It's Good to Emerge from Undercover

Greetings mates,
I am on hiatus from my longterm undercover espionage assignment. I have been deep undercover as a lapdog and I can't tell you how wonderful it is to finally be done with that. Blech! There are some perks to being a pampered pup that I may miss but I can't say wearing glitter collars and acting the part of the gentelman is really for me. It's good to be back to being a doggy dog dog, if you know what I'm saying. Rolling on stinky things, jumping on people who are afraid of me, stealing food left at French Bulldog level, and peeing everywhere!
Jumping through obedience hoops like a trained seal, never again; but the intel I gathered is invaluable in my plot to take over the world. And I have to say I played the part so well that I earned bed (human guard bed) privileges which I may have to hang on to. Who can go back to a dog bed after sleeping on a King-size tempurpedic foam mattress that supports all of my joints and pressure points just right? It's the perfect place to wakeup and get in a long session of "preparation for the day" or what the humans refer to as my "snort and backscratch happy backdance." They are so clueless about proper stretching, exhalation and mucus clearing to begin the day- it's just amazing that they remain the species in charge!

Testing Dogster Communications

Well it seems I have been tagged by:
1. Boss
2. Randi
3. Maxwell
4. Rufus
Now I am not one for wasting resources so I'm using the "tag" game to test Dogster communications to see if they are effective and secure for Dog Rebel Army messages to the faithful. So here goes, I am tagging 7 of my most trusted comrades, here are your orders:

Each player starts with seven random facts about themselves. Dogs who are tagged, need to post in their Diary the rules & 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 Pawsome Facts:
1. I am the ringleader of a secret police squad of Boxers that I recruited at Downtown Dogs Daycare
2. I weigh in at an imposing 21 pounds (of pure muscle I might add)
3. I love the ocean, I think I was a surfer in a past life.
4. My portrait was done for posterity by Alexis Trice (check out her website www.welcometothedoghouse.net)
5. The female bodyguard loves me more than Clementine
6. I still sneak some pee mail messages in the house every once in a while (revolution is more important than getting the "housebroken" label)
7. TOP SECRET: this is the fact that will be the true test of the security of Dogster communications: I sleep with a ...teddybear.

I am tagging:
1. Sam
2. Winston
3. Taco
4. Ferdinand
5. Tank
6. Duncan
7. Basil (aka 'Da Moose')

Uh-oh Dogster HQ Is On To Me

They've made me "Dog of the Week" This can only mean one thing, they are trying to expose my plans to take over the world. I'm going to have to start using a secret code in my diary that only the loyal dog army can understand. The drawback of utilizing code is that it will negatively impact potential recruits that read my journal but what else can I do this kind of exposure is too risky. There is too much at stake. What a shame, what a setback.
The humans have been completely fooled into trusting me, since I haven't pooped in the house in ages, if they get a whiff of what I'm up to, that's it, it'll be crate city baby. And forget about off-leash privileges.
On the other hand, I'm sure there will be lots of lovely ladies on Dogster that will have the opportunity to get a glimpse of me for the first time. Maybe this honor will have some pluses... I think I am beginning to see the positives. I mean who am I to deny the female dog public my handsome form? Gotta give the people what they want. Am I right? I didn't rise to the rank of General without knowing how to work the crowd a little. What was I concerned about, this face can only mean good PR.

December to Remember

We made a trek cross country this week. I had to meet with Colonel Butters and PFC Archie, loyal soldiers in the French Bulldog army in my former homebase of New York. It was an official trip but I have to say we struck a nice balance of R and R too. The chow and supplies are pretty plush on their compound. Their humans, Charlie and Pam, are also well trained and really laid out the red carpet for the visiting emissaries (that would be Clem and myself.) Excellent beds, yard full of squirrels, chewy toys and gourmet treats. Although, one night, Private First Class Archie knocked back a few too many mussel treats and actually challenged his superior officer but surprisingly it was Clementine who stepped in to help the poor pup come to his senses. All of the humans took us on a recruiting trip to the local dog park where we signed up quite a few new recruits, another Frenchie and a couple of Weimaraners. I have to say it was a very productive trip.
Unfortunately, we had a really close call at the airport on our way home. The female guard was carrying me through security and someone must have tipped them off that I am plotting to take over the world. They had us step to the side and go through another machine that blew air at us. The guard tried to hand me off to her husband but they said I had to come along. Then they searched her and they put me on a table and patted me down as well. Too bad I'm too smart for them. They didn't find a thing and they let her return me to my bag and make our flight. I laughed myself to sleep. Silly paranoid humans, little do they know they are all pawns in my diabolical plot of world domination by the canine race. In the meantime, they better keep the treats and red carpet treatment coming... can't wait to return to the Big Apple. I've got Frank singing in my head even now, " If you can make it there, you'll make it anywhere... New York, New York.."

The Secret to Eternal Youth is Arrested Development

Today is my birthday. I don't feel any different but the birthday perks are something else. Tripe for breakfast. Pupcakes for brunch. Carob chip cake tonight. New collar, new toys, with age comes privilege. What's that quote,"no wise man ever wished to be younger." What I want to know now is why we only celebrate once a year. I mean every day, I am another day older, correct. It seems to me that we should celebrate my maturation every day. When my army takes over, we are going to have 364 days of unbirthday celebrations by military order. If only dogs ran the world.

Code Name: Desert Fox

Well, apparently the assassination attempt spurred a plan to go into hiding in the desert. For security reasons I cannot divulge my exact whereabouts, but I have been moved to new location where I am not recognized. My undercover identity has been referred to by some as a "fat fox." I prefer "muscular fox", thank you.
I am still smuggled back to California on occasion and I have heard I will be traveling back to NY in December, but I've said too much already.
Desert living has its share of challenges but the Sister and I are adjusting better than the mom/guard. We have large quarters and an almost park-like facility right outside the door. There are a number of other canine ex-patriots from both California and New York here, as well as some native desert dwellers. We get exercised on a huge lawn with flags and sandlots behind our house. Just like the one our friends Petunia and Sasha have behind their house. No rabbits though- darn it! But there are all the crickets you can eat-quite the delicacy! Oh and some tempting ducks which beg to be chased if only they didn't travel with some rather large and ill-tempered geese. I have been trying to work out a way to separate them out but the guards are suffocating, concerned for my safety no doubt.
We only go out on the green lawn early in the morning or in the evening because of the incredible heat here. Fortunately for a fit soldier such as myself, it is not too unbearable but the guard/mom and the Sister do a lot of complaining about the weather. Females. Those two live to complain.
Speaking of which, we recently traveled to a training camp where I was put through leash maneuvers. Apparently my leash skills were not to the mom/guard's satisfaction. So back to pretending she is the boss and I am just "following" along. Sometimes being a military genius can be so draining.

All Hail the Returning Conqueror

I have returned to the land of my forefathers, Los Angeles. I am at last free of that stupid prison cell. I still have to ring the bell to march outdoors but I kind of like making the turncoat guards rush to open the door for me. There is no winter to contend with here and I think that I can finally lay down my sword and take a more hands-off approach to world domination. Clementine seems to get a lot accomplished with a cute look and shake of her butt. Now I would never adopt her style of mind-control, but it has given me ideas about less obvious forms of conquest.
There is an old comrade in arms, Gia the pitbull, who has been reunited with us. She is very strong but not too bright. I think she will become my new sidekick. My new headquarters has beautiful grounds and a grand hill atop which I am master of all I survey. We've also got a swimming pool and several attendants to provide massages, butt scratches and tummy rubs at our whim.
Life here is very good but already I have been the victim of an assassination attempt. Someone laid out what looked like appetizing rabbit poop- which I could not resist. It turned out to be snail repellant, a poison with no known cure. Fortunately, my former prison guard, now turned bodyguard, observed me eat the poison and performed emergency procedures, the results of which were not pretty. I had just eaten dinner as well so let's just say she was wearing dinner, poison, and whatever else I had swallowed in the last 12 hours. I owe her my life. Ah, the perils of being a military genius- the danger never ends.

The Frenchie Patient

I am trying to keep my spirits up despite the fact that I have been under medical watch for the last few days. First I had a horrible bout of dysentery. Not a pleasant experience. This was followed by what I thought was some kind of cruel and unusual punishment but after several trips to that place that smells like sick animals and antiseptics, I now know that these intolerable new measures are in the interest of medical treatment. It seems that I scratched my eye when I was out in the exercise yard and now I must wear this ridiculous plastic headgear to prevent me from further agitating it. Not only does it look absurd but it gets in the way of everything, I cannot eat or drink with it on, I can not sniff the ground, I can't get a good bite on the sister unless she sticks her face into the plastic sphere. It is so demoralizing. As if this contraption was not bad enough, I also have to have eyedrops placed in my eye twice a day. I try to cooperate with the guards on this but my patience is wearing thin. I have drawn the line at being seen outdoors with this thing on. I absolutely refuse to let the other dogs see me with this absurd satellite dish surrounding my face and as a result there have been some power struggles over where to eliminate between me and the guards. Sorry Moxie, my influence with the guards has suffered a minor setback with this latest turn of events but once the plastic cone is removed, I vow to forever poop outdoors and earn privileges back so that we may be reunited. When the dogs take over the world I am going to make all humans sport these plastic collars as part of their subjugation- then they'll see.

For Whom the Bell Tolls

I realize that I have not written a journal entry in a while. I have been hard at work, whipping the troops into shape in order to take over the world. I have managed to successfully turn the guards into loyal cohorts. I am confident that when the time comes, they will do my bidding. As an example, they have installed a set of bells to the prison door. I am no longer under lockdown and as long as a guard is present, I have free reign of the prison. Apparently, they have so completely fallen under my dominion, that whenever I ring the bells on the prison door, they step to attention and escort me outdoors. I couldn't believe it the first few times it happened. I mean I just went to sniff by the prison door to see if there was anything interesting that had been dropped there recently, and I accidently nudged the bells. It was if I had sounded a hypnotic command, without so much as a whine or bark, the guards attached my chains and rushed to take me outdoors. This happens everytime I ring it. Needless to say, I am making the most of this new development. The big sister has seen these bells and never clued me in to their significance. She is always thwarting my plans to take over the world. But now that she sees I am in control of the guards, she is ready to piggyback onto my success and waits nearby for me to ring the bells so that she too can make an escape. I have tried unsuccessfully to bridge an alliance with her. We at least have an understanding that we will stay out of one another's way. The truth is, I don't think I could trust her even if she did suddenly want to join up. As a courtesy I offer her my protection when we are out in the prison yard. We are quite a formidable team and since you never know who you can trust in that dog run, you need someone watching your back, even if she does not appreciate it. I must signal the guards now, I've got bells to ring and sidewalks to sniff.

Newest Plan of Attack

I have changed strategies and I am finding it very successful. I am cooperating with the guards, pooping and peeing outdoors, ringing the bell to let them know to take me out, submitting to regular grooming and even performing their "little tricks" on command. It was humiliating at first but I can tell that I have gotten to the female guard. I make sure to look at her adoringly 30 times a day. She is so easy. I have already earned full house access, off-leash privileges, sleeping in the big bed, and getting to stay out of my crate when she leaves. The big sister is not happy about my success at all; she reveled in her higher status prior to my cooperative stance. The male guard is wrapped around her paw though, so I don't know what she's bitter about. Now that I see how easy it was to win the guard's trust, I am confident that I will be reunited with my Frenchie love soon.