will win this challenge.

Whose cuisine will reign supreme? Will Lyle demand a rematch? Stay tuned!

Survivor: Backyard--episode 10

Handsome Host Lyle: This is the moment I've been waiting for. Our teams are ready to dish up their meals. I can't wait!

Beautiful Hostess MacKenzie: I was worried we were going to have to hospitalize you for dehydration if you didn't stop drooling.

HH: Thank goodness for the cheese appetizer Rosie brought. I could have died. Mmm...cheese. His eyes glaze over and a string of drool hangs from his flews

MacK: (slaps Lyle with a paw)Come back to us, Lyle. It's time to eat!

HH: Let's start with the reigning champs from our last contest, the Dead Petunias. What have you got for me?

Rosie: Well, Lyle, we'll be starting you off with an appetizer of water chestnuts wrapped in bacon and delicately basted in a barbeque sauce.

HH: Mmm...bacon. (ducks before Kenzie can slap him again) It's delicious. What's next?

Vincent: This is truly a masterpiece, Lyle. We have a freshly caught and grilled LyleShark steak for you.

HH: LyleShark! Wow! Those are really hard to find. Mmm...tastes like chicken. Two dewclaws up!

MacK: Aren't those endangered?

HH: In danger of becoming dinner! Ha! Ha! Slaps Vincent on the back, Vincent shuffles his feet nervously

Morgan: Are you ready for dessert?

HH: Am I ever!

Morgan: I made peanut butter ice cream, just for you.

Rosie: With Twinkies from the WonderBread factory by my house!

HH: Wow. All I have at my house is a Starbucks. This is perfect...creamy and nutty, it matches perfectly with the Twinkie goo. I have a really good feeling about the Dead Petunias this time!

MacK: Good job, Petunias! Say, Lyle, you ate an awful lot. Do you still have room for the Empty Birdfeeders' meal?

HH: Hahahaha! That's a good one, Kenzie! Oh, you're serious. Don't worry about me. I could do this all day.

Will this really last all day? Will it ever end? Stay tuned!

Survivor: Backyard--Episode 9

Handsome Host Lyle: Welcome back to the yard. Our teams our busy preparing for their challenge: Feed me! They're each preparing a meal and whichever team creates the meal I like best will be the winner. TV just doesn't get any better than this, don't you agree, MacKenzie?

Beautiful Hostess MacKenzie: Sure, whatever you say, Lyle.

HH: Kenzie? You okay? You do know that you get to eat some of everything, too, don't you?

MacK: I do? This is great TV!

HH: Our teams have been very, very busy. Rosie and Morgan have been at the Kroger for quite a while. Let's check in on them from our remote cameras.

Cut to live feed from the local Kroger

Morgan: Hurry up, Rosie! We don't have a lot of time.

Rosie: (blinking, and then staring wide-eyed at all the food)Is this heaven?

Morg: Come on! We need to get to the meat counter. Vincent has something special in mind. I think we're going to need to talk to the butcher.

Rosie: Meat? Where? Can I have some?

Morg: (sighing)Follow me. (finds her way to the meat counter only to realize that she has lost Rosie) Rosie! Rosie!

Rosie: (calling back to her from the deli counter)Morgan! Come here! You have got to see this!

(Morgan races to the deli counter, where she finds Rosie standing with her paws on the glass case, licking the last few morsels of cheese from a tray.)

Morgan: Rosie! What are you doing?

Rosie: Look! Free samples! (to the deli guy)May I try the Muenster, please?

Morgan: Come on! We need to...wait, did you say Muenster? Can I try some of that too, please?

Cut back to the yard

HH: Interesting. I wonder how Vincent is doing with the grill. Hey, Vincent, how's it going? What happened to your whiskers?

Vincent: (rubbing his nose gingerly)Little mishap with lighting the grill.

HH: Will those grow back?

Vincent: Sure, at least I think so. Those bushes and stuff will probably grow back too.

HH: So what will you be grilling?

Vincent: (grins, wincing from his singed cheeks)That's a surprise, Lyle, but you're going to love it!

HH: I hope so! Kenzie, how are things going with the Empty Birdfeeders?

MacK: They're plotting something over here, looks like. Let's take a peek.

Maebe: I know what Lyle likes! I know! I can help!

Baxter: Tell us, Maebe, you know him best.

Maebe: (Sitting up very tall and proud, tiny little chest puffed out with pride) He likes everything.

Comu': Why, ah, thank you Maebe.

Maebe: Did I help? Did I help? Can I make some more coffee?

Comu': You know, Goldie has been feeling a lot better. I think we can get her back over to our side. There's so much smoke over there from the grill that Vincent will never notice us there.

Baxter: Josie, you and I will go sneak her back. Comu', you and Maebe create a diversion. Make a lot of noise or something.

Comu': (glancing over at Maebe, who is crashing around the pots and pans trying to find the coffee grinder) Not a problem.

Josie: Let's go get Goldie and get cooking!

MacK: The Empty Birdfeeders definitely have a plan, but I haven't seen a lot of cooking going on yet. Let's hope they can get it together in time.

HH: And soon. I'm hungry!

Which team will create the most delectable delights? How will a dog who eats mulch be able to tell which is better? Tune in and find out!

Survivor: Backyard--episode 8

Beautiful Hostess MacKenzie: Welcome back to the yard, everyone. I have a sad announcement to make. Goldie was hurt last week while chasing a rabbit out of the yard. She's recovering nicely, but she will have to be on the injured reserve list for a while. Before she left, she made some cookies and bacon-chip muffins to share with her old team.

Empty Birdfeeders: All hail Goldie!

Dead Petunias: Did she make some for us too?

MacK: Now that Lyle is back from vacation...

muttering from both teams: "About time" and "Finally"

Handsome Host Lyle: I had a great time, thank you for asking!

MacK: Okaaay, good for you, Lyle. As I was saying, we are meeting the Empty Birdfeeders at the Council Fire this evening. They lost the gardening challenge and must now vote one of their members out of the yard. Welcome, Empty Birdfeeders.

Baxter: Where's the fire?

HH: I'm not allowed to have matches. I do have a flashlight, though. See how spooky I look when I hold it under my chin? Booooo!

Maebe: Eeek! (runs and hides behind Comu')

HH: It's time to vote!

Comu'(whispering to private camera): I can't vote against Miss Maebe! With Miss Goldie gone, our team would suffer in beauty. I can't vote against Baxter! He is my friend. Who jumped in front of the mower trying to help me? Baxter! What should I do? What should I do? I can't vote against myself, can I? Hey, I have an idea. What if instead of voting someone out, I'll vote someone in. Miss Josie. She's a blonde!

Baxter(taking his turn at the camera): Ummmm.....I am not quite sure I knew that I had to vote off my pals in the unlikely event that we lost a challenge when I signed up for this gig....I just assumed that our super intelligent, almost human host would do it for us!

Maebe(to the camera): I don't want to go! I don't want Baxter or Comu' to go! starts to cry

HH: Let's tally the votes. The dog who has to leave the yard is...nobody? And Josie is joining the Empty Birdfeeders? Now, wait a minute. We've been over this. You're supposed to vote members OFF the team, not ON.

Comu': Do you remember the chicken jerky Josie's mom gave you on your way to the beach?

HH: Josie's in.

The Empty Birdfeeders cheer, welcome Josie, and race back to their Starbucks shelter/franchise

MacK: This game is never going to end, is it?

HH: It doesn't look that way. I don't know about you, Kenzie, but I'm getting a little hungry. Our next challenge is going to have to be about food. I know! Each team has to create a meal for me. Whichever meal I like best determines the winner. Teams, are you ready?

Vincent: Do we have to use only things we find in the yard?

HH: Feel free to go shopping. You can nose around the house, too, but stay out of the trash. The bosses hate that.

Morgan: I'm going shopping! You coming, Rosie?

Rosie: Fire up the grill, Vincent. We'll be right back. Morgan and Rosie race off to the local Kroger

Baxter: We're going to clean up on this one, team!

Maebe: Clean up? Do I have to do the dishes?

Josie: Let's work on the cooking first, sweetie.

Maebe: Can we cook with coffee?

HH: Just to make sure our teams stay safe from here, I've enlisted the help of an angel to keep an eye out for us. Cletus will also provide Color Commentary from the Clouds. Welcome, Cletus! Feel free to give the teams some hints. When we come back, I'll eat!

What will the teams serve? Will Lyle get enough to eat? Tune in and see!

Shark Watch 2007--A sighting!

Check out my new video! How cool is that? I can't say for sure if the big finny swimmy thing is a shark because I couldn't get my Chum Buddy out into the ocean far enough to give me a report. She needs a longer leash. AnyLoo, I'm pretty sure it's a shark and we saw a whole bunch of them on the South Beach. Sharks with blowholes! It could be a new species. If I get to name it, I'll call it the Lyleshark.

And now, more tips:

Lyle's Guide to Vacation Home Living

It's actually pretty easy, but I have learned a few things since I've been here.

1. Glass tables=headaches. The bosses think they are hilarious. Har de har.
2. You never know where danger will come from when you're not at home. Bark at everything, just to be sure.
3. In some places of the world (like here) houseplants live out of doors. I figure they are feral, and not to be trusted. Give them the hairy eyeball and keep your distance.

See? Easy. The Empty Birdfeeders are ready to convene at the Council Fire. I had better hustle back to my yard!

Lyle's guide to the Beach: SharkWatch 2007

1. If you are visiting shark infested waters, make sure to bring along someone who will always be farther out in the water than you. This is your Chum Buddy. Mine is Spring.
2. It's illegal to eat the things on the beach that are still alive. You can carry them around and roll on them but you're not supposed to eat them.
3. It is perfectly legal to eat the dead things you find on the beach.
4. Sea water tastes terrible. Sea foam is just plain frightening. Like a big salty bath. *shudder*
5. Whenever you see sea birds, you should bark like crazy so everyone knows to look. Find a little kid with a sandwich and wait for seagulls. If no seagulls show up, see if you can get the little kid to feed you her sandwich.
6. Doin' your bidness in the big sandy litterbox doesn't make you a cat. Thank goodness.

Next: Lyle's Guide to Vacation Home Living!

Intermission!

While I'm waiting for the votes from the Empty Birdfeeders, I decided to go on vacation. And I just can't keep it a secret any longer: I met Kiko and Josie and their mom and dad! Kiko is even more beautiful in the fur than she is in her pictures. Those spots...those freckles...those silky soft ears! And Josie! Her long beautiful fur...her big brown eyes! They're so sweet! And their mom and dad are among the nicest people I've ever met, paws down. I think I might move to South Carolina.

I also thought I'd share some of my travel wisdom while I'm on vacation.

Lyle's Tips for Truck Travel
1. Try to get a spot in the front seat. Never give up. The front seat is where all the action is.
2. Remember that whenever you stop, turn, or slow down, you might be "there." Get up and bark "Are we there yet?" loudly in the boss man's ear. Every time, just in case.
3. Stop along the way and meet a friend or 4. It makes for a great trip!! Especially if you meet a friend who makes chicken jerky...mmm...chicken jerky...I do love Kiko's mom...
4. Try to stick your nose out the window so you can smell where you are going. The wind might make you snort and sneeze, which might get everyone else in the truck all wet with your nose juice but don't let that bother you.
5. If you get lost (twice) trying to find where you are staying, you should bark, pace, and whine while you are driving around in circles. It helps to relax your bosses.

Tomorrow: Lyle's Guide to the Beach! Aka Shark Watch 2007!

Survivor: Backyard--episode 7

Handsome Host Lyle: Welcome back to Survivor: Backyard! Our teams have just completed their second challenge, Yard Work.

Beautiful Hostess MacKenzie: The Empty Birdfeeders, well, I suppose we could call them the Filled Birdfeeders, now, couldn't we? They were off to a rough start but after a cookie break they really pulled together. Was it enough?

HH: The Dead Petunias have pulled up their namesakes and really shaped up their section of the yard. Rosie's topiaries are something to see. Quite a talent, that one. I've invited our Guest Judge to come and declare our winner. Hidey ho, Boss Man.

BMn: Hi Lyle. What on earth have you and your friends done out here? Is that bush in the shape of a cow?

HH: Pretty cool, huh?

BMn: I actually kind of like the one that looks like a goat.

Rosie: He likes it! Are we the winners?

BMn: Well, I do think that Vincent, Rosie and Morgan have really outdone themselves. But everyone did a great job. Thanks for all your help in the yard, guys.

HH: Okay, bye now, Boss Man. Buh-bye.

McK: Congratulations, Dead Petunias! As the winners of this challenge, you now have the chance to kidnap a member of the other team. Who would you like to kidnap?

Dead Petunias (in unison, without hesitation): Goldie!

Goldie gives kisses to her former teammates and joins the Dead Petunias, bearing cookies. The Dead Petunias do a happy dance.

HH: Empty Birdfeeders, you must now vote off one member of your team. You will meet us at the Council Fire tonight...but afterwards one of you will leave the yard.

Who will leave the yard? Will there be enough cookies for all the Dead Petunias? Stay tuned and find out!

Survivor: Backyard--episode 6

Handsome Host Lyle: We're back in my yard as our teams prepare for their second challenge. Any predictions for this one, MacKenzie?

Beautiful Hostess MacKenzie: It's a tough call, Lyle. I don't really see either team coming into this one with an advantage. It's all going to depend on how well they work together.

HH: Let's see how our teams are doing so far. The Dead Petunias have grabbed the weed whacker, a hedge trimmer and a bunch of shovels and they're racing off to their end of the yard. The Empty Birdfeeders have the lawnmower and some rakes.

McK: The Dead Petunias look really motivated today. I think they're still stinging from their loss in the last challenge. Rosie is a blur behind those hedge trimmers. Clippings are flying everywhere, and Morgan is gathering them up as fast as they fall. Vincent is busy with the weed whacker. Good thing he's a big guy--he can handle the horsepower on that thing.

HH: The Empty Birdfeeders are having a little more trouble handling their horsepower. Looks like that lawnmower is getting the best of Comu'. Whoa! He's headed straight for the fence. Baxter's rushing to help him but I think this bronco's gonna buck him off in under 8. Here's Maebe, she's running straight at the mower and biting at the wheels. Boy, they've got their paws full over here.

McK: The Dead Petunias are already done with the weeding on their side of the yard, Lyle. Rosie has trimmed the hollies into topiaries. Very impressive! Now she's chewing sticks into mulch. Vincent is digging holes and Morgan is following behind him, planting bulbs.

HH: The Empty Birdfeeders have finally bested the mower and have moved on to trimming trees. They've apparently started Maebe up on her coffee again because she's bouncing to the tops of the trees with a pruner. She's doing a pretty good job, though. Goldie has just come out of their shelter with a plate of what smells like freshly baked peanut butter cookies. The Empty Birdfeeders are taking a milk and cookie break, and Goldie is giving them a little pep talk.

McK: I think the Dead Petunias can smell those cookies, because they're starting to look a little distracted and drooly. I hope this doesn't cost them the challenge!

HH: Those cookies sure lit a fire under the Empty Birdfeeders! They're fertilizing the roses and watering the bushes with some real attitude. Now they're actually filling the birdfeeders! Nice touch, guys.

McK: Time's up!

Who will win? Stay tuned to find out!

Survivor: Backyard--episode 5

Handsome Host Lyle: Let's quickly recap what's happened so far on the show. Our teams, the Dead Petunias and the Empty Birdfeeders, have each constructed a shelter. The Empty Birdfeeders won that challenge with their newly franchised Starbucks shelter and loft. Before the Dead Petunias were able to vote her off, Spring left the yard.

Beautiful Hostess MacKenzie: In a surprise twist, we had a late arrival. Morgan joined the Dead Petunias at the end of the last episode. I honestly don't know how that got past the rules.

HH: She gave me bacon.

McK: Ah. Are you sharing?

HH: Sharing? Me?

McK: Mm. That's what I thought. Anyway, we're back with both teams in the yard today, awaiting the next challenge. What's in store for them today, Lyle?

HH: (stares at both teams, looks back and forth, counting on fingers and toes)Wait a moment. Team Empty Birdfeeders, do you have an extra member?

Comu': Yes, Lyle, this is Goldie. She'll be joining our team.

HH: Now, hang on. We can't just have anyone coming in at any time. We do have some rules, you know.

Goldie: I brought freshly baked peanut butter biscuits.

HH: Welcome, Goldie! We're happy you're here!

(High fives all around the Empty Birdfeeders. Team Dead Petunias all look murderous until Miss Goldie hands them a bunch of biscuits, then all tails are wagging.)

HH: Your next challenge is brought to us by my boss man. Under this tarp (gestures to his left) you'll find everything you need to complete the challenge. Each team will have 15 minutes. You will be judged on both quality and completeness.

Rosie: What is it? What do we have to do? Show us!

Kenzie dramatically whips the tarp off, revealing a lawn mower, weed eater, hedge trimmers, and a variety of gardening equipment

Baxter: We're supposed to do your yard work?

HH: And you've only got fifteen minutes! Go!

Survivor: Backyard--episode 4

Handsome Host Lyle: Welcome back to another exciting day in my backyard! My lovely co-host MacKenzie and I are just about to head out to see how our teams have done creating shelter, using only items they were able to find in the yard. Any predictions, Kenzie?

Lovely co-host MacKenzie: As much as I hate to say it, Lyle, I think my brother's team is going to come out the winner on this one. Comu' and Baxter were both street dogs. They've had practice making something out of nothing.

HH: Well, let's go see.

(approaches Team Empty Birdfeeders and their impressive two-story shelter)

HH: Wow! This is really something. (peers inside) Is that a coffee maker? Does it work?

Baxter: Sure does, Lyle. Care for a latte?

HH: Thanks, Baxter. (staring at coffee maker) Did you make that out of a gum wrapper and coaxial cable?

Baxter: That, and a flower pot I found in the yard. Don't tell the Dead Petunias, it might have been theirs.

Maebe: I made a loft! Look! (leaps up to top level, then back down again, repeatedly)

HH: How on earth did you get her to do that?

Maebe: Three little words, Lyle: Cap-poo-chino! (Leaps back up to loft, circles quickly 3 times in each direction, curls up and falls to sleep immediately)

Baxter: Don't worry, I cut her off.

Comu': That girl on caffeine is really something else.

HH: Yikes.

Comu': Come inside, Lyle and Kenzie. You'll see that our shelter is built to local code and insulated. We're thinking of making it a Starbucks franchise.

HH: Oh, good! We don't have one on my block.

Kenzie: Let's go check out Team Dead Petunias. It looks like their shelter is perhaps not so sturdy.

HH: Good morning, Vincent. You look exhausted. Have a latte.

Vincent: Thanks, Lyle. It's been a rough night. (glances back at the shelter, which is a jumble of sticks, some of which are painted pink)

Rosie (dipping a paintbrush in a tiny bottle of paint and alternately touching up spots on the shelter and her toenails): Don't blame me. I brought you lots of sticks. All you had to do was stack them together.

Vincent: Someone kept tossing the sticks away. (glares at Spring, who is curled up outside the shelter, snoring loudly) What else could I do? Once we finally assembled a lean-to, and tried to settle in for the night, Spring tore it all down. She was screaming something like, "You can't lock me in!"

HH: I've heard that before. Sorry, Vincent. Tough break, but I think it's clear who the winner of this challenge has to be. Team Empty Birdfeeders, come and collect your prize!

Comu': A prize? What did we win??

Kenzie: A comfy dog bed for each of you. Congratulations!

(Cheers from Comu' and Baxter. Maebe snorts in her sleep.)

HH: Team Dead Petunias, you'll need to meet us at the Council Fire this evening. One of you must be sent home, and it's up to you to choose who has to leave.

Spring (wakes with a start): Leave? Choose me! I'll go!

Kenzie: It doesn't work that way, Spring. Everyone has to vote, and whoever receives the most votes then leaves.

Spring: No way. Unless you're roasting hot dogs on that Council Fire, I'm outta here. I'm hungry! Smell you all later. (Stalks off, slamming the back door on her way into the house)

HH: I can't say I didn't see that coming. Team Dead Petunias, you're down one member...

(A voice from the front yard calls out) Hello? Am I late? Lyle, can I come into the yard? It's me, Morgan!

Kenzie: Morgan! You made it!

Morgan: Do I smell coffee?

HH: Anyone have any objections to Morgan joining the game? No? Well, then, Team Dead Petunias, welcome your new member. Get to know each other, because when we come back you'll all be facing another challenge!

Survivor: Backyard--episode 3

Handsome Host Lyle: Before we turn in for the night, let's check out our video footage of our teams hard at work making their shelters. Here's Team Empty Birdfeeders, hard at work on an impressive structure. Somehow they actually got Maebe to work, how, I have no idea. She's busy jumping up to the roof with supplies. Comu' is working on the siding...it looks pretty sturdy. I have to wonder if he's done this before. Now, what's Baxter up to? He's got what looks like a gum wrapper, maybe some coaxial cable...I can't tell what else. Any insights on what he might be doing, MacKenzie?

MacKenzie: It's hard to know, Lyle. He spent some time on the streets and he can be pretty crafty. We'll just have to wait and see. Let's go check in with the Dead Petunias. Oh, things aren't looking so good over there. The yard is full of holes, but I think Rosie has finally stopped digging. She's tearing down trees and bringing sticks over for their shelter. Spring is sorting through them, but she doesn't seem happy with what she sees. She's flinging most of them away--and poor Vincent just can't help but go chase after every one and bring them back. There's a lot of work going on over there, but I can't say I see much progress. It's going to be a long, cold night for the Dead Petunias, I'm afraid.

HH: I hope they all get some rest. Tomorrow's a big day with another challenge in store! Be sure to tune in!

Survivor: Backyard--episode 2

Handsome host: Welcome back to Survivor: Backyard. We are getting ready to meet our 16 contestants and divide them into teams.

MacKenzie: Lyle, there are only four contestants here.

HH: What? What happened?

McK: I think Spring scared them away.

Spring: Did not.

McK: Even I could hear you barking.

Spring: Well, it's my house. What were they doing here, anyway?

HH: It's my TV show, Spring! Now what am I supposed to do? I don't have enough contestants.

Maebe: I'll be on the show, Lyle.

Spring: If Maebe's going, I'm going.

McK: Lyle, don't you think that Spring and Maebe might have a bit of an advantage, seeing as how it's their own backyard?

HH: Oh, I really wouldn't worry about that. But we can separate them, to even out the handicap. So who made it here?

McK: I was able to sneak Baxter, Vincent, Rosie, and Comu' in the side gate while Spring was barking at the others.

HH: So we have six? Okay, then, welcome everybody. Vincent and Rosie, you'll be on a team with Spring. You'll be the, ah..(glances around yard for ideas) Dead Petunias. Baxter and Comu', you'll be with Maebe. Your team is the Empty Birdfeeders. Your first assignment is to build a shelter for the night.

Spring: What? I have to sleep out here?

Maebe: Build a shelter? Out of what??

HH, to McK: Are you still worried they're going to give anybody an advantage?

McK: Not so much.

Vincent: What are the rules?

HH: Glad you asked, Vincent. Each team must build shelter for the night with whatever materials you can find. Kenzie and I will check in with you in the morning and evaluate your progress.

Rosie: That's the only rule? Really? No more rules? (Rosie dashes off and begins digging in the bushes, Spring barking and nipping at her heels)

HH: Sorry, Vincent.

Baxter: Comu', Maebe, are you ready to work?

Comu': Let's get to it!

Maebe (crying softly with lower lip trembling): Work??

HH: I think we've got great contestants, don't you, Kenzie? Let's go inside and have some dinner. Our teams have lots of work to do.

Spring (glancing up from nipping at Rosie's hocks): WE DON"T GET DINNER???

See you on the next episode of Survivor: Backyard!

New on LyleTV: Survivor!

Welcome to Survivor! We'll be taking contestants from all walks of life and bring them into an unknown and possibly hostile environment where they will face challenges from Mother Nature and from me. They will have to work together while still competing against each other for a spectacular prize. My lovely co-host, MacKenzie, and I will watch with you over the next few weeks as our contestants battle to the finish!

Welcome, Kenzie!

Kenzie: Thank you, Lyle.

Kenzie will be barking in sign language for the hearing impaired. Let's take a first look at where we will be taking our contestants. We're the first to see it. Watch your step, Kenzie, this could be dangerous.

Our contestants will be facing uncharted forests.

Raging rivers.

Dust storms.

Forbidding mountains.

Hidden caverns.

Kenzie: Ah, Lyle? This looks a lot like your backyard.

Well, I figured if I had to come along I wouldn't want to rough it too much. Whaddya think?

Kenzie: (pauses) It's not exactly what I imagined it would be.

Let's hope our contestants are just as surprised. We'll meet them next time on Survivor: Backyard!

Lyle's Fall Lineup

The fall lineup on LyleTV will have you glued to my page! We've got some great new shows and all your old favorites. Stay tuned for...

Survivor--our contestants will face the elements and put their courage to the test in this real-life battle!

Who Wants to Be a Superhero?--I do! I do!!

More great stuff from Lyle's Toy Box!

We'll have special guests (that's you, Comu') and lots of surprises. Don't miss a minute!

Talk Like a Pirate Day

Yes, it's true. It's International Talk Like a Pirate Day. Really. Looks like another dress-up holiday for me.

Yar.

Seva

Seva, darling Seva. You are beautiful, you are dazzling, you are fabulous.

You will be with us always.

It's time for a sing-a-long!

LyleTV is proud to present Song Hour. Today we feature the legendary Guy Clark. If you don't know Guy Clark, you should. He's a legend. He's a friend of Lyle Lovett. 'Nuff said.

Eight years old with a flour sack cape
Tied all around his neck
He climbed up on the garage
Figurin' what the heck
He screwed his courage up so tight
The whole thing come unwound
He got a runnin' start and bless his heart
He headed for the ground

He's one of those who knows that life
Is just a leap of faith
Spread your arms and hold your breath
And always trust your cape

All grown up with a flour sack cape
Tied all around his dreams
He's full of p!$$ and vinegar
He's bustin' at the seams
He licked his finger and checked the wind
It's gonna be do or die
He wasn't scared of nothin', boys
He was pretty sure he could fly

He's one of those who knows that life
Is just a leap of faith
Spread your arms and hold your breath
And always trust your cape

Old and grey with a flour sack cape
Tied all around his head
He's still jumpin' off the garage
And will be till he's dead
All these years the people said
He's actin' like a kid
He did not know he could not fly
So he did

See you up on the garage.

Signs, signs, everywhere a sign...

I should have seen the signs.



Looking back, it was obvious: it was going to be a bad day.

I should have known from the start. Here's what happened.

1. Maebe was made official. I didn't get to sign off on it, but the bosses went ahead and adopted her. Jumping the gun a little, if you ask me.

2. Maebe got bed privileges. I don't really care that much about that, but Spring does. Spring is jealous. Spring is also on a diet. So I think you get an idea of how happy she is. She shares her joy with everyone, thoughtful little beast that she is.

3. The boss man came home with a bag full of hats. That is never good. They are supposed to be for the pound dogs, to spiff 'em up for the Petfinder.com website so that they get noticed and then adopted. I have no problem with that. But the bosses thought it would be funny to try them on us. It was not funny. You can see how thrilled we are. We look like we belong on a street corner in Vegas, if you ask me. So humiliating. This Whigle ain't for sale.

But I'd be happy to sell you a hat.

Foster dog: Day 8

The Foster Dog has been here over a week now. We have all been playing and nobody has been bleeding, so the bosses think that introductions were a success. They might have low standards.

I had to show the little whippersnapper who's boss and guess what?? She thinks it's me! Ha! Now she's picking on Spring. So I like her. I told the bosses they could call her Maybe. They spelled it wrong and they kind of missed my meaning because now she has her own Dogster page and I'm pretty sure I'm stuck with her. Maybe now I'll call her Minion #1.

My friend Angus wrote a little song in honor of the new addition to our pack:

Come and knock on our door,
We’ve been waiting for you!
You’ll get kisses from her and her and him,
Three's company, too!

Another bed on the floor,
For a pup who is new.
Another lovable face has taken her place
Beside sweet Spring and Loo!

A year ago today...

I lost my best friend in the whole world.

I was a nicer dog when she was here. I am a better dog for knowing her. I miss her every day.

I wanted to say something really elegant and thoughtful but I just don't have the words. Lucky for me, my dear friend Angus does have them:

Four paw prints forever
Imprinted on my heart
Keep you near to me
Though we are apart

Four paw prints forever
Remind me of the love
That we shared on earth
And I now send you above

Four paw prints forever
To cheer me and sustain
Until the joyous moment
I see you once again

Foster dog: Day 3

She is still here. Doesn't anybody want her? I mean, I can understand why they might not. She's a real kiss-up. Follows the bosses everywhere. Doesn't rush out doors or pull on her leash. Hardly even barks.

But I know better.

I give her a couple of days to work over the bosses and then just when they sign those adoption papers the Damien in her will come out. I've seen it before.

Damien. I should call her that. Rasha isn't working for me. I was thinking of calling her Piggy seeing as how she seems to be a Pug-Italian Greyhound mix.

The bosses have been calling her Miele, which is Italian for Honey or something like that. They're probably pronouncing it wrong and saying bad words in Italian.

So maybe Miele works for me.

Lyle News Update!

My world has gone crazy. Or at least my bosses have. There is another dog in the house.

Her name is Rasha.

The bosses say, "Don't worry, Lyle, she's just a foster dog." I say, "Foster my furry...Spring was a foster too and look what happened." They say, "No, Lyle, the shelter really is over full and it's too hot for the dogs to be outside. We're just helping out."

Then I hear them coo over her, oh, she's so cute....blahblahblah. I can see what's happening here. And I don't like it one bit.

For once Spring and I agree on something. The foster dog has got to go.

It's game day on LyleTV!

Sunday is Game Day here on LyleTV. Maybe you like football, baseball, or cribbage. Here on LyleTV, we play Pop Toes. It's fun! It's easy! Anyone can play.

All you need is (1) a Spring. If you don't have one, I'll be more than happy to send you mine.

And (2) something to poke her with.

Here's how it works. You score points by the number of pops and the height of the pops. If there is a tie, the winner is decided by whoever gets the dirtiest look from the Spring.

Here is our current Pop Toes leader.

Ready, set, play!

Fashion Smarts

I got my new Doggles in the mail this week. I think I look pretty smart. And speedy. I ordered the kind with the X-ray vision, but I can't figure out how to turn that feature on yet.

In the meantime I figure I've at least earned a spot as Co-Pilot. Not as cool a Co-Pilot position as Dexter's, but it will have to do.

I think these would look pretty good with a cape. Now that I think about it, I probably should have ordered the ones with the magical flying powers instead of the X-ray vision. Rats. Well, if you come by and I'm wearing my Doggles, at least I can let you know if you have pneumonia.

Love makes the world go 'round!

It's another round of Love Tag! This time I've been tagged by my good buddy Izzie. Izzie is faboo. He also has one of the most entertaining diaries on Dogster.

The rules are easy: tag three of your pals and write why you tagged 'em! Direct them to your diary for the rules. That's it!

So much love, who to tag next? I'm going with these pawsome pups:

1. Zoe Dingo. She's a beauty...just look at those eyes! But more importantly, she's a very brave cancer survivor. Yay Zoe!

2. Stormy B. Naughty. She's such a fun pal! She and her family always bring me a smile. Her picture is on my fridge...don't you think she looks a little like me?

3. Raiko. She's a brand new Kentuckian! Welcome to Kentucky, Raiko! We're glad you're here!

LyleTV proudly presents: The Dog Whisperer!

Welcome to the show where I take on the dogs no one else can manage. I rehabilitate dogs. I train people. I am the Dog Whisperer.

I have been called to visit a Kentucky family with a so-called "crazy dog." Hello, Kentucky family.

Boss man: Hi, Lyle.

Tell me about your "crazy dog."

BMn: Can you narrow down that search for me a little?

Har de har. Tell me about Spring.

BMn: Well, she really hates her crate. She goes a little nuts when she has to go in there, unless it's bedtime.

Hm. Very interesting. Go on.

BMn: She also barks a lot when the doorbell rings, but she's really not the only one with that problem, Lyle.

It sounds to me like you have an unbalanced dog.

BMn: I can't argue with that.

What she needs is to be guided by calm, assertive energy. Let's go meet her, and I'll show you how it works. Hi, Spring.

Spring: Hey, Lyle.

I hear you have been getting your crazy on again, Stinky Dink.

Spr: Don't call me that.

Hokeydokey, Dinky Dog.

Spr: You're making me angry. You won't like me when I'm angry.

I don't like you when you're not angry.

Spr: I warned you!!

Holy rollers, Boss Man! You've got a live one there. Now stand back and watch me do my Dog Whispering magic. Psst! Hey, Spring! Psst! You are CRAZY!

BMn: I don't think that's helping.

The first step in rehabilitation is recognizing the problem, Boss Man.

BMn: Uh, Lyle, I'm pretty sure that's a different kind of rehabilitation.

Mmmhmm. Let's start with the basics here. First we must master the walk. Boss Man, walk this way. Put a little swing in it, will you?

BMn: I really don't see how this is supposed to help Spring.

Who? Oh, her? She's nuts. Nothing I can do about that. But I really would enjoy a nice walk and then maybe a snack. Whaddya say, Boss Man?

BMn: *sigh*

Exercise, snacks, affection. That's what it's all about. Thanks for joining us today. Keep it tuned to LyleTV...don't touch that dial!

Daisy

Daisy, you answered all of our most burning questions. You shared secrets with us every Friday. You brought us Ninja Dogs.

We love you, and we will miss you.

Until we see you again....

Today on LyleTV: Unsolved Mysteries

It is a sad truth that many crimes go unsolved. Here on Unsolved Mysteries, we recreate those crime scenes in the hope that one of our viewers can provide a clue that might just crack the case.

I have with us today a victim from just such a crime. Hello, victim.

Vic: My name is Spring.

Tell us about what happened to you.

Vic: You ate my Wacky Cat!!

Mm-hmm. The following is a recreation of the crime.

The night is cool for July. Our victim is resting quietly on a comfortable couch. Near her sits her favorite toy. She gazes at it fondly and gives it a soft squeaky squeeze. She is happy. She falls into a contented sleep.

Moments later, a thief moves noiselessly through the room. He stands and watches the dozing victim.

He approaches.

Silently he lifts the toy from the pillow beside the victim. He sneaks away, undetected.

Vic: That's not what happened! I saw you take it!

The victim awakens and discovers her toy is gone. She is distraught. Police are called and the sounds of their sirens pierce the quiet night air. There is no sign of the intruder. The toy is gone. The victim sobs. Police are unable to locate the thief and the crime remains unsolved to this day.

Wow, what a mystery. We here at Unsolved Mysteries have discovered a previously unseen clue which might help to solve this unusual crime. It seems there was a hidden camera in the vicinity, and we have a photograph which might represent the thief and the stolen property. Viewers, please examine this closely.

The suspect is described as about 18 inches tall and super handsome. Anyone with information on this crime can contact the victim, who has set up her own CrimeStoppers hotline. Victim, can you share that information with our viewing audience?

Vic: The number is 1-800-ITS LYLE. Creep.

Victim, I can see how difficult this has been for you. I hope that Unsolved Mysteries can help you solve this crime. We have the best viewers in the world.

Feelin' the love!

My buddy Furio loves me! Back atcha, big guy. Furio is my culinary soul mate. He's also into painting. I was also tagged by Jill, my sweet beagle friend. She has the kindest, gentlest soul...you can tell just by looking into her beautiful eyes. Star loves me too! She is sweet, funny, kind...the perfect ambassador for pitties and pit bull mixes. AND she drove all the way from Nebraska to meet me!

You see, it's the newest dogster tag - being loved!
Pick 3 dogsters you think are really pawriffic and paw a little about why! Let them know how much they are loved with a rosette or by paw mail!

There are so many fantastic pups out there, I want to tag you all. But I'll choose three!

1. Kiko! She understands my silly side. But here's the serious reason why I will always love her with all my heart: when Little Bit passed on, Kiko started sending me a Smile A Day to cheer me up. Every day, a little something...and it worked! I started smiling again. She still sends them sometimes, and I love her for that.

2. Francis Rocks! Francis was one of my first friends here on Dogster and was Little Bit's staunchest supporter. I've never known anyone who can rally up the love like Francis. Here's some to you, buddy!

3. Dottie Mae! Dottie and I have the best conversations. We can bark about anything! We share a love for grilled meat and ice cream...that's true love, my friends.

I feel warm and fuzzy all over! More than usual, even.

Lyle's Toy Box...special edition!

I have a special surprise for all of you watching Lyle's Toy Box on LyleTV. It is story time!

Once upon a time there was a handsome knight named Lyle. Day after day, he wandered through the forest searching for rabbits and hot dogs.

One day, Handsome Knight Lyle heard a noise from afar. He listened closely and heard a voice. A damsel cried, "Help me! Please, someone help me!"

Handsome Knight Lyle donned his shiny armor and raced off to find the damsel in distress. He soon arrived at a castle, where he saw a beautiful princess trapped in a castle turret. She couldn't escape because a fire breathing dragon was holding her hostage.

"Fear not, beautiful princess!" shouted Handsome Knight Lyle. "I shall save you!"

Handsome Knight Lyle sneaked up on the dragon from behind, staying far away from the dragon's fiery breath. The Handsome Knight pounced on the dragon's tail. The dragon screeched and fire shot from its snout.

"Ouch!" cried the princess.

"Sorry!" replied Handsome Knight Lyle.

The Handsome Knight seized the dragon's tail in his powerful jaws, carefully pointing the fire breathing end away from the princess. He held the dragon down until the dragon could take no more.

"Uncle!" cried the dragon.

"Are you sure?" replied Handsome Knight Lyle. "Because I really don't think we're related. Say, Mr. Sizzle, could you roast my hot dogs for me? That would be super cool. You don't mind if I call you Mr. Sizzle, do you?"

Meanwhile, the beautiful princess escaped from the castle turret and rushed to thank the Handsome Knight. "Me LOVES you!" cried the princess.

Princess Beatrix, Handsome Knight Lyle, and the dragon Mr. Sizzle all ate freshly roasted hot dogs.

And they all lived happily ever after.

DIY: Home Improvements

Welcome to DIY on LyleTV! Home improvement help straight from the experts. Me!

The project we will be working on today is the Walk In Water Dish. It is a simple and snappy way to jazz up your outdoor landscape and spice up your daily drink.

Here's how to do it:

1. Get about 10 bucks from your favorite person. My Walk In Water Dish only cost about 5 dollars from our local mega mart but you might want to have some extra money to pick up snacks while you are there. Mmm....Twizzlers.

2. Get your favorite person to drive you, your snacks, and your new Dish home.

3. Have your favorite person fill your Dish with an inch or two of water. Make sure that it is not filled too deep. You don't want your new Walk In Water Dish to be mistaken for a bathtub.

Wah-Lah! Enjoy the fruits of your labor. Have a drink from the edge. Take the plunge and walk on in to taste the water in the middle. Invite a friend...there's room to share! But make sure your friend doesn't go wallowing in your water dish. (Are you listening, StinkyDink? You make my water taste funny.)

With a little help from the experts (me again) you too can enjoy the good life with your own home improvements!

Cheers!

Hots 'n' Tots!

We interrupt your regularly scheduled LyleTV programming to bring you this exciting report.

I had the best day yesterday. Those of you who know me well will know that I have been craving hot dogs since April when I visited Gatlinburg and walked by the corndog stand FOUR times. I begged. I pleaded. I offered to be a spokesdog for the corndog guy. No joy.

Finally, yesterday after 2 full months of hints I got my reward. Hot dogs! Mine, all mine! Well, okay, I had to share some with the Dinky Dog, but some of it was Mine, all Mine! And let me tell you, no one (especially me) should never have to wait until he is 5 years old to taste his first hot dog. Dee-lish!

But my story isn't over! For once it was my turn to be the spoiled dog (take that, Dinky) and the bosses stopped on their way home from the football game to get me some Tots. Just for me! I didn't even have to share those because Spring didn't like them. Ha!

Hots 'n' Tots: the recipe for a perfect day.

This has been LyleNews, exclusively on LyleTV. We now return you to your regularly scheduled programming.

Vincent's Veather Vatch: Exclusively on LyleTV!

Are you frustrated with your inaccurate weather reports?

Tired of those boring human meteorologists?

Suffer no longer! LyleTV is very proud to present Vincent's Veather Vatch, courtesy of Vincent and Floyd.

Here is their handy weather guide:

If Vincent's fur is messy, it is windy.
If Vincent's fur is wet, it is raining.
If Vincent's fur is white, it is snowing.

He is 100% accurate, guaranteed!

Today's V3 forecast: Vincent has wet fur, wet ears and he is panting a lot. This means summer storms in muggy central Ohio!

Want your local forecast? Send round trip first class airfare (or a private jet, he's not picky) to Vincent for the most accurate weather forecast on the air. It's V3 on LyleTV!

Lyle's Toy Box, Part 2

Let's take another look in my toy box. My favorite toy this week is my (formerly) squeaky hot dog. I have had a craving for hot dogs for EVER. And ever. So this squeaky hot dog is going to have to do, because the bosses won't buy me a real one.

Let's take a look at what makes this toy great.

1. It squeaks. Really loudly. Or at least it used to. Someone that might look a little like me might have destroyed whatever it is that makes it squeak.

2. It is huge. If I had a real hot dog I would want it to look like this. I can chew on one end and smack Spring with the other end and not have to get close enough to smell her. That's a good sized toy!

3. It is anatomically correct. It even has mustard.

4. It makes me think of food. Mmm...hot dogs.

Grab your favorite food shaped toy and join me in a toast. Mmm...toast. Anyone have a toast shaped toy? AnyLoo, here's to the tastiest toys around!

Next on LyleTV: we're going to revolutionize the weather!!

Food Finds

Welcome to Food Finds, exclusively on LyleTV. Today I'm reminiscing about my Top 5 favorite foods I have found on walks. Ah, the memories.

#5: Gum. Lots of it. You never really notice how much of it there is on the sidewalk until you start looking for it. I prefer mint. Luckily the neighborhood kids seem to also. I peel it up off the sidewalk and chew, chew, chew until I get busted. Whenever the boss man sees me chewing gum he makes me spit it out. I never get the chance to get it soft enough to blow bubbles.

#4: York Peppermint Patties. All the minty freshness of gum but with a tasty chocolate coating! The boss didn't let me get this one down either but it stayed on the sidewalk and my memory is much better than his so I had it in my mouth every day for almost a week. Talk about savoring.

#3: Goldfish. Someone left an entire 2 pound box of colored Goldfish crackers on my route! Little Bit and I were in good eats for weeks. A tasty little grab 'n' go. Neither one of us liked the red ones.

#2: Dum dums. Halloween is always a good time for food finds. There are always some kids that throw the lousy candy away while they are walking through my yard. Suckers for me! WhooLoo! I got busted for that one, too, when the boss man saw the stick in my mouth. For the record, the bosses hand out chocolate on Halloween.

#1: Are you ready? This is my top Food Find ever. An entire pork chop!! Right there next to the path we take every day. I think I probably have a secret admirer, who left it just for me. I am such a lucky dog!

All this reminiscing has made me hungry. See you here again soon for our next episode!

Lyle's Toy Box

From time to time here on LyleTV, I'll profile my current favorite toy. We can bark about what makes a great toy.

Today my favorite toy is my (formerly) squeaky lizard, a present from my good friend Sergei. I call him Gizzard. The lizard, not Sergei, that is.

AnyLoo, Gizzard is All That. When you bite his midsection, his tongue comes out, his tail uncurls, and he squeaks! That is a cool toy. Too bad somebody ate his tongue, tail, and three of his toes. That somebody might have been me. Gizzard is still cool.

Which brings me to #1 on Lyle's list of what makes a great toy:
1. Makes rude gestures.

Could anyone not love a toy that sticks its tongue out? I don't think so.

What will I pull out of my toy box next? Stay tuned and find out!

Now showing on LyleTV: Home Shopping!

I have some beautiful things to show you today. Well, one beautiful thing in particular: ME!

Yes, it's me, my like-yness captured for all time in silver. How cool is that? Now the boss ma'am can show me off everywhere she goes. Finally she can do something important. I am sure she feels good about that. And you will too, when you have your like-yness made!

Of course you could get one of me. No one would blame you for wanting one. In fact they might wonder why you didn't want one of me. But I understand if you want your human wearing YOU in silver instead of me.

So order now! Visit Josie's Jewelry and have her make one of you. Tell her Lyle sent you!

I'm It! I'm It!

WhooLoo! I've been tagged by Sassy, Pogo, Cassie, Finlay, Beau Chien, Sadie, Furio, Abby, and Gwen! I am so It!

Here's how it works:

The Rules
(Hint: Copy and paste the rules so you don't have to type them again):

Each player starts with seven random facts about themselves. Dogs who are tagged, need to post in their diary the rules and their 7 pawsome facts. Then choose 7 dogs to tag and list their names. Don’t forget to bark them a pmail that they have been tagged and to read your diary, or, send them a fun Rosette announcing they've been Tagged!

I'm going to do Seven Shocking Revelations About Lyle, just to keep things interesting.

Here goes:

1. I never actually ran for Congress. (See, I told you these would be shocking.)

2. I don't like puppies. They are pesky and bitey and they never listen to my good advice even when I try to drill it directly into their heads.

3. I control the water dish. I won't guard it, but I'll drink all the water (gulp!) if anyone else wants some.

4. I can squeakerectomize a squeaky toy in 3 minutes or less....unless it makes a rude squeaky noise, then I will squeak it forever and never destroy it. Case in point: The grunting Octopus.

5. My toys are not fun unless Spring wants them. Then they are superfun. The only exception to this is the toys that make rude noises. They are always superfun.

6. I can be absolutely silent, anywhere, or make more noise than an entire troop of Girl Scouts.

7. The most shocking revelation of all...I might not actually be a Whigle. When I was younger I was very leggy and now that I'm older and slightly less, ah, sleek, I look a little more like a Brittany/Beagle. But Breagle doesn't suit me, so I am Whigle. Hear me shriek.

So now it's my turn to tag! I'm tagging:
1. Gem Fluffy O'Rourke
2. Angus the Warrior
3. Dottie Mae
4. Basil
5. Baxter
6. Gabrielle Poquita
7. Kiko
Come on, let's play!

Strange dreams

I had the strangest dream the other night. Actually it was more of a vision. It was graduation day for Level 2 of Obedience School and I was strutting my stuff when suddenly....

All the other dogs were wearing brightly colored beehives! Then, from up in the sky...

A man appears, all in white! And he sang this to me:

Your story sad to tell,
A canine ne'er do well,
Most mixed up non-delinquent on the block!
Your future's so unclear now,
What's left of your career now?
Can't even get a trade in on your smile!

Obedience school dropout,
No graduation day for you.
Obedience school dropout,
Missed your recalls and flunked U-turns!

Lylie get moving,
Why keep your feeble hopes alive?
What are you proving?
You've got the dream but not the drive.

If you go for your diploma, it will never do!
Turn in your collar and go back to Level 2!

Obedience school dropout
Go back to Level 2
Obedience school dropout
Go back to Level 2!

How about that? Frankie Avalon likes my smile!

Today on LyleTV: What Not To Wear!

Welcome to What Not To Wear on LyleTV!

I'm Lyle, your host, Dogster's own Sultan of Style. This is the show where we help the fashion-impaired to look better, feel better, and generally be more like me.

Today our guest is Spring. Welcome, Spring.

Don't you have anything to say? Folks, Spring is a little embarrassed by her unsightly facial hair. Yes, today What Not To Wear is moustaches. On girls, anyway. Come on out, Spring.

See, nobody's laughing at you. Much. Now, don't get me wrong. Some girls can really pull off the facial hair thing. But if you haven't got Gussie's chutzpah, then you need to see me.

Let me prepare my What Not To Wear makeover kit.

Why don't you wait over here, Spring.

Hold still while I work on that moustache...Yikes!

Okay, fine. You want to keep the moustache, you go ahead and keep the moustache. I'm no miracle worker, just a Whigle with a fine sense of style.
And now I'm proud to present our slightly-easier-on-the-eyes fashion-assisted Spring! Sometimes it's the accessories that make the dog. In this case you can see how the bright colors on her kerchief draw attention away from her moustache.

Keep your TV tuned to LyleTV...where I will teach you everything you ever need to know!

Today on LyleTV: Body by Lyle!

All of us here at Body by Lyle are committed to giving YOU the viewer the body you've always wanted: mine! Now I know not every dog can look as handsome as me, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't try.

Today I have a very special guest, who is almost as handsome as me. Welcome, Izzie!

Izzie: Thanks for having me on the show.

Tell us, Izzie, what is your secret to your good looks?

Iz: Naps, Lyle. It all comes from a good nap.

Really? Tell us more. What makes for a really good nap?

Iz: Now, this is important. Any sleep is good sleep. Sleeping is always better than not sleeping!

I couldn't agree more.

Iz: Recently I've learned that some of my furred comrades are not allowed on furniture at all. Are you aware of this? I think we should start protesting - a grass roots movement of sorts. Imagine, going your whole life, never knowing the feeling of a nice microsuede couch under your belly, a comfy pillow under your head? It is heartbreaking.

It really is. Of course protesting is a lot of work. Work tends to make me sleepy. Lucky for me I'm allowed on the furniture. You know, Izzie, sometimes I have a really hard time picking out my favorite couch. How do you choose?

Iz: First, you must make sure you find the comfiest furniture in the house! Although I love my orange chair, I have found our new couch is pretty comfy too. I mean it is no orange chair, but it makes for some good sleeping - so don't commit to quickly to one piece of furniture. Lay on all furniture in the house. Weigh your options. Lay in different positions. Lay during different times of the day. Lay through different seasons.

That's good advice. What if someone else likes the comfy couch? What do I do?

Iz: After you've decided which piece of furniture is your favorite, you need to claim it! Although you may be tempted to mark the furniture, don't do that. Furless ones generally frown on indoor peeing. However, you need to be on that chair as often as you can. When the furless ones aren't home, you better believe you oughta be sleeping on it. And really, you should sleep on it when they are there too. It really helps if you look adorable when sleeping on it as well.

I'm good at adorable.

Iz: Also, if you can share your furniture with a family furless one, I most definitely recommend that you do. Tall and I have spent some quality time on the orange chair. He's good for head pets, plus, he's warm and he's very skinny. He takes up very little of my chair, so I allow him to enjoy it with me. Now, of course, there are going to be some problems when your sibling dog or non-related furless want to sit on the chair. This is where things get a bit sticky.

We'll be right back with Izzie's tips when we return from our nap!

Well, I don't know about you, Izzie, but I feel a whole lot better. I could use a snack, though. Care for an egg? You were telling us how to deal with siblings or furless who want to sit on our comfy chairs.

Iz (yawning and stretching): That's right, Lyle, I was. This is my advice. If you are dealing with a sibling dog - and I know many of you have sibling dogs out there - and that dog is in YOUR chair, I'd recommend taking a toy that said dog loves, and shaking said toy right in front of the dog's face. I generally find that works quite well in removing said sibling dog. If that doesn't work, well, then you've got to resort to annoyance. Crying is acceptable, as is barking and pawing of the sibling dog while said dog is on the chair. It might take a while, but with enough dedication, you will get that darn Cricket off of your chair!

What about sharing with other furless? That has to be tough.

Iz: That can be a bit touchy. For some reason, even though Tall and Squat tell the visiting furless ones that I love my chair, they sit on it anyway. I am willing to share my chair with one furless, if I get to know them pretty well, but sometimes, TWO furlesses cozy into my chair. This leaves no room for me. When this happens, I stare at them. I cry. I stare. I whimper. I cry. I stare. And finally, when I cannot take anymore, I physically try to remove them from my chair by digging at them and by trying to wiggle myself in the chair with them. Your furless ones will probably act a bit embarassed. But it is a show...at this point, they know you've got dibs on the chair and that the chair using interlopers are just no good.

Those are good moves, Izzie. I know all my viewers have learned a lot today. One more thing before our time is up...I'd love to know what you would consider to be the absolute perfect nap.

Iz: My perfect nap. Hmmm. Every nap is perfect, really. But I'd have to say that my favorite nap in the whole entire world is the post-dog-park-ran-around-a-bunch-then-drank-a-bunch-of-water -and-stretched-out-to-take-up-the-whole-darn-orange-chair kind of nap.

Something for us all to dream about. Sweet dreams, everyone!

Planet Earth

LyleTV is very proud to present a special program. After many long minutes of research and filming, the team at LyleTV has gathered incredible footage of our Planet Earth. Some of these images have never been seen before.

It is a powerful tribute to this beautiful planet we call home.

Plus, it's minty fresh. Mmm...Australia.

BearWatch 2007 Update

We interrupt your previously scheduled programming to bring you a late breaking update.

BearWatch 2007's bear count is up to one! My BearWatch Deputies report that they have spotted a bear. We have been having problems with the live feed from their location, but I was able to conduct a brief interview with my deputies before we lost contact. Here is the transcript of that interview:

Me: Boss Man? Can you hear me? Do you see a bear?
B. Mn.: Are you using my cellphone again, Lyle?
Me: Uh, no. Can I talk to the Boss Ma'am?
B. M'm.: Hi Lyle. Yes, we can see a bear.
Me: Are you going to feed him marshmallows?
B. M'm.: Ah, no.
Me: Good. Because the marshmallows are mine. How big is the bear?
B. M'm.: He's pretty big, Lyle.
Me: Cool. Is he trying to eat you? Can you send pictures?
B. M'm: No, I don't think he will try to eat us. Hang on, I'll send some pictures.

And that's where I lost contact with them. I don't know what happened out there. The pictures they sent have just come through and I'll put them up now. I have to warn you, they may be graphic. Please cover the eyes of any children or puppies.

Wow, that's powerful stuff.

I hope they survive. They left my kibble where I can't reach it.

This is Lyle, reporting live for LyleNews on LyleTV. All the news you need to know!

The Lyle and Springer Show

Welcome, everyone, to the Lyle and Springer show, brought to you exclusively on LyleTV.

Spring: How many times do I have to tell you, Lyle? My name is Spring, not Springer. Spring. Got it?

Uh huh, whatever. Today's topic on the Lyle and Springer show is Bosses who ignore their dogs and the dogs that love them. Our special guest today is Kiko. Welcome, Kiko!

Kiko: Thank you, Lyle. I'm happy to be here.

Did your mom come with you today?

Kiko: N-n-no, she said she was busy!

Oh, Kiko, don't cry. Do you think she's ignoring you on purpose? Have you been bad?

Kiko: (gasps) No! Never! She really is busy. She takes good care of me. I just wish we could spend more time together.

Do you want me to send Spring to rough her up?

Spring: I could do that.

See? We could teach her a lesson.

Kiko: No! No fighting! I only came on the show so that she would know that I really love her. You're making it sound all wrong.

Spring: You sayin' we're wrong? Are you looking for trouble? (taps Kiko on the chest with one paw)

Kiko: Yipe! (hides under chair)

Kiko? Are you coming out? No? Okay, then, this has been a great show. Thanks so much for joining us! Stay glued to LyleTV!

Breaking news!

This is Lyle, reporting to you LIVE on LyleTV on location in Gatlinburg, Tennessee. I'm bringing you BearWatch 2007. So far, no bears.

But we traveled all the way here to see the wilderness, so I am also keeping Critter Count 2007.

So far the count is at 1 duck, 3 pigeons, and 1 tabby cat. I do love the wilderness!

In other Lyle news, Obedience School is kind of a disappointment. True, I did get to go for ice cream after my last class, but I haven't learned anything useful yet. We are almost halfway done and still I haven't learned how to open the refrigerator, fire up the barbeque grill, or drive a stick shift. What's the point?

I'll sign off with some happy news: the boss ma'am has found an outlet for her knitting that doesn't involve me. She is going to knit blankets for the Snuggles Project. I'm saved! WhooLoo!

Stay tuned for the Lyle and Springer show here on LyleTV. Live, Learn, Lyle!

The Napping Gourmet

LyleTV is very proud to announce a special episode of the Napping Gourmet featuring a celebrity guest!

Everyone please join me in welcoming Dogster's own Poet Laureate Angus the Warrior to the show. Angus has written a poem just for us!

Whigles in Kentucky
Are a fortunate lot
ButterBurgers, Easter pizza
And a woodchuck in the pot

So how much spice
Does a woodchuck need?
To be properly seasoned
And fricasseed

Chef Lyle with style
Our Napping Gourmet
Will answer these questions
On the next cook-up day

So gather round
All canine friends
The gravy train
Is round the bend!

Thank you for the introduction, Angus. Today we are cooking with woodchucks! Here at the Napping Gourmet we specialize in recipes for the lazy chef, so grab your Crock-Pots and let's get cooking!

I like my woodchuck simple. Add a little salt and pepper and pop your rodent in your handy dandy slow cooker. Find a sunny spot, curl up for a nice little nap and check on him in about 4 hours.

Smells great, doesn't it?

For the impatient lazy chef, there is always woodchuck tartare. I have to warn you, though, this is no place to cut corners. Be sure your woodchuck is fresh...even if that means going to the trouble of catching it yourself. A days-old funky groundhog is good to roll in, not to eat.

Your slow roasted woodchuck goes great with linguini on the side. I don't know about you, Angus, but I'm drooling too much to talk any more. Let's eat!

Today on LyleTV...

Dirty Jobs!

I'm Lyle P. and this is my job. I explore my house and yard looking for ways to get dirty. Are you ready to get dirty?

Coming up on this episode: Peticures.

Who doesn't want beautiful feet? I know I do. But to get really beautiful feet, first you need really clean feet. How is that done? Well, you need to get down and dirty. Start with the heel. Move up to the sole. Be sure to clean well between the toes.

Now that's a dirty job.


Everyone here at LyleTV (mostly that's just me) would like to wish everyone at Dogster a very happy Easter. I got everyone a woodchuck for Easter. Enjoy!

Next on LyleTV: The Napping Gourmet! Let's cook up those woodchucks!

Must see...LyleTV!

I've been thinking. What I've been thinking about is that the world needs to see more of me. There just aren't enough places you can go to see my handsome face.
Not to worry. I have solved the problem.

I am going to start my own television network: LyleTV.

Yes! LyleTV! 24 hour coverage of me, and maybe some special guests. I already have some great ideas for shows. It's going to be the biggest thing since sliced bread. Even bigger, actually, if you have one of those fancy huge televisions.

Do you want to be on LyleTV? Host your own show! Send me your ideas and maybe I'll get you on the air. Personally I'm hoping Dexter will host Pimp My Ride or maybe Greater Spreckels Area Choppers (or whatever it is he's riding these days).

Tune in today! It's LyleTV: Live, Learn, Lyle!

And now for my next trick...

Last week I escaped from my kennel in the middle of the night. I woke up the bosses to show them how clever I am. "How did you do it, Lyle?" they asked. Nuh-huh. I'm not telling. A magician never reveals his tricks.

You can call me The Great Loodini.

Too cool for school!

I am too cool for school. I refuse to go.

I thought I was pretty safe. Spring went to school by herself this winter. I did go along to her last class with her and I played along. I actually tested out of Level 1 obedience because I am so smart. Ha! So I thought I was golden. No school for the Loo. Was I wrong.

Now Spring and I have to go to school together, starting tomorrow. In class with Spring? Are you kidding me? She is a real kiss-up at school. I've seen it. It's shameful. She does everything they tell her to do. Of course I did too, at her last class, but I did it with style. And because I didn't think I'd have to go back. Now I have 8 weeks of doing whatever the bosses tell me to do. That is just not cool, and anyone who knows anything about me knows I am nothing if not cool.

They can make me go, but they can't make me learn anything.

Secret Agent Lyle! Part 2

Last Friday was the big day. World-famous Dogsters Star, Winnie, and Tim arrived at my house. I was happy. I was nervous. After all, now I was worried about whether or not they would like me AND what my Super Secret Mission was supposed to be. Normally, forgetting stuff doesn't bother me. Almost every day the bosses say something to me...like "Down," and expect that I am going to remember what it means. That doesn't bother me at all. But I really didn't want to disappoint Bad Cuz. Other than his spineless response to my knitting problem, he has always been good to me.

So I fretted.

Then they were here. We all went straight out for a walk. For a little while I was able to forget all my worries. Sidewalk gum to sniff! Birds to bark at! How I love a good walk. Then we were home again and everyone was hanging out in the kitchen. Star and Winnie came up close to me. They were whispering sweet nothings in my ears. I was overcome. They were so beautiful, so sweet smelling! I was smitten. I knew I would do anything to make them happy. I thought I heard Winnie whisper sweetly, "What's the Secret Mission, Lyle?" and I suddenly I thought of Bad Cuz and I freaked out. "No!" I shouted. "You can't get my secrets!" And to prove it I took Tim hostage at tooth-point. I know, I know. It was drastic. Uncalled for. I'm ashamed of myself. Even Bad Cuz said I went too far. In my defense, though, I didn't give up any secrets.

Everyone was still really nice to me after that. Star even let me finish her rawhide. Tim seemed to understand that it wasn't personal. Terriers understand the importance of secret missions, I think. We all had a really good weekend and I can't wait for them to come back for the World Chicken Festival. I hope my mission will be over by then.

Secret Agent Lyle!

Star, Winnie, and Tim and their skinfolk came to visit us last weekend. I was excited. And nervous. Would they like me? Would they think I am handsome? I have never had so many visitors come just to meet me. So I was pacing around, wondering how best to impress them all, when I ran into Bad Cuz.

"Hidey ho, B.C.," says me.

"Listen up, Fuzzy," says he. I perked up my ears. Bad Cuz is full of good advice. "You must at all costs protect the mission."

"Mission?" I searched my brain for clues. Nada.

"The Super Secret Mission I've had you working on for weeks, " Bad Cuz prompted.

"The one about the gum on the sidewalks?" I wondered.

Bad Cuz just shook his little horns. I am sure he would have rolled his eyes, if he had eyes. "You don't remember the Super Secret Mission?"

"Sure I do." I lied.

"Then you know how important it is that the mission not be compromised." He went on about something after that but I was stuck on Com-Pro-Mize. What did it mean? Clearly it was important, but I just couldn't figure it out. I nodded to make sure that he thought I was listening. He seemed pleased. I was proud of myself. I was on a Super Secret Mission. So secret even I don't know what it was. WhooLoo!

I'm on pins and needles!

It's just not fair.

The boss ma'am is learning to knit.
All of her family and friends will be allowed to say "No, thanks" when she offers them her handiwork. Not me. I have to wear anything she puts on me. All you have to do is look at my photos to see I am telling the truth.

So far she has about eight inches of what I am sure is destined to be the world's ugliest scarf or maybe tube sock. And I am just as sure I will have to wear it. What is a Whigle to do?

Bad Cuz says this is out of his jurisdiction. Lily livered little turncoat that he is, he probably figures he will be wearing a hand knit skull cap if he is implicated. I guess I don't blame him for staying out of it.

I'm not alone, though. My good friend Angus the Warrior understands my problem. So much so that his Muse visited him with a poem in my honor:

Knit one, purl two
What's a Whigle supposed to do?
When the boss ma'am decides to knit
Frightening sweaters that do not fit

Where to hide?
Where to run?
She'll come looking
When the scarf is done

For poor Lyle to sport
Her latest fluffy creation
Nasty knitted what-not
In a scary colour combination

There's no time to waste
Don't tarry or delay
Call the fashion police
To take those needles away!

I can fly like the eagle!

I just learned that there have been reports of bald eagle sightings here in Lexington.

I think maybe I need to make a confession.

It was me. It had to have been me. It is obvious, really. The similarities are uncanny.

Just look at the evidence:
1. I have a lovely white head and a black body. Just like an eagle.
2. I am noble and beautiful. Again, like the eagle.
3. I like to chase rodents. Hel-lo!
4. I am a proud symbol of our great nation.

So don't feel bad if you saw me and mistook me for a bald eagle. I don't mind. I just wanted to set the record straight, you know, clear up any misunderstandings. It's what I do. I'm Crock O'Lyle...expur-Gator.

I love it...just be-Cuz!

The strangest thing has happened. My toys have begun speaking to me. Not all of them, of course. I'm not crazy, for heaven's sake. Just the Good Cuz and the Bad Cuz.

Good Cuz says things like, "Treat your toys gently" and "Share with Spring." I have started throwing him down the stairs.

Bad Cuz says, "Destroy your toys. Start with the Good Cuz." He also says, "Hold me up over Spring's head so she can't reach me. It will drive her crazy." I like Bad Cuz.

Bad Cuz likes it when I toss my toys down the stairs.

So does Dexter, apparently. Seems that our Chairman is a Deep Thinker, just like me. He has suggested some very interesting experiments that may finally earn me my Nobel Prize. As soon as his cat comes in the mail, I'll be able to get started.

In the meantime, though, I have been very busy teasing Spring with my Cuz. I love to get her all fired up. She is a terrier, so it isn't hard to do. Still, I think I do it especially well. After all, I'm Crock O'Lyle...Insti-Gator.

You're goin' down!

Everyone knows I have a scientific mind. I like to know how things work. I like to figure things out. Lately I have been testing the new surface on the Staircase 500 racetrack in my house. I don't actually race on it very often because Spring is usually already there, practicing. I do like to stand at the top and drop things. I like to watch them bounce.

Here is what I have learned so far:

PLUSH: Very little bounce. Sometimes they don't even make it to the bottom. I like to leave them where they land, and hope the bosses step on them. I'd like to see how well bosses bounce.

TENNIS BALLS: Good bounce. Not as good as before the track was resurfaced, but good.

KONG: Best yet. I am sure that if I keep working on the Kong Toss I can put out a window. Ha!

CUZ: I just discovered these toys, thanks to Vincent. They come in two types, Good and Bad. Bad Cuz bounces almost as well as the Kong and makes a very satisfying thud at the bottom. Good Cuz makes me carry him down.

I'm thinking about publishing a report: How Things Bounce, by Lyle. I just have to find the right scientific journal.

Why do I spend all my time doing research when I could be napping or watching birds? I don't know. It's just who I am. I'm Crock O'Lyle...Investi-Gator.

Beware...

He waits quietly, patiently. His prey approaches, completely unaware.

He licks his lips in anticipation. The prey moves closer.

Suddenly he pounces! The unsuspecting prey thrashes in his mighty jaws!

Spring: "Leggo of me, you big dumb lug!"

He retreats to his lair, satisfied and victorious as always. He is Nature's top predator. He is invincible.

He is Croc-O-Lyle.

Godspeed, Austin.

My good friend Austin lost his battle with lymphoma February 15. Austin was a good friend of mine. We were going to take over the world together.

Austin, buddy, there's a little Mule Terrier looking for you...she's got a Blizzard for you, the biggest one you ever saw.

She'll be comin' round the mountain when she comes!

Star, that is. At least I think she is. All I know for sure is she lives waaaay off to my left and I think there are mountains there.

AnyLoo, Star and Winnie and Tim and their skinfolk are coming to visit me next month! Could I be any luckier? I get to meet them ALL! In the fur! Or in the skin, I guess.

She'll be ridin' six white horses when she comes!
I really don't trust those humungous big dogs they call "horses" but if she wants to ride them it's fine with me. They're not sleeping in my room.

We'll all eat chicken and dumplings when she comes!
I'm all for that. Mmm...chicken.

We'll all wear red pajamas when she comes!
Why? I have a red jacket but I was really hoping not to have to wear it in front of Star. She might laugh at me. How can I dazzle her with my handsomeness if I'm wearing pajamas? I only have a month to figure that out.

Oh, Star put up the map to Our House on her page so if anyone else wants to come visit, you know where to find me.

Happy birthday to me!

What a great day!

It's my birthday. I'm 5. The groundhogs celebrate with me. Isn't that nice?

My wonderful friends are throwing me the best party EVER.

Stop by, sing a song! Be sure to wish Milo a happy birthday too. He's Allegedlee 8 today.

My good pals Daisy and MacKenzie had birthdays yesterday.

Let there be cake!

High Stakes: Chapter 37--the last!

I didn't die, of course, but I'll still contend that it wouldn't have been a bad way to go about it. I awoke to see Samantha's face mere inches from mine. She was slapping my chest with her paw and shouting, "Lyle! Wake up! Lyle!"

I rose up on one elbow and blinked slowly to clear my head, which was pounding. I had apparently added another goose egg to my collection. Not a bad one, but combined with the other two I'd so recently received, it must have been enough to cause a mild concussion. I had no idea how long I'd been unconscious.

"What happened?" I asked.

Samantha's eyes grew wide. "You don't remember?" she asked, alarmed. "He has amnesia!" she shouted to nobody in particular.

"No I don't," I retorted. "I was unconscious. How could I possibly know what happened while I was out?"

Samantha didn't seem convinced by this answer, but let it drop. She and Sinty began to relate the events of the previous few minutes in rapid fire dialog. My head was spinning in addition to aching just trying to follow along. The gist of it was this: Sinty had seen Seva attempting her bold getaway in the Ferrari and done the only thing she could think to do to stop her.

"I pulled out in front of her and she T-boned me," Sinty reported proudly.

"Mmm...T-bones," I said.

Seva and Sinty had both been wise enough to wear their seatbelts and had emerged from the crash uninjured. I was the only casualty. I'd flown off the car in a hailstorm of meat. Seva was undeterred and took off on foot with as much Kobe beef as she could carry. The rest of the cavalry raided Furio's meat truck and began pelting her with the remaining meat in order to impede her escape. A particularly well-slung rope of sausages tangled up her legs and she was apprehended. Quincy and Basil had reportedly been very cooperative upon their arrest.

"The police are here?" I asked, incredulous.

"I called them as soon as you all went into the restaurant," Sinty admitted. "I was pretty sure we were going to need them one way or the other. I didn't call an ambulance, though. Sorry."

I reassured her that I was fine. I stood up and shook myself off. Behind us, Lucky was loading Quincy, who looked very forlorn and moth-eaten, into the back of his cruiser. Basil was already inside. If his tail had survived the eggbeater attack, he wasn't showing it. Nearby stood Seva, who somehow managed to look elegant in spite of the handcuffs she wore. Furio, Bullet, and Beau Chein were recovering the meat and carrying it into the restaurant. I greeted Lucky.

"Thanks for coming, buddy," I said.

"You know I never miss a party with food," he replied, smiling.

I gestured toward Seva. "Any idea why they did it? Have they talked?"

He nodded. "These three had set up a deal to steal the Kobe beef and split the take. Basil and Quincy were just in it for the money, I think. Seva says she had to take it for 'moral reasons.'" Lucky smiled wryly at Seva, who shouted, "And I would have gotten away with it, too, if it weren't for you meddling kids."

Lucky patted my back and congratulated me. For a moment I was confused, but then I realized the case was solved. I had been the detective in charge and now I was a hero. Sinty and Samantha both gave me a lick on the cheek. Sadie, Star and Cassie told me to come in to the restaurant any time; they'd take good care of me. Morgan stood by and watched me receive my accolades, a look of sheer disbelief on her face. I winked at her and she rolled her eyes, but finally smiled.

"What's going to happen to the restaurant?" I asked.

Bullet was passing by with an armload of meat and said, "I don't know, but the Festival will go on. I'll see to that."

Another police car arrived to take Seva away. I walked over to her and said, "I'm sorry. I really am."

"Not half as sorry as I am," she spat. "Do you see what you've done? Common dogs from anywhere will be eating this precious beef tomorrow. Do you think any of them will appreciate it? Do you think any of them will love it the way I would? It's a travesty! Some dog will probably put steak sauce on it." She shuddered and began to weep. I watched in silence as the police took them away.

Epilogue

The Food Festival was a huge success. Miss Steak's Kobe beef was the highlight of the event. I went through the line for it seventeen times before Bullet kicked me out. The last time through, I took a moment to dedicate a bite to Seva. Before I did, though, I dipped it in steak sauce.

Furio was so pleased with us for rescuing him and his meat that he promised to give us all free steaks for a year. He had not anticipated Samantha's and my appetites, however, so had to rescind his offer after only a month lest he face bankruptcy.

Bullet bought the restaurant and hired Beau Chein as his head chef. Samantha is now a sous-chef in charge of the grill. They've renamed the place Steak Your Claim and decorated it with a Western theme. It's the most popular restaurant in town, for good reason, but I can get a table any time.

Morgan decided to stay on at the restaurant. She's joined the bridge club and Sadie, Star and Cassie's karate class. She's trying to convince Sinty and Samantha to join her in the roller derby.

As for me, well, I figured I'd reached the pinnacle of my detective career with the Miss Steak case. It's time for me to move on. I'm thinking my next career will really showcase my talents. Bullet needs live entertainment at his place, and I'm just the dog to provide it. I've even been working on a new song.
Crazy
I'm crazy for feelin' so hungry
You're crazy
Crazy for not feeding the Loo

I knew
You'd feed me as much as I wanted
And then someday
You'd leave me to feed somebody new

Worry
Why do I let myself worry?
Wonderin'
What in the world did I do?

Crazy
For thinking that your meals could hold me
I'm crazy for tryin'
And crazy for cryin'
And I'm crazy with hunger too!
THE END

High Stakes: Chapter 36

The truth is I was worried about our chances with Basil and Quincy. Notwithstanding our mathematical advantage, it was clear to me that we were dealing with professionals. They would probably be skilled, or at least experienced, in fighting. If I was going to be responsible for stopping Basil and Quincy, as well as protecting the skins of the rest of my hastily assembled team, well, I was going to be nervous about it. I think what I said was, "We're going to get slaughtered out there."

I was not as reassured as one might think by the responses of the ladies, coming as they did with such baleful stares. Samantha, as it turned out, was the champion kick boxer in the state. Sadie, Star, and Cassie (in addition to being dangerous on the bridge circuit, from what I understand) were all black belts in the same karate class. I certainly couldn't have known that Morgan was a member of the local Roller Derby.

"So what are you bringing to the party, Mr. L?" Morgan asked icily.

I met her gaze beat for beat and proudly replied, "I have a TaeBo DVD."

She didn't have a chance to be impressed, because at that moment the walkie-talkie crackled to life. Sinty cried, "Go now! Go!"

I nodded at the culinary cavalry standing behind me and threw open the door. We ran out howling and brandishing our kitchen gear. Seva, Basil and Quincy stood frozen in surprise, but only for a moment. As I had suspected, Basil and Quincy knew how to handle themselves in a skirmish. I was astonished to see that Seva also appeared to be skilled in the martial arts. I should have recognized it sooner: TaeBo thighs.

Star managed to sneak into the meat truck to free Furio and we added him to our ranks. He seemed more than happy to join in the fracas. I, unfortunately, lost my focus for a brief second when I caught my reflection in my shiny saucepot. I was so impressed with my valiant image that I didn't see Quincy approach. He thumped my melon with my own saucepot. Luckily Sadie was standing nearby with her melon baller and gave him a thrashing. He was yowling pitifully as scoops of fur went flying in every direction.

Basil had his tail caught in the business end of Cassie's eggbeater but couldn't escape, because Samantha and Morgan had him cornered, and Samantha was clobbering him with her cleft stick. He too, cried, "Uncle!" and I knew victory was at paw.

I was proudly surveying the battlefield when I saw to my horror that Seva had managed to make her way to the Ferrari. She was peeling out of the parking lot and I took off after her at a dead run, Bullet and Furio at my heels. I grabbed hold of the rear spoiler, claws scrabbling on the well polished paint. Bullet caught up just in time to give me a shove and my front legs ended up in the passenger seat, which was piled high with packages of meat. I only had a moment to lick them before there was a deafening noise and the world went dark. The last thing I remember is the packages of meat flying through the air like soft, juicy clouds beside me. If I have to die, I thought, this is as good a way as any to go.
to be continued

High Stakes: Chapter 35

We squabbled about what to do next. Morgan tried to convince us that we had the upper paw by sheer force of numbers. A minute or two of calculations brought me to the conclusion that we outnumbered the bad guys by more than two to one.

"You were spending all this time figuring that out?" Morgan asked incredulously.

"I sprained a toe doing that math, thank you very much," I sulked, licking my sore foot. I soldiered on in spite of the pain. "Does anyone have a key to the front door?" I asked the girls. "If we could go in through the front, they wouldn't see us and then we'd also have the advantage of surprise."

Sadie quickly produced a set of keys and Morgan nodded her approval. "We should post a lookout here," Morgan suggested. "We can use our walkie-talkies."

We nominated Sinty to be our lookout. Amnesia or no, she was still recovering from an injury and we all thought it best to keep her out of harm's way as much as possible. We stationed her in the front seat of the Jaguar with a pile of snacks and a two-way radio. The rest of us crept from shadow to shadow to meet at the front entrance of the restaurant.

We were all tense and jumpy, even once we were inside the relative safety of Miss Steak. I led the group to the kitchen and slowly pushed open the swinging double doors. My already frayed nerves nearly unraveled completely when Samantha let out a stifled scream.

"Over here!" she cried. I hurried over to the walk-in refrigerator, where Samantha was busy trying to untie a crude set of knots holding the doors shut. Inside, I could see Bullet and Beau Chein, tied up like calves at a rodeo. In a few moments, we had them freed and they stood shivering, rubbing their wrists and licking their hocks where the ropes had bound them.

"Did they make off with the meat?" Bullet asked through chattering teeth. "That was what they were after, isn't it?"

I nodded and replied, "Not yet. They're still outside."

"We have to stop them," Beau Chein declared.

We were all in agreement on that point. We searched the kitchen for weapons. I wielded an oh-so-shiny saucepot. Morgan had a death grip on a rolling pin. Sadie, Star and Cassie armed themselves with a melon baller, a salad fork, and an eggbeater. Samantha had brought her cleft stick from the Jaguar. We stood at the service door and waited for Sinty's signal.
to be continued

Smartitude! In spades!

If you have been reading along in Spring's diary you know that she has been visiting her parole officer once a week. Sure, she calls it Obedience School, but I know better.

Apparently the conditions of her parole require that she perform lots of silly tricks like Heel and Stay. What I don't understand is why the bosses make me do it too. I already know everything I need to know, on account of I'm so gosh darned smart. Ask anyone. In fact, just this week I learned how to Shake. Yep, it only took me four years to learn it. Don't feel bad. Not every dog can be as quick to learn as I am.

To all of you who are still patiently reading along with Dogster's Most Slowly Written Novel, thank you!

High Stakes
Chapter 34

As Morgan prepared to tell her story, I kept a wary eye on the hooligans in the restaurant parking lot across the street. They seemed to have forgotten about our diversion and were now busily loading white-wrapped parcels into Seva's Ferrari. I kept the other eye on Samantha, who appeared to be torn between protecting Sinty and launching herself at the throats of the trio of waitresses. For the moment she was sticking with Sinty, so Morgan began.

"You know that these three had been having lots of private conversations," she said, gesturing toward Star, Sadie and Cassie. Samantha nodded vigorously. "Well, I thought they were worth investigating, so that's why I followed them tonight."

"Aren't stakeouts fun?" I interjected, wagging my tail and helping myself to a cookie.

"Mm-hmm," she replied noncommittally, and continued. "Anyway, when I got to Star's place and saw them all together I was sure they were plotting something but I had no idea what it might be. Then they all sat down together and I realized I'd been wrong the entire time. They have a bridge club! Bridge! With only three players, can you imagine it? So I did what I had to do and joined in as their fourth."

I'd never been so proud of Morgan. She was truly following in my furry footsteps. It was exactly what I would have done. Apparently they also had a nice little chat while they were playing cards and Morgan discovered that Star, Cassie, and Sadie were indeed at the restaurant when Sinty was injured.

"I knew it!" seethed Samantha, and Sinty and I had to physically restrain her.

"It's not what you think," Star said.

"We're really sorry," Cassie added.

Samantha was not mollified. She was, in fact, livid. "What did you do to her?" she demanded.

"We didn't do anything," Sadie said, but somehow it came out sounding like a confession.

"We should have, though," Star admitted, and then elaborated: "We were in the kitchen discussing when the bridge club would meet next. We thought we were alone. I mean, we tried to keep it quiet because, well, bridge just isn't cool, you know, and we didn't want anyone to think we weren't cool."

"I think bridge is cool," Sinty offered sweetly. Star smiled and continued.

"You were there," she said, looking at Sinty, "but we didn't see you until you hit your head on that big stockpot that Bullet hangs over his workbench."

"I keep telling him someone's going to knock themselves out on that thing one of these days," Cassie declared. "And then you did."

"That's probably why I don't remember being attacked," Sinty mused.

"We should have called for an ambulance," Sadie admitted, "but we thought you didn't like us and we were afraid that someone would think we hit you. So we ran. We shouldn't have, and we're really sorry."

They were all hugging and making nice when I happened to glance back to the meat truck. "I think they're getting ready to leave," I said, alarmed.

"Who is leaving?" asked Cassie. When she followed my gaze to Furio's truck she said matter-of-factly, "Oh, the Kobe beef is here."

We all turned simultaneously to stare at her, our mouths open, me drooling slightly.

She shrugged her shoulders, as if this should be common knowledge. "I saw Beau Chein sign the order for it. It was going to be delivered after hours for security reasons. I wonder where Beau and Bullet are."

I was wondering the same thing.
to be continued

High Stakes: Chapter 33

"You can do this," Samantha reassured me. I simply smiled. I didn't need reassurance. Her plan was brilliant. I flipped the switch on the karaoke machine and flashed my star-powered smile, whispering, "Showtime!" The first notes began and I sang with all my heart.

"Blue Loo!
You saw me standing alone
Without a steak in my mouth
Without hotdogs of my own.
Blue Loo!
You knew just what I was there for...OUCH! What the heck was that?" Something hard had pelted me on the crown of my head, just to the left of my Bump of Knowledge. I rubbed the spot, which was already growing a lump, and looked around for the missile that caused it. Samantha found it first.

"It's a frozen Cornish hen!" she said as she snatched the bird. "It's mine! I saw it first." She shot me a warning look and huddled protectively over her prize.

"Who would throw a chicken at me?" I wondered, completely dumbfounded.

Sinty held up a shushing paw, listening carefully. "The beagle threw it. Said something about putting 'that poor cat' out of its misery," she reported.

"Cat?? Misery??" I snorted. How dare they mock my signature song? I was furious, spoiling for a fight. I looked all around for something with which to return fire, but couldn't find anything I was willing to lose. I finally settled on the remaining cocktail weenies, but even those seemed too precious to part with. Reluctantly, I grabbed a mini-dog and took a bite, hurling the remainder toward the beagle with all my might.

"Hey!" exclaimed a voice which seemed to be originating from a shadow about a foot and a half from the front bumper of the jaguar. The stranger spoke again. "What on earth? A half eaten cocktail weenie? Lyle, is that you?"

"Morgan! You're okay! What happened to you? How did you know it was me?"

Morgan emerged from the shadows, unscathed, holding half a cocktail weenie in her paw. I took it, ate it, and offered her a napkin, which she accepted gratefully. "Who else would it be, throwing half a hot dog. Not to mention you throw like a girl." She glanced over at Samantha and added, "I guess it could have been her."

Samantha narrowed her eyes crossly and stroked her Cornish hen, shifting it out of sight. It was only then that I realized that Morgan was not alone. I was startled to see that she had three other dogs with her. I immediately recognized Sadie, but the other two were unfamiliar.

Morgan quickly introduced us. "Lyle, this is Star and Cassie. You already know Sadie. Girls, this is Lyle." They all seemed to be sharing some sort of private joke because they were smiling and giggling as we shared introductory sniffs. Samantha stiffened and moved closer to Sinty, who seemed unconcerned.

"It was you, wasn't it," Samantha hissed. "You attacked Sinty."

Star, Sadie, and Cassie exchanged nervous glances. Samantha looked like she was out for blood.

Morgan stepped between them. "Wait. Let me tell you what really happened."
to be continued

No clue!

It's me who is clueless...I don't have a clue who sent my anonymous rosette!

To my Secret Rosette Sender: you did make me smile! Thank you!

High Stakes: Chapter 32

Before we could begin to think of what to do next, we were tossed to the pavement in the wake of a red Ferrari tearing recklessly up the street. The car careened into the Miss Steak parking lot with a squeal of tires. I cautiously raised my head, hoping to catch a glimpse of the driver.

There was no mistaking her. Seva stepped out of the roadster, tossing her scarf with a flourish. Even I could hear the conversation that ensued.

"Where is it?" she demanded, approaching Quincy and Basil without hesitation.

"It's still in the truck," replied Quincy, looking nowhere near as menacing as he had just a few seconds earlier. His partner also appeared to be somewhat unnerved. "He wouldn't let us have it." He jerked a dewclaw in the direction of the truck.

Seva turned her gaze to follow his paw. She stared into the cargo hold of the truck, then her body stiffened and she snarled, "No one was supposed to get hurt!"

"He'll be fine," Basil said, but his voice lacked the reassuring tone his words were attempting to convey. The beagle was beginning to pace anxiously between the service doors of the restaurant and the truck. It seemed to me that he was ready for this mission to be completed. I could sympathize. "Let's just take it and get out of here," he suggested.

"What a mess," Seva groaned, rubbing her forehead with a dainty paw. "Just let me take it. Load it in the back of my car."

Quincy and Basil exchanged a look that sent a shiver down my spine. Whatever Seva had intended to happen here had clearly gone amiss, and the thugs seemed to have hatched their own plan along the way. I had a sinking feeling that Seva was going to be written out of the script.

"I have to do something," I whispered to Sinty and Samantha. "But what? I don't know if I could take them both in a fight."

Samantha raised a brow but said nothing.

"We could create a diversion," Sinty suggested. "If Samantha and I distract them, you could sneak in and steal the truck and drive Furio to safety. Once they see you driving off, she and I will be able to get away because they'll be focused on you."

Her plan was brilliant. I licked her face appreciatively, and she smiled sheepishly and blushed a little. I rubbed my paws together and wished I had time for a quick rawhide, but time was one thing we didn't have.

"I think I know how we can get their attention," Samantha declared.

If only I could make the wish...

We would have celebrated Little Bit's 10th birthday tomorrow.



Happy Birthday, Bitty.

Happy Birthday to Francis Rocks, too...and Happy New Year to everyone.

High Stakes: Chapter 31

I spent a delicious moment imagining the plethora of delights which could be contained in such a marvelous vehicle. I reluctantly steered my thoughts back to the stakeout and realized that during my reverie, the beagle and black lab (surely they must be Basil and Quincy) had disappeared. I could only see the driver of the meat truck as he stepped into the parking lot, stretched his legs and glanced around. I thought he looked as though he was expecting someone. The question was, who? Surely someone in the honorable profession of purveying fine meat wouldn't be dealing with shady characters like Basil and Quincy.

At least a half dozen possible answers to my question rattled around in my head, but none of them rang true. I turned to Samantha. "Does the restaurant normally get deliveries after hours?" I asked.

"Not as far as I know," she replied. "Miss Seva usually locks up the place herself, but she should have left hours ago."

I couldn't keep my tail from wagging at the thought of the lovely Miss Seva. Surely if she had stayed for this special delivery, everything was copacetic. I could wait here a while, perhaps, just to make sure she was safe, bark a quick hello, maybe offer her some of Samantha's cocktail weenies and a lick of water. In my mind Seva and I were softly singing 'Until there was you' together on the karaoke machine but the second verse was interrupted by Samantha, who stomped on my toes and hissed, "Are you even listening to me?"

I blinked once, slowly, and glanced over her shoulder at Sinty, hoping she might offer me some context clues for the conversation I missed but she was staring intently in the direction of the meat truck.

"They're back," Sinty whispered.

"Who's back?" I asked.

"That beagle, and the lab. Only now, they’re dressed like chefs."

Samantha and I turned to see for ourselves. Sure enough, Quincy and Basil were wearing white chef's coats and hats and approaching the truck driver. Their tails were high and the meeting appeared to be friendly.

"Can you hear them, Sinty?" I inquired, hopeful. I watched her lovely and talented ears swivel back and forth as she zeroed in on the conversation. Her face was a study of concentration.

"Yes," she replied, "at least most of it. The driver is apparently Furio himself, because this is a special delivery. He's taking extra precautions, he says. The beagle and the lab introduced themselves as Bullet and Beau Chien. Samantha, did I really lose my memory? That's not Bullet, is it?"

Samantha patted her friend's shoulder solicitously. "No, sweetie, that's not Bullet. I'm sure you'll get your memory back soon."

Sinty looked relieved and refocused her attention on the faux chefs and Furio. "Furio wants to handle the delivery himself but the chefs are insisting that they can take whatever it is themselves. Apparently the merchandise is to be delivered into a locked refrigerator and Furio wants to lock it in himself. The other two are getting upset, I think," she added.

I could see for myself that the tone of the conversation had taken a turn. Quincy and Basil were approaching Furio from either side, tails low and menacing. Furio was clearly nervous, but stood his ground. Suddenly Quincy jumped him and in an instant he was trussed like a Thanksgiving turkey. He let out a howl before they wrapped a length of rope around his muzzle and shoved him rudely into the back of his truck. The three of us stood watching, transfixed with horror.
to be continued

High Stakes: Chapter 30

Three bellies hit the pavement simultaneously with a soft thud.

"Do you think they saw us?" Samantha whispered.

"Shhh," I hissed. I crept under the Jaguar for a better view. I could only see the paws of the new arrivals as they paced back and forth under a street lamp. I could only wonder why. "I'm going to try to get a better view," I whispered as quietly as I could manage. "Stay out of sight." I crept to the front of the car and peeked around the bumper. I felt exposed, but at least from this vantage point I could see their faces. They were clearly engaged in an animated conversation, but I couldn’t hear anything. Frustrated, I crawled back to the girls.

"I don’t know what they’re up to," I admitted. "I can’t hear them."

Sinty looked at me shyly and said, "Maybe I can."

Now, I've always been a dropped-ear dog, myself, but I was beginning to appreciate the beauty of Sinty's perky auricles. Her sense of hearing was remarkable. I'm a sight/scent hound, so I was understandably impressed. At that particular moment, however, none of us could hear anything over the roar of a truck passing so close we could feel the Jaguar sway in its wake. Even I could hear the truck as it slowed to an idle in the Miss Steak parking lot. I chanced another quick look over the hood, and so did Samantha.

"An armored truck?" she asked, sounding mystified. "But nobody ever picks up our receipts. We always drop them off ourselves, in pairs."

I smiled paternally at her. She couldn't possibly be expected to notice all of the details my trained detective’s eye could pick up in one quick scan, but I still admired her attempts at deduction. "Not just any armored truck," I explained, "a refrigerated armored truck."

Samantha stared, unblinking, at the vehicle. "It says something on the side, doesn't it?"

I squinted into the darkness. She was right. Barely perceptible in the dim light were the words "Furio's Fine Meats: Specializing in the Rare and Unexpected."

Meet Spike, mayor of Crazytown

I was right.
I know, it's not nice to say it. But it is true:
Spring is crazy.
She thinks the has two personalities. There is "I'm a sweet as a Georgia peach" Spring, and then there is "Don't mess with Texas, or me" Spike.
Yes, Spike. Where she came up with that I have no idea. She blames Spike for all the bad stuff she does. Actually that isn't really a bad idea, now that I think about it.
But come on, imagining you're someone else...that's just plain nuts.

High Stakes: Chapter 29
I was finishing the last bite of porterhouse when I heard Morgan on the walkie-talkie.
"I can see them," she said in an exaggerated whisper.
"Good timing, Rover One," I told her, smacking my lips contentedly. "I just finished my second steak."
"Second steak? I spoke to you not more than thirty seconds ago. You ate two steaks?"
I winked at Samantha, grill master extraordinaire, and replied, "I can't rush a good meal, Morgan. What's going on at Sadie's place?"
"I'm trying to figure that out. I could see them through the kitchen window, but they're moving into another room. I'll try to get a better view, but I need you to stay quiet. I don’t want them to hear you," she said. There was a pause in her transmission, which I spent eating a bag of Oreos, and soon she continued. "The three of them are in what looks like a dining room. They're sitting at a round table and seem to be discussing something, but I can't hear what they're saying."
"Do they have any snacks?" I asked, hoping to flesh out the mental pictures I was creating based on Morgan’s report.
"Shhhh!" she hissed. "Star is opening a box of some sort and Cassie has a pencil and paper. Maybe this is that inventory discrepancy Samantha was talking about; they're cooking the books."
"Mmm...cooking," I murmured, but obediently avoided pressing the 'talk' button on my radio as I said it.
"No, that's not it. Star has a bunch of cards...do you think they read Tarot? Maybe this is all black magic!"
"Ooooh!" I heard Samantha and Sinty chorus behind me. I hadn't realized 'they were even listening but it was clear they were entranced by Morgans adventure.
"Wait! I know what this is! Darn it all, this just takes the cake. I'm going in," Morgan declared and the transmission ended abruptly.
I turned to look at Sinty and Samantha. Their faces were lined with worry. What could I do? I couldn't leave my post, and I couldn't send Sinty or Samantha to help Morgan. All I could do was fret until I heard from her again. I paced around the karaoke machine, too nervous to sing, even though I knew the girls were dying to hear my special rendition of "Blue Moon," which would have matched perfectly with the s'mores. In truth, we were all so distracted with thoughts of Morgan that we didn't notice the dark sedan pull up behind Miss Steak until the doors slammed shut and a beagle and a black Lab stepped out into the night.
to be continued

High Stakes: Chapter 28

I was in a jovial mood as we watched the steaks begin to sizzle. The only disappointment was the lack of electricity. If we had access to a power source, I could have fired up my trusty Fry Daddy and whipped up a batch of steak fries. The night was just one outlet short of perfection. No matter, I convinced myself, and turned my attention to the grill. Samantha was tending the meat; she appeared to be in good spirits and was actually humming.

“What’s that song?” I asked, cocking my head closer to her.

She lifted her head abruptly and stopped humming. “Nothing,” she replied, looking embarrassed.

“No, I recognize the tune,” I mused. After a moment, it came to me. “You’re singing my song! Who’s sleek and speedy…Ha! Admit it, it’s catchy.”

“It needs work,” she replied.

“Come on! Sing it!” I insisted. A stake out, a cook out, and a sing along: could the night be any better?

Samantha reluctantly began to sing, quietly at first, but then more enthusiastically. “Who's sleek and speedy in a Jaguar? His name is Lyle and he drives the fastest car.”

“Wait!” I interrupted. “I want to do the next verse.” I thought for a moment. “What rhymes with ‘fun’?”

“How about ‘gun’?” Sinty offered.

“Hm. That works. I'm faster that a bullet from a gun! Driving for me is super-duper fun.”

We went on this way until the steaks were nearly ready. Together we sang, “My trunk is full of steaks and yummy food. With Sinty and Samantha I feel good. Happy stakeout here we come! Watch out gangsta, watch out scum!” I was just about to repeat the ‘happy stakeout’ line, my favorite, when Sinty interrupted with a sharp hiss. “Shhhh!”

“What? Are the steaks ready?” Samantha asked, dashing to the grill.

“Quiet!” Sinty snapped. I could feel our celebratory spirit dissolving more as each moment elapsed. I wasn’t willing to give up on the sing along, so I elbowed Samantha and gave her a surreptitious wink. “Sing with me,” I whispered. “Sinty's grumpy, we don't know why. She's bothered by something—is it a fly? Come on Sint', don't make a fuss! Have a steak and sing with us.” We rolled on the ground, doubled up with laughter.

Sinty glared at us through narrowed eyes, her ears flicking back and forth like crazed satellite dishes. “Hush, you two! I heard something.”

My heart skipped a beat. The stake out! Had we blown our cover? Did we miss the rendezvous? I rose up on one paw and peeked through the windows of the car to the restaurant beyond. Nothing appeared to be out of the ordinary. I listened intently for the noise that had captured Sinty’s attention. Suddenly I heard it and sighed with relief. It was my two way radio, left on the dashboard, and Morgan was checking in. I reached in and grabbed the walkie talkie. It was only then that I noticed the tension in Morgan’s voice.

“Lyle! Come in, Lyle! Please! Oh, come on, you’re not really doing this, are you? For crying out loud. Double-O-Whigle, this is Rover One. Do you copy?”

I was so proud of her. I replied immediately. “Rover One, this is Double-O-Whigle. What’s up?”

“Finally. Where were you? What have you been doing?”

“Singing,” I replied. “Want to join in? I can hold the little button down so you can hear us but I don’t think we’ll be able to hear you.”

“Singing? Us? Who’s with you?”

“Samantha is here, and her friend Sinty. We have steaks on the grill. Did you eat your jerky?” I inquired solicitously.

“I’m on a stakeout, not having a lawn party,” she replied icily. “I followed Star and Cassie to Sadie’s house. They’re all inside. I’m going to sneak up to the window to see what’s going on. I’ll call you back.”

“Roger, Rover!” I turned to look at Sinty and Samantha. Their eyes were wide with anticipation: our steaks were ready.
to be continued

High Stakes: Chapter 27

I outfitted Morgan with a walkie talkie and a bag of jerky.

"I'm not hungry," she protested.

"Don't be silly," I replied, stuffing the greasy meat into her purse. "You might be there all night. Protein is important for alertness." I considered the oily mess in her bag and added, "You might want to take a napkin or two."

She glanced at her bag and gasped.

"This is Prada!" she wailed.

"The leather on that will taste like Slim Jims now, you know," I offered helpfully.

We went our separate ways, Morgan with strict instructions to check in with me at quarter-hour intervals. "Your code name is Rover One," I informed her. "I'll be Double-O-Whigle. Can you remember that?"

"Do I need to?" Morgan asked. "Will anyone else be on this frequency?"

I didn't have time to give her a Detecting 101 lesson, so I simply said, "You can never be too careful." Actually that is a Detecting 101 lesson, come to think of it.

I arrived at Sinty and Samantha's apartment and hit the horn twice. They dashed out of the lobby, paws laden with supplies. We spent several minutes trying to rearrange our provisions to make room, eventually deciding to lighten the load by eating a batch of the cocktail weenies. We were forced to tie the cleft sticks to the bumper, in spite of Samantha's protests that we might not be able to access them promptly in a time of need. We carefully arranged blankets and pillows for Sinty in the backseat, and Samantha rode shotgun. Finally, we were ready.

"Who's sleek and speedy in a Jaguar? My name is Lyle, I'm driving a car!" I sang proudly as we sped to the restaurant. I had the top down and was enjoying the wind in my ears. Samantha was grumbling and fiddling with the radio.

"Are you going to sing like that the whole way?" she growled.

"I might," I replied. "Unless I can make up another verse--then I'll sing that. Any ideas?"

"No!" barked Samantha.

From the back seat Sinty piped up. "Have a Pop Tart, Samantha. You'll feel better." Samantha grudgingly took one, and it did seem to brighten her mood. I was beginning to see the wisdom of bringing Sinty along.

As we approached the restaurant, we scoured the street for the best place to park that afforded us a view of the restaurant with minimum exposure. We found a spot a short way down the block under a broken streetlight. Samantha got out to fire up the Hibachi grill and I radioed Morgan.

"Double-O-Whigle to Rover One. Do you copy?"

"I'm here, Mr. L. Nothing's happening yet," she replied.

"It's Double-O-Whigle, Rover One, and you forgot to say 'Over and out.' Over and out."

"Roger that, Double Loo."

I sighed and turned off my radio. There was nothing to do now but wait. The steaks wouldn't be ready for at least twenty minutes.

to be continued

On the road again!

What a week it was. I was Travelin' Lyle. Spring and I spent a week in Wisconsin. I was very excited. This was going to be my shining moment. I was going to be Best Dog. The boss ma'am's parents have never thought of me as Best Dog. So I figure, compared to the Spring Thing, I'm a shoo-in.

But no. They loved her. She jumped up on the kitchen table planning to steal an apple pie and they still loved her.

It is so wrong. I never get to be Best Dog.

I got to meet some fellow Dogsters in the fur! We met Ziero and Mocha Java at their local Culver's. The bosses kept saying things like, "Java is so sweet!" and "Ziero is so handsome!" and "They are so well behaved!"
Like they never get to see that sort of thing at home. So naturally I got a little cranky. A little frozen custard made it all better. I could have used a burger too, though.

Now you will see I'm ready for Howl-o-ween. I had planned to go nekkid this year. My plans were foiled because somehow Skye managed to sneak her Howl-o-ween costume into a package addressed to me. The bosses saw it before I did and you can see what happened next. Very sneaky, Skye, very sneaky. But thanks for the treats!

High Stakes: Chapter 26

I was grateful for the extra trunk space of Sinty's jaguar once I began packing for the stake out. I had walked the girls home, leaving them to prepare the cocktail weenies, then drove Sinty's jag back to my office and double-parked out front. I admired my reflection in the side view mirror one last time before racing up to my office to prepare. Soon I was sitting in the midst of a mountain of provisions, trying to limit my supplies to the bare essentials.

Several trips to the car later, I was ready to go. I had my Hibachi grill, complete with charcoal and matches, hotdogs, and (of course) steaks. I had two flashlights, extra batteries, candles, and my pet rock. I brought my Word of the Day calendar, just in case, and my dog-eared copy of Detecting for Dummies. I carefully packed my ukulele and karaoke machine next to the flashlights. I wrapped everything in a down comforter and tucked a few pillows around to keep everything secure. I had a cooler in the back seat filled with soft drinks, a jar of peanut butter, turkey jerky, and cookies. I was a little worried we might run short on food, so I called Samantha to see if she’d make a triple batch of her hotdogs.

"Is there anything else I should bring?" she asked. She'd agreed that we could probably use some extra food.

"I'm sure I'm forgetting something," I fretted, and listed off the inventory in the trunk. Samantha was silent for a moment and then said, "Do you have any cleft sticks?"

"Not unless you count my ukulele," I replied.

"I read in a book that dangerous situations like this might put us in a cleft stick. Perhaps we should bring one along and prepare for the worst."

I always appreciate the wisdom of being prepared. I used to be a Pup Scout, after all. I told Samantha to bring however many cleft sticks she could procure and hung up the phone, satisfied. Less than a minute later, my phone rang with Morgan’s tone. I hummed along to the Electric Slide for a few bars and then took the call.

"Howdy, Morg! How's it going?" I asked.

"I need you to do something for me," she replied softly.

"What’s up? I can barely hear you," I shouted, assuming our connection was bad.

"Not so loud! I'm on a break and I don't want anyone to hear me. Star, Cassie, and Sadie are having a meeting tonight. I think you should follow them and see what they're up to."

I cursed my luck. I'd waited all my life for a stake out and now I had the chance for two—but they were on the same night. "Can you stall them for a little while?" I inquired.

"Maybe," she answered. "For how long?"

"Just a day or two." There was an odd noise on the other end of the line and I asked her if she could still hear me.


"A day or two? I thought you meant maybe an hour or so. How could I possibly keep them occupied for a day?"

She sounded irritated, so I refrained from making suggestions and simply explained my predicament. "The problem is I'm already busy. I'll be on a stake out at Miss Steak. You’ll have to do it alone. Tell you what. I'll fix you up with a little walkie talkie and I'll help you through it. You can be my eyes."

"Don't expect me to see things your way," she muttered. She agreed to pick up her walkie talkie after her shift at the restaurant. Two stake outs in one night! The anticipation was almost too much to bear.
to be continued

High Stakes: Chapter 25

As I stripped off my borrowed jumpsuit, Samantha dug a whimpering Sinty out from under the bed linens.

"I'm so sorry," she wailed, throwing herself into Samantha's arms. "I couldn't hold it anymore. I did try to tell you." She howled and said, "I almost ruined your whole plan!"

I gently patted her paw and reassured her that all was well. We had, in fact, accomplished our objective with nary a hitch.

"That's not exactly true," Samantha said, interrupting my self-congratulatory speech. Her voice was low and contrite. "I blew it. I gave you up!"
"What do you mean?" I asked, bewildered.

"I said your name! Your real name! They'll track us down and arrest us for dognapping."

Sinty cleared her throat and interjected, "You do realize that I was going to be discharged tomorrow."

I clenched my jaws, alternating my stare between them and then locked on Samantha. "Did you know this?"

She refused to raise her gaze from her paws, which were shuffling uncertainly on the pavement. "She's better off at home," Samantha finally mumbled, her tone defensive.

Sinty touched my shoulder with her paw. Her eyes were wide and fearful. "Do you really think you might be arrested?" Her innocence moved me to set aside my annoyance with Samantha.

"I don't think Nurse Kiko will turn us in," I stated, with confidence I didn't have to feign. A smile curled at the corner of my mouth. "In fact I think Nurse Angel Ears was rather taken with me. So don't you fret, Sinty," I said, straightening the bandage on her head. "Everything is going to be fine. Let's get you home. I have to prepare for a stake out."

Sinty's ears perked up and her eyes sparkled. "A stake out? Really?"

Samantha raised her head and said, "Yes! At the restaurant, no less. I'm going to help Mr. Lyle find out who attacked you."

"And bring cocktail weenies," I reminded her.

"Can I come?" asked Sinty.

For a girl with a head injury, this one had spunk. Still, I couldn't be saddled with two inexperienced sidekicks. I had to turn her down. "I really think you should get some rest."

"You could use my car," Sinty offered. This did get my attention. I had missed a couple of payments on my trusty Dodge Dart and lost the privilege of its use. Or so said the repo guy. I hadn't yet figured out how to inconspicuously set up my provisions without some sort of vehicle. Perhaps I could allow Sinty to sleep in the back while Samantha and I kept watch. I was pondering my options when Sinty added, "It's a jaguar."

"Deal."

to be continued

I'd like to send a big bark out to Bowie and all the Dogster pups who voted for her on Petster.com. Bowie is donating her prize money to the Woodford Humane Society in honor of Little Bit.
Thank you, everyone, from the bottom of my heart...and the bosses' too.

Talkin' trash with Spring

It's official. Spring has sprung.
She's the new dog in the house. She looks like Groucho Marx.
She has more energy than a dog should. Get this: she gets up early and then she wants to play. That is definitely not natural. The only reason I can think of to get up is to get an early start on my morning nap.
Spring has done time in Juvey. Twice. She'll tell you she was at the pound, but I know better. I'm hoping she can teach me prison lingo. I'd like to learn some bad words. Spring says if I keep asking her about what it's like to do hard time I'll learn lots of them. Isn't that nice?

High Stakes: Chapter 24

The startled expression on the face of the lovely Catahoula nurse on the other side of the door was quickly transformed into one of suspicion and annoyance.

“What are you doing in my patient’s room?” she demanded, brandishing a bedpan like a baseball bat. We had attracted the attention of Sinty’s officer on guard as well; he rose from his chair and stood behind the nurse, pinning me with an intimidating stare. I dropped my eyes to the floor and waited for Samantha to say something.

Her voice was not nearly as authoritative as it had been a moment earlier, and she peeped, “Linen change.” I was about to remind her to keep her head down when the Catahoula nurse grabbed her by the collar of her purloined jumpsuit. I sneaked a peek and saw Samantha’s back paws barely brushing the linoleum. The nurse, whose badge revealed her name to be Kiko, was snarling directly into Samantha’s face. “You have no business entering patient rooms. You should know that.” A strange little strangled noise came from Samantha and I realized she couldn’t speak to defend herself. It would be up to me to rescue her with my charisma. I wasn’t worried; very few ladies can resist me.

“Excuse me, Nurse Kiko. May I say you have the loveliest ears? There are so many pretty nurses here, I’ve lost my head. I think I mistook this patient’s room for the laundry.” I chuckled and tried to look embarrassed. “And now we’re lost. Would you be so kind as to direct us to the laundry?” I gave her my most charming smile and watched her defensive demeanor melt like butter in my paws. Kiko loosened her grip on Samantha’s jumpsuit and Samantha gasped in what must have been relief, although her expression looked more like disbelief. I suspected that was simply the result of the choking.

Several moments passed and Kiko’s expression was unreadable. Undeterred, I broadened my smile. “Turn down this long hallway to your left,” she finally said, pointing with the bedpan. “You’ll see a sign. Now, if you’ll excuse me, my patient needed…” she broke off mid-sentence, staring at the laundry cart we were beginning to push out of the room. I followed her gaze and was horrified to see a stream of yellow liquid leaking from one corner of the cart. The pile of laundry rustled almost imperceptibly. Samantha must have seen it too, because she suddenly found her voice.

“Sorry! We’re leaving. Let’s go, Lyle,” she barked. We double-timed it out the door, leaving a piddle trail in our wake. I couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for Sinty, but it was far too late to ask to borrow the bedpan. I turned and gave Kiko a wink and smile as we hustled down the hall. My charms were rewarded with a bedpan clanging off the wall just above my head. We broke into a run and dashed out the loading dock door.
to be continued

High Stakes: Chapter 23

“I know! I’ll disguise myself as a doctor. You can be my nurse. We’ll grab Sinty and if anyone asks what we’re doing, I’ll say I’m taking her for tests. Stat!” I was particularly proud of this plan because I’d always wanted to shout “Stat!” in a hospital. “Just let me run back to my office and get some disguises.” I turned and trotted back in the opposite direction, but was abruptly stopped by a rude tug on my tail.
“No!” Samantha insisted. “We’re going to the hospital now. I don’t want to waste another minute.”
“Do you mind letting go of my tail first?”
Samantha had the good grace to look ashamed, although she didn’t exactly apologize. She did, however, release her death grip on my tail, and that was going to have to be close enough. I explained to her that I was certain we would not be able to sneak Sinty out undetected unless we had some sort of plan, or at the very least, an excuse. Samantha was not convinced.
“Well, you can’t be a doctor, that’s for sure,” she said.
“Why not? I’d be a great doctor.” To emphasize my point, I shouted “Stat!” again and smiled confidently.
Samantha stared at me, apparently unimpressed. “For one thing, your appearance is too…ah, how shall I say it…striking. Someone would have noticed a doctor like you before,” she stated. She paused, put a paw on my wrist and said softly, “You don’t exactly blend in.”
I considered this for a moment. She was right, of course. Any doctor as handsome as me couldn’t possibly expect to pass through hospital halls unobtrusively. Dogs would probably stop and ask me medical questions. Or ask me why I wasn’t on television.
We arrived at the hospital a few minutes later but I still didn’t know how to get Sinty past her police guard and the nurses. Just then a laundry van pulled up to the loading area at the side of the hospital and several workers in white jumpsuits unloaded large white carts and began wheeling them through the service doors. Samantha was bouncing up and down beside me. I figured she had a thing for socks. As it turned out, what she had was our plan.
We watched the van from afar, waiting until the employees were all inside the hospital, and then dashed over. The back doors to the van had been left open, revealing two more empty carts and several jumpsuits hanging from hooks on the inside walls.
“It’s perfect!” Samantha whispered. She tossed a jumpsuit to me. “Put this on and help me push out one of these carts. We’ll go to Sinty’s room, pretend we’re collecting linens, and stuff her inside along with the bed sheets. Once we get out the door, we’re home free!” She was almost breathless with excitement.
I struggled into the jumpsuit and evaluated my appearance in the van’s side mirror. “Don’t you think I’m too handsome to be a laundry worker, too?” I asked.
Samantha gave me a blank look and ignored my question. Quietly we rolled a cart into the hospital. “Keep your head down,” Samantha hissed. “We don’t want to attract attention.” I pushed the cart from behind and tried to heed her advice. I couldn’t help but sneak glances from the corner of my eye and imagine how fantastic I would have looked striding through the halls as Dr. Peabody. Some other day. My reverie was interrupted by a soft “oof” from the front of the cart. Samantha growled, “Watch where you’re going” as she shoved the cart and herself away from the wall I’d pushed them into.
“I was doing a good job keeping my head down,” I offered with a sheepish grin. She glared at me and kept pulling the cart down the hall. When we arrived at Sinty’s room I was relieved to see the officer standing guard was not familiar. Samantha pushed the cart through authoritatively, announcing, “Linen change!”
I closed the door behind us. Sinty was dozing in her bed, unaware. I watched as Samantha woke her gently and explained the situation. Sinty was still blinking slowly as she nodded her assent to our proposal. I couldn’t help but wonder if she was perhaps still a little confused. I hoped it wouldn’t jeopardize the plan.
Silently, we loaded Sinty into the laundry cart and piled her bed linens over her. “Could you wait just a minute?” she asked, poking her head up through the blankets. “I need to…”
“We’ll have you out of here in no time at all,” Samantha interrupted. “Whatever it is, I’m sure it can wait.” She tucked Sinty out of sight. We all took a deep breath and opened the door.

Boise or Bust!

It has been a rough week or so around here. To be perfectly honest, it has been rotten. Life is dull without Little Bit. I have to admit it: I miss her. I moped. That's not like me. I have to say, though, that Little Bit has some pretty amazing friends. You have all helped me and the bosses get through some dark days and we thank you.

I want to mention some of her friends who have been extra, extra special.

Jay-Jay and Francis Rocks combined their considerable talents to create a very special gift. To everyone who was a part of it (you know who you are), we thank you.

Kiko, thank you for helping us to smile every day.

So yes, I am feeling better now, thank you for asking. But I think I need to get out of the house. See the world. I was thinking I'd go to Boise, Idaho.

I like potatoes.

Also, Chairman Dexter has a special mission for me. I am going to deposit my Crystals of Power in some lake in Idaho. Why, I have no idea. But since he's paying me three chickens, I'm on my way. While I'm there I am going to spread the good word of Frisbetarianism. I get to wear a tie and hand out souvenir Frisbees. All good.

While I'm gone I think I probably will be able to work on my book. That Pullet Surprise is still waiting for me.

Ain't no sunshine when she's gone...

Hey Lord, take a look all around
And find out where my Bitlit's gonna be.
Hey Lord, would you look out for her tonight
'She might be far across the sea.
Hey Lord, would you look out for her tonight
And make sure that she's gonna be alright
And things are gonna be alright with me

Hey Lord, would you look out for her tonight
And make sure that all her dreams are sweet
And then would you guide her on the roads
And make them softer for her feet
Hey Lord, would you look out for her tonight
And make sure that she's gonna be alright
And things will be alright with me
Hey, Lord would you look out for her tonight
If she is sleepin' under the sky
Please, Lord, make sure the ground she's sleepin' on
Is always warm and dry
And please don't give her too much rain,
Try to keep her away from pain
Because my Bitlit hates to cry

Hey Lord, would you look out for her tonight
'Cause it gets rough along the way
I know this song seems strange because
I don't know how to pray.
Lord, won't you give her peace of mind,
And if you ever find the time
Tell her I miss her everyday

(apologies to Billy Joel)

High Stakes: Chapter 22

I was practically skipping back to my office. A real stake out! The anticipation was delicious. I wondered if I’d have enough time to make the necessary arrangements to do it properly. I had a nagging feeling that this case was close to breaking wide open and I didn’t want to jeopardize the investigation by being inadequately prepared. I was scouring my bookshelves for my tattered copy of “Detecting for Dummies” when I was overcome with a powerful sense of déjà vu. It might have had something to do with a breathless Samantha bursting through my door, sobbing and shouting, “Mr. Lyle! Mr. Lyle!”

“Come in,” I said gently, and handed her a tissue. “What’s the matter? Is Sinty okay?”

“Yes, she’s fine. That’s why I’m here,” she replied, blowing her nose loudly and handing me back the soggy tissue. I cringed, let it drop, and scratched it under the rug.

“I’m sorry, I must have missed something. You’re here because she is doing well? You don’t get too many return appointment invitations, do you,” I mused.

She scowled at me and took a deep breath. She raised her voice an octave and I found myself with an irresistible urge to cover my ears. “She needs to get out of the hospital NOW. She should be at home. I can take better care of her. The stupid doctors won’t release her. You have to help me get her out. Are you listening to me? Take your paws out of your ears,” she demanded.

“I can hear you just fine,” I assured her. “What do you want me to do? Why can’t you just sign her out A.W.O.L.?”

“A.M.A., and I can’t, because they still have a guard posted at the door. She’s a victim of an unsolved crime, as you might recall.”

“I could give Lucky a call. I’m sure he can remove the surveillance if that’s really what you want, but you should keep in mind that her attackers might return to finish what they started,” I reminded her.

She shuddered and seemed to physically banish the idea. “No,” she insisted. “I don’t want to talk to any more police. I just want to take her home.”

“I’d love to help you. I really would,” I said. “It’s just that I’m really busy right at the moment and I’m not sure I have the time.” My tail began wagging uncontrollably and Samantha scowled at me again. It was clear I couldn’t hide my excitement, so I felt compelled to offer her an explanation. “I’m planning a stake out. I ran into those suspicious-looking dogs you told me about at Miss Steak today and I heard them discussing something that was supposed to happen tonight. So I’m really sorry,” I said, trying my best to sound sincere and slow the frantic wagging, “but I can’t help you today. Can we get her out tomorrow after lunch?”

Samantha’s face unexpectedly broke into a wide grin and she grabbed my foreleg tightly with her paw. “I have a better idea. You’ll help me free Sinty and I’ll help you with your stake out. You need an insider on the job. You need me.”

“I appreciate the offer, Samantha, but this is no place for civilians. You could get hurt. I’m sorry, but I just can’t take that risk.”

“You don’t have to. I will. I assume all responsibility for my safety. No excuses.”

I shook my head and declared, “No, I have one more excuse. I have lots of work to do to prepare for the stake out. I simply don’t have the time.”

She eyed me dubiously and said, “What kind of preparations, exactly?”

She’d caught me off guard. I was sure that I’d need some sort of surveillance equipment and maybe monitoring devices but all of these things were hiding out in dusty corners of my mind at that particular moment. All I could think of was food. The word “snacks” popped out of my mouth before I could produce a more considered response. Samantha’s eyes grew wide and she licked her lips. “Snacks? Are you kidding me? No problem. I’ve got you covered. Come help me with Sinty and I’ll bring you a whole pot of little cocktail weenies.”

There was no way this could work. No way at all. I scratched my ear and tried to think of the kindest way to refuse her. “The kind with the grape jelly sauce?” I finally asked. I rationalized that I at least had to have all of the pertinent data before I could make an educated decision.

She reached up and scratched my chin. “The best you’ve ever tasted,” she crooned.

I sighed and headed out the door. “What are you waiting for?” I asked her. “We’ve got work to do. Let’s go save Sinty.”
to be continued

High Stakes: Chapter 21

“Tell me what it is that makes Miss Steak so special,” I began. I figured a few generic questions would get the conversation rolling.

Seva smiled and replied, “It’s a combination of things, really, but one single goal: perfection. We choose the best ingredients, the finest meats, and everything is prepared and served to the most exacting standards.”

I’ve never been able to resist a woman of uncompromising principles. For some reason, however, they are almost never attracted to me. I was pleased with how this conversation was progressing, though, so I was hopeful. I pressed on. “I have to admit I’ve only heard of your restaurant very recently. Why don’t you advertise?”

“I have always been convinced that a satisfied customer is better than any advertisement. We primarily rely on word of mouth for our business. Our customers tend to return, bring their friends, who bring more friends, and before you know it we’re busy every night.”

I was impressed, but not entirely convinced. “Wouldn’t you like to see your face on a billboard? I know I would. It could say ‘steak your claim’ or something like that.”

Seva pursed her lips and was quiet, as though visualizing her picture on the billboard I’d described. “It’s not exactly the image I’m after,” she finally said. “It’s not that we don’t do any advertising, though. We’re involved in a number of community events. In fact, Miss Steak is a sponsor for this weekend’s food festival. You really ought to come if you’re still in town. It’s quite an event.”

“Or how about ‘the stakes are high at Miss Steak’?” I yipped, undaunted by her rejection of my first suggestion. Her expression darkened, and I suspected that she had moved on in the conversation. Too bad, I still had more slogans in mind. I was fairly sure she had mentioned the food festival, a topic I’d planned to visit anyway. “I heard you were having some rather special menu items for the festival.”

Her good-natured smile returned and she replied, “Indeed we are. A shipment of Kobe beef is arriving tonight, as a matter of fact.” Her eyes danced with excitement.

I rubbed my head as in my mind I heard the echo of the earlier conversation behind her closed office door. “Tonight, you say? Hmm. Tell me, how are you planning to prepare the meat?”

She hesitated for just a fraction of a second before she replied. “My plan will be a surprise,” she murmured, her gaze drifting off over my shoulder. “It will be a wonderful surprise.”

I was instinctively suspicious. Something was about to happen, and I wasn’t going to miss it. So now I, too, had a plan: stake out.
to be continued

mmm...Pullet Surprise!

I knew the Crystals of Power would be a big hit, but I didn't realize all of the marketing opportunities I was forgetting. My smart friend Skye suggested that I should sell them on the Home Shopping Network. Add some sparkly things and Wha-La! Trendy jewelry. I might even add Little Bit's Crystals of Infection...I mean Crystals of Wisdom for variety. I have some leftover duct tape so I'm sure I can put together something snazzy.

Little Bit spilled my beans (mmm...beans) and told everybody about my mugging. Yep, that's right, I was mugged. I wasn't even carrying any money because it was before I started selling the Crystals of Power. But now that I am going to be rich I should be more careful. I am going to take self-defense lessons. I'm hoping Seva will teach me martial arts. In the meantime I have several tough buddies who have offered to help as my bodyguard/hired thug. Sergei, Francis Rocks, Lexey and Rio are all nice dogs who can pack a punch. Or at least look like they could. Good enough for me.

I guess I am going to be busy. I also have that novel to finish. Gwen tells me that I am a shoo-in for the Pullet Surprise with this one. How cool is that? An award and a prize package, which I am sure comes with CHICKEN. Mmm...Pullet Surprise! I can hardly wait.

You won't need to wait any longer:

High Stakes
Chapter 20

Seva excused herself and left me standing outside her closed office door. I was breathless with the realization that a break in the case could be happening before my very eyes. Well, it would be, if I could see through doors, but I can’t, so I pressed my ear up tightly against it instead. I could only make out fragments of conversation. Seva seemed agitated and the two shady characters sounded as if they were trying to press her for payment for something.

I thought I heard Seva say, “Nothing until after delivery.” Next they argued in low voices I couldn’t decipher and then I distinctly heard one of the thugs say, “Tonight.”

My mind was reeling as I was processing these bits of information so I didn’t realize that the reason the voices had become clearer was that they were preparing to leave. One of them opened the door rather briskly and I was sent tumbling tail over teakettle across the hallway. I pretended to be napping.

“Monsieur Pate?” Seva’s voice sounded incredulous. “Are you…awake? I am so sorry. I had no idea I was away for so long.”

I opened one eye in time to catch another glimpse of the beagle and Lab as they shuffled out of the building. I yawned and tried to look sleepy. Since I really had no explanation for having supposedly fallen asleep during her brief conversation, I decided distraction would be the best course of action. I struggled for an appropriate French phrase, but having skipped the “Impressing the Ladies” section of my translator, I was relegated to cobbling together something from the kitchen section.

“Vous etes aussi belle qu'une cote de boeuf,” I told her, punctuating the sentence with my most winning smile. She looked at me curiously, then eventually returned the smile and offered me a dainty paw to help me up from the floor. Clearly, she was charmed, so I turned up the wattage on my smile and added, “Vos pattes sont assez douces que du beurre fondu.” She actually giggled as I stood and shook myself. I followed her into her office and took a seat. “Thank you so much for your warm welcome this morning,” I said. “I told your chef earlier, but I’d like to tell you also: je suis bete, mais j'ai aussi un coeur d'or.”

Seva laughed again and replied, thankfully in English, “I can see that is true.” I was exceedingly proud of how I’d handled the language challenge of my disguise and gave myself a mental pat on the back and settled down to the business of my visit.
to be continued

Call now! Quantities are limited!

I need cash.

Famous authors do not make much money as I would have guessed. And so far I have not been offered any movie deals. Hard to believe, but true.

So I have to ask myself: How can a poor Whigle make a buck? How am I supposed to buy the things I need, like cats? Or self-defense lessons?

And Loo and behold, the answer comes to me. Right out of the blue. Well, the yellow, actually.

I will sell Lyle's Crystals of Power.

Little Bit says, "Where on earth are you going to get Crystals of Power?"

Ha, ha! Says I. This is the best part. I can make them for free! Then I will sell them on P-Bay. Maybe I will make a stone. I can probably get more money for those.

Little Bit says, "Are you nuts? If anyone finds out where those came from...oh, the horror!" Poor Bit, she has no business sense. I'm not worried. People will buy anything. Behold the Crystals of Power. Be the first on your block to get some. You, too, can have the power of Loo!

High Stakes: Chapter 19

I was feeling a bit insulted, sitting alone as I was at a workbench away from all of the activity. I could still see and smell everything and I had the handy little sample spoon Bullet had just given me, but I couldn’t help but feel ignored. True, I had probably gotten a bit too close to that heavenly scent. It was barbeque sauce, as it turned out, and I might have accidentally dipped my tongue in for a taste. Evidently that’s poor form in the kitchen but fortunately I was able to successfully blame it on being French before Bullet had me escorted off the premises. I wasn’t able to talk myself back into the action, though. All I could do was stick out my shiny little sample spoon as the staff went by. Every now and then one of them would have mercy and offer me a bite of something or other. After a particularly delicious taste of chicken I peeked at my notes and raved, “Quel delice! Ce morceau de poulet me fair mourrir de joie!” I was hoping to have the chance to use that phrase again lest I die of hunger instead.

Bullet had become somewhat reticent following the barbeque sauce incident and I suspected I wasn’t likely to learn anything else from him. I was mulling over my options when the wait staff entered the kitchen. I started to give a little wave to Samantha before I remembered she couldn’t possibly recognize me in my disguise. I covered my mistake with a flirtatious wink and was rewarded with her deep blush. The ladies love me. As soon as everyone assembled, the doors opened again and in walked a stunning Saluki.

“Good afternoon, everyone,” she addressed the group. I recognized the dulcet tones of Seva, the restaurant owner. She was even more beautiful than I’d imagined. She continued, “Let’s make this a great day. Bullet has some exceptional dishes to offer and I’ve no doubt they will all be prepared and served with perfection. I expect nothing less. We have a guest today, Monsieur Jacques Pate, who will be observing in the kitchen. Please make him feel welcome.”

I stood, bowed graciously to Seva and smiled winningly at the staff. Seva had already turned to leave and I hurried to catch up with her. “It is such a pleasure to meet you,” I told her as I opened the door for her.

“We’re all happy to have you here,” she replied, and I was relieved to know that she wasn’t aware that might no longer be entirely true. “Is there something you need?” she added, realizing I was still following her.

“Actually, I’d like to ask you a few questions about the restaurant if you have the time.”

She glanced at her watch, hesitating. “I usually like to mingle as we start the day, but I could probably spare a few…” she stopped, mid-sentence as she pushed open a door simply but elegantly labeled “Seva.” I stepped around her to see what had caused the distraction. A beagle and a black lab whose appearance I could only describe as shady were seated on the couch in her office. Her voice turned icy and her words were clipped as she snapped, “What are you two doing here?”
to be continued

Double feature!

High Stakes
Chapter 17

Neither of us stayed at the rawhide bar much longer. Truth be told, I was getting a little anxious about disguising myself as Jacques Pate. Before I left, I gave Morgan a few instructions. “Don’t tell anyone I’m coming,” I advised. “And you should pretend that you don’t know me.” She mumbled something about a long-standing wish, but I wasn’t really paying much attention. I ordered a couple of packs of rawhide sticks to go and was already on my way out the door.

The language part of my cover was bothering me more than I wanted to admit. I was beginning to suspect that not knowing French could undermine the authenticity of my disguise. I stopped in my local Quik-E-Mart and picked up an English/French phrase book and a slushy. I was already feeling better.

I skipped the “Greetings” section of the book since Morgan had already prepared me for that. I flipped to the section on “Useful Phrases in the Kitchen.” Perfect. Unfortunately, my eyelids were getting heavy and I was having difficulty memorizing anything. I settled for making a tiny crib sheet which I taped to the back of a pack of rawhides. Satisfied, I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Chapter 18

I arrived at Miss Steak a little before noon the next day. The hostess’ desk was empty, so I wandered back into the restaurant. I found Sadie sitting at a table near the front, folding linen napkins into complicated little triangles. I cleared my throat, waiting for her to notice me. She went on folding, and when it became clear that she had no intention of offering to help me, I spoke. “Excuse me, miss,” I began, but she cut me off without looking up from her napkins.

“We’re not open,” she stated.

“I have an appointment,” I replied, trying to sound indignant. It wasn’t easy, because I was so excited to meet Seva and see the kitchen of a real restaurant I could barely stand still. I couldn’t control the wagging of my tail, but luckily Sadie still hadn’t raised her eyes from her pile of napkins. I cleared my throat again and said, “I am Jaques Pate, famous French chef. Please direct me to the kitchen.”

She stood up wordlessly and walked away. I could only guess that I was expected to follow. I trotted to catch up. Her cold demeanor might have been off-putting had I not been so eagerly anticipating my visit. I decided to make conversation. “You know, you should try making some of those napkins into swans. Everybody likes birds.” She continued to ignore me as we approached a huge set of double doors. Through the round window in each one I could see heart and soul of Miss Steak: the kitchen. I didn’t even remember to thank her as I pushed open the doors and entered. I felt like I had been hypnotized. Every surface was gleaming. The shelves were stacked with shining pots and pans of every size and description. Utensils and appliances I couldn’t possibly identify lined every countertop. The staff bustled up and down the aisles carrying armloads of produce and other ingredients. In the middle of it all stood Bullet, concentrating on an enormous side of beef he was carving. If I ever make it to Heaven, it will certainly look a lot like the kitchen at Miss Steak.

Bullet glanced up from the meat and grinned. He walked over to me, wiping his paws on his apron. “You must be Chef Pate. Ms Seva told me to expect you. Welcome to my kitchen,” he said, offering a paw which I shook gladly.

“Je suis bete, mais j'ai aussi un coeur d'or,” I announced proudly.

“Oh, hey, I’m sorry. I don’t speak any French,” Bullet replied. I smiled inwardly until he continued, “But my sous-chef Beau Chein does. Hey, Beau!”

The infernal French were everywhere. “No need to interrupt him,” I remarked hurriedly. “I was just saying that I’m delighted to be here. Can you show me around?”

He began a narrated tour of the kitchen and I was mesmerized. Who knew so many things were required to grill a steak? “Oooh!” I exclaimed as I sniffed a wonderful smelling meat grinder. Bullet turned to look at me with a quizzical expression on his face. I caught myself just in time and added, “La la! Ooh la la! C’est formidable!” As Bullet turned to continue the tour, I slid out my pack of rawhides and took a peek at my crib sheet for more appropriate phrases.

I had apparently been admiring my reflection in another shiny pot for some time when Bullet gently tapped my shoulder. “Chef Pate? Are you okay?” he asked.

“Oh, yes!” I replied enthusiastically. “You just have the most…ooh la la-iest pots!”

“I suppose they are,” he said, “but don’t you have a kitchen full of them yourself?”

I didn’t know exactly how to answer that question, but fortunately I didn’t have to try. I caught the scent of something divine cooking on one of the stovetops and I knew just what to say: “Ah que ca sens bon! Pouvez-vous me donner une petite degustation?”
to be continued
Special thanks to my French tutors Gwen and Samantha and Morgan.

High Stakes: Chapter 16

It turned out that Morgan had been hired on the spot at Miss Steak. She was refusing to speak to me about the investigation.

"I came in to apply for a job and I ended up working a 10 hour shift. My paws are killing me. I smell like French fries. And some little pup spilled his orange soda on my shirt. We can talk tomorrow," she insisted.

My curious nature would not allow it. "It can't wait, Morgan. I'm going to be at the restaurant myself tomorrow and I need to be prepared. Please? I'll buy you a rawhide at that little chew bar near your house. One of those big chicken basted knots."

I could tell she was tempted and finally she agreed to meet me. I arrived early and ordered for both of us. I'm something of a rawhide purist; I like mine plain. I was already at work on my chip when Morgan arrived. She looked exhausted. I pushed her flavored knot over to her as she flopped onto a stool at the bar beside me. "This had better be premium grade," she said, sniffing the chew. "I really need a pick me up."

"Only the finest for my best junior investigator," I replied, smiling and ignoring her icy glare. "Chew 'em if you got 'em." I held my chip up to toast her. She ignored me and began gnawing on her knot.

"I'm tired, so I'm only going to tell you this story once, do you hear me? Lyle! Are you listening to me?" she slapped a paw on the bar as she spoke. I had been watching myself in the long mirror behind the bar, studying my chewing muscles as they flexed and relaxed. I snapped back into the conversation and tried to focus on Morgan. I gave her a go-ahead gesture with my paw.

"You should be really grateful for this information," she began. "Raise grateful. Big raise grateful, actually. I worked my tail off today."

I craned my neck around to examine her backside. Her tail looked fine to me. I wondered if there would be any truth to the rest of her story. She continued, unaware.

"Alright, here's the deal. There are just a few waitresses there. I didn't really meet any of the kitchen staff but I guess you'll be able to do that yourself. There seem to be two distinct cliques amongst the waitresses. Miss Matches, Sinty, and Samantha are clearly out of the loop. The other group is the one we need to watch. Sadie, Star and Cassie spend all of their free time whispering in the back room. I tried to get to know them a little but they weren't interested in talking to me beyond introductions. They seem very exclusive. I did hear something that might be important, though. Star and Cassie are meeting a couple of guys tomorrow night to discuss some sort of plan. One of the dogs is named Basil. I couldn't catch the other name. That's about it."

She had my full attention now. Pieces of the puzzle were beginning to fall into place. I just wondered how many more it would take before I could see the whole picture. "Tomorrow night?" I confirmed.

She nodded but said, "Now you have to understand I have no idea what they're meeting about. They could be going to the prom for all I know."

"Maybe, maybe," I mused, chewing a little. "Coincidences are rarely coincidental, in my experience." Morgan stared at me, apparently digesting this bit of wisdom. "When is your next shift?" I asked.

She sighed heavily and her shoulders sagged. "Tomorrow afternoon," she said desolately. "I don't know if I can do it. I'll be listing off the specials in my sleep."

"Oh, what were the specials today?"

She glared at me and ignored my question. At least I could hear about tomorrow's myself. "Listen, Morgan, I'm going to be in the kitchen tomorrow but you might not recognize me. I'll be Jacques Pate, a French poodle and famous chef, observing Bullet and his sous-chefs." An idea occurred to me and I asked, "Say, you don't happen to know any French, do you?"

"Don't tell me...please...you didn't," she sputtered.

"It's no big deal. It's just that the owner speaks a little French and I don't. I figure I'll tell them I prefer to speak English while I'm in America. You know, when in Rome, and all that. Still, it might be handy to throw in a phrase or two. How do I say, 'I am delighted to see your fine establishment' in French?"

She thought for a moment and then replied, 'Say 'Je suis bete, mais j'ai aussi un coeur d'or.'"

"Great. Thanks, Morgan. You're the best."

She must have been getting her second wind, because a little glint had appeared in her eye. "Don't I know it," she murmured.
to be continued

High Stakes: Chapter 15

There were a dozen messages on my machine when I arrived at my office. All of them were from Samantha. She was at the hospital and her friend Sinty had regained consciousness. By the fourth or fifth message I found myself thinking more about Samantha’s long silky ears than the content of her messages. I did manage to gather that over the course of Samantha’s barrage of calls, Sinty was awake and willing to talk to me. I could understand Samantha’s sense of urgency. I’m sure I’ve mentioned that I’ve had a variety of jobs in the past. One of the more educational ones was ambulance driver. So I have some experience in dealing with the head trauma patient. I’ve seen them awake and alert, only to slip back into unconsciousness with little or no warning. I knew I needed to make tracks to the hospital; Sinty might only have a brief lucid interval.

I swiped Morgan’s notepad and pen on my way out the door and started out for the hospital. I was in a hurry and almost missed the heavenly red neon beacon above me: “HOT NOW.” Head injury patients slide in and out of comas, but fresh hot Krispy Kremes wait for no dog. I gave a half dozen Original Glazed a happy home and proceeded to the hospital.

I arrived at Sinty’s bedside and found I wasn’t the only one interested in questioning her. My officer friend Lucky had also just arrived and Samantha introduced us to her best friend. Sinty was sitting up in bed, awake but drowsy. One ear was bandaged and she was still receiving intravenous fluids. I didn’t give Lucky the chance to begin his interrogation.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Sinty. Samantha speaks very highly of you,” I said. “Do you mind if I ask you a couple of questions? It won’t take long.”

“No, I don’t mind,” she replied. I saw her eyes wander distractedly off to my right and for a moment I thought she was hallucinating but then I realized Samantha had creeped up behind me and was sniffing near my face. I jumped a little when I realized how close she was but she only moved closer, her nose twitching rapidly.

“You smell like…doughnuts!” she cried, grabbing my shoulders and giving me a shake. Her eyes were wide and round and staring directly into mine as she said, “Where are the doughnuts?”

I self-consciously licked my whiskers and tried to hold my breath as I answered, “Doughnuts? What doughnuts?”

“You stopped for doughnuts on the way here, and YOU DIDN’T BRING ME ANY!” she shouted accusingly, her claws sinking deeper into my shoulders.

Once again it was my buddy Lucky who came to my rescue. He was too well trained to miss the signs of an escalating conflict, and too well prepared to be unable to defuse it. He pulled a cruller out of his shoulder holster and handed it to Samantha. She snatched it and retreated to a chair next to the bed. Lucky smiled and gave me a wink. “In case of emergency,” he admitted.

I returned my attention to Sinty, who had quietly observed the entire incident. She merely shrugged and asked, “So what do you want to know?”

“Do you remember who attacked you?” I inquired.

Her expression became confused. “I don’t remember being attacked,” she replied with some hesitation. “I don’t think…”

“Don’t worry,” I interrupted. “It’s very common for head injury patients to have memory difficulties. Try to recreate the evening in your mind. See what you remember.”

She was concentrating hard on the task I’d given her and I took the opportunity to scan the room for a heavy implement. I was beginning to open drawers when Lucky stopped me.

“What are you looking for?” he whispered.

“A mallet, preferably, but anything heavy will do,” I replied quietly, hoping Samantha wouldn’t overhear my plan. “Sinty obviously has amnesia. It is common knowledge that another blow to the head can often restore memory.”

Lucky stared at me for several seconds before he spoke. He forgot to whisper. “Are you nuts?” he barked. He put a paw to his forehead and rubbed his temples. “Never mind. Of course you are. Listen, Lyle, why don’t you let me question her. I’ll let you know if I find anything useful, okay?”

“Fine with me. Are you sure you don’t want me to rustle up a mallet?”

“No, thanks. I’m sure,” Lucky replied, still rubbing his head. He looked as though he’d just met the business end of a mallet himself.

“Say, Lucky, I might have something that could help you here.” I had already started to leave when I remembered the names Skye had mentioned. “Quincy and Basil. The shady characters I told you about earlier. They might be involved in Sinty’s attack.”

“I’ll put someone on it. Thanks, Lyle.”

“No problem. I would have owed you for that doughnut anyway.”
to be continued

High Stakes: Chapter 14

I made a couple of calls on my way back to the office. First I left a message with Morgan reminding her to come by and give me a report on her application for a wait staff position at Miss Steak, and, of course, to stop in the kitchen to grab a steak or two to go on her way.

Next I dialed the restaurant myself and asked to speak to the owner.

“Who may I tell her is calling?” asked the voice on the other end, which I suspected belonged to Sadie, the hostess.

I cleared my throat and replied haughtily, “I am Jacques Pate. Famous French chef. Perhaps you have heard of me.”

“No, actually I haven’t,” she answered without a trace of remorse. “I’ll connect you.”

I waited, humming along to a peppy Barry Manilow tune. Suddenly a silky smooth voice sidled across the line, wrapping itself around me like a feather boa: “This is Seva. How may I help you?”

I couldn’t speak. I was instantly smitten. I had to impress her.

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

Finally I found my voice. Focus on the mission, I told myself. “Yes, yes. Bad connection. I am calling from France. My name is Jacques. Jacques Pate. Perhaps you have heard of me. I am a famous chef.” For authenticity, I added, “Oui, vive la France.”

There was a pause and then Seva said, “Monsieur Pate, qu’une surprise!”

I nearly dropped my phone. Seva knew French. I, unfortunately, did not. Why oh why had I let Morgan talk me out of being Italian? I searched my brain for appropriate French phrases. “Bon appetite!” I declared at last. Before she could respond, I forged ahead. “I wish to visit your fine establishment. Perhaps I could spend a day in the kitchen with your chef.”

“Il s’appelle Bullet,” was her cryptic response. Bullet, I knew, was the chef, but the rest of it was a complete mystery.

“Oui! Joi de vivre!” I enthused, hoping my positive attitude would distract her. Clearly this was the time for yes or no questions. “May I come tomorrow?”

“Oui,” she began, and I quickly interrupted with my next question.

“Noon? Would that be good?”

“Oui, c’est bien.”

I quickly ended the conversation with “Adios.” I was excited about the prospect of a day in the kitchen at Miss Steak. But even more enticing was the possibility of meeting Seva face to face. I could tell she would love me.
to be continued

My Tail of Devotion for Lyle

This is a special Tail of Devotion

See All Tails of Devotion

High Stakes: Chapter 13

I had one stop to make before I could continue my investigation. I could clearly hear growling, loud and close by. I paused to listen and felt a familiar rumbling. Aha! Another mystery solved. I headed to the K-9 Café for a light snack. A couple of double cheeseburgers, a hotdog, and order of wings later, I was thinking clearly again. I know, I know, that’s a pretty paltry snack, but I was hoping to get a bit more to eat once I arrived at my destination.

I’ve done my fair share of paws-on inquiries as a private eye, but I learned early on that it is helpful to have a network of contacts—dogs “in the know,” so to speak. I call them informants, but you might call them snitches. I was headed to the new workplace of one of my favorites. She maintained the appearance of a hardworking, legitimate employee, but I knew that she still cultivated relationships with organized crime. She recently had taken a job at the biscuit factory and I was about to pay her a visit.

I timed it perfectly. She was just stepping out the back door of the factory for a rawhide break when I arrived. She was fumbling with a pack and didn’t notice me approaching.

“Can I offer you one of mine?” I asked.

Surprised, she looked up with a start. A cloud of confusion passed behind her eyes but quickly cleared, only to be replaced with a stormy temper. “What do you want?” she demanded.

“Skye, Skye. Is that any way to greet an old friend?” I cajoled. She snatched a rawhide from my pack and began chewing angrily.

“I’m not your friend. And in case you’re wondering, I’m not in the business of giving out information anymore. Especially not to you.”

She was putting on a good show, but I knew better. A Catahoula Leopard Dog can never change her spots. It was simply a matter of careful and clever persuasion.

“I’ll give you a ham,” I offered. She paused in her chewing. I could clearly see she was tempted. “And a jar of peanut butter,” I added, sealing the deal.
“Fine. What do you want to know?” she sighed.

“What do you know about a little restaurant called Miss Steak?”

“What about it? They make a good steak,” she replied, apparently still reluctant to assist me.

“I think there’s a deal going down there. Do you know a couple of guys who might be working that kind of job? I’ve been told there are a beagle and a black Lab involved,” I divulged, offering some of my information as a good faith gesture that I wasn’t simply on a fishing expedition.

“Maybe,” she admitted. “Sounds like Basil and Quincy. They can’t resist a job involving food.”

“A girl was attacked there last night. Could they have done it?” I asked.
Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Someone was hurt? That doesn’t sound like them. I would say they’d do anything for food, but I really don’t think they would hurt anybody. This sounds big,” she said. “This might even be too dangerous for you.”

“Aw, Skye, I didn’t know you cared,” I teased. There was nothing that got under my skin like an unsolved mystery. No way would I back out now. “Thanks for the information.” I looked up at the factory. “Say, any chance I could get some free samples?”

“Come back with my ham and peanut butter and we’ll see,” she snorted, tossing the nub of her rawhide at my feet.

She hadn’t been as helpful as I had hoped. I now had names to go with the descriptions Miss Matches and Samantha had given me, but I couldn’t call the mission a complete success. I was still hungry.
to be continued

High Stakes: Chapter 12

I learned everything else she had to offer by the time we reached the precinct. There wasn’t much, but a few leads piqued my interest and I mentally filed them for further investigation.

As I entered the building, I immediately spied the officer I had hoped to find. “Hey, Lucky!” I called. He lifted his head from a desk piled high with paperwork and smiled. His smile broadened further when he spotted Samantha on my arm.

“Lyle, you old dog. Who’s the lovely lady?” he asked as he took her paw and kissed it in an exaggeratedly chivalrous fashion. I noticed Samantha blushing a bit as I made introductions. I explained her situation and he arranged for an interrogation room where she could provide her statement.

“She’s had a tough morning,” I reminded him. “Stick to the ‘good cop’ part of the routine.”

“No worries there, mate,” Lucky replied as he took her gently by the paw. He glanced over his shoulder and winked at me. Several minutes later, he returned. “Looks like I found my new favorite restaurant,” he stated with a sly grin. “So, Lyle, to what do I owe the honor? It’s not every day you hand deliver a lovely witness.”

I clucked my tongue in mock disapproval and said, “You’ll never change, Luck.” He was a shepherd, not a bird dog, but you’d never know it by his actions. He and I had developed a friendly working relationship over the last few years, trading information for mutual benefit. It started when I got caught up in an investment scam, way back when I was still young and naive. I had sunk my very last Greenie into what I was led to believe was a new dot-com designed to connect dogs across the world. What I ended up getting was a case of empty tin cans, a spool of string, and a book of stamps. Fortunately, the clever officer assigned to the case managed to trace the stamps to a couple of shysters in California and I recovered a few of my Greenies. The officer was Lucky, and he and I kept touch over the years. After I started my detective business, I was in a position to return the favor with helpful tidbits I learned during my investigations. This time, however, I was the one looking for a lead.

“What have you heard about the assault at Miss Steak?” I asked him as I peeled open a new pack of rawhides. I offered him one and he shook his head to decline but took one anyway.

“You know you can’t chew these in here anymore,” he stated, tucking the stick in his pocket.

“Don’t get me started on that ordinance,” I replied, and put away the pack, annoyed.

“Don’t I know it,” he said. “Anyway, you asked about the assault. We don’t have much yet, but I can tell you it looks like an inside job. No signs of forced entry, not much of a struggle. I think the victim knew her assailants.”

I latched on to his use of the plural and raised an eyebrow. “Assailants? More than one attacker?”

“It looks that way. And I’ll tell you something else, just between you and me and the fireplug. I think the attackers were female.”

“Really? How do you know?” I asked, lowering my voice to match his, which had become low and conspiratorial.

“I don’t. It’s a hunch. Take it with a grain of salt. Now, Lyle, your turn. Do you have any information for me?”

I told him about the beagle and Labrador that had been spotted in the restaurant, hoping that he would recognize the descriptions if they had a criminal record. Unfortunately they didn’t match any of his regulars, so I was going to have to learn about them some other way.

I knew just the girl for the job.
to be continued

High Stakes: Chapter 11

Her words tumbled out like kibble from a freshly opened bag. “Sinty! Poor Sinty!” she wailed. “She’s my best friend. She works part time at the restaurant, and she was supposed to pick me up last night after work. But she never showed up, so I walked home. Then she didn’t come home last night and I was frantic. I had to leave early for work this morning to help in the kitchen and when I got there…Oh!” she burst into tears and covered her eyes with her paws.

I gave her a few moments to compose herself, then asked gently, “What did you see, Samantha?”

“She…she…was on the floor, bleeding! I ran to her and she was still breathing but I couldn’t wake her up. I called the police and then I came straight here.”

I sat in my chair and mulled over this new information. By habit, I pulled out my pack of rawhide sticks and offered them around. The ladies refused, but I took one and chewed while I reviewed the facts.

“Was anyone else there yet?” I asked.

“Not a soul,” Samantha replied. “Bullet and his sous-chefs should be arriving about now. I’ve been trying to come in early to make a good impression. I’d like to be a chef someday,” she said, and despite her obvious distress, a note of pride had crept into her voice.

“Did you see anything that might have been used as a weapon?”

Now Samantha sounded a bit ashamed as she said, “I’m sorry, but I just don’t know. I might have blacked out or something. All I remember is seeing Sinty on the floor, and then I might have screamed, and then I dialed 911 as I was running here.” Her breath caught, and the tears welled up in her eyes again. “Poor Sinty!”

I rose from my seat and paced the room, chewing and thinking. Morgan was tending to the weeping Samantha and my mind was racing as I formulated a plan.

“First of all,” I announced, “Samantha, you need to speak to the police. I’ll take you. I have a friend on the force. And Morgan, you need to put in your application at the restaurant right away. It seems they have a part-time position available.”

Morgan’s head snapped up and she gasped. “What a horrible thing to say!” she barked.

“Nevertheless, we must waste no time,” I replied coolly. “It would appear that there is indeed a nefarious plot afoot.”

Morgan grumbled as she collected her coat and bag and headed for the door. She paused at the threshold and stomped back into the room. She grabbed my beloved Word of the Day calendar off of my desk and tore off the top page. “Nefarious, indeed,” she snorted, crumpling the page and tossing it into the trash. She stormed out of the room without another word.

I handed Samantha a tissue and said, “Let’s go. The police will need your statement.”

She took a deep breath and composed herself. “I have a confession to make, Mr. Lyle. I wasn’t completely honest with you at the restaurant. There is a…ah…nefarious plan afoot, as you say.”

“Aha! Tell me more.”

“The owner has been meeting with a shady looking beagle and black lab. I’m pretty sure they’re planning a robbery. The only thing I can think of that’s worth stealing is the Kobe beef that’s being shipped in for the festival. I think they’re planning to steal it.”

“And the owner will get the profit from the black market and the insurance claims,” I mused. “Clever, very clever. He must be a shrewd individual.”

“Not he, she,” Samantha corrected me. “And there is no doubt that she is cunning.”

“Interesting, very interesting.” I chewed on this thought and my rawhide for a minute before I remembered the police and Samantha’s statement. “We should go. You can tell me the rest on the way.”
to be continued

Intermission: Put a little Whigle in your walk!

I have come to an important part of the story, so I thought this would be a good time for intermission.

Get up, walk around. Bark at things. Skip the next chapter or two if you are faint of heart.

I mentioned walking. You might want to walk like me. I have a very fancy walk. It has a little Whigle in it. Get it? Whigle? Wiggle? Ha! Ha!

♪ I can't dance
I can't talk
The only thing about me is the way that I walk! ♪

AnyLoo, you can do it too. I shall instruct you in song.

Ready set?

♪ Everybody's doing a brand new walk now
(Come on Loolie, do the Whigle motion)
I know you'll like it if you give it a chance now
(Come on Loolie, do the Whigle motion)
Even Little Bit can do it with me
It's easier than learning on which tree to pee
So come on, come on, do that Whigle motion with me!

You've got to swing your hips now
Left front, right back
Now I think you've got the knack!

Move down the street with the Whigle motion
(Come on Loolie, do the Whigle motion)
You can do it on a leash if you get the notion
(Come on Loolie, do the Whigle motion)

There's never been a wiggle that's so easy to do
It will even make you happy if you're feeling blue
So come on, come on, do the Whigle motion with me! ♪

Go!

High Stakes: Chapter 10

I arrived at the office early the next day and was rummaging through my disguises when Morgan arrived. She was carrying a mug of coffee roughly the size of a wastebasket. She looked exhausted. Without a word of greeting, she flopped into one of my guest chairs and took a long draw on her java. I gave her a once-over, determined her to be fit for service, and offered her a rawhide stick, which she readily accepted.

“Long night?” I asked, and she shook her head dismissively. She was obviously not in a mood for conversation, so I got straight to business. “Okay then, when you are fully caffeinated, I want you to head to the restaurant and apply for a job as a waitress. I’ve made up a resume detailing your experience.” I smiled and handed it to her. “Turns out you’re very well qualified and you have excellent references. Tell them you want to start as soon as possible, that your rent is due or something. Start tonight if you can.”

She took another long pull on her coffee and sat up straighter, with a determined set to her jaw. “Okay, give it to me. What do I have to wear?” she asked, looking as though she’d resigned herself to something, what, I had no idea.

“Wear? What you have on is fine,” I replied.

“No costume? No stinky disguise?”

I had known she’d be disappointed, but I hoped she wouldn’t take it too hard. Staying in character was obviously stressful for her, so I’d decided that it would be safer for her to apply for the position as herself. Of course her resume was fabricated, and if they called any of her references, they’d get me. If for some reason she wasn’t hired, she could always try again as a border collie.

“My role is a little more complicated,” I said, as much to myself as to Morgan. “I want to convince Bullet that I’m a chef visiting from a foreign country. I don’t want him to think I’m a competitor; I want him to be flattered that I’m coming to observe him. But what would be the most convincing disguise?” I donned a hat out of my box and opened one of my scent vials. “Ut-way oo-day oo-yay ink-thay of iss-thay?” I asked Morgan. She sniffed the vial and squinted at me. I made a mental note to remind her to make that appointment with her eye doctor.

“What the h-h-“ she coughed and continued, “are you supposed to be? Was that Pig Latin?” She looked at her coffee as though it might have been contaminated with something.

I smiled winsomely and explained, “Italian Greyhound. Italians are good cooks.”

Morgan spoke very slowly and deliberately when she said, “Italians speak Italian. No one speaks Pig Latin.”

I didn’t bother to ask her to provide her source for that little nugget of information, and decided to let it go. I had a better idea anyway. I opened another little bottle and said, “Ma cherie, zee French are zee finest chefs. Zurely even the madame cannot doubt zee French Poodle, ooh la la.”

She didn’t have the chance to agree with me, because at just that moment, the door burst open and Samantha rushed in, shouting, “Mr. Lyle! Mr. Lyle!” Her eyes were wide and her fur disheveled. She stopped abruptly and sniffed the air. She glanced wildly around the room as though she couldn’t see either of us. “M…m…Mr. Lyle?”

“I’m right here, Samantha,” I reassured her, directing her to the chair opposite Morgan. “What’s the matter?”

She was breathing heavily and still appeared disoriented. Suddenly, she looked me straight in the eye with an uncomfortably intense gaze. “There’s been an attack at the restaurant.”
to be continued

High Stakes: Chapter 9

I did have a plan, and I was sure it was a good one, but it was going to have to wait.  My belly was full and I was feeling pleasantly tired.  We headed back to my office where I settled in for a little nap and Morgan began to type up notes on the day’s progress.
Morgan’s tap at my door roused me.  “Is there anything else you need me to do today?” she asked.
“Shoving off early?” I yawned, stood up and stretched my legs.  I blinked a few times but couldn’t quite bring my eyes into focus.
“Early?  It’s six-thirty.  I’ve been typing for hours while you…” she paused and I waited patiently, scratching my ears.  “Worked,” she concluded. 
“Don’t you want to hear my plan before you go?” I queried.
She shuffled her feet and glanced at the clock and the door.  She always seemed intimidated by my greatest ideas.  After a moment, she sighed and said, “Sure.”
I patted the couch and motioned for her to sit.  As I paced the room, I explained how we would proceed with the investigation.  The problem was that we had no idea if anything was actually going on behind the scenes at Miss Steak.  So our first task was reconnaissance.  I intended to explore the kitchen while Morgan surveyed the wait staff.
“How am I going to do that?” she demanded.
“Simple,” I replied.  “You’ll apply for a job as a waitress.”
Her jaw dropped and she stood up abruptly.  “You want me to do what?  Are you kidding?”
I had an idea about her true concerns.  In an effort to reassure her, I said, “Don’t worry, Morgan.  I really think you could pass for a flewsie.”
She stood there for several minutes, her mouth opening and closing silently, truly speechless.  Every now and then she would stop, look straight at me and shake her head.  Finally she found her voice. “I wish you were kidding.”
“Make no mistake,” I said, and paused for effect.  Smiling, I continued.  “Now that was a joke.  Really, Morgan, you need to lighten up.  Mistake…Miss Steak?  Get it?  Don’t be embarrassed to laugh.”  I slapped her on the shoulder affectionately.  “Go on home.  I’ll see you tomorrow morning and we’ll get started."
to be continued

High Stakes: Chapter 8

I was busy licking my plate when I happened to notice Morgan’s dinner was nearly untouched. I looked up to find her staring at me with her lip slightly curled up on one side.
“Don’t you like your food?” I asked incredulously.
“Somehow I really don’t feel like eating anymore,” she replied. I was proud of her for staying in character. There was no way anyone would believe she was anything but a Labrador if she ate all that meat at once.
“I’m going to ask to meet the chef,” I told her in a quiet voice. “By the way, if you’re not going to eat that, I could.”
She pushed her plate over to me and muttered something about “disgusting nummy noises” which made me wonder if perhaps she really was better off not eating in public anyway.
When Samantha came to take our plates, I asked her to give my compliments to the chef. “If he’s not too busy at the moment, I’d love to meet him and tell him myself,” I added. As she headed off to the kitchen, I noticed Morgan looking askance at some of the other waitresses. “What’s the matter?” I asked.
“Maybe it’s just me, but don’t you think that besides Matches and Samantha the other girls here all look like a bunch of flewsies?” she whispered.
I glanced around inconspicuously. I could see a tall black Labrador, a dark Cairn terrier and Sadie, the hostess. Miss Matches had passed by once or twice but had either not recognized us in our disguises or, if she had been tipped off to our presence by Samantha, had avoided making eye contact. I didn’t think anything seemed unusual, but I did notice that Sadie, the lab and the terrier seemed to avoid Miss Matches and Samantha. About that time, Samantha returned to our table with the chef following behind, wiping his paws on a clean white apron. He was a brindle PitKita and he introduced himself as Bullet.
“I’m so honored to meet you,” I said, pumping his proffered paw. “It’s just not every day I get to meet a chef with such talent. You have a gift with beef.”
Bullet looked a little embarrassed. Miss Matches happened to be walking past our table with a tray of desserts and she heard my compliments. She beamed and gave him a wink. So this was the boyfriend she had mentioned. I decided I needed to get to know Bullet a little better. I was already working on a plan.
to be continued

High Stakes: Chapter 7

A few minutes later, our meals arrived. Everything appeared to be prepared to perfection: mashed potatoes loaded with sour cream and cheese, carrots sautéed in butter and brown sugar, and, yes oh yes, the steaks. Pure unadulterated beefy perfection. I inhaled deeply then attacked my dinner with gusto.
Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
mmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.
I couldn’t be sure if anything shady was going on behind the scenes, but at that moment I didn’t care. I was Miss Steak’s new number one fan.
to be continued

High Stakes: Chapter 6

Sadie seated us in a big cushioned booth with walls around it high enough to give us a little privacy. I pulled out the flyer I’d taken from the bench outside and smoothed it out on the table. It was an advertisement for the upcoming Food Fete, detailing times, dates, and featured foods.
“Look, Morg…oops, Paula,” I said, sliding the paper across the table to her, “Miss Steak is sponsoring the Food Fete, and they’re serving Kobe beef!” As Morgan scanned the ad, I took a moment to imagine a Kobe steak. Luscious. I was lost in reverie and might have been drooling a little when our waitress arrived with our menus. She was stunning. She had golden brown fur with long ears, just as Miss Matches had described them. So Sadie had put us with Samantha after all. I sent a mental “Ha” to Morgan and smiled at Samantha. She smiled back as she wiped my little drool puddle away with a white linen napkin. I made a mental note to have Morgan tip her well. She handed us our menus and introduced herself and the specials.
“It all sounds simply smashing,” I said, “but would you happen to have any of that Kobe beef available yet?”
“Oh, no, sir,” she replied. “It’s being flown in overnight from Japan next Friday, the night before the festival. They want it to be as fresh as possible. You should plan on coming here early if you want to try it Saturday. I think it’s going to be very popular.”
She left a moment later with our orders: a porterhouse, rare, for me, and a filet mignon for Morgan. I was famished by that point, and it showed, so Samantha had been kind enough to leave her little linen napkin under my chin.
“So what do you think?” queried Morgan.
“I think you probably should have ordered that filet medium rare. Medium well is a travesty.”
Morgan closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them slowly. I wondered if perhaps she needed reading glasses with all of the eye exercises she seemed to be doing. “About the restaurant,” she said. “Do you think there’s anything fishy going on?”
I really thought it was more of a steak place than seafood, myself, but I ignored her question. “It seems nice. Of course I’ll have to wait and see what the food is like. I do wonder what the mystery is, though. Everything seems to be on the up and up so far.”
Samantha returned a few minutes later with an appetizer of warm biscuits and peanut butter. “You’re Miss Matches’ friend, are you not?” I asked her.
She looked startled, but recovered her composure quickly. “Yes I am. Do I know you?”
“I’m Lyle P., Private Eye. Your friend came to see me today and she said you two were worried about something.”
“You’re Lyle? Matches told me she was going to find a detective, but I thought she said he was a Whigle. Aren’t you an English sheepdog?”
I tried to give Morgan an “I-told-you-so” smile but she was engrossed in her nails yet again. “Just a little trick of the nose,” I told Samantha, and admired her surprised reaction with satisfaction. “So tell me, what do you think is going on?”
She looked uncomfortable and shifted her weight from paw to paw. “Well, Mr. Lyle, I don’t really know what to say,” she said quietly. “I mean, I didn’t really think anything about it until Matches said she’d seen the owner with some funny-looking guys. I really think it’s probably nothing, and I’m sorry we troubled you.” Her eyes darted nervously from one end of the restaurant to the other, but she never met my gaze. I suspected there was something she was afraid to tell me, but I wasn’t about to press her for information before she brought my entree. A good rare steak is all about the timing.
to be continued

High Stakes: Chapter 5

It didn’t take us long to find the restaurant with the directions Miss Matches had given us just before she left. It was a trendy-looking joint, sleek and dark on the outside. Shiny chrome letters on a heavy ebony door were small enough to suggest that if we didn’t know the name of the place already, we probably weren’t likely to happen upon it by mistake. Funny, that. The name of the restaurant in those tiny shiny letters was Miss Steak. I liked it already.
I noticed several flyers taped to a bench outside of the restaurant. I grabbed one, left a quick message of my own and headed inside with Morgan. We were met there by a young dog with wavy brown fur who seemed to be sizing us up as we approached. She gave us a long, cool gaze before asking, “May I help you?” in a tone of voice that suggested she’d really rather not.
I studied her for a moment while she apparently decided whether or not we were worthy of Miss Steak. She appeared to be the maitre d’ and her nametag read Sadie. “Sadie, the lady and I would like to dine,” I announced in my best English sheepdog voice. Sadie raised an eyebrow at me and glanced at the ledger on the podium in front of her.
“Do you have a reservation?” she asked.
Morgan piped up. “Yes, I had my assistant call yesterday. It should be under Peabody.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” Sadie replied with a half-smile that belied her true feelings. “I don’t have a record of it. You’ll have to come some other time, but please do remember to call ahead.”
I could see Morgan bristling at the brush off we were getting, so I prepared to grease the wheels with a little greenery. I fished a dollar out of my wallet, but as I tried to slip it to Sadie, Morgan’s eyes widened and she stepped on my toe. “Ouch!” I yelped, and dropped my dollar. Morgan made no move to pick it up, so I leaned over to grab it, but she stepped on it firmly. Meanwhile, Morgan moved a bit closer to Sadie.
I was busy trying to pull my money out from under Morgan’s paw when I heard her growl, “If there’s no reservation in your book, it’s your fault, not mine. You will seat us for lunch. Do you understand? Do I need to speak to the owner?”
Good move, I thought, as I finally wiggled my dollar out. I held it up proudly and received a glare from Morgan and Sadie. I had to admit, it was clever of Morgan to give us an opening to speak to the owner. It was an opportunity missed, however, since Sadie smiled coldly and said, “Ah, it does appear that we have a cancellation. Come this way.”
“Any chance we could sit in Samantha’s section?” I asked nonchalantly as we followed her to a table. “Are you growling at me?” I whispered to Morgan as we took our seats.
to be continued

High Stakes: Chapter 4

Miss Matches, delighted with our progress so far, headed out to the restaurant to begin her shift. Morgan and I looked over her notes for a few minutes, and I magnanimously ignored the poorly rendered drawings of me as I filled in some of the facts she missed during the questioning.
I was hungry, and I decided to grab a meal with a dish of investigation on the side. I convinced Morgan to join me so we could pose as a couple, thereby attracting less attention and allowing me to surreptitiously check out the restaurant and its cast of characters.
“Miss Matches was very clear that she wanted this investigation kept quiet,” Morgan said. “And now you’re heading to her restaurant not fifteen minutes after she’s hired you?”
She of little faith. During one of my prior lifestyle incarnations, I briefly did a tour with a theater group. I was not terribly successful as an actor, but I did learn a bit about costume and disguise. I pulled out a box from a closet and began rummaging through for appropriate attire.
“For you, madame,” I announced, and presented her with a hat and string of pearls. I pulled out a necktie and a pair of reading glasses for myself.
“You have got to be kidding,” Morgan said, holding her pearls up in one paw and staring slack jawed at my tie.
“You don’t like my tie?”
“Listen, Clark Kent, this kind of disguise just doesn’t work in real life.”
Sometimes I think I keep her on just for sheer entertainment value. I clucked my tongue sympathetically. Sometimes she just has to learn these lessons herself or she simply can’t seem to remember them. With a flourish, I produced the piece de resistance from the bottom of my box of disguises. I held it open proudly for my Doubting Morgan. She sniffed it dubiously.
“It smells like a dog park,” she said.
“Well, of course it does, when you smell it like that.” I pulled out an individual vial from the collection of bottles in the box and offered it to her for a sniff. She still looked doubtful, her eyes narrowing as she brought her nose to the open vial. Suddenly her eyebrows shot up and she looked at me with surprise and admiration.
“Aha, now you see!” I laughed. I sprayed her ears and the base of her tail with the contents of the vial. “To every dog who meets you, you are now a Saluki. Now, now, no need to say it. I know. Pure unadulterated genius.” I smiled and carefully selected my own scent disguise. After anointing myself, I asked, “So, madame, shall we toddle off to tea?”
Morgan had been overcome with a fit of sneezing while I was preparing my disguise. She wiped her eyes and blinked once or twice. “Please tell me you’re not…was that supposed to be an English accent?”
“Old English Sheepdog. Do you like it? I believe I’ll be Simon and I’ll call you…oh, let’s say Paula. Do you think you can stay in character?”
Paula, nee Morgan, donned her pearls and headed briskly for the door. A good start. I thought I heard her mutter something about losing her appetite, but perhaps she was simply trying to adopt the dainty eating habits of a Saluki.
to be continued

High Stakes: Chapter 3

The blonde started in on her tale, which, to my credit, did sound vaguely familiar in parts. With my eyes closed, I was doing a much better job of absorbing facts and details. I’d have to remember that little trick. Morgan was busy scribbling down the pertinent facts, which were basically these: Miss Matches was a waitress at a respectable local restaurant. She and one of her fellow waitresses suspected that the establishment was on the fast track to becoming somewhat less respectable. Apparently the coworker, a friend named Samantha, had stumbled onto some suspicious documents in the office of the restaurant’s owner.
“Tell me about your friend Samantha,” I interrupted. I like to get a mental picture of all of the parties involved in any investigation. It helps me with questioning later on: dogs tend to trust you more quickly if you already know a little something about them. I prefer to know more than a little. “What is she like?”
“Um…well, she’s a good friend of mine,” Miss Matches looked perplexed by my line of questioning. “She couldn’t possibly be involved in a bad way.”
“Not at all what I was insinuating,” I assured her. “Go on.”
“She’s been a waitress longer than I have. Maybe three or four years. I’ve only been working there for a year, and it’s my first job. Samantha’s really good at it; she taught me all the tricks for getting good tips.”
“What does she look like?” I asked. I thought I heard a small snort from the side of the room where Morgan was still busy writing notes. I glanced in her direction but she never stopped writing.
“She’s a Cocker Spaniel,” Miss Matches replied.
I sat up in my chair. “Really? Very interesting,” I said, taking a long moment to chew thoughtfully on my rawhide stick.
“It is? Why?” Miss Matches now appeared to be thoroughly confused, looking back and forth at Morgan and me as though she were watching a ping pong game. Morgan resolutely continued writing.
“A little idea of mine,” I answered vaguely. “Tell me about her ears.”
This time there was a distinct cough from Morgan’s side of the room. I looked at her sharply, but she avoided my gaze and appeared to be inspecting her manicure. Morgan, in spite of her many useful talents, was often suspicious of my questioning methods. No more so than one might expect from any untrained observer, although perhaps more vocal about it than was strictly necessary. “Can I get you a drink of water?” I asked icily. She shook her head and I asked again, “What are her ears like?”
“Well, they’re quite long, with wavy light brown fur,” Miss Matches offered, looking no less confused.
“I see,” I said, and closed my eyes again, gnawing my rawhide.
After several moments of silence, Morgan asked, “What kind of documents did she find?” I have never known Morgan to be subtle with her questioning. I sighed and waited for the response. It could potentially prove useful.
“Newspaper clippings, mostly, and some orders for supplies. Nothing much by itself, but when I saw the owner talking to those suspicious-looking dogs, Samantha and I started to worry.”
“Did you hear any of their conversation?” I asked.
“Not the first few times I saw them. But they’ve met several times since then and I’m sure I heard them making plans for something. They always get quiet when I come around, so I only get bits and pieces.”
“Tell us what you heard,” I encouraged her.
“The newspaper clippings were about that big festival coming up. The restaurant is a sponsor, so we’ve been working really hard to prepare. At first I thought maybe the meetings were with the festival planning committee or something. But these guys didn’t look very professional. Pretty scruffy, if you don’t mind me saying so.” She paused, and seemed to be undecided about something. Finally she said, “Do you want to know what their ears look like?”
Morgan let out a convulsive noise that nearly unseated her. She regained her composure and resumed her note-taking. “No,” I said. “We can get to that later.”
“Okay,” Miss Matches seemed more at ease. “I’m just sure they’re up to no good. I heard them say that they could intercept something, and I heard them laughing about how much money they could make. Mr. Lyle, I don’t want to lose my job. And I don’t want anything bad to happen at the restaurant. My boyfriend is a chef and I don’t want him to get hurt.”
“Not to worry, Miss Matches. Lyle P. is on your case.”
to be continued

High Stakes: Chapter 2

The blonde launched into a story that had nothing whatsoever to do with Dalmatians. I’ve always thought a spotted dog makes a story more interesting, but hers seemed to be without.
During my fairly brief tenure as Lyle P., Private Eye, I had finely tuned my listening skills. Often, clients already have all the information they need to solve their problems, and if you pay close attention, they’ll tell you everything you need to know. Of course, I still sniff around for a while because my biscuits are charged by the hour.
So I was listening to her tale unfold, or I would have been, had I not been so mesmerized by her long blonde ears. Every time she came to what must have been an important point in her narrative, her ears would perk up in a most agreeably distracting fashion. They had just jumped forward again when she said, “Do you think you can help me?”
I knitted my brows in an effort to look pensive. I reached in my desk drawer for my pack of rawhide sticks. I offered her one, but she refused. I slid one out of the pack for myself and took a moment to chew thoughtfully on its end. “Well, Miss, ah…”
“Matches,” she said, her eyes narrowing slightly.
“Right, of course. Miss Matches, your situation is a difficult one. I have found that from time to time my little grey cells benefit from hearing the problem more than once. Let me call in my receptionist to take notes for us.” I hit a button on the intercom. “Morgan, could you come in here please?”
“I have to tell you the whole thing again?” Miss Matches asked, looking slightly annoyed.
“It’s all part of the process,” I reassured her. “This time, you’ll be speaking to a different audience. New details may emerge.”
Morgan entered the room, notepad and pen already in her paw. She gave a sidelong glance to the blonde, her gaze pausing momentarily on the long beautiful ears. Her eyes rolled to the ceiling and then landed hard on me. “I imagine you want me to take notes, Mr. L?”
Morgan is a very perceptive lady, which is why I’ve asked her to lend her insight on a particularly knotty case or two. She settled in to the chair next to the client and readied her pen.
I closed my eyes and chewed on the rawhide. “From the beginning, then, please, Miss Matches.”
to be continued

High Stakes: Chapter 1

The dog in the mirror smiled rakishly back at me as I straightened my collar. “You’re a handsome devil, you are,” I told him, and he agreed with me wholeheartedly. I paused and studied my reflection more seriously. I had been regarded as the breed-standard Whigle for four years now, and I was still wearing it well. Bright, honest eyes, jaunty set of the ears, and a dazzling smile. But the show dog lifestyle was never one for me. Unfortunately, whatever the perfect lifestyle for me was always seemed to be subject to change. Its current incarnation: detective work. That’s me, Lyle P., private eye. It probably sounds more glamorous than it actually is. What it amounts to most days is a little sniffing around regarding domestic disputes and that sort of thing. “My owner came home smelling like another dog!” and “I think the other dog is getting more treats than me!” It pays the bills.
I had always imagined a life filled with action and adventure. Somehow I had thought that detective work would fit the bill. So far the closest thing I’d encountered to a real adventure was a missing-dog case that led me to a very slow poodle groomer. Still, there was always the possibility that something exciting could turn up at any moment.
As if on cue, Morgan, my receptionist and sometimes-assistant buzzed in on the intercom on my desk.
“Mr. L? There’s someone here to see you.”
“Send them in,” I called back. Moments later, there was a tentative knock at my door. “It’s not locked,” I said. “Come on in.”
The door opened and in walked a leggy blonde. Her tail swished nervously. “I need your help,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper.
I couldn’t see anything wrong with her from her tail to her shoulders, so I figured the problem had to be in her head. “Have a seat, Miss…” I paused for her to add her name.
“Matches, Miss Matches,” she replied. “Thank you so much for seeing me. I do hope you can help. I’m in such a bad spot!”
“Dalmatian trouble, then, is it?”
to be continued...

Happy Easter! Mmm...bunny holiday!

Happy Easter! I hope every dog gets an Easter Bunny today. I'm still looking for mine.

Contain your excitement, everyone. It is time.

I'm ready to write again. But what? I was thinking about a sequel with a big monkey but I don't like monkeys very much.
Little Bit says, "Crime novels are making a resurgence. You could write your own pulp fiction."
I say, "Huh?" All I got out of that was Crime Fiction. I can do that.

I'm thinking of a super handsome detective (that's me) and a damsel in distress. I'll investigate a crime...there will be adventure, drama, and food!

Alrighty then! I need volunteers. I'll be needing characters:
1. A damsel in distress
2. Bad guys or girls
3. Good guys or girls
4. Shady characters
and as always, I'm happy to have
5. Special assistants to the author

I am off to my thinking spot.

How did I get to be so gosh-darn handsome?

Boogle searchin'
I got to