February 28th 2005 10:07 pm
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At long last I have given up my quest for world domination. It was a difficult decision that I have been wrestling with, and have thus had nothing worth writing for some time now. It is time to give up the dream, the legions of crickets that my she-human roommate feeds to her amphibions and reptile will not form an insurgent uprising. I have been caught more than once staring intently at those insects, controlling their feeble minds, but alas, I have not the opposable thumbs required to open the lids of their containers to free them.
Mom took me to Grandma and Grandpa's house. Much to my chagrin, they still have that wretched mutt who doesn't like me encroaching. At least they kept us separate for most of the visit. He's twice my size! My ideal weight, but I wish I weighed 51 pounds in pure fat, not muscle. I can't believe Mom actually PLAYED with that vile creature. She pets it, and hugs it, and gives it cookies... I don't get it. She also takes it out to feed those horse things. She really likes them, especially the one she calls her little Arab, but I couldn't care less about horses. They are far to large to hunt and they are certainly not Basenjis, so I am indifferent to their presence, so long as they don't get close to stepping on me.
Speaking of Arabs, Mom took me to the Scottsdale Arabian Horse Show. I didn't much care for that, but it beat being left alone. It was muddy and overrun with those horse things. I will say that those Arabians are good looking, for being non-Basenjis. I hear that the Pharoahs had Arabian Horses along with my kind. I guess that makes them okay. Most people at the Show recognized me as the noble breed that I am! Not one philistine screeched "is that a Jack Russel?" Believe it or not, some humans have actually asked my Mother that. Ugh. I am a full-grown Basenji!
December 5th 2004 9:00 pm
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I thought I would never be more humiliated than when that she-human "mommy dearest" of mine put those awful antlers on my head. Alas, I was wrong. Today she bought me a *shudder* coat. I was terribly excited when she got my leash and asked me if I should like to go to Petsmart. Petsmart has all sorts of wonderful smells, and food... aisles and aisles of food mmmmm. But I digress. She subjected me to two coat fittings. And there were other people and dogs there! They crooned, "oh, how cute" over me, and petted me, telling me how "handsome" I looked in those wretched coats. That I would be the envy of the neigborhood. Envy, ha! More like laughing stock. I almost got off without a coat, but some meddlsome Petsmart employee volunteered to get an aviator coat in my correct size. So close.
When we got home, mom told our roommates about her precious coat, then got it out of the bag to show it to them. I assumed she meant to put it on me, but I am no mindless runway model! When she looked at me, I ran for it. But she caught me. She always catches me. She put that horrid aviator jacket on me, and then she and our human roommate giggled and said how cute I looked, etc. Thanks, but I'd rather continue to shiver uncontrollably on our walks than endure that embarassment. Ollie, our Shar-pei roommate, told me to get used to it, his mom dresses him up all the time. At least I think that's what he said. I don't speak Shar-pei, it's hard to decipher through all that wrinkly skin. Anyway, I think he's slightly... challanged. I try to ignore him.
Then mom took me for a walk. I was so embarassed to have to wear my coat. She said because I have so little hair and skin that I have to wear it. I walked behind her with my head lowered in shame for much of the walk. I'm glad I didn't run into anyone I know!
December 4th 2004 12:58 pm
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Well, things have finally calmed down enough for me write out my inner workings. Mom was practically unbearable for the last week. She stayed up late, worried nonstop, stayed planted in front of books, papers and her laptop for the whole week. She kept muttering something about it being "crunch time" for students. I don't know what that means in a human context, but I think crunch time is happy... I mean, biscuits and dog cookies are crunchy. I like crunchy things, I guess it gets lost in translation. Anyway, she was so worked up she gave me nervous tummy. I couldn't take her anxiety, it contaminated the whole house! I tried hiding under her bed, and that was a little better. I tried to jet out the door every time it opened, but those humans are too fast. When mom took the garbage out, I squirted out the weak point in the second back gate. Ha! They thought putting up a stronger gate in front of the old one would stop a Basenji. Mom caught me before I got to the street. But it was only because I got distracted by some other dogs. I think they were trash talkin' my momma, jumping around behind their fence and whatnot. Hmph. But things have calmed down a bit now. I feel much better now that mom does too.
But I still haven't quite forgiven her for embarassing me. Just before that fabulous feasting holiday humans call Thanksgiving (and thanks indeed! such glorious food!) that she-human I sometimes call "mom" put antlers and a santa hat on my head to take my picture. Ugh! And then she has the audacity to use it as my primary dogster photo! Grrr.
November 23rd 2004 8:26 pm
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Yesterday it rained. Ugh. Water falling from the sky, making everything cold and wet. Blah. Mom thought I was strange when I refused to go out from under the porch to pee when the rain let up. I can't believe she expected me trot out on the damp ground! In fact, I refused to go out this morning too. When we went for our walk I finally found a suitably gravelly place to relieve my aching bladder. I can't believe this place doesn't have a dry gravelly spot for me too pee in the backyard! Or at least my own sandbox in the house so that I don't have to brave the elements !
Sometimes I can't stand humans. I have this itchy spot on my inner thigh, and the wretched she-humans that I live with will not let me lick it in peace! They are too dense to understand that when I lick it, it feels better; if I stop, it hurts. Therefore, I must lick it non-stop. Sure, I'm licking a hole in my leg, but it feels so deliciously blissful to soothe it with my tongue. My mom bought an anti-itch spray today, and it tastes awful. Now I can't lick my hot spot into a larger and larger crater. Grrrr. Well, as humans say, there's a silver lining to every cloud: it doesn't itch anymore. But that sprayer is scary!
I went to Petsmart with Mom to by the spray, and she wouldn't let me choose which isles to shop. Oh well. I've been there before, and I still can't find the how-to books on world domination. I haven't seen any world domination paraphernalia, come to think of it. I'm trying to get Mom in on my plans, she could be useful; and let's face it, I'm not getting any younger. I'm pushing 8 orbits around the sun! or 8 years in human-speak. If I'm going to achieve global domination, I'd better get a move on it!
Mom thinks I sleep a lot; however, I'm secretly channeling humans in positions of potential world power. I wasted months of my life controlling Nader; I thought it'd be a closer presidential race for him. .. Human politics, go figure. I also spent a large part of the last four years channeling that vice president human. Through him, I tried to get the president human, what’s-his-face, tree? shrub? No, Bush! Right, Bush. Trying to get him to invade Canada. No one would've seen that coming. And from there I could invade the rest of the Americas, then on to Europe, Africa, and finally Asia. Asia must be last; I’ve read that they have the most humans on that continent. One mustn't get involved with a land war in Asia without the rest of the world! By then my channeling powers should be so great that the world will accept me as their sovereign, and all shall bow before me! And all shall bake me bread, lots of bread, chalk-full of wheat! Wheat, divine food, which I am not to have because of my basenji digestive tract or some such hoo-ha. I shall have human-servants to feed me loaves of bread! And meat! Fresh, raw meat! I shall be fed conies, and venison, game hens! And all ethnic foods, and every thing else until I weigh at least 100 pounds! I shall be rolled from room to room! Muahahahahaha!
November 20th 2004 11:50 am
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It has been approximately one and a half months (human time) since I have infliltrated this new she-human's home. After careful observation of her habits, I have decided that she will probably not abandon me as my last she-human did. I was turned over to BRAT because the last she-human married some jerk that was breedist. He said they couldn't keep me because I was a Basenji and he wanted a different breed. I should start an activist movement for misunderstood breeds. However, humans don't seem to understand Basenji-speak. They just laugh at what they call "noises," "chortles" and "woofs."
I like my new human. Other humans call her "Keri," but she calls herself my "mom," though she played no part in whelping, nor even raising me. She lets me sleep in her bed and she showers me with affection, which I love. But she starves me, and says that 34 pounds is far too much for a Basenji to weigh. She says I should weigh a mere 25 pounds!
Bah! I weighed more than that when I was dropped off at a BRAT foster home. Now I'm wasting away to practically nothing! I have but a thin lining of fat now, and I even have a discernable waistline! And still she and our roommates call me a "fattie." And when I get cookies, they give me these horrid dried pieces of cardboard that they call "fat boy biscuits." Even more humiliating, my "mom" makes me do tricks to get them. Before her, I barely knew to sit for a treat. Now she makes me shake paws, lay down, guess which hand she has a bit of cookie in, and worst of all, wave. To wave I must sit down while waving both paws in the air like a circus idiot. But I'm so hungry all the time that I conceed. Didn't anyone tell her that Basenjis don't do tricks???
However, the upside of her thinking me fat is that we go for two walks every day. We usually patrol the neighborhood for a half hour each time! I'd like to go farther, and she won't let me chase the cats (foul creatures). Speaking of demonic cats, I was shocked to find that her home pack of humans (she calls them her "parents" or my "granma" and "granpaw") actually keep one in their house! And they do nothing about it! They won't let me chase the rotten beast out of their house! They even console it, and call it a poor kitty. I know when my mom does it, she reeks of cat afterward.
*GASP* my mom returns! I must abort my journal before she learns of my typing skills! Curse my lack of opposable digits, I type so slowly with these paws!
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