If You're Crazy and You Know It, Wag Your Tail!!!

The laydies in my life are getting all kinds of verklempt. Mom took Izzy to the vet, on account of Izzy's persistent itchiness of her front legs and back arm pit-ish area. Izzy has been nibbling and licking at her legs FOR-FRICKIN'-EVER! Izzy went to the vet a few months ago, when it wasn't so bad, but the vet said there was nothing wrong. Last week, Mom noticed Izzy's itchy spots were worser! So, she told Dad to give Izzard an allergy shot to see if that helped. Pongo used to get allergy shots from Dad every 4 months or so, and it helped him mucho-mucho!

Well, as it turns out. It prolly wasn't allergies, as Izzy kept licking/biting. But added to the mix was now frequent urination (on account of the steroid shot). Everytime Izzy would fall asleep.... tinkle, tinkle.

Anywhoodles - long story shorter. The vet ran tests: no mites, fleas, bacteria or yeast. The final diagnosis: stress. Yup. The vet told Mom that Izzy probably started licking her legs when she was stressed about something, and now she is just doing it out of habit.

Mom is not happy about this. But, whatever.

My whole theory is, let the crazy out!! Isn't there a Sunday School song about not hiding your crazy under a bushel? Oh. Wait. I think it was hiding your love for Baby Jesus under a bushel. Huh.
Either way. Let it out, pups!!

Lookit me!! Crazy as a loon! But do I let it slow me down??? Nooooooooo!!!!

Trust me. I'm an expert in crazy.

Say cheese!

Dad is off skiing with the furless ones. Mom has been sending him pictures of me from time to time to keep him entertained. Sounds good, no?

Well, no.

Mom insists on taking pictures of me at my most awkward. Sleeping with my legs askew. Staring out the window at nothing. Lying on the floor with froggie legs. Sleeping with my head upside down.

Not. Very. Becoming.

I keep telling her that if she insists on taking pictures of me to send to Dad, lest he forget what a dashing fella I am, she needs to take more refined pictures.

Mom keeps telling *me* that she would like to take more refined pictures of me, but she has little to work with and has to make do with what she has.

What does that mean?

Chunky Butt...

Does this sound like a term of endearment to you, pups???
Mom has started calling me this lately. She'll come home from work, say hi to Izzy (aka Miss Pretty or Bella), then come over to pet me (aka Chunky Butt).

I'm no "word-ologist", but it seems like Chunky Butt has more to do with my (slightly!) expanding waistline, than anything else.

Yes, it's true that I have gained a pound or 2 (ahem...), but what's with the name calling?!?

As I have pointed out to the humans before, I don't ration my food!! If I am eating too much, it is because the humans are giving me too much.

Also, I am not to blame if Dad sleeps in too late (from staying up too late watching Poker), and is unable to take me for my morning run. As has been told to me over and over again, I am NOT allowed to take myself for a run. So, if Dad doesn't do it, I am trapped at home.

Hopefully the humans will get their act together and stop handing out so much food to me (ignoring my pleading puppy dog eyes and incessant pawing during meal times) and step it up a bit with the exercise.

I don't want this "Chunky Butt" moniker to get around.

I'm in love!!!

We don't have company very often. Mom is rather anti-social. Dad is a bit more social, but with the exception of the random poker games, he doesn't entertain at home very much.

So, I was a bit surprised on Friday night when, not only did the door bell ring, but Mom ANSWERED THE DOOR!! I mean, people ring out doorbell from time to time, but Mom never answers it. So, when she turned the lock on the door and let the stranger in... I was a bit surprised!

At first I tried to scare the intruder away with my ferocious bark. It didn't work. Intruder Lady came inside. Mom grabbed a hold of me and told me to calm down, "Rebecca isn't here to kill us."
Oh. Okay. Then come on in...Rebecca!
Then, I got shy. Super, super shy. Rebecca is super duper purty and she smells nice too - not nice like a dog's butt, but for a human, pretty nice!

While Ms. Rebecca was getting ready, I kept tip-toeing over to sneak a glance at her. Mom tried to coax me over to say hi, but I was playing hard to get. Izzy was being very non-nonchalant as well, peeking around the corner and all.

Eventually Ms. Rebecca was finished getting ready and she and Mom left for the night.

I sat by the door, waiting for Ms. Rebecca to come back (and Mom too, but whatever). FINALLY, she came back. Mom decided to try to help me with my shyness and gave Ms. Rebecca some treatsies to help calm me. Ms. Rebecca gave me treat, treat, treat. I even showed off my mad skillz! I did the "sit-down-up-shake" routine for her a few times. She was very impressed, mostly by my cuteness I think.

Ohhhhhh!!! I lurve her!! Eventually Mom put the treats up, which was fine, cause I was smitten, no treats needed.

Ms. Rebecca left shortly after the treats were put up. I was sad. Very, very sad.

Mom told me Ms. Rebecca would be back eventually. I hope so. I miss her already.

Welcome to my neighborhood??

I like to greet all the people in my neighborhood. I'm like a furry Welcome Wagon! Unfortunately, most of the time when I am in the neighborhood making my Welcome Wagon rounds, it's still pretty early in the morning - not too many people to welcome.

But...but!! This morning I was ON, baby! Dad and I were running. Well, Dad was running, I was looking for people to greet. Always alert, I am. I zig zag through the neighborhood, looking for people.

Suddenly I saw her. I youngish looking lady, running towards me. I started to run towards her. WELCOME TO MY NEIGHBORHOOD!! I wasn't barking, but my tail was *clearly* in a welcoming position.
Hi! Hi! Hi!

Next thing I knew, I was looking down the spout of a can of mace! EEK!! I guess some people don't like to say hi to dogs at 4:30 in the morning. So, I turned and ran back to Dad, telling him how rude she was. Dad told me, that maybe I shouldn't run up to people so eagerly, that to some people I look menacing. Some people don't like dogs...huh?

I guess my take away message from this is: I look tough!! Maybe I should forgo my Welcome Wagon duties and instead start offering myself for body guard services.

Maybe Professor Chester and I can start a franchise???

Thank you!!!

Oh pups and puppers! You made my birthday so very, very special!! I got tons and tons and tons of fantastical rosettes and birthday wishes!! I was a very happy boy!

I posted a few pics from my birthday celebration. As you can see, Mom didn't make me wear any birthday hats - score!! I gots me lots of chicken, a birthday cupcake and a new FANCY bed!!

All-in-all, a pretty faboo day - mostly due to my great pup pals :0)

Birthday wishlist

Dad and I had another stand-off last night. Dad kicked me off the bed. Technically it is Mom's bed, so really, if anyone was going to control the who's and what's of the big bed, it should have been Mom. Apparently she wussed out when it came to choosing side in Dad vs. Me.

After Dad banished me from the big bed, I flopped onto the doggie bed (patooey!) at the foot of the big bed. I immediately started fluffing the bed. Scratching, digging, pawing at the bed. Mom sat up in bed, turned on the light and asked me what the h-e-double hockey sticks I was doing. I looked at her and told her with my most expressive look, "I am *trying* to make the best out of this crappy situation! I am *trying* to make this craptastic bed comfortable! I am TRYING to get comfortable!" Dad looked at Mom and said, "It looks like someone will be getting a new bed for his birthday."

I appreciate that, Dad. Thanks!

BTW - After the light was turned out for the second time, I carefully hopped onto the bed. Neither parental said anything. Then...I got greedy. I slooooowly started to stretch out. One paw stretching, another paw stretching. Then...too far. Banished again. Mom said if I had just remained still, I would have been allowed to stay.

Curses!

Short and Sweet

I had a whole diary entry entered about my victory against Dad over the weekend. Dogster chewed it up. So, since I am feeling uninspired today, I will provide my dear friends with the Reader's Digest version of events:

Dad had to sleep at Mom's house on Saturday night on account of his AC being off at his house. Mom told Dad that he would have to be the one to tell me I couldn't sleep on the bed AS PER USUAL when I am at Mom's house. Dad didn't tell me anything. When it was time for bed, Mom crawled into bed and I followed AS PER USUAL! Dad then had the audacity to ask me to move off the bed and ONTO THE FLOOR! As if. I wouldn't move. Eventually Dad grabbed another doggie bed from the living room and brought it into the bedroom. I thought, "Great, he has a bed to sleep on, maybe now he'll leave me alone." Turns out Dad expected me to sleep on the doggie bed! Ha. Eventually, with Mom's assistance, I was scootched off the bed, onto the floor/doggie bed.

But... as soon as Mom turned off the light, I immediately jumped right back onto the big bed a stretched out. Dad mumbled and expletive that cannot be repeated and curled into a little sleepy ball, allowing me the room on the bed I rightly deserve.

Score one for Maxwell!

Parle Vous Souffle?

I'm bilingual. It's true. Dad is impressed with my ever expanding knowledge. Mom is skeptical. I like Dad better now.

The peeps found out about my bilingual-ism last night after dinner. Our typical evening routine is: feed us pups, feed the peeps, watch a little t.v., and then FETCH!!! I always watch Dad very closely after dinner, patiently waiting for him to say the magic words, "Do you wanna play fetch?". As soon as I hear that, I jump on and off the couch like a crazy pup, then hurry and get into position, so I can catch the first throw of the squeaky.

So, after dinner and a bit of t.v., Dad said, "Do you want the souFFle?" I went crazy!! Yes! Yes! Yes! I DO want the souffle!! I *totally* knew that Dad was referring to the chocolate semi-disaster that was supposed to be a souffle, that Mom had made. I *obviously* did NOT hear the "ff" in souffle and mistake it for the "f" in fetch. I wanted the souffle!!

Dad was impressed with my savvy language skills. Mom remains to be swayed.
Whatever, lady!

Moi?

I am a Dogster Daily Diary Pick today! Not THE diary pick, but still pretty cool!!
I wish I had something interesting to bark about...

Ummm (thinking, thinking, thinking)... it's been super hot here. Yeah. It's be so hot here that my evening schedule is all messed up. *Normally* when Dad gets home from work, we head out to the golf course for our evening golf game. But lately, he has been postponing the trip until later in the evening, when it is "cooler". Whatever. The other night, Mom and Dad were talking on the phone, so I decided to see if I could convince Mom to help me out. I started to whine, "I'm boooooooored! I'm booooooored!!" Mom asked Dad if that was me whining in the background. Yes. It was. Dad told her I was "just bored and looking for some attention". It may have been true, but still, that stung. So, I continued with my whining. This time I hopped onto the couch and got real close to Dad/the phone, "Mooooooom, I'm boooooooored!" Dad shoo'd me off the couch and told me to "hush". The nerve of that man!! Turns out Mom wasn't any more helpful once she realized that we were, in fact, going golfing, just later in the evening. I don't understand the concept of "later". Rude.

Also related to the heat: I'm getting shaved again on Tuesday. With my black fur, and penchant for being outside, I need to be shaved about twice each summer. This time, however, my essence will be shaved away. No. Not *that* essence...! I'm talking about my ears. My spaniel ears are going to be transformed into lab ears. Just. This. Once. My ears are primo real estate for all of the prickers and stickers in the bushes at the golf course. Both parentals (mostly Mom) are tired of having to spend hours (HOURS!!!) combing my ears out each weekend. So, until the prickers and stickers are gone - hopefully in a few months- my ears will be shorn, my essence diminished, my "Maxwellian-ish" subdued. I'll let you know how I fare.

I hope all of my pals are staying cool this summer!
Woof!