return to top

Killer's A Diller

Oops, I did it again!

Awww, the 4th of July with all those fireworks and all that noise! It just scares me to death. Each member of my pack has "issues" with fireworks.
This year was no different, but mom decided to try some "tough love" tactics on us. Normally, each year my pack & I are granted access to mom's bed for the duration of the fireworks noise. But, she read that if your pup exhibits bad behavior, like whining, etc., and you pick them up to comfort them or otherwise do something out of the ordinary to soothe them, you're reinforcing their bad behavior. So, mom decided there would be no bed access, we would have to tough it out in our own beds!
Well, I showed mom! She came out to the dining room/kitchen area, (where our beds are located), to plug in the night light & as soon as her back was turned I tinkled a huge puddle on the rug! I couldn't help it, I was toooo afraid to go out the doggie door to tinkle because the darn fireworks were going....BOOOM, POPPP, SIZZLE, BOOOM!
Mom was soooo mad! She had to put the rug in the washer then & there and clean up my boo-boo. So, we got bed access, Woof!
But, the story doesn't end there! Later, mom decided she would escort all of us to the back yard to perform our final "business". She called and called me, but I stood at the threshold of the garage, scared to venture out. Finally, I gathered up the courage, and as mom was ordering me to, "do your business", I fearfully flew over to her, hiked my leg, and tinkled on her foot! THE END.

I'm A Wacky Pet!

My mom entered my primary picture here at Dogster, you know, the one where I'm pretending to be a "Blue's Brother" with my cool shades on, in the "Wackiest Pet Photo Contest" sponsored by The Summerville Journal Scene. And guess, what? I was one of the winners! Yipppeeeee! I mean, I know I'm cool and all, but to get my picture in the paper and be honored as a winner, well that's too cool, just like me!

I Just Don't Like It

I'm Killer, a Pomeranian, and I just don't like the vet's office or the vet or the spay/neuter clinic. Actually, it wasn't too bad up until the time I visited the spay/neuter clinic and came out a new man. When my mom and dad came to pick me up the staff said that no one had been able to check on my incision because I would not let them near me. So, dad had to go back to the surgery room and retrieve me from my kennel cage so that one of the vet assistants could look me over.

Ever since then, I haven't had a good woof to say about any vet, and things have gone downhill from there. Go figure!