"I have been part of my family for a very long time, as evidenced from this family picture from the early 1900s. Now, I discover I go even farther back."
Birthday: August 6th 2002 Likes: Sitting in lap, car rides, singing along with piano practicing Pet-Peeves: Vacuum cleaner, people who don't share their food, and joggers Favorite Toy: People's feet and Katie's slippers and that horrible doll that the Wee Lass got which must be destroyed! Favorite Food: Whatever you are eating. Will even eat vegetables. How does one keep a home clean without a dog? Favorite Walk: The neighborhood. Best Tricks: Can jump straight up in the air from a standing position, and can do a backflip Arrival Story: Adopt 2010 C0ntest
Mulligan's Adoption story, told by Mulligan.
In 2005, the family lost Tyler to old-age. His nickname was "Mother Tyler" and in keeping with his nurturing instincts, he was rapidly failing, but managed to hang on until Oldest Lad finished off his end of year Freshman Exams. On the very day, Tyler stopped eating, and lasted one more week.
Mom was not "planning" to get a dog. She noticed that the Shelter was having an Adoption Fair at the local pet store. Mom stopped in. She met several dogs, including Me, Mulligan. I was NOT Mom's type. My ears did not stand up. My fur was short. I was not the "German Shepherdy" type that Mom was naturally attracted too. I even acted aloof, cold, "hard to get."
Oh, I had been through this whole "adoption" thing before. I had been found, sick, malnourished, and close to death, and nursed back to recovery by a Shelter Volunteer. I was then Adopted, but returned due to "Separation Anxiety." I then lived at the shelter for over 18 months. I was actually quite content at the Shelter. I was a tidy, scheduled type of dog and enjoyed the regular walks and getting my Kibble On Time.
Mom left the next day to go on vacation. Little did she know that I, Mulligan, had a plan.
Almost nightly while Mom was sleeping on vacation, I visited Mom in her dreams.
As soon as Mom came home from vacation, Mom went to the actual shelter. There she met a dog named Kato that exactly fit her dream-dog status. Thick, luxurious hair (or rather it would be once the mats were combed out.) Friendly, charming, a real "player." Mom was certain Kato was her dog.
Except of course Mom kept DREAMING about ME, Mulligan. And she kept having this nagging feeling that when she went to adopt Kato she was going to have to stop at my Run and explain to Me, Mulligan, why she was bringing Kato home instead of me.
Finally Mom gave in to the Mull-Can Mind-Meld that I had put upon her and adopted me!
Kato, charming as he was, was adopted soon thereafter.
Then I was her soul-mate until my unfortunate demise one year ago. Bio: He had a very beautiful singing voice, he really liked twinkle-twinkle little star. He sang when the kids play their musical instruments. He sang to the "Hallmark" musical snowmen. He sang when the phone rang. He also "talked" like Chewbacca, the wookie. He could order food at a drive-up window. He talked a lot, especially complaining and voicing his opinion. Forums Motto: I'm too handsome for my fur The Groups I'm In: "DOGSTERHOLICS", ☆ Sam's Stinky Dog Cafe ☆, AnimaLimpix 2008, Cincy Canines, D.A.M.N! - Dogs Against Maternal Neurosis!, Split Faced Pooches
I am perplexed by human behavior. I was adopted once before Mom adopted me, but I was returned to the Shelter. Apparently my first Adoptive Parent decided I no longer needed to spend my day in the crate. Since I was not confined to my crate, I decided that I would try my paw at Interior Design.
Interior Design Careers put more untold numbers of dogs into shelters. Fortunately, Mom had already experienced a dog who enjoyed Interior Design (Samson,) AND Mom was firm about keeping me Crated during my first many months at the Mulligan Compound. Also, Mom's schedule was such that I was not left for long hours, even in the crate, so I was able to channel my creative energies into other pathways than Interior Design.
Dad is currently working on the Boy's Bathroom. He has ripped apart cabinets, chewed up flooring, and sawed giant holes in the wall. Dad is NOT being sent off to the Shelter to face possible euthanasia. No, Dad is still allowed to live here and carry on as normal. Dad doesn't even have a degree in Interior Design, Carpentry -- his degree is in something quite useless: Philosophy.
I guess Mom is willing to look beyond Dad's propensity for Interior Design, just as she was able to look beyond my propensity for Interior Design.
Dogsters: the humans and dogs on Planet Earth are letting the world down. I am exceedingly distressed, and my already wrinkled brow is even more wrinkly.
Americans are NOT doing their job of consuming Snacks: The Hostess Company is filing Chapter 11 for Bankruptcy Protection!
How can Americans be so failing in their obligation to consume Twinkies, HoHos, SuzieQs, donettes, cupcakes, and all the other products in the vast array of moist, chewy goodness that is Hostess?
There is nothing more delightful in the world than hearing the garage door close, walking into the kitchen and discovering a bag of powder sugar Hostess Donettes just perched upon the counter, anxiously awaiting my overly large, but gentle jowls. Ahh, the anticipation of first determining how to open the bag. Then wolfing down the tender dollops of soft, tender cakiness. The powder sugar stain that remains upon the carpet long after the donettes are eaten, upon which sugar sweetness the tongue can dine and rub itself raw for hours.
Dogs: It is a Civic Duty to eat more Hostess. I am up here at the Rainbow Bridge. Tragically, there is nothing that I can do to save Hostess. It is up to the Living Dogs to plant the thought of those luscious snack morsels into their pawrents brains to save this American Icon! Do it for America! Do it for me, Mulligan!
I have been looking down upon the travails of Pennie and Sophie. It reminds me of the story of the "Ant and the Grasshopper." Pennie is constantly working. Pennie constantly finds herself in some sort of trouble. Sophie, meanwhile, relies upon her good looks and inherent ability to garner attention to get by. If one were to compare the two, Sophie is by far the better behaved, but she does far less work than Pennie.
In this season of impending Gift-Getting, is it truly fair that Pennie be remanded over to the Naughty List based only upon her Bad Deeds? Does Santa have no room on the Nice List to weigh Evil versus Good Deeds?
Pawsonally, I was no angel. I had quite a reputation -- a certain neighbor was known to walk himself and his dog in the opposite direction as soon as he saw me and Mom strolling down the street. Still, I never once found myself on the Naughty List. Mom once came over the top of the hill, only to hear said neighbor announce in a huff "Mulligan!," and quickly walk in the reverse direction. It does take two, doesn't it? Perhaps that neighbor was unable to see that HIS dog was also ill-mannered.
I was quite pleased to look down and see my Mulligan Christmas Ornament placed lovingly upon the Christmas Tree. I do hope that the Fat Mythical Elf finds it in his heart to bring Pennie gifts; after all, he is nothing but a Home-Invading, Psychological Torturer of Little Souls who could serious use a dose of Lipitor. (By the way, Fat Santa, Lipitor is now generic, so how about stopping at Walgreens, while you are down in the States?)
