All About the Whooping

 I don't remember a lot from my Pennsylanian birthplace, except it was quite chilly and it had a lot of fun snow. Then Bleeder and Toast come swooping in and drag me down to this inconvenient and ridiculous state of Merryland.

Excuse me, where is the snow?

It barely snows here, and when it does, it usually only lasts for a day. A DAY?!?!?!? Or it warms up a bit, then refreezes and makes the snow into a pointy glare of unfun ice that I can't run on or dig into. It does get nice and cold, but then the ground is all hard and pointy, and not fun to run on. It needs SNOW to cushion it!

Then there's summer. We are currently in summer, and so far it has been less than optimal. BROILING temperatures, and now we are in the non-stop humid storm season. It is ridiculous!

I don't like storms. The thunder is unexpected and annoying. Want to know what is even more annoying? The whooping noise from the NWS scanner that the humans use to determine whether we need to go downstairs to the perfectly cooler fun play room, or stay upstairs. I don't like the whooping noise. Granted, it isn't as disturbing as the Weatherbug cricket noise for nearby lightning, but it's right up there on the nails on a chalkboard reactionary scale. 

If we were to chart out disturbing noises, my list would be from worst to annoying:

1. Fireworks (they suck, I hate them, they freak me out)

2.) Weatherbug cricket noise

3.) Toast sneezing. Why do guys always sneeze at 4,000db? Bleeder's sneezes sound like a delicate butterfly flapping its wings.

4.) Thunder when it's really close

5.) Whooping NWS alert

When the scanner whoops, I seek shelter under the coffee table and onto the feet of Safety Toast.

Have neither of you discovered the magic of dusting?

I remain there until I wake up from my nap, or Bleeder gets up and starts packing a reusable shopping bag with my harness, leash, walking belt, medicine, peanut butter container, woof ball and woof ball nom nom package, and my squeaker toy du jour. This means that we will all be going downstairs to watch tv and wait for a tornado to whip us over to Oz. We play squeaker toy chase, then I get my tasty woof ball, and generally fall asleep while Toast worries about tornadoes, and Bleeder keeps repeating the midwestern Tornado Alley creed: "Honey, if one is coming, we either die or we don't" while she plays Candy Crush on her phone. She has been known to stand on the porch or deck during particularly tornadoey weather and has to be dragged in. Think Lt. Dan on the ship in Forest Gump, and that's pretty much everyone that's born and raised in tornado country.

But I digress about the weather... currently we are in storm season, which is much more stormy than past storm seasons, and also much more hot and humid. Due to this crap weather I have been unable to go for my morning walks because it is too hot, even at 6 in the morning, and remains hot even until the wee hours of the night. Then it storms, then it gets more humid, and I can barely go out and do my business before I run back into the cool air conditioning and chew on my ice chips. Tonight we had over an inch of rain in 15 minutes and then the sun came out. Bleeder could barely see anything because her glasses fogged up. She could barely see my poo well enough to comment on it's consistency.

If anyone has any recommendations on where we can move that has lovely cool weather during the summer, and nice snow during the winter, doesn't have tornadoes (although Bleeder likes them), no mosquitos, cicadas, june bugs, bitey poisonous nope ropes, bugs that sting, alligators, crocodiles, and other dangers, but does have a first rate Neurology vet clinic, just drop me a line.

Oh wait, gotta go, the whooping just kicked off again for someplace NOT EVEN CLOSE TO US.

Chores

 Everyone has chores to do, and I'm not exempt from this, for some odd reason.

Toast keeps telling me that I'm responsible for fetching his socks when I want to go outside. I'm not sure how this is possible since I'm not allowed to even look at the dresser where the socks are since the "incident", but he keeps insisting it is part of my "chores".

They won't even let me sniff the lawnmower (even after they run over some form of tasty creature), and yet I'm reminded that they do it "for me". I'm not the one complaining about picking up my poo in longer grass, and for the record, I never requested they even pick up my poo, they just do it and have some kind of pathological need to remark on its firmness, consistency, texture, and size. I just poop and scratch the ground happily and move on with life. You don't see me trying to size up their poop in the water fountain and handing them a cookie.

Pick up my toys? Why? I'm not done with them. They haven't been ripped to tiny shreds and strewn throughout the house, so they're fine right where they are. If the stupid vacuum robot can't handle it, let it go around or choke on the stuffing. I'm tired of it trying to run me over when I'm napping.

Since it is so hot out, I prefer my water be frozen and ground up in tiny chunks that I can chew on. Is it too much to ask of Bleeder to keep checking my ice chip bowl and refill it? Once again, I'm not allowed to operate the water/ice dispenser because some earlier dog decided to help themselves to ALL of the water and flooded the kitchen. I don't see Toast chastising Bleeder for neglecting my ice chip needs.

Also, Toast hasn't been toasting lately, and the bread products he does share is pathetic. I have to lay there with the big eyes far too long between bites.

Hey! scone me!

So, what are my actual chores? Well, when I need to go outside, the moment Bleeder or Toast walk toward their pile of outdoor shoes, I stand over the shoes.

Is there something you are waiting on?

If both are going out, I have to make a quick determination on who is closest to the shoes for blocking, and then skitter over to block the other once I'm pushed out of the way. They really seem to enjoy this game. I would also like to add that if we are ALL going outside, I will stand and wait for the door to be opened even though I have a dog door. Due to my condition and the fact that unsupervised I will chase and eat all manner of bugs and horrible things that will cause my condition to be conditioned, I am under full supervision outside. I think it's quite cruel that Bleeder sometimes refers to me as Trash Panda. My palette is limited to only the finest and tastiest bugs, bees, hornets, wasps, anything that moves.

I'm the official calibrator for Toast's scale. Every morning he weighs himself. Just gets up on the scale and does it and receives no cheese for doing it... I don't understand humans. I'm weighed every Saturday in an event called Weigh Cheese, which includes cheese. After my Saturday morning constitutional, I come inside for weigh cheese and dutifully sit on the scale (my scale, not Toast's scale) and get my cheese. I try to botch the reading (sneak a foot off or move too fast) so we have to take multiple readings and I get multiple cheeses. It is none of your business how much I weigh, how rude.

I don't think it's correct, we need another round of cheese

But I digress, back to Toast's scale, it needs to be calibrated every day... according to me, so I stand on it to gain a tad bit of height in hopes that one day I will be able to reach the snack shelf... I mean calibrate it. It's one of those fancy shmancy scales that send the weight and other numbers to an application, so I guess Toast isn't very keen that in random places it appears that he's down to 25lbs on any given day. Go figure.

My best chore is Sous Chef. If anyone is cooking anything, I'm there to make sure they have whatever they need and clean up any messes. The best place to lay is in front of the dishwasher because it is central, and the best place to be to catch spills as they go into the tasty dishwasher. 

I also lay in front of the oven while they try to cook. I am smart enough to move away when the oven mitts come out, or if I'm told "Danger" because that usually means something not good, but quickly snap back to position the moment the all clear is given. I look at it like a cooking aerobics session, where high stepping and shifting is required to navigate the countertops. Work that upper and lower back by LEAAAAAANING over me to reach the chopping board, now high step over my head to stir something on the stove.

So, I feel that I do enough around the house and should not have any additional duties.

Duck of Pain

 It is probably well know, by now, that I'm a bit rough with fluffy squeaker toys. I haven't broken Meeshka's 30 second record of destuffing and destroying a squeaker toy, but I'm still practicing.

Since it is so hot outside, Bleeder took advantage of the Amazon Prime Days sale and purchased some toys for me to keep me active and entertained.

So far, I've received the usual GoDog elephant toy (lots of fun, there's squeakers in the head, body, and both back feet. It also has the crinkly paper stuff in there, so there's lots of exciting things going on and it's really fun having multiple squeakers to surgically remove and trade up for treats.

The second toy is something new. Bleeder thought it would be great fun and maybe a bit more durable (according to the reviews) because it consists of stuffed fabric body and feet, but the neck and head are a heavy duty rubber squeaker. The description explains that even after eviscerating the soft body and rubber squeaker neck fabric, I could continue playing with the long rubber squeaker neck. Bleeder is all about functionality, so she bought it without thinking through the consequences.

Here is the Duck:

It is great fun, especially after a few throws, I discovered that if I grab it by the soft body, run back at breakneck speed, then stand right next to Bleeder (or Toast) and shake it violently, the hard rubber squeaker neck becomes a lethal weapon of pain. I smacked her on the right leg calf and HOO BOY the howls of pain! This is glorious! BEST TOY EVER.

Now, whenever it gets thrown, there is a mad scramble to avoid the Duck of Pain when I come stampeding back to them. 

You wanna play fetch? Here's your fetch!

Spot, Spot, Spot

 One of the nice things about have 2 personal valets are the daily walks (weather permitting). I truly do enjoy my walks. Look forward to them every morning and then sometimes (weather permitting) we go on an evening walk. That's handy for catching up on the pee-mail responses of the morning because there's a lot of drama in the neighbor circuit about the liver colored pointer on the flexi-leash, and the two yappy dogs and whether or not there's a "thing" going on... I'm just reporting the news as I sniff it.

In the morning, the humans must drink their hot bean water and sit on the drinking fountain before walk time. I know it is close to walk time as Toast puts on his pants. Once the pants are on, he'll put on socks and shoes. I cannot be harnessed before the socks and shoes because I like to stomp once my harness is on. Many a time have I stomped on Toast's toes... that does not go over well at all.

So, once Toast has his socks and shoes on, Bleeder will take down my harness and announce "Spot, spot spot", and I skitter into the bedroom to my spot and wait.

Over the head, lift right front foot, front strap back strap, check back strap placement, front strap placement, neck part, collar not under neck part, then a pat on the butt and I'm ready to stomp... and rub. I stomp very loudly, and I rub against walls, the bed, humans, my crate, kitchen chairs, the table, whatever is in my way... until I rubbed up against the dresser drawers in the bedroom... 

My harness got caught in the door pull, and the whole thing exploded. Ok, so I freaked out a little and may have bolted and wrenched the bottom drawer out, which lead to structural integrity issues that cause the whole dresser to tilt precariously and fling all three drawers out. Easy fix I'm sure, but how about we go on a walk first, it can wait.

Bleeder put her "sticky shoes" on. The Sticky Shoes are the very grippy shoes that keep me from dragging her down the street when something catches my fancy (a stick, a human three blocks away, a rabbit, any woodland creature, birds, a discarded half eaten chicken wing, a leaf, that sketchy smear in the road... etc.).

Off we went. There was muttering along our walk about the possibility of having to purchase another dresser, interspersed with "leave it", "STAHP", "LEAVE IT", "SERIOUSLY", "COME", and "POOP".  The "poop" isn't a command, it's a notice to Toast that his plastic bag duties are required. I prefer to poop in a large circle in the wild, and prefer longer grass rather than low cut grass, and will choose someone's lawn rather than the curb grass, which gives Toast the added thrill of locating each piece and then trying to extract it cleanly from the blades of someone's lawn. I also prefer to wait until we get to Poo corner. It's shaded, and cooler.

Once home again, there was a conference that I wasn't invited to about the dresser. Toast felt it was utterly ruined, and Bleeder felt that with her awesome set of tools it would buff right out, so she set to work, and sure enough... it's back together again.

Our walking ritual has been changed up a bit, as now after I have been released to stomp and rub... Bleeder stands in front of the dresser.

Been A While

 So, it's been....

... over a year since my last post, so I figured I'd get back into the swing of things and start again, since my personal assistant (Bleeder) has transitioned to full time care of me. I want to thank everyone that reached out to express concern about my lack of blogging... oh wait... nobody noticed.

Here's an update on what has been happening:

Nothing really. Nothing incredibly exciting, other than playing with three Sparrow fledglings in the yard. If you thought the squeaker toys the humans bought me didn't last very long, those fledgling toys are very fragile and only last for seconds.

I gained a bit of weight and was put on a DIE(t). I'm back down to a reasonable circumference, and had to have my harness adjusted smaller.

Is it lunch time yet?

Since Bleeder's transfer to full time caretaker, we all now go on morning and sometimes also nightly walks, which I really enjoy. I've even stopped pulling Bleeder down the road, over to one side, over to the other side, and lunging, but I still want to play with every one and every thing we happen to pass, and I especially like Mondays because the trash gets picked up and there's all sorts of tasty things on the road to snatch up and freak out the humans.

It is currently 5,000 degrees here with 45,607% humidity and torrential downpours and loud storms, so we haven't been able to walk in 2 days. I have excess energy to burn right now. I don't mind storms much because I get a Woof ball to concentrate on, but I do NOT like fireworks at all. We just passed the fireworks week, thankfully. From what I hear my "phobia" isn't as bad as Meeshka's. I don't leap on the bed and pee on it, but if that got me more treats, it is an option to try.

I haven't made Bleeder bleed in a while, but I did manage to rake Toast with my finely honed dewclaw the other day, so win-win.

I am attempting to eat all of the bugs in the yard. Beetles, Cicadas, those annoying little leapy spotted lantern fly things. It makes the humans run and shriek at me to stop, which is great fun. 

The humans have started doing a lot of home cooking, and bread making and that's a win for me because I LOVE bread products. 

I would like a bit of scone please

I don't get a lot, it's not good for me or my new girlish figure, but I do require a sample. I also get whole wheat flour pumpkin, peanut butter cookies that Bleeder stores in the freezer. Those are quite tasty and refreshing.

Some days I get to drive in my fancy car and we all go to a store where some stranger throws food into the back and then we go home and put the food away. I try to help, but they weren't happy about my taking a container of yogurt onto the deck to eat... or the tube of tomato paste I sampled with my teeth... or trying to make off with the celery.

So you see, it's been pretty boring around here, but I'll try to keep up with the blogging a bit more regularly... after my nap.