"You Date Me, You Date My Dog."

I have no doubt barked about this before, but Dogster's most recent article about Dog/Human Dating, reminded me that it was ME, Samson, that brought Mom and Dad together.

I was living with Mom, of course, and Oldest Lad, who at the time was Only Lad, or I suppose just plain: Lad. I'll just stick with Oldest Lad.

One night, Mom was making the obvious preps to "go out." Soon a MAN came knocking at the door. Mom opened the door, but then I immediately put myself in front on Mom, and The Man was greeted by what he called "The Great Wall of Dog."

Mom and The Man went off on their date, but soon returned home, for The Man wanted to see ME. The Man stayed until 2:00 am, playing on the floor with me, wrestling with me, but eventually I realized that it was long past Mom's bed time.

The Man called back in a few days, for he just had to see ME, Samson, again.

The rest is history, for The Man eventually became Dad after i managed to get him to also fall in love with Mom.

Sad End

I, Samson, was not the entirely innocent dog that I have conveyed. I have fully admitted to my destructive habits: the shoes I ate, Feasting Upon the Word of the Lord (I ate a Bible,) the some 60 odd feet of baseboard that I removed from military housing, the couch pieces I chewed; the list goes on. However, it goes further: I, Samson, had an Affair upon my own Mother.

When Mom moved into her first home with just Oldest Lad, who at the time was Only Lad, there was a woman on the street whose charms I rapidly fell under. The whole neighborhood fell under her spell, and I was not immune. I would stand at the front door, paw furiously, whimper, bark, and Mom would be forced to open the door. Mom would stare as I then went two doors over, knocked at Spell Woman's door, and the door was opened for me. In my defense, I never "spent the night." It may have been hours before I returned home, after watching TV with Spell Woman's family, napping upon her couch, and feasting upon morsels from Spell Woman's hands, but I did always return to Mom.

Spell Woman organized many neighborhood events. When Spell Woman and another neighbor discovered that Mom and Dad planned to elope, she arranged balloons and a banner to adorn the front porch. When Middle Lad was born, she was able to help soothe Middle Lad, a bit, during his bouts of colic. When Middle Lad had his first Food Allergic Reaction, Mom took him outside, and Spell Woman was outside, monitoring the large group of neighborhood children playing. Spell Woman knew why Middle Lad was turning red, indeed enlarging before Mom's eyes, and knew what to do.

Eventually, Spell Woman and her family moved away, to a bigger house. I did not like going to Spell Woman's new house. My Affair with Spell Woman ended. I knew that Mom had been hurt by Affair, but I did always come back to Mom, didn't I?

Spell Woman ended her own life just a few weeks ago. She shared with no one that she was hurting so deeply inside. However, she gave to all a part of her soul, and made all better for it.

The Dog against whom all others shall be measured

As Mom's FIRST Dog, I, Samson am the dog against whom all the following dogs have been and shall be measured.

Mom did have two childhood dogs, but I was Mom's firstborn son, HER Dog.

I did set a rather high bar, or a low bar, if one considers that after getting me as a six week old pup, Mom has sworn off ever again getting a puppy, and all other dogs have been obtained as adult dogs.

Happy Birthday to myself, and shape up, Pennie and Sophie, I have my eyes on you!

ADOPT 2010 CONTEST

Wow, I have to think back to 1986 for my Adoption Story!

Mom was living out in California, far away from home for the first time. Oh, sure she had gone away to live at college, but not 3000 miles away from home! Mom was very lonely. Soon her thoughts turned to the idea of getting a dog. Mom searched the paper and found a litter of Wolf Hybrid pups advertised. Mom drove out to the house and was sickened by the squalor. The dogs were kept in filthy conditions. I was the smallest pup left, filthy and covered in fleas. Mom brought me home and first thing I got was a bath! In a bucket, no less, I was so small.

I kept Mom awake all night for weeks. Then I went through my destructive stage. Eventually I settled down into being a Great 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.

Active Seniors

Mom has been getting, on average about 10 to 15 emails, from unknown senders, for Viagra, or Cialis, per day.

Mom is not a Senior, not that Seniors are the only Qualified Users of Cialis or Viagra.

But if Mom is getting that many emails it brings to mind this question: How active are the Seniors?

And they complain that Dogs need to be Neutered.

It works for the stars

On Fox News Network there was a piece this morning that Handsome Men, Better Looking Men, are less faithful to their partners, and in fact do not make as good a partner as less attractive men.

Well, I suppose I have to make an admission. When I was alive I have to admit I was stunning. An absolute gorgeous specimen of canine attractiveness. Even in my oldest years I aged gracefully, maintaining my charm such as Sean Connery.

I was unfaithful to Mom. Yes. I had an affair. It was while we were living in Cincinnati in our little Cape Cod. It was with that lovely Bad Girl neighbor, Jeannie. I couldn't help myself. I would saunter over to Jeannie's house and spend the afternoon or evening. Sometimes I would stay all night. Sure, I still loved Mom. She was my Mommy, after all. I always returned home to her in the end. Yet I couldn't help the allure of snuggling on the couch with Jeannie. Getting my butt rubbed by Jeannie. Sharing an Ice Cream Cone with Jeannie. Jeannie would sometimes walk by the house and whistle for me. I would become frantic and Mom would be forced to open up the door to let me out so I could take a walk with Jeannie.

Jeannie moved away after a few years. It hurt me so that I ended it, despite regular visits to her new house. I just never forgave her for moving out of such close range.

Mom remained Mom. Hurt of course, but she stood by me. I did have a about two years before I died and when my affair with Jeannie ended. In that time I was completed devoted to Mom. I suppose I just couldn't help myself. My good looks just overwhelmed my sense of morality. It works for the celebrities doesn't it?

Commercialism

Perhaps it is because Mom and Dad watch the wrong channels, boring TV channels, but the quality of the commercials . . .
First off, either Mom or Dad has decided that one of them MUST get Herpes. Obviously that is the key to a fun and romantic life style: bike riding, hanging out on a deck overlooking a lovely lake. Geesh, the last thing they did together was sneak in late to catch the end of Oldest Lad's band concert due to boy scouts, taekwondo, mad science, hair cuts, music lessons, dogs . . .

Now, this is the REAL version of that CIALIS commercial>

Scene One:

Cialis Man: "Hooonnneeeyy, where are you, I took a Cialis!"

Wife: In kitchen, with wrench in hand, preparing to destroy Kitchen Sink Faucet.

Announcer: Cialis: It can wait for up to 36 hours, when life's unexpected emergencies call.

Wife: "YEA RIGHT! This faucet has been leaking all over the kitchen for two months now! I'll give you some, you bet I'll give you some! (Waves wrench in air) I'll give you some when you finally fix this sink!"

Cialis Man: Fixes Sink.

Thank goodness Cialis has up to 36 hours to work, there was no way it was going to work before he worked.


Scene Two:

Cialis Man: "Hooonnneeeyy, where are you, I took a Cialis!"

Doorbell Rings, Wife answers. Son and daughter-in-law are there dropping off grandchildren for the day.

Wife glares at Husband.

Wife says, after son and daughter-in-law leave: "Ah dear, isn't that why you spent all morning setting up the tent in the backyard? For the sleepover with the Grandchildren I Blackberried you about?"

Thank goodness Cialis has up to 36 hours to work.