June 24th 2008 7:23 am
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Well, when I woke up this morning, I found I’d been tagged by my Bully Buddy, Ben the Bruiser!
If I read the instructions right, that means I am required to answer the following questions:
Name 4 jobs you have:
1. Beautifying the Couch
2. Beautifying the Settle
3. Correcting Star and keeping her in line
4. Giving the neighbors something to talk about.
Name 4 places where you have lived:
1. My First Family (who I hardly remember anymore)
2. The Capital Humane Society
3. My current home - Chez Winnie
4. Anywhere Mom and Dad go (they take me everywhere)
Name 4 places you have been:
1. Colorado/Wyoming
2. Kentucky
3. Idaho
4. Oregon
Name 4 places you'd rather be:
1. On Mom’s lap
2. The Settle
3. The Couch
4. My lounge chair outside in the sunshine
Now, I’m supposed to tag four other pups. Let’s see.... My victims will be:
Handsome and rugged Sergei,
Brave, outdoorsy Rupert,
Beautiful little Maebe,
and that little cutie, Milo.
Sincerely yours,
Winnie.
May 23rd 2007 11:51 am
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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!
My Seven Random Facts:
1. I am expert at spitting out pills. If Mom shoves one down my gullet, I throw it back up. I can find a pill in any substance; and if someone tries to hide them in treats, I will refuse to eat treats. Mom hopes I never get truly sick, because if I do, there will be some real trouble treating me.
2. I’m not as snobby as I seem. To me, there’s nothing better than shoving the top of my head into the crotch of my loved ones, so they can fondle my ears and rub my neck. Well, okay, I may SEEM snobby, because I lay on the couch with my legs crossed, and can’t usually be enticed to play or do tricks or anything undignified, but I’m truly not as snobby as I seem.
3. I will follow my Mom anywhere. Even into that disgusting Branched Oak Reservoir. I don’t like swimming - it isn’t Dogly. I mean, swimming is for fishes, not Greyhounds! Besides, it musses my fur.
4. I don’t lay down. I fold up.
5. I love cold weather. Well, not COLD weather, but “light jacket” weather. I also love my Winter Coat. It makes me feel pretty.
6. Pointy-eared dogs scare me.
7. My final fact: don’t let Star know this, but I’ve gotten to the point where I really like her. Sometimes I play bow to her, and ask her to chase me. I love getting her in trouble, too. She seems smart, but when it comes to me duping her, she’s dumb, dumb, dumb!!
Let’s see - I think I’ll tag:
1. Smudge
2. Sergei
3. Dan
4. Boo
5. Floyd
6. Rigby and
7. Roxy!
November 10th 2006 7:05 am
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“Sssssstar, ssssometimes I really do HATE you.” Winnie was actually hissing softly from underneath her baby blue blanket. All I could see of her was that long graceful neck and long, pointy nose as she swayed back and forth, eyes narrowed. She reminded me of that possum in the trash can I saw awhile back.
“Oh, come on, now, Winnie. You don’t really mean that,” I said, practically. “You’re just mad at me right now. And you really should stop that hissing stuff - it isn’t flattering at all. Makes you look like a fuzzy cobra.”
“I had them wrapped around my paw! You little creep! Why did you have to go and ruin everything!” Winnie was truly angry, and that was a little scary. I could almost see sparks flying from her eyes, and little tendrils of smoke coming from her ears. Too bad Howl-o-ween is over.
“Well, you’re the one that started it. You were the one that was barking at me and challenging me to race you around the yard. And you didn’t stop, even when Mom came out of the garage to see what all the noise was about! You were showing off - don’t deny it!”
(Segue to Winnie)
Winnie thought back to the chase. She could still feel the frisson of excitement in her bones, the way the wind had blown through her ears, the smell of the chase. Last night, she had felt like she ruled the world! She was tall and strong and graceful, the Quintessential Sighthound, and she was consumed with desire for the Hunt. Tim had seen her in this mood before - maybe that’s why he was hiding under the dining room table with a rawhide. But Star...yes, Star could make a worthy adversary. Sure, Star outweighed her by 30 pounds, but Winnie was sure and fleet of foot, and Star wouldn’t have a chance against Winnie. Not tonight.
As the wild wind whipped the bare branches of the Dogwood, Winnie stalked Star in the moonlight. She barked, authoritatively - once, twice, three times. Then they were off and racing - and Winnie was right on Star’s heels, growling at her, showing her teeth like the Dangerous Sighthound she is.
(Star breaks into Winnie's thoughts)
“I said, Winnie, are you okay? You look kind of funny, squinting like that.”
Winnie groaned and stretched out her legs. “Yes, I’m fine, Star. Go away.”
“You’re brooding again, aren’t you? Sheesh. Sighthounds.”
“Star, just shut up and go away before I bite you. You’re ruining my reverie. I’m Meditating.”
Winnie returned to her thoughts. Where was she? Ah, right. She had been right next to Star’s neck, ferociously snapping at her throat, when Star spun around, whirling like a top, and the chase was on, with the tables turned. That’s when everything had gone wrong. As Winnie thought about it, she growled, deep in her throat, and she peered through slitted eyes at Star, who, showing basic good sense, was leaving the bedroom.
Winnie didn’t even want to contemplate what had happened next, but it seemed she couldn’t stop the images from coming. Star had chased her, and then Winnie had chased Star, and everything had been going just great until Winnie had tripped on that stupid little fence Mom had put around the Dogwood in a vain attempt to keep the Jack in the Pulpit alive. Dang! Who knew a stubbed toe could hurt so bad! The entire neighborhood had rung with the sound of Winnie’s wailing. Her cries echoed off the buildings, rising to a crescendo of sound that brought Mom right out of the garage, earmuffs in hand, a horrified expression on her face.
Of course, Star would be blamed. That’s the way it had always been - Winnie had made sure of that from the first time the rotten pup set paw in the house. Winnie assumed her position of injury - standing stock-still, waiting for Mom to come and ease the pain, to gently massage her all over and throw accusing looks at Star, who waited in the shadows, apologetic wiggle in full evidence.
But what’s this? A pained look appeared on Winnie's lovely face, where she lay swaddled in her blue blankie. Mom just stood in the doorway, hands on hips, and - horrors - she was laughing!!! Even now Winnie was aghast - this could not be happening! Star would not be blamed? Mom called out, “Come here, Winnie-girl. What happened?” Winnie had unthinkingly trotted over to Mom before she had even given a thought to putting on a limp or dragging a useless leg behind her. Drat! Ruined! All those years of training, lost!
Winnie had been moping about it ever since.
Mom sat down next to Winnie and ran her fingers through the silky fur on Winnie’s neck. “You okay this morning, Sweetling? That was some exhibition you were giving in the back yard last night...” Winnie drowsily relaxed into the gentle massage - so what was the difference if Mom now knew the Truth? Mom loved her anyway - and Winnie was smart enough to figure a New Plan to get Star in trouble.....
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