Dig Dug Back Yard

 It should come as no surprise that my humans are really into that Dig Dug Island show. Bunch of people digging up an island to find treasure... well, they have yet to find treasure, but I'm pretty sure they will... never... find... treasure.

Anywhooooo, my humans remind me that they're old (I can't run with you, I'm old, I can't have you ricocheting off of me, I'll fall and break a hip because I'm old, no you can't have a slice of pizza... that's not because they're old, that's because they are also just plain mean), so they keep buying "hobbies" to do once they've thrown off the yoke of toil and stay home with me full time.

I'm all "um... aren't I enough? I have plenty of hobbies we can do together, like rolling in a dead thing, taking a pull in some nice tick and poison ivy infested woods while mosquitos exsanguinate you, and my all time favorite: feed me a slice of pizza".

Back to the hobbies thing... Toast bought a metal detector to find treasure in our back yard... or something. They had one but it couldn't find metal if it was sitting on a metal file cabinet. So, in comes the new one and honestly, I'm having a lot of fun with this hobby. Who knew that digging was an actual "thing"? Especially after 2 plus years of Toast bemoaning "OHMYGAWD she's digging to China, we'll never get grass to grow in the yard".

1.) FYI I would end up off the coast of Perth Australia if I kept digging, not China,

2.) There's never been grass in this yard, you've owned 6 Siberian Huskies!

So after Bleeder gets home from work we all go out in the yard and vent our work-day frustrations (well, I stretch my legs from a full day of napping and snacking), Toast's magic stick makes a bunch of beeping noises. Bleeder starts to dig, then I push her out of the way and look for the tasty grubs, dig some more until a squirrel distracts me, then let her take over again.

Apparently this form of digging is perfectly acceptable when you haul a trailer tire out of the hole. Making a note of that.

Just willy nilly digging for grubs is not ok... digging for moles or tree roots not ok... trailer tire, old beer cans, and a tire jack... ok.

I did get a new toy out of this. It's something called "tree limb and yard debris bin lid". Kind of a long name, so I just refer to it as the giant chewie frizbee.

Just the other day, I figured out why Bleeder was all in on this adventure... apparently if Toast digs up the entire yard she won't have to mow. I'm fine with that. Can't wait for rainy season, that'll be a hoot!

Somebody's Watching Me

The other day I was napping on the deck with Fashion Fluffy and something caught my eye.

There's a little round thing on the deck, and it has an eye, and the eye has a little light on it.

What the fluff? What is that thing?

I saunter up (with my gimpy leg, which is better since this video was taken) to inspect it.

OMG it's a camera!!!  Toast and Bleeder are spying on me!!! 

How long has this thing been recording my every movement? 

Can a puppy NOT have one second of privacy in this house????

Since I knew Bleeder was monitoring me, I decided to give her the what for.

She came out and pointed out that not only is there a camera on the left side, but there's also one on the right. I cut the video because, well, she's dressed in her gawdawful sleepy pants and stained t-shirt and nobody wants to see that.

Toast put them up because when he's working inside, I like to come and alternate between sundog and shadedog. They moved the grill to another spot where I couldn't hide behind it, and watch the neighbors in peace, and now he can see where I'm at, and what I'm doing. No more chewing bits of deck, no more collecting sticks for later gnawing, no more gathering rocks, no more fun.

This is SO UNFAIR!!!

A girl needs her privacy.

Later I held a meeting with Fashion Fluffy to talk about ways to thwart the cameras, but we were interrupted by Bleeder.

You were NOT invited to this meeting, go way.

Chef Boy Are You Stinky

 It should come as absolutely NO surprise that I'm once again picky about my food.

For the record:

1. Chicken gave me the runs
2. Salmon was tasty for about 6 months, then I boycotted the kibble
3. Salmon canned food was tasty for about 6 months after that, but then I boycotted it
4. Beef and Bison kibble was a NO right out of the bag
5. Beef and Bison canned was fine for about 3 months, then meh.
6. Salmon with beef canned food in a bowl smooshed with a warm gravy was fine... until it wasn't.
7. I'll eat if the can is fresh off the shelf
8. I'll eat if the can has been in the fridge, but only when warmed to the perfect temperature.

This is where the issue came in. Oh sure, Toast and Bleeder think there's been an issue since they got me, but that's another thing, the true issue is that Bleeder found the perfect microwave timing and method that got me to eat my food (sprinkle of parmesan was also appreciated), so she wrote down the directions and posted them on the cupboard.

Toast read the instructions, and somehow there was an incident

It smelled horrible... so horrible that I ran out of the dog door.

He immediately called Bleeder to let her know... I could hear her laughing all the way out on the deck.

After that... well, neither the beef, nor salmon was appetizing.

Bleeder got desperate and ordered a new kibble... it's very tasty. I love it. It has "shreds" in it. I don't know what those are, but they're tasty!

I'm going to eat it up to the point where they order several bags of it... then I'll boycott it.

Being a Siberian Husky is so much fun!

Heck of a Weekend

 I'm not amused

It seems that I've managed to hurt myself again, this time my left leg. Once again, Bleeder thinks it's a "tweak" and I just need to stop zooming around like a scalded weasel (I can't even imagine what humans did in the old days to come up with that horrific visual, I'm only assuming it was some form of ghastly entertainment before the interwebs), stop falling into the holes I've dug, and the take it easy for a bit... there's sound and sane advice for a husky.

Toast always jumps to the worst case scenario (bless him) and insisted we go to the vet... and since I've filed my nails to razor sharp points, Bleeder agreed... but if we're going to the vet, I may as well make it worth their while.

So, on Friday, Bleeder cleans out all of the tasty leftovers that have been pushed into the back of the fridge to grow into amazing science experiments and she happened to find some taco meat that hadn't grown hair, and dumped it into the trash bucket. Well, the trash bucket is placed right next to the fridge because Bleeder is lazy and doesn't like walking 2 feet to the maximum security trash container, so while she was head deep into the fridge reaching for what we thought was a celery stalk gone wild... I sampled the taco meat.

It was delicious. Spicy, yet cloying, danced on my palette like a newborn fawn taking its first steps. I got greedy and went for more as Bleeder crawled out of the fridge and I was caught red handed... pawed... something. I managed two nice bites of it before I was summarily banished from the kitchen.

Little did I know that my tasty snack would have some explosive consequences later on. I was mopey throughout the day, but still ate lunch and dinner, so around bedtime when it was time for my nightly constitutional, a volcano of taco meat spewed forth from my fluffy butt. There was collateral damage to my butt fluff that required a warm, wet washcloth and Bleeder having to scrub my po-po fluffs. Humiliating.

Was the snack worth it? It was tasty, but was it firehose diarrhea, butt scrub tasty? Yep. I'd do it again.

So Saturday I was totally back to normal and frisky. I even had some solid non-butt scrubbing required poops. It was a beautiful morning, so we all played and played in the back yard, and then Toast took a shower and put on some pants. I knew something was up because Bleeder also put some pants on, and then my harness went on and WOOT we're going out!

Even though I was pretty tired from all of our yard frolicking, I still had duties to perform.

Oh come on, pass this slow stupid truck

It was the vet appointment. Sigh. I was hoping we'd get to go somewhere more... not the vet.

While we waited to be seen, the very nice technician came in and took notes and then took me into the back and stole my nails. He also stole my blood for some kind of DNA test (I'll fill everyone in on that whole thing later on)

Then the nice doctor came in and turns out he's not a nice doctor because he shined a light in my eyes (um, it's my leg, doc), and then he shined a light in my ears (gotta go a little lower there doc, it's the leg), and then he proceeded to yank, twist, squeeze, bend, inspect, and torture my already injured left leg. He had the gall to do it to the right to "compare". Then he pronounced that nothing was crunchy (there's a relief) everything moved fine, nothing seemed broken, torn, goofy, wacky, or expensive, and was probably a muscle thing. I'm not supposed to do normal husky things (everyone laughed), see how it goes and if it gets worse, then I get some pills.

Afterwards we got to walk along a lovely forest area full of interesting sniffs and smells and I deposited my offering to the forest woodland creatures (I hope they like residual taco meat), and then we went home. 

I slept all day.