Another Reason Dogs are best

Mom has taken to "Meditation" lately. As Sophie has explained in her diary, it has turned into "Medidogitation," because Sophie is not only incapable of not being all about herself, Queen Sophine, but it is impossible for Mom to be left alone. Mom must at all times be monitored by a dog or a child for fear that if she is left unmonitored, she will rediscover that she is a human being, capable of making choices and decisions, and she will then decide to leave this life of repression that the children and dogs keep her under.

Mom is learning "Mindfulness," which has roots in ancient meditation, and includes a basic awareness of "The Breath."

Dogs are also focused upon, and are all about "The Breath."

Based upon both ancient, and current wisdom, even current scientific wisdom, focusing upon "The Breath," and Medidogitation is helpful to the mind, body, and the spirit. It can fit into a Judeo-Christian philosophy, a Buddhist philosophy, or a completely non-religious philosophy.

Therefore, all humans should have as many dogs, and their healing Breath as possible. The Dog's physical body can provide Compression Therapy for the physical healing of ailments, and now, with Medidogitation, the Dog can provide Spiritual Healing through "The Breath."

And of course, the more Breath, the better.

Here we go again.

Mom has tears running down her face. Yesterday, when Mom came home from dropping Little Lad off at piano, Pennie and Sophie went out into the back yard to go potty. Mom went to get them in just a few minutes. She was at the garage door, and the neighbor boy did not see her. As Pennie headed toward the garage towards Mom, the neighbor boy was in his side yard and made himself big, arms in the air, and screamed "Pennie" and then growled menacingly, like a monster, at Pennie. Pennie was startled, and ran at this boy, but then got shocked by the electronic fence.

Mom saw what happened, and then called out to the boy: "Don't do that to Pennie. Pennie won't like you. You should never do that to a dog."

Mom can't stand it if she has to euthanize another dog because some neighborhood boy teases the dog constantly, and then gets bitten. Why do kids have to behave like this? Wasn't it enough that I, Mulligan, was teased, shocked, teased, shocked, until finally the boy (a different boy) came into the yard and I bit him, just because I had learned to equate him with fear and pain?

Don't Understand

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.

Snack Food Alert!

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!

Mulli Christmas Strategies

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?)

Selfish Sophie

Mom has decided that Sophie does have some quite Mulligan-esque qualities about her, although no one shall ever replace me. The conversation did come up: "Who was/is more self-centered? Mulligan or Sophie?"

I admit that in my eyes, I was all about Mulligan. However, as self-absorbed as I was, I was NOT Completely Self-ISH. (OK, I did not share food well, but I loved my family and was completely and utterly devoted to them.)

Sophie is not only Self-Absorbed, but she is Selfish. Sophie loves Oldest Lad most, then Mom, then the rest of the family. However, Mom has a lingering doubt that if push came to shove, whether or not Sophie would sacrifice herself for Mom. Me, Mulligan? I loved Mom most, then Oldest Lad, then the rest of the family. But I would have readily sacrificed myself for any one of them, from the moment that Mom looked into my soulful overly large eyes.

Public School Math Terrorists

Just two years ago Middle Lad was a member of that infamous Mathematical Terrorist Organization, Al Gebra, complete with it's Weapons of Math Instruction. I had hopes that he was done with Terrorist Activities, as he moved on to a more passive form of math: Geometry.

Middle Lad and the Public School are back at it again, this time with Al Gebra II. Not only is Middle Lad required to have an Advanced Weapon of Math Instruction (a graphing calculator,) but the recruitment and commitment level into this terror group is almost cult like.

Today Middle Lad was forced to bring a large piece of paper to school. The class had a Communal Al Gebra II Book Covering Ceremony.

I suppose it was better than a book burning, but still, a dog does have to wonder how far does Political Correctness have to go in Public Schools before the Terror Threat is realized?

Reading Dogs

Todays Daily Dog Tip asks the question of whether a particular dog may be eligible to be a Reading Therapy Dog. The Daily Dog Tip goes on to aver that dogs do not know how to read the written word.

I, Mulligan, beg to differ.

All the dogs that have been denizens at the Mulligan Compound have taught the Lads to read. It remains to be seen, of course, if Pennie and Sophie shall teach the Wee Lass to read, but certainly they are working on the task.

Nightly, from the time of Samson, to Tyler, to Mulligan, and now the mantle has been passed to Pennie and Sophie, story time must take place. How could Mom possibly have story time without the Incumbent Dog?

Samson taught Oldest Lad to Read.

Tyler taught Middle Lad to Read, and pre-reading skills to Little Lad.

I, Mulligan, taught Little Lad to read.

Pennie and Sophie are working pre-reading skills with Wee Lass.

Dogs not understanding the written word? I must aver that the proof is in the readers.

Birthday Discussion

First off, in my Mother's emotional distress at the annual remembrance of me, she wrote in my previous entry that I was found "wandering the sheets." I was simply not that kind of dog. Certainly I was a "Lady's Dog," and would snuggle up and put the Mulli-moves on to the vast array of teenage females that Oldest Lad brought into the house, but my flirtations were ultimately casual. Mom has made numerous attempts to edit this entry, but all have failed. Apparently Dogster's recent Site Maintenance has experienced a glitch. The correction should say that I was found "wandering the streets."

Regardless, the Birthday Discussion turned to which dog, Me, Mulligan, or Sophie, my supposed replacement was/is the most Self-Centered. Admittedly I was self-centered with a vast ego. I was "all about Mulligan."

Despite my self-centered-ness, my Work Ethic was Impeccable. No soul, human nor non-human passed over the sidewalk in front of the Mulligan Compound without me raising full alert. ALL packages, backpacks, purses, gym bags, were subject to daily full inspection for Weapons of Mass Destruction, Improvised Explosive Devices, and Banned Items. The kitchen table, kitchen counters, and floor were cleaned immediately if not before any person was done eating.

Queen Sophine? While she is a good cleaner, she often doesn't even greet Mom when Mom comes home! Sophie will remain upon her Sophie Throne, the Bay Window, lazing in the sun. Sure, Sophie will come when called and render a sufficient greeting, but a Dog's Duty is to offer a sufficient, over-whelming greeting as soon as Mom enters the house.

The decision was reached: Sophie is more self-centered than Mulligan ever was.

Band Camp Dog Time

Tomorrow, August 6th was/is my birthday. Of course the exact date of my emergence into the world is unknown, because I was adopted from The Shelter, a Mulli-Mutt, origins unknown. I had been found wandering the sheets, down to mere pathetic bones.

However, in keeping with the family's accounting of all important events in Dog Time; Middle Lad is now attending Band Camp. I, Mulligan, was adopted at the beginning of Band Camp for Oldest Lad. For the first two weeks that I spent at the Mulligan Compound I drove to and from High School, picking up and dropping off, endlessly, Oldest Lad, from his Marching Band Experience. I spent endless hours sitting in the High School Parking Lot, looking out the window for Oldest Lad.

Two years later, Pennie was adopted at the start of Band Camp. She did not spend endless hours transporting Oldest Lad to his Marching Band Experience, as he by that had his Driver's License.

Pennie, Sophie, and Rental Dog Camille arise each morning and scramble into the car to be ready to take Middle Lad to Band Camp. (Middle Lad has started Band Camp one week earlier because he is playing Percussion, the Synthesizer to be exact. Percussion must attend an extra week of Band Camp, and have in fact practiced all summer, because in the words of Middle Lad, NOT ME, "if the Percussion sucks, the whole marching band sucks.")

Mom does not plan to celebrate my birthday/the start of band camp by adopting another dog. Mom finds Pennie and Sophie to be trouble enough and how could Mom ever find a replacement for Me, her Soul-Mate, anyway?