The world is my buffet!

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The times they are a-changin'

August 23rd 2005 8:49 pm
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It's been quite a long time since my last post, and boy, have things changed around here. In a nutshell ...

I'm no longer a bastard child! Mommie and Papa finally married! I didn't get to go the wedding (something about me + grass + Mommie's white dress = disaster), but they did honor me by donating some cash to the local animal shelter in leiu of wedding favors. How kewl, eh?

I got to spend a week with my Gramma while Mommie and Papa went on a honeymoon. Gramma spoiled me rotten. She even let me sleep under the covers with her. When Mommie and Papa got back, they had a BIG announcement for me. No, not THAT kind of announcement (no honeymoon siblings for me, thank you very much). The kind of announcement that said we were going to move to a new city. I had only really known San Luis Obispo my whole long life, but they promised me I would love, love, love my new home in Seattle.

So we moved across two whole states! And it took 2.5 days in the car. But I was a real good girl the whole time. When we got to Seattle, it was raining. Right away, I had a bad feeling about this new place. But you know what? It hasn't rained since! Isn't that great? But Mommie keeps telling me that I will be in for a big surprise come winter. I'm thinking, how could that be? That this bee-yoo-tee-ful city will become water-logged in a matter of months? Inconceivable, I say.

I have a new neighbor friend here in Seattle, too. His name is Buster, and he is a big golden retriever. He often stares at me in bewilderwent through the fence while I turbo sniff for squirrels. I pretend that I don't like him, but really, I think he's an OK kind of guy.

All in all, I like my new life. It seems that Mommie and Papa are really happy here. I get to go on lots of new aventures at all the lakes and parks, including this awesome off-leash dog park in Marymoor. Can life get any better than this?

 

I'm not fat ... I'm just, er, big-boned!

April 2nd 2005 8:36 am
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It’s been awhile since my last diary entry. Mommie and Papa have been so busy on the computer that I’ve hardly had an opportunity to just sit down and type. And the thing is, I’ve been a bit depressed lately. Haven’t felt like sharing my problems with the world. Until now.

A couple weeks ago, Mommie and Papa took me to a bad, bad place. As usual, they hyped the trip up as “some place fun.” I gladly hopped into the car, as I always do, in anticipation of going to the beach or to the pet store for more bullies. But not this time.

I heard them mutter words, like “groomer,” “eagle-like talons,” and “clipped” as we headed for the door of an unknown building. Immediately, I got the “uh-oh” feeling upon entering. This was NOT “some place fun.” This was a place I had only heard about from my best Schnauzer buddy Zem called “the groomer.”

Just wait one minute, I thought. I am a short-haired, smooth-coated canine. No grooming necessary. And besides, I obsessively take care of myself when it comes to grooming. And then a strange man hoisted me up onto a table and said the meanest thing ever.

“Wow, what a lardass … how much do you feed this thing?”

Excuse me? Me, overweight? Sure, I love to snack. And beg for people food as much as the next beagle. But I maintain my rather svelte physique by eating two medium-sized servings of Beneful per day and partake in three to four walks per week. I have the occasional burst of cardio after a bath where I like to run around the house like a wild banshee and leap onto beds and couches and “swim” on the carpet like a crazywoman.

I heard Mommie attempt to defend my, ahem, heaviness by telling the evil groomer man all of those things, but he didn’t buy it. And decided to punish me for being *sniff* fat. He then proceeded to – look away if you must – CLIP MY NAILS!

I cried out like I was being murdered to warn the other dogs in wait that this evil groomer man had insulted me and was now trying to kill me, all because I enjoy filet mignon and potato chips. I writhed and squirmed and howled until finally the man had to put me over his knee in order to finish this torturous ordeal.

The whole situation upset Mommie quite greatly. She even had to leave the torture chamber and wait outside until it was all over. And when it was all over? The evil groomer man, who had called me fat and tried to kill me, had the audacity to give me a cookie. Like that would make things all better.

Needless to say, I have been quite depressed as of late. And wondering if this situation has occurred for other beagles. I implore you all, my faithful beagle buddies, to send me a message and take this weight, so to speak, off my shoulders by telling me how much you weigh and how much to eat. I need to know that I am NOT in the minority of the beagle world. That us beagles, we like to chow. And when we get older, sometimes we gain a few extra pounds. Is that so bad?

 

Beagle birthday blah

February 7th 2005 8:07 pm
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I'm a little sad today. You see, it's my 2nd birthday and my mommie and papa must have forgotten all about it. No special treats. No big surprises. Not even a walk today. I kinda feel like Molly Ringwald in "Sixteen Candles."

I can't believe they f-ing forgot my birthday.

*heavy sigh*

At least Dogster remembered to change my age from 1 to 2 on my page. Blah.

 

Saturdays are for Sierra!

January 29th 2005 5:49 pm
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My favorite day of the week is Saturday. That's the day that both Mommie and Papa are home AT THE SAME TIME. Which means they take me to lots of fun places because they feel so bad they didn't have time to during the week.

This Saturday was particularly special because the day seemed to be ALL ABOUT ME. It all started this morning when I woke up in my warm bed ... with Mommie and Papa on either side (sometimes I let them sleep in MY bed with me, but shhh, don't tell anyone). Then I heard those magic words I so crave to hear: "We really need to take Sierra on a walk this morning." Score!

So I patiently waited for Mommie and Papa to get ready for the day. Finally it was time to go. Barely able to contain myself, the three of us headed downtown. Papa made me walk right in between him and Mommie. For some strange reason, having them on either side makes me walk much nicer. We arrived at the downtown area. First stop, the fancy pet supply store where the nice lady always gives me expensive designer doggie treats. I sat real good for her while she fed me freeze-dried filet mignon and other tasty morsels of goodness. Mommie picked out the biggest bully sticks from the bin while Papa paid for them at the counter. I just love me some stinky bully sticks. Score again!

Then Mommie went inside Starbucks and got some coffee. We sat outside and I watched all the birds fluttering to and fro in the promenade. Lots of nice strangers stopped by for some puppy licks and cooed to my parents about how cute I am. If they only knew! It felt good to bask in the warm sun while Mommie and Papa drank their coffee and chatted.

Then it was back home for a bit. But then I heard Mommie talking to Papa about "taking Sierra to the beach." Score once again! This time I leaped into the car and off we went to the beach. Once we got there, Mommie and Papa waited in a long, long, long line. Apparently they were joining the ranks of tourists who were clamoring for a bread bowl of clam chowder. Then we walked over to a picnic table where Mommie and Papa enjoyed their lunch. I tried so hard not to beg, but I knew that if I focused my begging toward Mommie, she would eventually cave. Yep, my persistence paid off and I got a few bites of french fries.

Sadly, the day of me had to come to an end as Papa had to go to work and Mommie had to take a nap. But oh how I love Saturdays so much.

 

Doggie torture ... or heaven?

January 2nd 2005 10:33 am
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A couple nights ago, Mommie and Papa let me stay up real late to welcome in the New Year. Even though I was up, they kept me in the kitchen while they got to eat lots of yummy goodies, like homemade pizza and sausage-stuffed mushrooms. This is what I like to call "doggie torture," when they put the baby gate up and selfishly scarf down good-smelling treats while I just sit in my crate and watch.

Anyway, eventually they let me out just in time for the Big Ball Drop on TV. Mommie had cracked open a bottle of almond champagne. She let me put my nose in the glass to see what kind of bubbly concoction they were enjoying. Ew. No thanks.

All of a sudden, Papa started counting backwards -- "7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2 ... 1! HAPPY NEW YEAR!" Then Mommie kissed Papa for a really long time. Hey, what about little 'ol me over here, I thought. Then both Mommie and Papa showered me with lots of kisses. Apparently this is a tradition on New Years, to kiss and cuddle your loved ones. But then I learned about another New Years "tradition," or as I like to call it, "doggie torture, revisited."

I started to hear loud bangs and pops outside. I had heard these kind of sounds before, way back in July. Mommie called them fireworks. Immediately, I began to shake and shiver uncontrollably. Because, you see, I am super scared of those fireworks, even the small, innocent kind that only go "POP." Papa kept laughing at me, because when I would try to go hide from the scary sounds, my whole body would shake, even when I was walking, and I looked like I had ants in my pants. Mommie seemed kind of worried because this time I was really out of control and scared.

But then, after a half hour or so, I was fine, especially when Mommie and Papa let me jump into bed with them and snuggle under the covers. You know, everything is always OK under the covers. This is what I like to call "doggie heaven."

 

Trash or treasure?

December 26th 2004 12:20 pm
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Mommie cleaned out my under-the-bed clubhouse again today. This time she found an empty container of cranberry juice, three chewed-up tubes of chaptsick in various flavors, a container of sparkly purple lipgloss (which I guess was kind of expensive -- oops), the shredded remains of sparkly red Christmas bows, lots of white fuzz from various stuffed animals, a foil bag which once housed yummy pita chips and lots of bits and scraps of paper. I heard Mommie mumble something about how she couldn't very well justify putting 400 thread count sheets on a bed which sits above a Jackson Pollack-like trash dump. Doesn't Mommie realize that all the items she found (and discarded) under the bed were my makings for a fun and festive Christmas celebration? Hello! It was going to be a Winter Wonderland, complete with snow (the fuzz), lights (the sparkly stuff and the foil bag) and Christmas treats (the cranberry juice and the smell of the pita chips). Oh well ... I guess Christmas is officially over. My New Year's resolution? Never let Mommie into my under-the-bed clubhouse AGAIN!

 

What's in a name?

December 3rd 2004 10:55 pm
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Before I was adopted, my breeder family had named me Female #1. But then when Mommie and Papa's deposit check cleared for me, the breeder family started to call me by my new adopted name, Sierra Skye. Mommie has so many nicknames for me now that sometimes I forget my real name. I've decided to make a list of the top ten little "pet" names Mommie calls me as well as a little blurb to describe the name's meaning and/or origin. Here goes ...

1. Sierra-kins ... an obvious derivative of Sierra
2. Sweet Pea ... b/c I can be a little sweetie when I want to be one
3. Puppy Poo-Shoes ... b/c one day I stepped in my own poo and then tried to give Mommie a big hug and poo got all over her neck ... oops
4. Puppalicious ... b/c I am so cute Mommie could just take a bite out of my ear or my paw
5. Numnut ... b/c sometimes I am not that smart and I fall down and go boom
6. Dingo Baby ... b/c deep down, I am a wild dog at heart, just like a dingo
7. Moo-shoo ... not sure where this one came from, but Papa seemed to think it was real cute to name me after a popular Chinese entree
8. Sponge Bath Sierra Pants ... kinda like Sponge Bob Square Pants, but mostly b/c when I clean my paws, I give laps, couches and beds a sponge bath with my tongue
9. Prima Ballerina ... I can grande jete onto anyone's lap without any warning ... and I am graceful, too
10. Doodie Boo ... um, yeah, I think Mommie may be on drugs

In all honesty, I will answer to just about anything that is called out in a high-pitched, excited voice. As long as you give me snuggles or a treat, I'm all yours.

 

Pack rat

November 6th 2004 5:01 pm
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Mommie got real mad at me today when she discovered the mess, as she called it, I had been making underneath her bed. Every now and again, Mommie decides to lift up her bed and clean out my clubhouse. You see, that's where I hoard all kinds of goodies and hang out when I don't wanna be bugged. Following is a list of items Mommie removed from under her bed today:

1. 3 pairs of Victoria's Secret undies
2. Dental floss container and an old toothbrush
3. 2 containers of Chap Stick
4. Several foil wrappers from caramel-filled Hershey Kisses (I promise I didn't eat the chocolate -- I just like smelling the wrappers and thinking about what it would be like to be able to enjoy chocolate)
5. A plastic to-go container that once housed a steak Papa brought home from work
6. A couple different kinds of fuzz from various stuffed animals (RIP dinosaur man -- you were a good friend while you lasted)
7. Shredded paper from various documents or discarded mail
8. 2 dimes

What prompted Mommie to thoroughly clean out my clubhouse was when she found her drivers license under the bed a couple days ago. Hey, she left it on her nightstand. Of course I was gonna take it and give it a good chew. Mommie said that a lady at a restaurant laughed at her license with my teeth marks all over it. Oh well! But now my clubhouse is all clean and has lots of room for new goodies I may find along the way! Happy hoarding!

 

If only I had opposable thumbs, I would've cast my vote,- too!

November 2nd 2004 10:59 pm
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My mommie is really sad and disappointed tonight. She spent the whole evening on the couch, watching the results of the 2004 Presidential Election unfold on TV. She was actually quite optimistic that the rest of the United States would wise up and see that Dubya has been the worst president ever and vote for the challenger. But it seems that the Electoral College has screwed us all again!

I told mommie that if doggies were allowed to register to vote and if I had opposable thumbs, I would have voted for Kerry, too. Mommie told Papa that she wants to move to another country. That might be awesome, if we moved to a really cool place, like Holland or New Zealand. Then I would become an international doggie!

But alas, I am only a doggie. All I can do is snuggle with Mommie to make her feel a little better about the future. At least she has me and Papa. Nothing can change that!

 

Raindrops keep falling on my head

October 17th 2004 9:25 pm
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I've been kind of mopey lately, ever since it started raining this weekend. It's been a looonngg time since it last rained, so I kinda forgot how miserable rain can be for a beagle. Being the beagle I am, when I am not begging for snacks or snoozing on the couch, I love to spend most of my free time sniffing around the yard. When it is raining, Mommie makes me stay inside because she knows that I don't enjoy getting wet. And when it is raining, that means I am guaranteed to get wet. But I always forget that I hate water when it rains, and I beg for Mommie to let me out. She usually does, but then I am right back inside, wondering why it's all wet outside. Mommie says I am a fickle beagle -- can't ever decide where I want to be. But I know it's not out in the rain. The only good part about the rain is when it stops, and then I get to sniff out all kinds of new smells in the damp yard. But then my paws get all wet, and I am a dainty beagle, and then I need to lick my paws clean for a good hour or so. And then Mommie says I am an OCD beagle. Doesn't she realize that I am beagle through and through, and I ain't never gonna change my beagle ways?

 
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