Counter Surfing

 Bleeder and Toast are amazed that I'm not a counter surfing husky... until.

Sure, I tried when I was much younger.

If only I could reach that box...

I continued to try as I got older

Almost there... on my tippy toes

OOOH so close, move your big butt Bleeder

Well, let's just say that I've grown to my full potential, and that potential is that I can now reach things on the counter... things like an entire bag of thinly sliced Provolone cheese the Toast left out on the counter for 3 seconds... unguarded... all alone... calling to me.

Yep, that was a very tasty treat, and in my exuberance, I neglected to leave any for Toast's tasty sammich that he had planned (and was probably not going to share with me, so serves him right).

He ratted me out to Bleeder when she got home. To her credit, Bleeder was not surprised or upset, and chastised Toast for his neglect. I think her exact words were "duh".

I realize that I've given away my game plan and have demonstrated my skills sufficiently to NOT BE TRUSTED ANYMORE. They've both been very careful about leaving tasty foodables on the counter... and the table after I snagged the full bag of Zukes Salmon training treats. My bad, I dragged that almighty bag into the living room for my victory dance and was caught. Note to self: eat it, then celebrate the victory.

Morning Ritual

 For those of you who are fortunate enough NOT to be "friends" with Bleeder on her Facingbooks page, where she complains about me every single day (she tracks in mud, she digs the yard, she brings in and shreds sticks that I have to clean up, she hogs the foot of my bed, she's cold, she's wet, her claws rip my flesh...) so I provide a morning review of her horrific choice of clothing. I think it's only fair.

One of the biggest requests on comments is that they want to see her exact outfits. She's hard to photograph. Not only does she try to hide behind things, but the outfits are just too horrific for the camera, so I've done an artist rendition for you of an actual outfit (one I call "the cheese grater shirt" and the green pants).

I hope you aren't eating anything when you see this:

Horrific. Her method of sock matching involves just reaching in and grabbing the first pair. That's pretty much her stock move for deciding what to wear... what's first on the hanger and first pair of pants on the pile. Shoes... if it's not the fuzzy rubber duck boot things, it's whatever is the least complex to put on (meaning no shoestrings involved). I'm shocked she hasn't worn her slippers in to work... give her time.

Bleeder also likes to buy me random toys that keep me "enriched" and "entertained". I'm perfectly fine batting at her foot 3 seconds after she's done eating to go outside with me so she can wrestle and chase me around the yard on her full stomach.

She found an "interactive" toy about 3 weeks ago and bought it. I would venture to guess that this toy is the most annoying thing in the history of annoying things (worse than people who chew with their mouth open). Get a load of this crap:

(Turn your speakers up for the full annoying affect).

It came inside a little furry pouch with a tail, and any time you smack it around, it makes that annoying sound and scampers all over the place. It was kind of fun the first time around, but then when it wouldn't shut off, and Bleeder can't figure out how to turn it off, coupled with the fact that this thing is a heavy plastic thing that I've chosen to swing around inside like a mace, threatening the very big, expensive TV, broken bones, and carnage... lets just say it didn't last very long as a viable toy.

Bleeder can't turn it off. I think that when she chucked it off the deck into the yard hoping to break it for good, the turning off mechanism is the only thing that broke.

Now she's stuck with it sitting on the kitchen table because she doesn't want to put it in a trash bag, only to have a garbage man think we're monsters and shoved a small animal into the trash... they'll go through the bags and discover we aren't "recycling" everything like we should and we'll go to jail or something.

She did re-use the pouch to put a regular squeaker ball that is fun to chase, attack, and fling around. It's much lighter and bounces off Bleeder's head nicely without causing a trip to the ER for sutures.

Lesson learned, so now she just gets me squeaker toys. Apparently this is my lesson that there are plenty of squeaker toys available to me and I should stop being all guarding and obsessive about one particular well chewed squeaker toy (that I took to bed with me last night for safe keeping).

The only "enrichment" I need is keeping Bleeder on her toes constantly.

I am Two

 Yesterday was my birthday. I'm assuming that the delivery services fell woefully short as I did not receive gifts of fealty in abundance. Mark it on your calendars and act appropriately next year.

I did receive lots of tasty foodables, and pancake Sunday this morning. I also received a new squeaker toy, but as usual, it was taken away from me when I grew too... possessive.

No, you can't have this

I'm only like this with squeaker toys that look like animals. I have a mushroom, a heart, and a square I don't know what it is squeaker toy that I don't get overly possessive of... just the animal squeakers. I try to cram the entire thing in my mouth and run away if anyone gets near me. I carry it around with a worried look on my face, and refuse to abandon it for fear that it will run away, or be taken. 

I'm not neurotic. I just value a good squeaker animal. 

Back up Bleeder, you're too close

Rest assured, I have a whole stuffed box full of toys on the floor, and another box full of squeaker toys on a high shelf for "special occasions". I also have a big bag of toys in the closet that I refuse to play with. I'm told we're saving those up to donate to puppers that would appreciate them.

Other gifts were: an entire box

This box is defective... it exploded

Croissants. I LOVE croissants. I've been told that my predecessors also loved bread products, especially croissants.

Hand it over to me... and nice pants Bleeder.

I was also notified by several of the socials people that I share my birthday with some idiotic "squirrel appreciation day" thing. Why? Squirrels are horrible vermin that must be removed from society. All they do is chew on things, and are rude. They mock me with their tree climbing ability. I will get them.

Oh, I'll show you some appreciation

There are at least 4 squirrels that taunt me on a daily basis. They even come onto MY deck. MY DECK!!! I stalk them, and I'm allowing them to grow more embolden and when the time is right... they will be mine. Much like the squeaker toys, I'm going to cram one into my mouth and no amount of cheese bribes will get it from me. 

I am one with the squirrel, I will be the squirrel, I will eat the squirrel

Wake Up

 Every morning my automated feeder (that I refuse to eat out) dispenses my kibble at 0500.

Every morning, whether a work day or weekend, I'm forced to take drastic action to roll Toast or Bleeder out of bed in order to warm my food bowl, dry it, pour my kibble from the dispenser bowl into my warmed food bowl into a small pile in the middle of my bowl, then sprinkle the correct amount of cheese on the top of my mound of kibble and place it in my chosen food bowl spot.

EVERY MORNING!

Yesterday I had to take drastic action.

Bleeder refused to wake up, even though I did my "I'm so flippin adorable with my ears pinned back and tail wagging as I lay on your chest and lick your face" routine. She just pulled the covers over her head, rolled over and told me to wake up Toast.

FINE! 

I had to get to Toast to lick him awake, but he has this gigantic long pillow that keeps me from getting to him by stepping in the middle of the bed, so my only choice was this.

For some odd reason, this was not acceptable to Bleeder. Look, I can't help it if my nails scraped your face, this wouldn't have happened if you just got up and fed me properly.

Driving Miss Crazy to the Vet

 It's been a very exciting week with lots of fun things.

I'm pretty sure you all know my mission to catch a squirrel. These foes are wily, and sneaky... and pompous. They flout their ability to run fast and climb trees, going just high enough where I can't leap up and catch them, and they laugh at me.

Well, one of them wasn't laughing the other day.

They get on MY deck, and every once in a while, they get under MY deck, and I know this. This is why sometimes I sneak out very slowly, and other times I rush out very quickly, dash down the stairs and run to guard the tree.

Sure enough, one of the fuzzy tailed rats was under the deck and when I turned around, I saw it... trapped, no tree within reach, so I began my patented sneaky sneaky stalk. Bleeder was totally caught unawares (her normal state of being) and thought I was stalking her (seriously? you are are so slow, there's no need to stalk, I can literally race up and fling my body at you, like normal). Then she turned around and saw the squirrel and yep, GAME ON!.

Squirrel tried to leap on the recycle bins that block the gate, but slid off, bounced off the bin as I was streaking toward it. It tried to leap again, and parkour'd off the side of the house with me in hot pursuit. 

It dashed toward the deck stairs (the high pitched keening noise I later discovered was Bleeder wondering how 1.) she was going to "trade up" for a squirrel, and 2.) what she was going to do with it once she got it.)

The squirrel bounced off the deck stair railing and began its desperate sprint toward the back tree with me right on its tail. There was more Bleeder shrieking and I'd like to believe she was rooting for me and not the fluffy rat.

It barely flung itself into the tree and I thought it had learned its lesson, but no, it scrambled just high enough, screamed some fluffy rat obscenities at me and sauntered back up the tree. I hate the fluffy rats.

Yesterday they finally took me for a pawdicure. I had been gnawing at my nails for a few days, so I got all dressed up in my finery.

Leashed up and out the door we went... except this time they opened up the back door of the creaky old RAV. Um... excuse me, this is not my ride. This is an embarrassment. This is so... not... cool. Something about getting used to different vehicles. Um, that's stupid, and embarrassing to be seen riding around in this. Not only am I strapped into the back, sure I have a cushy bed and plush toy, but this? This is stupid.

I immediately jumped out, but didn't calculate that they had clipped my leash to the tether, so I hung around a bit until they could lift me into the back again. This never happens in my cushy back seat Tesla X ride!

I like to navigate. Sure they already know where we're going, and usually have a mechanical navigation device on, but I'm a working breed, and if I'm going to be shoved into the back of an ancient machine, I will do some work. 

Bleeder miscalculated the length of the leash and tether, which allowed me to ooze myself into the middle of the seats with a bit of reach.

Toast was not happy with me, or Bleeder, for some odd reason, but we got there just fine. 

I was not keen on going into the vet clinic, or on the scale, or when they came to take me, but as usual, I was the perfect little princess and now my nails are perfect.

When we drove home, Bleeder adjusted the tether and I was unable to reach the seats and I'm still very angry about that. I spent the whole drive pouting.

New Year Resolutions

Happy New Year

That was me last night until neighborhood idiots started shooting off fireworks. Well, I certainly was not happy with all of the hullaballoo going on outside in the middle of the night. Loud explosions for no reason. 

If I was going to be up, then so were Bleeder and Toast. I'm told I'm a LOT more gentle in my insistence that they get up. Something about panting, clawing, and peeing. I need to work on my "wake your butts up, there's loud noises" alarm to meet those expectations. 

Honestly, I was just angry at being woke up, and I certainly wasn't going to go outside when all of that was going on... until I heard the back neighbor yappy dog yapping in their yard and then I had to go and out show her I wasn't afraid of loud noises.

I even pooped and scratched to show her. Silly little yappy dog.

After about an hour we all went back to bed. Between you and me, I think Bleeder planned the whole thing to get me out of bed because I had snagged the full foot of the bed from her.

Since I know a lot of you read my blog over your humans' shoulders, I just wanted to remind you all of the rules. Sure, the humans put so much stock in the whole "NEW YEAR", about starting anew, and doing silly things like buying treadmills that you can lounge on in about a month when it's not draped with clothing. 

They'll vow to take you on walks more frequently, and heck yeah, you need to hold them to that promise.

They'll take up some ridiculous hobby, like plants, or yoga, or violin. You must immediately destroy their work. They don't have enough time for that silliness, they must spend it all on you.

Also, you must continue your typical procedures to keep them on their feet:

Things left out in the open are fair game, this includes:

• Behind closed doors
• in cabinets
• in drawers
• on tables or shelving

Any treat handed to you must be sniffed carefully and treated with suspicion

Remember: anything handed to you could be hiding something like a pill, or a vitamin, or anything icky that is disguised as a tasty treat.

Never trust them... especially when they give you a tasty squeaker toy and then try to take it away "for later".

Happy New Year to you and get 2023 off to rousing start by stealing a whole rotisserie chicken from the kitchen counter. I'm counting on you!

Furry Christmas

 We wish you a Furry Christmas!

I wished that Santa would bring snow... he didn't.

I got a stuffed duck... that lasted 4 minutes.

I had to go out back to poo on a leash because the trees were raining down tasty sticks. The only real fun in that was it forced Bleeder and Toast to come outside and freeze while I tried to gather all of the fallen tasty sticks and forget to poo.

I guarded my collection of gutted stuffies so Bleeder wouldn't take them away from me.

I had to hold my own chew bone.

As I slept peacefully, Bleeder tried to sneak attack and clip my gnarly dew claw. She was not successful.

The only good thing is that both Bleeder and Toast have the whole week off to cater to my whims, take me for walks, and play with me.

On the bright side, they are sharing the Danish cookies in the decorative tin with me, but the portion sizes are not up to par.

I hope you are all having a lovely Christmas and get to spend time with your loved ones, both 2 and 4 legged.

- Casey -

It's What You Wanted, So Why Are You Mad?

 Living with these humans is so confusing. So many contradictions. 

Chase and bring the ball back but don't run straight into their legs.

Snuggle in bed but don't take up the entire foot of the bed.

Wake them with gentle licks, but don't stand on their chest.

We've had a LOT of rain. LOTS of rain. LOTS and LOTS of cold, icy rain.

Of course they want me to stand on my kitchen rug and snorfle for treats while they towel me off. Is it my fault that Bleeder was in brushing her teeth with some kind of contraption and not chewing on the tasty veggiedents and was not available to wipe me off?

No, and since I've been told to shake off first before I'm gently toweled off, I thought I would be nice and just come to her in the bathroom.

She was rather upset about that for some reason... and was preoccupied with drying herself with the towel, so once again, I took it upon myself to towel off, leaving her alone to do whatever it was she was doing.

Apparently, this was also not acceptable, and I just give up with them.They are impossible.

I Have a Grievance

 I don't ask for much (and it's a good thing because the help around here is USELESS).

But is it too much trouble to feed me on time?

I have an automated food dispenser. Three times a day it spits out my ration of kibbles into a bowl. It's located in the kitchen, squished next to a loud filtration system (something about sucking up all my flying furs), and some huge water jug full of change.

What kind of ambiance is this? You expect me to eat here? Fed dry kibble out of a vending machine on a cold floor among all this junk? I also hate eating out of it because my head hits the stupid machine. Who designed this?

So, once my food is dispensed, I must wait on my servants to properly fix my meal. I just had to wait 19 minutes while Bleeder was scrolling through Instagram, oblivious to my starvation.

Excuse me... I'm starving

I also refuse to eat out of the tipsy bowl, so they must take my fancy bowl, clean it out thorough, warm it, place the foodables in the bowl and apply the appropriate amount of low-fat shredded mozzarella cheese (I prefer the whole milk variety, but some utter BS about my waist line).

Sometimes I prefer a moist, canned food meal with cheese garnish. It is up to my servants to know what I prefer through osmosis. 

Send this back to the chef, this isn't what I wanted

If they get it wrong, then I proceed to push what I don't want out of the bowl, and push the bowl around the living room as a subtle hint. I do eat the cheese garnish though.

Once properly prepared, they must place the bowl in it's proper spot so that I may eat it comfortably.

Sometimes I stand.

Sometimes I lay and snack

I must be watched when I eat. If nobody is there to watch me, I won't eat. During the week, Bleeder stands in the kitchen in a corner holding her coffee with both hands mumbling something about coal mines, peopling, and stupid. She can't see me from there so I must scoot my bowl to the kitchen door. She has learned to just put it there in the mornings, so she is trainable.

During the weekends I have to stomp on one of them at 0500 because the food has dispensed so they can get up, feed me, watch me eat, and then I saunter back to bed with whoever slept through my feeding. The feeder is "already up" and mumbles something about not being able to go back to bed (it's right there... just get in).

They tell me that their life would be easier if I just ate from the feeder. They are more than happy to open the door so I can access my dog door to do my business, and then it's not asking too much to eat out of the feeder bowl.

Yes, it IS asking too much. I have needs, so suck it up, wash my bowl, warm it, sprinkle my cheese and watch me eat.

The Season of Giving

 Apparently this month is the season of giving. I have no idea what that means, I give year round: fur, scratch marks, bruises, my butt in their face, sticks.

Why, this morning I bequeathed Bleeder with this remarkable branch that I found in the yard. I had to chisel it just right and all I got for my troubles was "the look".

 I know, I know, it's not a dead bird, or squirrel (still trying), but it was the best I could do with the materials I'm allowed to have. I have to assume that sucking it up with the Dyson handheld was just her way of saving all of the bits of my special gift. I don't appreciate being chased outdoors with the handheld, and I curse the magic of cordless loud things as she actually chased me into the yard with it... something about getting some exercise. Well, she needs it. She spent all day yesterday complaining about a spike in her head because of the weather. Since she seemed so concerned about the weather, I made sure I went out in the rain and brought as much of it in as possible for her. Once again... no appreciation.

Anyway, I've received two very special gifts lately. The first one is nothing but trickery and deceit. It is called "the Diggerdog Nail file" (also available on Amazon). It comes from Australia (where everything tries to kill you, or so I'm told), and this is no exception. It wants to steal your sharp claws.

You see, although I'll happily prance into the vet clinic and go to the back room for attention and treats and delicately offer my paws up for clipping... that ain't happening at home. NOPE. I don't trust them with anything. I've seen them try to put together furniture with tools.

Right now I'm in the "introduction phase" where the treats go in, I lick the file and that's not fun, so I stomp on Bleeder, jump onto the crate and snag the bag of treats. Seems easier that way. Cuts out the middleman. I'll let you know how the rest of the training goes. It's just for front feets (by the way).

The second gift is MUCH better as it requires no feets action and is just stuffed full of nommy goodness and it's called a Pupsicle.

I really don't like Kongs except for the bone kongs. According to Bleeder, I'm lazy and give up too quickly. When I can't reach anything in a Kong I pick it up and fling it at the nearest human to signal that I need assistance. They bounce it back to me, so then I fling it at them harder. They aren't too fond of this game.

The Pupsicle can be filled with treats and nommy things, or your humans can fill the little ice cube tray with treats and nommy things and freeze it (same concept as freezing a Kong, but you make little balls that fit inside. 

Screw it up and tah dah, instant nommy fun. Dishwasher safe too, and made from really sturdy rubbery stuff that's also fun to chew. A lot less messy than a Kong (since I fling mine all over). Plus there isn't a bottom hole for things to melt and leak all over. Don't worry, the top has plenty of holes so there is no chance of creating suction and getting your tongue stuck. Bleeder says to remind me to tell you that all toys need supervision anyway, and remember to keep the bottom hole of a kong open when you freeze stuff in it as well.

It takes me about a half hour to finish up a frozen Woof Pupsicle, whereas it takes me about 10 minutes to get mad at my Kong and start flinging it, so Bleeder is quite happy about that. She fills it was canned food, some training treats and tiny dollop of low fat cream cheese. 

Well, that's about it, sure this sounds like an infomercial, but I need to tell you all about these things so you know what to ask your humans for during this most wonderful time of the season of giving year.

Honestly, all I really want is some snow.

-Casey-

Must I Do Everything?

 I just discovered that for the past month Bleeder has been posting my stories on the wrong blog. Spent the past half hour moving them to the correct blog. This is why it is vital that humans have a Working Breed in their house, they are incapable of doing ANYTHING without direct supervision.

Speaking of supervision, there was a lot of that going on this long weekend because there was a lot of cooking of tasty foodables in the kitchen. At one point I was not allowed in the kitchen because Bleeder had to spatchcock a turkey breast, which involved a very sharp knife and a rubber mallet. I'm sure you are all shocked that she didn't end up hacking off a finger, because Bleeders gonna bleed.

Spatchcocking was invented in 1936 when Mrs. Henrietta Farberson of North Beluga, South Dakota ran over a squirrel, causing her husband to proclaim "You really spatchcocked that little rodent". Upon further inspection they decided that the flattened form would allow the meat to cook more evenly, and since times were hard.... It is also useful for deep frying, and squirrel on a stick can be found at any State Fair where anything not moving is deep fried and sold for twice its actual worth.

But I digress.

For the past few days I've had amazing meals with turkey bits sprinkled on top. Turkey is very tasty, and makes me sleepy for some reason.

I found that the easiest way to be notified when Bleeder gets up for more tasty food is to just hold her foot. She tries to sneak into the kitchen and snack without me.

The weather has been nice, so we've taken a few sniffy walks to help burn off the extra foodables we've eaten. Something about my gaining a few pounds. I have no idea what they're talking about, and I resent that remark. My cheese allotment has been cut in half as well, so I have to go to great lengths to find good trade up items to bring in.

Look Bleeder, that's a dangerous clump of grass, I may choke on it, but I'll trade it up for cheese!

Then they do this stuff... right in front of me! Ok, fine, I got popcorn, but in dribs and drabs. 

There's supposed to be a new "thing" coming in the mail that will give me tasty treats, but not all the calories... we'll see.

-Casey-