Humble Servant

My momma practices this thing that basically means "nonviolence." It's called practice because she hasn't got it right yet. So I'm helping. I'm a helper.

I'm also a chewer. I'm telling you, there is nothing more satisfying than a good rip through a fleece blankie, chewing on all that softness and then gulping it down. Mm, boy. I ate a whole half a shirt once just to see my momma turn three shades of red 'cuz it was the guest's shirt. Hee hee.

She says stuff like "emergency vet" and "blockage" and such as if that's supposed to affect me. Shoot, I just eat a few bugs and hark'em up on the carpet. There's your blockage, lady. Nice and cleared.

Anyway, my mom brought home a soft, plushy dog bed yesterday. It was supposed to be for my little foster sis who is in a lot of back pain right now and needs a really low bed on the floor. I snuggled right into it. Bliss. Sheer bliss. I put my whole mouth around the bolster side. Then I looked up out of the corner of my eye to see the momma glaring down at me. (Nonviolent my cute little butt, right?)

I got a few bouts with a Skinneeez raccoon as a legal soft toy and I left the bed alone. But, you know, my momma isn't going to deepen this practice thing without me messing with, um, I mean without opportunities for growth. So when she got sidetracked taking care of my little foster sis, I saw one of those opportunities.

Yesterday's intact bed has been beautifully redesigned with strategic openings for the fluffiness to pour out its white bits upon the carpet, far and wide. It's lovely really. The momma didn't agree, but didn't say a word. I sat chewing my bone ("What? No, I was only chewing this the whole time.") and watching as she calmly restuffed the bed and then put it away. Because I am such a helper, I showed her some fluff that she missed.

My work is selfless really. I exist to serve, to help with lessons in patience and reminders to make more logical choices. It is a sacrifice I am willing to make to wake myself up at pre-dawn hours in my momma's bed and bark at the top of my lungs, "Awaken and be fully present! Be here now!" and then settle back down to sleep. A humble servant, that is what I am.

Dear Santa

Dearest Santa,

Santa, buddy, what I really want is world peace and for all species to join in a song of love and brotherly sisterhood and stuff. If I can't have that, I suppose I will take a few material things.

Like a sturdy jump set outside.
And stairs. I don't care where. Just stairs.
And MEAT. Mounds and mounds of MEAT. Raw or cooked, I'm not picky.
And a tennis ball that will zap the mouth of any dog who is not me. Bwahahaha!
And a real live squirrel. Right between my paws.
And my momma's sole attention forever and ever.
And microfiber blankies. One for snuggling and one for eating.
And MEAT. You got that part, right?

Now I know there is a stipulation in the gift contract concerning nice or naughty behavior. But Santa, buddy, what does "naughty" really mean existentially? My intentions are nothing but the best; therefore, my actions are always nice. It is irrelevant that my behavior is erroneously perceived as rude, bratty or -- banish the thought -- naughty. Well, I never.

You're a smart dude, Santa. I'm sure you can see my point.

We don't have a chimney, so just leave the loot on the back deck.

Love ya,
Angel Nicki

Cat!

Mom brought an alien creature home. It's called a cat. For me? Thanks, Mom.

The cat is really talkative and she keeps teasing us. Mom wants this dogs and cat living together stuff to go slow and easy with scheduled training times, working up to the day that we can all eventually share a home in peace.

Hahahahaha!

All I know is that I. Want. That. Cat. I'm not sure what I want to do with the cat, but it will probably come to me. A few of the other dogs have progressed to being with the cat off leash. Evie especially thinks the cat is just swell. Mom says that two of us need remedial work and we don't even get to be within six feet of the cat. She said she really thinks that I need to start from down the street. Fun-nee.

I've lost weight thinking about that cat, wanting that cat, jumping and jumping and jumping behind a gate if I think that cat is anywhere near. Cat! Cat! Cat! Want it! Want it! Want it!

Gotta use my superior terrier brain power to come up with a plan to get that cat. Brute force and total nutball obsession haven't worked. Hm, something clever ... hm ...

Tagged!

I was tagged a while ago by Sable Renee to answer some questions, but my typist had some big deadlines and couldn't get to it until now. Yeah, okay, but I'm top priority next time, lady.

What color is your collar?
Black and pink with skulls from The Mod Dog. I got a near replacement to my old one with skulls, 'cuz Mom says it fits my personality. I still think I need a biker jacket to match hers.

What kind of food do you eat?
Raw and cooked meats and canned fishes with Orijen and sometimes EVO, Taste of the Wild or Wellness Core. I'm all about the raw beef, baby.

What is your favorite treat?
Either bully sticks or boiled chicken.

Do you have a Valentine or significant other?
Several. Don't tie me down, boys.

Do you get table scraps?
Don't tell Bean, but his "never" is my "occasionally." You've just gotta get in there and do the work of looking cute and hungry. I don't mind that the piece is tiny as long as I get it.

What is your favorite toy?
Tennis ball! And squeaky tennis balls. And mini tennis balls. And things shaped like tennis balls...

When is your birthday?
October 15, 2006

How many times do you get to eat?
Breakfast, dinner and a snack for lunch. We AHTs have slightly higher metabolisms.

What is your favorite color?
Yellow, like a tennis ball. Duh.

How much do you weigh?
Eleven pounds of muscle and sinew.

Do you like to be brushed and groomed?
What is this brushing? I merely tolerate baths and nail clipping is a chore I could do without.

What is your most favorite thing to do?
Play tennis ball!

Do you hope all your pals put this in your diary?
Please do! I'm not gonna tag ya, but I wanna read your answers.

Tater Pie

Oh my goodness, is this boy cute or what?! Better hurry 'cuz he's adoptable and he won't be around long.

Gimpy

I haven't been going to flyball practice for a few weeks. I'm on rest and rehab for a bad sprain in my left knee. Mom keeps trying to explain this to me like I don't know what's going on. Like I wasn't the one feeling the pain and popping my knee in and out of place.

I'm not supposed to be jumping. Or roughhousing. Or running. Or catching ball. (!) I know. It makes me cry just thinking about it. That's why I do what I want anyway.

Since the big bed's mattress couldn't be put on the floor, folding chairs are leaning against the two open sides and some other stuff is in my way. The only wide opening is the one for the stairs up to the bed. Sometimes I walk'em and sometimes I leap across'em. Hee hee. I gotta be meeee, I just gotta be meeee...

Mom has this thing where she sets dogs down on the ground really gently like we're made of glass. All of us, every time. Don't ask me why. All I know is that we get used to going easy. But now it's even slower for me because she wants my weight distributed over the three good legs first. Well, that just takes me to the end of my patience! This careful stuff is getting really old, dog.

I was in a lot of pain at first, but now I'm feeling okay. I keep trying to show Mom that I'm fine, really. She keeps watch over us when we go out, so the other day I took off running around the yard. Then the other dogs started running. And then we all slammed together. It was fun!

But Mom gasped and then started crying. Weird. I go out by myself more often now. I guess that's okay. No one can take my bugs away when I hunt them down.

Mom can't afford hydrotherapy at the university and my vet didn't think it was necessary. She said to just put me in a wading pool. (Yeah, we're iffy on that, too.) But Mom has ideas for my hydrotherapy and she's doing research.

If my nose so much as touches water, I'll climb right up Mom's head. As long as we're clear on that, I'll consider cooperating. Hm, I don't even know if I can swim...

Irritant

I like to settle into Mom's lap and lick her arm. Or her hand. Or the wrist or inside elbow where it's particularly ticklish. I could do this for twenty minutes, easily.

Lately, instead of just jerking away and saying "Stop the licking," she's started making really weird, sharp sounds. Just as my tongue touches, I hear a squeak and stop. I try again and it sounds like a strangled duck. Over and over, every time I try to lick, one weird sound after another.

Doesn't she know how annoying that is?

Survey

This survey has been fun to read in my pals' diaries, so I wanted to add my answers. Chipper's was easy to read, so my typist borrowed his style. Now, to get her to actually pay attention and help me out here...

How old was your typist when they got their first dog?
My typist has been surrounded by dogs from birth. She says she was raised by poodles (which explains a lot).

Has your typist ever been bitten by another dog? If so, how many times?
Five times if you don't include a very poorly socialized family Lhasa Apso who bit everybody. The worst bite was the hand ripper given by a brain damaged dog at the vet clinic where she worked. The second worst bite was, um, from me. Well, see, I got attacked by another dog and I was hurt and scared and I, uh, well, I bit the hell out of my mom's butt as she took the attacking dog away. Wait, you said "another dog." Does that mean besides me? Okay, then, just forget my part of this equation. La la la...

Spaghetti - with or without meatballs?
Hahaha! As if I would turn down meatballs.

What is your typist’s favorite song right now?
She only plays calming music for us lately, but when I get in her truck, she has to quickly turn down Muse's "Map of the Problematique" so it doesn't blast my sensitive eardrums. Then she tunes the radio to NPR. What is she really up to when I'm not around, huh?

How many dog parks do you have in your area?
Depends how big of an area you mean. Within twenty miles, we have four small dog parks.

What was the last movie that your typist went to see?
She watches those at home so we can all be together. But the last, rare trip to the theatre involved The Dark Knight. I wanna go next time. Imagine all the stuff I'd find on the floor!

Is animal shampoo tested on humans?
I don't know, but our shampoo has been tested on my human. No lasting eye, throat or nasal irritation, so it must be okay. Chloe makes a good lab tech.

How often do you get your teeth brushed?
I get stuff in my food and bully sticks instead. I'm told I'm spoiled. I don't see this.

Collar or harness?
Mostly my cool Mod Dog collars. Harness in the car so I can be hooked up to the seatbelt like a prisoner! It's so not fair!

Do fish get thirsty?
My typist says they don't get thirsty as long as they are still in the water.

Where is the last place your typist went to for vacation?
My typist doesn't take vacations. Don't mention this to her, or she'll start whining to you, too.

PetSmart, Petco or _____?
Pet Supplies Plus and a really cool feed/tack/pet supplies store around the corner from us.

Besides Dogster, what’s another one of your typist’s favorite web sites?
Pandora. She's a relatively new Facebook convert, so send her a Paw Mail if you'd like to be added as a friend. She likes dog people and... um, no, that's pretty much it. Dog people.

Have you ever caught a squirrel?
One day, baby, one day.

Are you more of a sniffer or a licker?
Licker! Big time licker. My favorite time for licking is just as Mom is falling asleep. It's as satisfying whether I lick her or myself. "Stop the licking!" she cries. Heehee.

When’s the last time you were at the vet?
Few months ago? All I remember is that I got a kiss and then a sharp pain in the rear. My typist has a joke about this, but I asked her to please not print it.

How many packets of Kool-Aid would it take to fill the ocean?
I hate to be rude, but I don't really care. How many packets of filet mignon would it take to fill my belly? Now that's a good question.

Does your typist spend more than two hours a day on Dogster?
Not anymore because her schedule is packed enough for two people.

What’s the name of the dog on the Cracker Jack box - Pete, Bingo, or Skip?
According to Atley, it's Bingo. So it must be.

If you could meet any ‘famous’ dog past or present, who would it be?
Petey, the Little Rascals dog. I have a thing for the pitties and he was cute. I want to ask him if his training was rough because he doesn't look that happy.

I'd enjoy seeing this survey answered by more of my pup pals. Have fun!

"Pay it Forward" Tagged

I've been tagged by Ava who was tagged by Riley, who was tagged by his ultra cool German Shorthaired Pointer pal Tucker, who was tagged by his pal Tucker, who was tagged by Bella, who was tagged by Lola, who was tagged by Sadie, who was tagged by Crystal, who was tagged by Shiloh in a neat sort of way!

Shiloh is celebrating his 20th diary entry and has given tree rosettes to 10 of his pals. He is asking us to "pay it forward" and keep on giving. He is asking us to send rosettes to 10 of our pals (5 if you can't do 10) and to keep on giving!

Okay, here are my five tags pulled randomly. Let's keep this going for Shiloh!

Jarvis
Jia
Belle
Ella
Smokey

Booms start on the third here

Tomorrow is a US holiday called Independence Day. I celebrate independence every day, in my own special terrier way, so this sounds like a fine holiday to me. Why the humans need to fill hours with obnoxious booming noises is puzzling, however. I don't like this part.

Mom said that we need to be prepared for the booms. Then she looked at me. She got a music documentary to watch kinda loud. Then she looked at me. She put out treats and pheromone spray and that flower remedy stuff that hasn't ever worked. She kept looking at me.

What? I'm cool. I just do my job, letting everyone know about each boom and reminding them that we need to be on high alert. The house could burn down. The rockets could come through the window. The unknown could happen. The Yankees are coming. I mean, come on, guys, this is serious stuff!

We don't know how the new girls (yeah, we have two now) will react. Mom looked at me. She thinks I'll get everyone started.

Well, of course I'll get everyone started! We're in danger from booms. Hello? Battle dress, y'all.

The newest girl is a big loudmouth. I'll bet the two of us could finally get my point across. She is so dedicated, she can bark nonstop for almost two hours. Now that's talent. I'm recruiting.