Who Can Judge Talent?

The guardians have been captivated by some silly televised talent show called "American Idol" for the past few months. I can't see too well in two dimensions but I can hear just fine and some of those so-called contestants are just plain painful to listen to. It all sounds like idol chatter to me.

I think it is totally unfair not to include dogs in the competition. I know a few howlers that sound ten times better than any of the chumps they have on that show. Then for the grand prize you have your choice between a year supply of kibble or a record deal.

But who is my favorite Idol judge? I don't know, really. It's a toss-up. You see, Randy speaks my language, dawg. But he keeps his boys in something he likes to refer to as the "Pound" which is not a nice place to be if you're a canine. It must be a cool joint if you're a tall one. Simon speaks his mind and is just as stubborn as any good B-Boy; plus he's got that vicious streak I find appealing. And Paula, well, she looks like she might drop some food.

It pretty much was a consensus among the tall ones that guy Taylor deserved the prize. Is it just me or does he bare a slight resemblance to an Old English Sheep Dog with that mop of gray and white hair? He's alright in my book for a two-legger. I might even offer my services as "Soul Patrol K-9 Security". Of course it's only another venue through which I can make The B-Boys seem legit. You know kind of like how The Hell's Angels were hired for concert security that one time.

I'm All Out of Chew...I'm So Lost Without Chew.

It finally happened today.....Ray chewed himself into a slight coma. We were both right in the middle of a great chewing session in the living room. The tall ones were playing a board game when suddenly he lost will to chew. It was so sad to see him in such a state: stretched out motionless on his side under the coffee table, head thrown back and bone cupped around his lower jaw. He remained this way for a good 15 minutes while I continued gnawing. Hey, I've got my priorities straight, besides he was still breathing so there was no real emergency.

The tall ones found this extremely amusing for some reason. They couldn't contain their laughter and started running around like morons trying to find the camera. Ray never moved a muscle the entire time. I was thinking to myself how sad and pathetic they all looked. The guardians often act like fools but Ray is supposed to be the dignified and mature one. It is totally out of character for him to show any signs of weakness in front of them.

I have to say I may have lost a little respect for him today. After all of his guidance and mentoring, from now on I'm going to take everything he says with a grain of salt. It could be old age setting in after all he is 4 1/2-year-old where as I'm a feisty almost 2-year-old. I've heard rumors that after two years Basenji's usually tone down the chew and some even completely give it up. That's never going to happen to me, my position in the B-Boy Mafia depends on it.

It is entirely possible it was all an act on Ray's part to throw the tall ones off their guard. He could be establishing a false sense of security in them. Therefore, they might leave more important things, tastier things lying out in the open for us to chew when their not around if they think we're not interested. I wouldn't put it past him to think like that. After all, there is a reason we call him "The Brain".

Then again, Ray does like to get his picture taken. He's a bit of a ham.

The Grand Vacation

The Family & I just got back from a very well deserved vacation. It’s hard work keeping up with the B-Boys so a road trip to New Orleans and back was just what the vet ordered. One of our molls, Simone, house sat for us to make sure no one made off with any of our loot. Good to see she didn't touch any of my stuff. Perhaps this is proof she can be trusted for bigger jobs.

The first day we took a really long car ride. Ray & I normally sleep during the day so we laid claim to the back seat & curled up. Every once in a while one of us would get up to check out the scenery and see if anybody was following us.

We spent few days with our cousin Jezebel at her own private dog park. She showed us how she's learned to climb trees since our last meeting. That's a pretty neat trick for a beagle but Ray & I know how to climb stuff. Besides, there aren’t many trees like that in the city so I don't see how we can use that one.

We then made another drive to NOLA. Wow, I thought I was destructive but this Katrina character really knew what she was doing. We have another cousin in Miami who came from here. Now I understand why she left. It's so sad to see. We stayed a few days with our cousin Sweetie next to the Mississippi River and we got to run up and down the levee every day. Ray kept trying to live out some sort of "Proud Mary" fantasy. I convinced him to give up that dream by reminding him that if he complains about the grass being dewy in the morning how was he going to live on a riverboat?

On our way back home we paid homage at the basenji graveyard on The Farm. I heard a rumor that there's a cat buried there someplace. He better be glad all the graves are unmarked or I'd have his body dug up. The great-grandguardian told us the story of the mighty Pelekia, the very first basenji in The Family. Apparently she was a little bitch but great bird dog. I heard one of the tall ones talk about me having the potential to do that someday. The only thing I'm interested in hunting right now is socks. They’re easy to catch because they don't fly.

It's good to be back on my beat here in SOBE but I can't wait to go back to The Farm again. It was really great running around all day practicing my pouncing skills on unsuspecting bugs. I only wish it wasn't so far away. I think the tall ones feel the same way.

How Basenji's Came into The Family

Once upon a time a long time ago on the other side of the country a father came home on leave to find his family had adopted a collie in his absence. Now the father really disliked dogs so they had to find the poor boy another home.

One of the daughters was just a small girl at that time and was extremely heartbroken to give up their new pet. So, the father promised her that if she could find a dog that (1) doesn't smell, (2) doesn't bark and (3) doesn't shed then they could have a dog. Thinking that no such dog existed he believed he was safe to spend his life in a canine-free household.

Little did the father know the daughter was an expert researcher when properly motivated. In the days before the internet it proved to be a mammoth task but she did find such a dog. The father, who couldn't go back on his word, had no other choice but to adopt a small red and white basenji named Pelekia into The Family.

Pelekia turned out to be one pretty fine canine. She's still talked about in loving terms at nearly every Family gathering. And the father turned out to be a dog lover after all. The two would spend their free time wandering the woods bird hunting and when they got home 'Kia was just the right size to keep his lap warm.

Over the decades there have been a number of noteworthy basenjis in the Family like Kamoi "The Thief", JamJuri "The Gazelle", Blitzen "The Gambler" The Family's very first rescue, and many others. Today, The Family only rescues wayward B's like myself. With the help of BRAT misunderstood B's get connected to safe houses to carry out Family business in relative secrecy...not to mention the near-limitless belly rubs, a very rewarding treat-for-trick program and uninterrupted afternoon siestas in the sun.

The moral of the story: "Never make a deal with a determined child you don't intend to keep" or "No one really dislikes dogs, they just haven't met the right one yet".

Just Between You & Me, Ray Has A Problem

Ray has a very strong garbage addiction. Nothing can stop him. He will pull out something with the guardians in the same room. Some may call him a daredevil; others will call him a thrill hound. I tend to think he has a serious substance abuse problem.

I partially blame the tall ones because they have sometimes looked the other way when we're contracted to shred documents that need to "disappear". The bin in the office has been often referred to as a gateway trash leading you into bigger things like bathroom trash and kitchen trash, the real hard stuff.

Ray's tried to get me hooked. I'll admit I have tried it once or twice. I've licked the lid a few times and even pulled some stuff out. It can be thrilling and the payoff is great. Unfortunately, I'm not as stealthy as he so I never get to eat anything I liberate because I always get caught.

Trash is too noisy for me. That is why I'm what is commonly known as a "sock hound". Socks are much quieter and you can chow down on a pair under the table even with the guardians sitting right there none the wiser. I do love the taste of a well-aged sock but I don't think my fascination is as out-of-paw as Ray's trash fixation.

The guardians seem to have their hands full trying to de-tox him but it's our basenji nature to have addictive personalities so it's going to be an up hill battle. I'm not aware of any rehabilitation programs or support groups like G.E.A. ("Garbage Eaters Anonymous").

Whatever happens, Ray definitely needs some help to get his problem under control. As for me, I don't have a problem. I have my sock-munching well within my control. I can stop anytime I want. I just don't want to. Honestly, stop hassling me. I can quit. Look, I'm not chewing on a sock at the moment am I? Oh, but one could really hit the spot right about now. I think one of the tall ones left one deep inside of a sneaker within my reach. Yep, I can definitely smell it from here. I think I'll just go take a quick look. But it's my last one, I promise!

well, maybe not...

Boys Who Lunch

Today was such a nice sunny breezy day one of the guardians took us along to lunch on Lincoln Road. Rather, she ate and we were the look-outs. Ray & I don’t eat lunch

Ray stretched out in the sun to work on his high-lights while I chilled in the shade of the chair. We were both a little groggy. Normally we nap during the day. That is why weren’t really misbehaving at all. The tall one said it was good practice for us.

We're always practicing. You never know when something might go down so we have to be prepared mentally and physically.

Ray got a little mouthy when the food came. He even let out a couple of baroos to get his point across. I guess he really wasn't happy about being woken from his siesta only to walk to Lincoln and not get any food for it in return. I agree, it was unfair but it still was a really nice day.

How I Became A Made-Dog

Some of you may be wondering how exactly a good-looking smart dog like myself gets mixed up with the likes of The B-Boys. Not much is know publicly about my origins. I have my reasons for keeping it that way. Not all involved are innocent but I'd like to protect those who are.

What I will tell you is that I was tossed out on my own as a young pup and for a time I led a transient life here on the mean streets of South Beach. Then one day this dame whose pad I was crashing decided enough was enough and passed me off to The Family. She told me the B-Boys would understand "my kind". I tell you, those cats she had had it coming.

In this new home is where I met my adopted brother Man Ray, known simply as Ray. He and I pretty much hit it off right away. I was young & impressionable and Ray was older & seemingly wiser. He took me aside and guided me in the ways of Basenji like paper shredding, disemboweling small toys, yodeling, and general stubbornness. For that I am eternally grateful and pledge my loyalty.

Not being surrounded by my brethren early on in life I developed some peculiar behavior. For example my intensely friendly attitude toward strangers. What can I say; I'm a people-dog. In truth, it's all an act in order to draw them in and get what I want (like a good scratch on the hind quarters; that area is really hard to reach).

I'll never give into that aloofness to which most B's subscribe. I think that is one of the reasons Ray is sometimes cool towards me. Secretly, I think he's really beaming inside with pride to see how far I have come. I'm sure he has all the confidence in the world that I can hold my own as a true B-Boy.

Her Name Was Simone, She Was a Singer.

The tall ones like to have people over to cook quite a bit. It doesn’t look like cooking to me as much as mixing things together and then heating them up. I tolerate it because I occasionally find tasty little morsels dropped on the floor. The tall ones say that it's my job to keep the floors clean; it gives my life purpose. If they only new about my real occupation they wouldn't be so contrary towards me.

Most recently, one of these guests brought with her another canine: a Boston Terrier called "Simone". Dog, I thought I had a lot of energy. She was bouncing all over the house and Ray & I followed right along. It was nice not to be the "rabbit" for a change. I guess that makes her OK for a girl.

Later on in the evening Simone treated us to a private concert. You know how some dogs will howl as loud as they possibly can and call that singing? Well, not Simone. She has the most beautifully soft singing voice but some really odd taste in music. Simone only sings along to Hip-Hop, Beat-Box and Reggae. To each their bone, I guess.

Ray & I are considering opening up a private supper club with Simone as the main act if we can convince her to give up the ghetto music and learn some nice old standards like Sinatra or Bennet. I mean for a dog that's named after the great Nina Simone she could really learn a thing or two about good music. There is no accounting for taste sometimes but it ain't over 'till the little dog sings.

I've Got B.A.D.D. & They Say It's Not Good

The guardians tell me I've been diagnosed with B.A.D.D., "Basenji Attention Deficit Disorder". They say this could be the reason I've had a hard time picking up "commands". I say: (A) I'm a Basenji which means I'm essentially out for myself and (B) if there isn't food involved it's not worth my time.

This is a common diagnosis among my brethren but I believe it is a tragic misunderstanding of our breed. This is especially true for me in light of my occupation. All though chasing a tennis ball is one of my favorite things, I do it mainly for the benefit of the guardians. The tall ones have such an overjoyed look on their faces when I bring it back to them and if no one is looking I get a little treat.

I do like making them happy but I cannot forget my obligation to the Family. If I happen to see an opening mid-retrieve I'm going to take it even with the tennis ball still in my mouth. You never know when an opportunity to sniff or chew something might arise and you have to be prepared at all times.

My older brother, Ray, has them all pretty snowed. He has them convinced he's the "good" one because he can do a number of "tricks" and can “sit” when and where he's told most of the time. He still will let out a little "huff" to let the guardians know he's not too happy about it.

Ray's told me that even he had a difficult time at first to figure out the way things work but by the time he was two-years-old he had identified their weaknesses and was using them to his advantage.

To tell you the truth I hear them but most of the time but I choose not to listen. Just for fun the other day I "laid down" when they asked me to. The tall ones were really shocked. I now know what Ray meant by "keeping them on their toes".

Happy St. Paw-Tricks Day!

My brother Ray insists that March 17th has something to do with Ireland but I disagree. I believe this is a day to celebrate the patron saint of canine card games. This saint also happens to be an Irish Setter so I can see how the confusion came about.

Sure you may say that due to the fact dogs lack the all important opposable thumb that we are incapable of pulling off slight-of-paw. May I remind you because the majority of us lack sleeves card tricks become all the more amazing.

More importantly, why else would there be so many paintings of dogs playing poker if it wasn't such an essential socializing medium we canines use to come together in peace and harmony? Without our common enthusiasm for harts, clubs, diamonds and spades this world would be a lot more aggressive.

The guardians hold fast to the idea along with Ray that today is a day to celebrate Irish heritage. The tall ones seem to be having so much fun reveling in their Irish roots I would hate to break the truth to them. I think it would be wise to the rest of you to keep this information to yourselves and placate your guardians by eating the dog food they dyed green for you.