Happy finalist to me!

Neat! I'm a finalist in the World's Coolest Dog and Cat Show in the Tongue/Slobber category. It's an exciting honor and I've met lots of new pups because of it. Many thanks to those of you who kindly threw a vote in my direction.

THE question

One of my girlfriends proposed and I don't know what to do. I mean, I really like her and she's lots of fun, but I'm not sure I'm ready for this step. How could I pick just one girl? If I got married, would I still be allowed to snuggle with other girls? Would I have to move away from home?

Mom is concerned because this particular girlfriend likes to eat poop. She said trying to manage her at the reception is reason enough to say no.

Any more experienced pups have any advice?

Prepucial woes

Yes, it's true. I have prepucial irritation. It stings when I pee. Worst of all, however, is the constant attention my little buddy gets at daycare and at home (let's not talk about the horrific vet appointment). My weenie is all anyone can talk about.

Mom: "Did you see Conan's weenie today?"

Dad: "No, I haven't looked, but he's due for his cream."

The snap of the vinyl glove is good indication these days that I'm about to be thoroughly examined by my well intentioned but oddly fascinated dad. How incredibly embarassing.

The good news is that the cream is making things feel better and as I'm on the mend this shouldn't go on for too much longer.

You mean that's not chocolate?

After completing a perimeter check to ensure that the people were indeed out of the house, I began counter surfing for goodies. What's this? It smells like . . . sniff . . . sniff . . . chocolate! Not that I've ever had chocolate, but I've heard stories from Vaughn about the time he got his stomach pumped after downing two pounds of M&Ms. Aside from the charcoal and the vomiting, it didn't seem half bad. Would they really leave that out for me? Gosh, that was nice.

This plastic container is kinda thick and it's hard to bite because the stuff inside is squishy. Boy, this is gonna be great when I get it busted open! Thump, thump, thump. Just a few more bites and the cap is off.

Smells so tasty.

Lemme just step on this tube and get the inside stuff to come out. Ew! Ew! Ew! Vaughn wouldn't have eaten two pounds of this! Aw, now it's all over my paws and the rug. This is beginning to look like something that will make Mom distinctly unhappy. Can I paw it off on someone else? But wait -- my paws are so soft now. Almost silky and so very moisturized. That's a nice treat after a hot day. Wish I could get the taste out of my mouth.

Oh, no! Mom and Dad are home. Quick! Maintain distance from the evidence and practice the "who, me?" face.

"Conan, what do you know about this?"

Nothing. I think I saw the cats over there, though.

"Conan, I need to smell you. C'mere."

Uh oh. I think I'm about to get busted.

"Were your paw pads so dry that you needed cocoa butter lotion, or did you just like the way it smelled?"

Huh? Cocoa butter? That sorta sounds like food and it sorted smelled like food but it sure didn't taste like food. You mean that's not chocolate?

A busy day for mass destruction

Just when they thought I was growing up . . .

Today Vaughn and I were home alone (the kitties really don't count in my book) and I took it upon myself to provide entertainment. The morning is something of a blur, actually. Except for the bleeding, it was so fun I can hardly remember what happened when. Needless to say, the lowest window on the front door is broken and decorated with bloody nose prints. Vaughn wasn't totally behind me on that move as he prefers to play it safe. "Broken glass is a bad idea, kidlet," he said. The pain wasn't so bad (much more tolerable than Mom's expression when she and Angus came home).

In my quest to become a well rounded, sensitive kind of guy the ladies dig, I like to read as much as possible (I really prefer catalog shopping to strict reading). Mom likes to read and goes to the library every week, so we always have books in the house. I've always found library books to be more appealing because they carry the smells of where they have been. What was not appealing was Mom's shriek upon seeing "Cooking with Tofu" strewn about the living room. It was just after she had cleaned up the broken glass from the front door and before she remembered how much she loves me.

An embarassing confession

I almost hate to tell this story on Mom's behalf, but we must be honest with each other.

Angus is a picky eater and always has been. There are days he doesn't feel like eating and days that he wants exactly the opposite of what he is given. It depends on Mom's sense of humor at the time as to whether Angus will get a second option if he turns down the first.

Anyway, given that Angus is due for surgery in three weeks, it is vitally important that he eats well and takes his pre-surgery supplements. Last week he stopped eating, and after pulling out all the stops (which meant I ate very well, thank you), Mom threw her hands in the air and *gasp* purchased kibble.

Angus loves the kibble. Mom got two varieties for, well, variety, and Angus sucks them both down greedily. Then the real trouble started. The three cats ganged up and demanded Angus' kibble, circling round Mom's legs at feeding time like sharks. They tore and slashed at the bag when she wasn't looking and managed to have their way. And hey -- if the cats get to share Angus' kibble, why can't I have some? Rather than beat her head against the wall, Mom dished up what was my first kibble experience and I thought it was pretty tasty (I'll eat anything, though), but I do really like my regular meals.

Poor Vaughn was left to enjoy his vegetarian meals while every other creature in the house enjoyed Angus' kibble to some degree. He has quietly morned the loss of meat from his diet but continues to clean his bowl. Mom really couldn't take his sad eyes while watching the cats destroy the kibble bag. He so desperately wanted to have a part of everyone else's joy. Mom packed up the kibble and left the house quite suddenly after placing a few phone calls and returned with a bag of vegetarian kibble just for the big guy. He ate quite happily last night.

This morning Mom presented Angus with applesauce, baked chicken, and kibble and he turned his nose. Would not eat it. Mom was on the verge of tears when she removed the bowl and scooped only kibble into a different bowl, shaking her head the whole time. Angus ate it right up, and I got the applesauce and chicken with my kibble ration.

So . . . the dogs who live with the dog chef/nutritionist have defected and are now voraciously consuming kibble. Go figure.

Angus taught me a new trick

Angus' best trick is scaring the UPS guy. He's super good at it because he's got a mean bark and it's not hard to believe he could knock down the front door if he wanted to. Anyway, now that he's learning how to do some of Vaughn's stuff, he taught me the UPS trick. I had a great chance to practice this week.

Mom came to pick me up a little early at daycare and a UPS truck pulled up at the same time. While she was waiting at the door, holding my seatbelt harness, the UPS guy asked, "Hey, what kind of dog do you have?" She told him about me and watched as his eyes got larger and larger. He said the most unexpected thing then.

"Those are the really mean dogs. I make regular deliveries to a house with a Great Dane and I pray that the front door will hold each time. That dog is vicious!"

After years of experience, Mom has learned the art of when to counter and when to keep quiet. This man wouldn't be swayed, she decided, so he delivered his packages and ran out as quickly as he could to avoid meeting me.

Imagine our surprise two hours later when the same UPS guy showed up on our porch to make a delivery! The three of us lined up at the front door as a united front against delivery men and their kind and barked for the apocalypse. Mom squeezed through to sign for the package and as she closed the door behind her, I put my front paws on the door and barked at a whole new level. Needless to say, this poor UPS guy was scared out of his mind and will probably not accept our route again. If he only knew how much fun we are when we aren't actively protecting our home.

Irresponsible? Probably. Fun? Definitely. And even if she had let me out, the most I would have done was a thorough crotch sniffing. Mom says it's good practice for religious zealots and solicitors.