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Samson, the Great Wall of Dog

Crate Snob

I have frankly had enough of Pennie's Crate Snob Attitude! The PERFECTLY Acceptable 1986 Crate was originally MINE. Heh, Heh, Back in 1986 Dogs weren't crated for Separation Anxiety. No. I was Crated for Shipping. The Crate was purchased for my adventurous flight from Scramento, California to Cincinnati. With an un-scheduled overnight in Chicago when the Airline Lost ME. How an Airlines can lose an Extra Large Crate with an 80 pound wolf-hybrid dog in it is beyond me, but after I flew home (without getting lost, thank dog,) I did not fly anymore.

Back in 1986 there were no "Dog Trainers" and Cesar Milan did not have a TV show. A dog was free to express his/her Separation Anxiety All Over the House, without Crating. I chewed 60 feet of baseboard. I ate the back off a couch. I nibbled a piece off the front of the couch. I ate a Bible. I did get confined, but it was to a spacious Master Bathroom, with it's own fresh water toilet, and several bath mats to pick apart, fiber by fiber.

Why Pennie is so upset by my old crate is beyond me. Maybe she should just outgrow her Separation Anxiety, as I did, and I was free to roam the house at will.

Downsizing just adds to the burden.

Those who follow the tales of the Mulligan Compound know that unfortunately, the Compound has been Downsized lately, due to the loss of Mulligan. I am rapidly discovering that as in Corporate America, when a company is Downsized, it is not just the Downsized that suffer, but the Remaining workers who must now do ALL the previous work, with LESS staff.

I, Pennie, was under the assumption, oh, and I know, never assume because it makes an a$$ of u and me, but anyhoodle, I was under the assumption that cleaning up casserole dishes, plates, and the high chair tray was a PERK, not a JOB. I have been wrong. Lately I have discovered that I must add a new name to my growing list of job titles: KP-Pennie. Yes. I am being subject to criticism over how I clean up dishes, even the floor.

Mulligan had a tongue as big as that of a large Holstein Cow. He could clear an entire 9 X 13 casserole dish in one swoop, including the ceramic coating. I, KP-Pennie, prefer to ENJOY my food, letting my thin, rapier-like tongue gently buff the surface as I actually TASTE the food.

I guess that is just not good enough, as is being pointed out to me when I leave a few crumbs. So sorry that I mixed a Job with a Perk.

It's about time! Do you dogs have half a brain?

I don't often post. I am content to observe family life from my box upon the filing cabinet for I know that my very soul permeates the life of the family.

Last night, Mom was quite certain that Mulligan and Pennie were OUTSIDE. She could clearly see Middle Lad at his desk. Besides, he is not one to voluntarily expend any extra effort. Mom was working with Little Lad. Suddenly, great heathenous beasts came trampling in, marching their paws all over Little Lad's homework.

Finally, Mulligan and Pennie figured out how to open the back porch sliding doors. That, for the record, is a feat that I accomplished in ONE DAY.

Mulligan. I am not surprised that he has not opened the door. As much of a egotistical A$$ that he is, he does have the shred of decency to respect some, the key word of course being "some", RULES. He will stay behind a baby/dog gate. He stays inside the Invisible Fence. The back porch door for Mulligan would constitute a Rule. I am not surprized then that in the 3 plus years he has been here that he has not opened it.

Pennie. Pennie has no regard for rules. Baby/dog gates are meant to be leapt over or crashed through. Kitchen counters are meant to be walked upon. How then, could it take her over one year to learn to open the back porch door?

Truly, dogs of today are such slackers. It must be the video games, the DVRs, the paw mail and all the other luxuries that I never had. I repeat. It took me all of one day to learn to open a patio door.