Slacking Sophie, Working Dog Pennie

As I wrote in my previous entry, I have been working my paws off in the Shop, helping with the Band Props. I am covered in sawdust and exhausted.

Around mid-day, I came in from outside, along with her Royal Highness, Queen Sophine, while The Prop Crew (without The Prop Dog) headed off to The Hardware Store.

When The Prop Crew returned, Oldest Lad came inside the house and asked ME, Pennie, if I wanted to come outside and work. I jumped up eagerly, and ran out to the shop. Sophie just stared at Oldest Lad. Then he asked her if she would like to come outside and lay in the sun. At that point she jumped up and headed for the back porch, to bask in the sun, while I worked. It's obvious who is the working dog around her (Me,) and that Sophie considers herself Management.

Just a few moments ago, Oldest Lad came inside to grab a few beers for The Prop Crew. Who came inside with him? Sophie. There was Sophie, eagerly licking condensation off the chilled beer bottles, as if "Sophie" had been out working as Shop Dog all day, instead of ME, Shop Dog Pennie.

Prop Committee Pennie

Just when I thought I had as many job titles as one dog could bear, I was thrust into a new position: Band Volunteer Pennie. Yes, I have been forced to join the ranks of Band Volunteers and I am now Prop Committee Pennie.

The Prop Pieces began to arrive at my 0.46 acres of Suburbia on Wednesday night. As I shall never actually be allowed to attend a Marching Band Show, I will simply have to visualize that somehow I am helping to make a City Scape. As the pieces were unloaded from the Graphic Artist's Van, I escorted each piece into Dad's Workshop/2nd Garage.

In order to make way for building the City Scape, one of Dad's convertibles had to be moved out of the garage. He actually was able to get it started enough to move it out into the driveway. The "other" convertible has to remain in the Workshop/2nd Garage, for it is not actually in "Convertible" form right now, but is in "pieces" form. Perhaps it is like one of those Hasbro Transformer toys that shall one day rise out of the rusty, scattered pieces and actually become an actual vehicle.

But i digress.

I have been in the Workshop nonstop as Prop Pennie, ever since the Prop Project began. I now have a permanent odor of wood dust and shavings about my fur. Me, Pennie, who trembles at a firework and shakes during thunderstorms, is Shop Supervisor Pennie when it comes to Power Tools. The whir of the drills, the roar of the saws, are all music to my ears, and I escort each piece of plywood as Dad moves it.

I do hope that in the Band Program, when credits are given to the Prop Committee, that my name, Pennie, is given due recognition.

Constant Criticism

It is quite clear which dog has the only Work Ethic around this 0.46 Acres of Suburbia, and that would be ME, Pennie.

These past several days, once again Daisy has been visiting while Daisy's Man and Oldest Lad dressed up like penguins and attended a wedding. Oldest Lad sent Mom a picture of him in his Penguin Tuxedo and I do hope that looking like that does not cause Oldest Man to attract another Other Woman. I have been just fine without having Another Other Woman, since Other Woman became Just Friends.

Anyhoodles, there is more work here than one Standard American Brown Dog can handle, especially with an extra house-guest, Daisy, and Queen Sophine never willing to get her paws dirty by doing any work. Mom and Dad went out last night, leaving Me, Pennie, in charge. I decided that the best place for me to survey my domain was to lay upon the Kitchen Table. Just as I had become comfortable, laying like a Standard American Brown Sphinx (but less hot and sandy) upon the Kitchen Table, Dad called because Mom remembered that she had forgotten to put the Meatloaf away.

Little Lad forced me to remove myself from my Sphinx-like pose upon the Kitchen Table.

Then this afternoon, after lunch, I immediately decided I had better clear the Kitchen Table, before any food spoiled. Wee Las had not consumed all of her Yogurt. Unlike Queen Sophine, who eats everything, and then just has vomiting or diarrhea with no regard to anybody; I DO have a pickier palate. I do NOT like Yogurt. However, I was determined to get the lunch dishes cleared. There I was, unhappily licking up berry-flavored yogurt, when Mom caught me, and forced me to remove myself from the kitchen table, again. She gave me no sympathy for the pitiful look of dismay that I had about my face, as I do NOT like the texture of Yogurt, nor the tendency of yogurt to cling to my whiskers. At least I was willing to help clear the lunch dishes, unlike the other lazy dogs in the house! Yet all I face is criticism.

Will she stop at nothing?

I make no bones about ME, Pennie being not only the Alpha here, but the only dog in the family that has any work ethic. Period.

Today is MY Birthday, and this is what Sophie has done: vomit all day. It started last night, when she yakked on the front porch, and then yakked next to Mom's side of the bed. She spent the night in her crate. The Royal Crate Throne has been moved to underneath Little Lad's Loft Bed. The upper stairs hallway has begun it's human renovation. The Royal Crate Throne had to be moved as it usually resides in the upstairs hallway. Dad was voting for the Royal Crate Throne to be disassembled, but fortunately Mom won the argument; stating that as soon as the crate was put away then Sophie would have one of her stomach upsets, or become Exploding Sophie, Weapon of Fear and Terror. (Mom has valid premonitions.)

As Interior Designer Pennie, I have been attempting to renovate the upstairs hallway ever since I arrived in Suburbia. I need not provide a summation of all my projects, but suffice it to say that Mom has put her foot down and said that whatever the new floor is to be; IT WILL BE WASHABLE. My attempts at removing the paint from the doorway to Oldest Lad's were NOT a failure after all -- this week Oldest Lad began to remove the wallpaper, to match the pile of paint chips that I left just this past Saturday on the horrendously ugly hallway carpeting.

Anyhoodles, I digress. Queen Sophine has vomited all day, purposely to garner ALL the attention away from ME, Pennie! When it is Sophie's Birthday I shall have to do something better, to bring MY DUE attention.

Sophathetic

I have been exhausted since my return from Camp Kennel. I have spent most of my time napping, in an attempt to recuperate from all that went on at Camp Kennel -- none of which I shall reveal; for what happens at Camp Kennel stays at Camp Kennel.

In the meantime, Sophie has been completely Sophathetic. She has even changed her bark, bark, bark. I did not think that it was possible to change one's voice, but Sophie has changed her bark, bark, bark, to become a Sophathetic bark, bark, bark. When Mom first heard this, Sophie was in the backyard, and Mom thought something horrible was happening; that perhaps a coyote or some other vermin had entrenched upon my 0.46 acres of Suburbia, and snatched Sophie up in it's jaws.

No. Sophie has just become Sophathetic. I am impressed that Sophie can jump to new heights, in her desperate attempts to garner even more attention. For a dog with no work ethic, I did not know she could even launch herself from the ground, unless it was to grab Mom's lap before I had a chance to arrange myself into Mom's lap.

I remain napping, Stoic Pennie, as I sleep off my Kennel Hangover, and try to spend "some" quality time with Mom, when Sophathetic is not barking her Sophathetic bark and jumping all over Mom.

Vacation PupDate

Mom and Dad abandoned Sophie and I to Camp Kennel for a week, while they took the family away for a vacation. What happens a Camp Kennel, stays at Camp Kennel, but I have been exhausted since I returned home.

Oldest Lad picked me up early, as he vacationed for but a few days. It really made no sense, as he is completely unemployed right now; an Unemployed College Graduate, and isn't life just one giant vacation for him now? Until the student loan payments kick in, I suppose.

Anyhoodles, Oldest Lad made the mistake of thinking that he could actually leave the house after retrieving Sophie and Me. He forgot that in spite of me being Alpha Pennie, I do suffer from Separation Anxiety, and it did not escape my attention that the rest of my family was missing, AND that Oldest Lad was moving quantities of bins and cheap Target furniture from his apartment, back home. My Missing Family and all the moving items made me express my Separation Anxiety in my usual mode: Interior Designer Pennie.

I first expressed my utter dismay that the living room carpet continues to be ugly, by peeing on it. I then headed upstairs, and reminded the family the Upstairs Hall/Foyer renovation project is completely behind schedule. I peed in the middle of the upstairs hallway, and then proceeded to the woodwork. Sophie had been safely ensconced inside Oldest Lad's bedroom as sometimes I take out my frustration upon her, or we simply find trouble; as in the Oreos and my poor tail incident. I started in on the woodwork of Oldest Lad's door. I have to admit that Dad actually did a very nice job when he re-painted that door and door-frame, because I was not able to accomplish much. When Mom and Dad returned home from their vacation, Mom sprung Sophie from the room, but only discovered a giant pile of paint flecks, for all my work on the door and door frame. Perhaps I was just too tired from my days at the kennel to do an adequate job on the door and doorframe, but there is always the next time that I turn into Interior Designer Pennie for me to really get to work on it.

What? I do have standards.

This morning Sophie and I took Mom out for her exercise. It is much cooler this morning, after the record high heat, both outside and inside! On Wednesday there were major thunder storms and the power to Suburbia was knocked out. The family was forced to open the windows to both the hot air AND the allergens. Mom and Middle Lad could tolerate the heat; it was letting in all the allergies that was bothering them. Yes, they can be as Sophathetic as Sophie herself!

Here is what Sophie and I discovered: there is a LOT more noise in Suburbia when the windows are open! Electric, Phone, Cable, and Tree Removal Trucks were going up and down the street all day, adding to the general revelry. Sophie and I got in a LOT of barking.

Mid-day on Thursday the power came back on and the house slowly resumed what passes for normal function.

Anyhoodles, on this morning's walk, we came upon a group of boys, probably around age 8 to 10, playing in a yard. There was a cat in their yard, which obviously did not belong in that yard. Just as the boys saw Sophie and me approaching, they KICKED THE CAT OUT ACROSS THE STREET INTO MY PATH. On purpose. Needless to say, I lengthened Mom's arm in an attempt to chase the cat, but then I felt bad. Despite my hatred of Cats, it was mean and nasty of those boys to kick the cat, send it into the street AND send it right into the path of two dogs. I stood down my reactive stance, and let the poor cat escape.

I am all for chasing the neighbor's cat, which daily passes across my 0.46 acres of Suburbia, but even Me, Pennie, has standards when it come to what is just and fair. Mom told the boys that she did not think they did a nice thing to the cat.

Pennie, Pawsonal Assistant

I have finally received some recompense for all of my hard work. I have retrieved my photo of ME, Pennie, as Pennie Pawsonal Assistant.

I work my paws to the bone on a daily basis. In addition to managing the Family, while letting Mom think that she is managing the Family, I function as Pennie Pawsonal Assistant, managing Dad in his JOB.

I seldom get credit for all that I do.

Until Now.

Dad made a presentation in Northern Ohio on Thursday. Whose picture did Dad post on his screensaver, as the picture for all to see? Not a picture of Wee Lass dressed as a princess. Not a picture of Little Lad.

It was ME, Pennie Pawsonal Assistant, that stole the show. It was made clear who is working her paws to the bone, behind the scenes, to keep this whole Life in Suburbia operating.

Offended

I am quite offended that Sophie thinks so little of me during my recent trauma due to the Fireworks. I work my paws to the bone around my 0.46 Acres of Suburbia, on a daily basis. Sophie has been asked to actually get her paws dirty for a matter of a few days while I suffered an anxiety attack. Even an Alpha Girrrl such as myself is subject to the whims and woes of the mind and loud firework assaults. What am I to think if I ever suffer an injury or illness that requires me to be out for more than a few days? Based on Sophie's complete lack of sympathy for me, she will no doubt be useless.

As was apparent with Oldest Lad's foray into Rental Dogs; fostering Sophie, Little Dud, I mean Little Dude, Karo, the others I forget, and of course Long-Term-Rental-Dog Camille, I am not keen on having a third dog. However, if Sophie is going to make it so clear that having to dog-up for a few days is such an inconvenience, then perhaps I shall have to interview another dog -- to replace Sophie; after all Dad would never allow a third dog here. Does Sophie think that perhaps "she" is in a tenuous position, and her disparaging comments only make "her" look worse?

Pink Floyd Pennie Independence

I am spending my "Annual Blowing Up Suburbia" celebration as Pink Floyd Pennie.

Pink Floyd Pennie has been sedated since the evening of July 3rd, when Suburbia had the audacity to begin a hellacious assault as my family was taking ME, Sophie and the dogs that Oldest Lad is Dog-Sitting, out for a walk. We were at about the farthest point on our Walk Circle when the outright assault set in. Over-Grown Calbert, Shamu, and I pulled everyone all the way home. Sophie, in her usual self-absorbed state did not seem disturbed. She no doubt thought the fireworks were some sort of celebration of HER, Queen Sophine.

My first dose of sedative was given as soon as I pulled Mom's left arm and shoulder, then the rest of her, into the house.

Mom won't let anyone put her iPod Nano Ear Buds in her ears, even ME, Pennie, but I don't need some silly MP3 player to remind me of the Pink Floyd lyrics, Pink Floyd Pennie, adaptation:

"Comfortably Numb."

"O.K.
Just a little Cheese Wad.
There'll be no more aaaaaaaaah!
But you may feel a little sick.
Can you stand up?
I do believe it's working, good."

I hope that Thursday gives some respite to my ears, while I am certain that the weekend will no doubt bring more stupidity from over-mortgaged Suburbanites wishing to remove their own appendages and burn down their own homes.