Christmas Is Coming …

Hello. It’s me!!


You know Christmas is right around the corner when you feel that familiar chill in the air. Brrrrrr. We topped out at a paltry 60 degrees today.

Sixty (60).

That’s a frosty day, #amirite?

With cold and drizzly conditions in the offing, I spent a lot of time inside. I didn’t do much to help trim the tree, but rest assured, my contributions did not go unnoticed.


Heck, Dad even did something he only did for one week last year … he turned the heat on today.

Of course, with Christmas coming and the heat on in the house … it’s time to think “big picture” …


Treat Me Right

Hello! It’s me.


Maybe humans don’t have to worry about this, but it turns out that a lot of people don’t treat me well. Do I look happy that Frank is scouting my personal condo for his own selfish purposes? No. All I have to say to Frank is one simple phrase … treat me right.

After Frank drained his salivary glands all over one of my toys, I decided to decimate the keepsake.


Mom thought this was an invitation to playtime. She called me up on the couch, pulled me close, and then … and then … and then … she forcefully blew her moist breath all over my face for some God forsaken reason. Now if her breath had been mint-inspired, I might not have minded. But normal breath, fortified with humidity, launched at 20 knots directly at me? No thank you.

I walked away from her, sat next to Dad, glared back toward Mom to get my point across, then said the following phrase …

Treat. Me. Right.

Mom got the message … the next day we got to take a fun walk, one where I dictated the path. Now this represented some sweet action.


Do you see the joy on my face? The unparalleled enthusiasm, dare I say a “zest” for life? That’s the response I give to folks who treat me right.

Which reminds me … Christmas is just around the corner … another opportunity to treat me right, #amirite?

Where Did Julia Go?

Hello. It’s me!!


My friend Julia is visiting this weekend. She’s looking at colleges. I wish she’d spend more time looking at me.

At one point I just got fed up. I hid under the bed – I mean, why does she drive all this way if she doesn’t want to spend every single moment with me, #amirite?


Mom tried to quell my angst with a toy. I tried to ask Mom when Julia was going to come back?


Nobody would give me answers, so I had a discussion with Dad.


A Long, Lonely Week

Hello … it’s me.


It’s been a long, lonely week. Mom is in Houston at the Intergalatic Quilt show. She’s taking in all the sights and sounds …


I guess she’s there because 50,000 people are looking at her quilt. Whatevs.

I’m sitting here like a fool, waiting for Mom to come home. She left on Sunday. I asked Dad on Tuesday … “Is Mom coming home today?” He said no.


About twenty seconds later I reiterated my query. Again, I was told “no”.


I woke up Wednesday brimming with hope … only to have my hopes dashed (see what I did there?) … I tried to laugh it off …


On Thursday we went for a golf cart ride … I asked Dad if we were driving to the airport to pick up Mom … Dad said “no”.


When we got back from my ride I sat outside in the back yard, lamenting my circumstances.


Only the dulcet tones of the braking system of a UPS truck could take my attention off of my Mom.


On Thursday night I heard a car pull up in the driveway …


I was both thrilled and flabbergasted when I found out that Mom didn’t drive up but instead it was my friend Rob from California.

I spent most of Friday doting over my friend, following him wherever he went (until he, too, left me for a period of time). I made sure I let him know how I felt about having him leave me for a few hours.


Dad tells me that Mom is coming home tomorrow. I sure hope so. It’s been a long, lonely week, #amirite?


Hello … it’s me!!


That’s the blank look of a pup who lost 1.4 pounds in the past six weeks. For those of you keeping score at home, that’s like a human losing 10-15 pounds. And with an obesity epidemic running wild across America, I’m on the right side of the battle, #amirite?

My body isn’t the only thing that is in transition.

Days are in the low 80s now, and that means I get to take long walks without the threat of heat stroke. Sometimes you run into odd situations. For instance, Dad and I were walking past a house and I pottied on or next to the post supporting the mailbox. Nine seconds later the garage door opens and the homeowner comes out and washes the area where I went to the bathroom.


I looked at Dad and said “Is that normal?” And Dad said “yes, it’s normal for you to have to go to the bathroom.”

Dad inferred that we won’t be walking past Mr. Wilson’s home anytime in the near future.

With the season in full change, the coyotes have taken over the streets.


I said, “Dad, is that normal?” … and Dad said “As long as they don’t go potty on or near the mailboxes yes, it’s normal.”

Frank visited last weekend. For once, there were two dogs begging for food in our home.


Did Frank boot me off of the couch? Absolutely.


But that’s ok, because when Frank was sleeping in the Casita, I was sad. I longed for his company.


We’ve got a big weekend coming up … our house is on a Home Tour … apparently people want to see what a year-and-a-half of a comprehensive remodel looks like. It’s been a period of transition for everybody, human, canine, home. I’m looking forward to winter!!




Happy Birthday To Me!!

Hello! It’s me, and I’m three!!


That was me on my first birthday – Mom and Dad conveniently evaded the day by fleeing to Europe and my sitters did this to me.

Needless to say, I told Dad he couldn’t take a picture of me on birthday number three, #amirite?

So Dad says fine, spend the day by yourself. He decided to take the RV to a “Touch a Truck” day.


Dad began by melting one hundred and fifty chocolate treats in that red bowl within 20 minutes of placing the bowl in the sun. Molten milk chocolate, pups.

Fortunately he had two more bags of unhealthy treats to pass on to the kids.

And the kids did show up … a half-hour early in fact.


Some of the kids looked really odd … like this one riding the right shoulder of the woman.


Four hours later and 700 – 1,000 visitors, Dad was done. Here’s the floor of the RV that greeted him after the masses departed.



There were comments. Here’s a sampling of the activity.


GUY: Is this your rig?

DAD: Yes.

GUY: Really?

DAD: Yes.

GUY: Why would you do this?

DAD: So the kids can have fun.

GUY: I don’t get it.


KID: Can I go in?

DAD: Yes.

MOM: No.

DAD: Huh?

MOM: His teacher sent him home from school for being bad yesterday and I couldn’t get a babysitter so today he can’t go in or climb on anything and one day he will learn there are consequences for his actions.

The kids sobs quietly and nods his head affirmatively.


Scene: A 12-ish year old boy is carrying his 4-ish year old sister like a baguette.

BOY: My sister tried to use your toilet.

SISTER (screaming): But I have to go.


BOY’S FATHER: Should I get an RV?

BOY: Yeah.

BOY’S FATHER: Then you could drive and I could drink in the back.

MOM stares at my Dad with an unparalleled look of mortification.


BOY’S FATHER: Timmy, you shouldn’t keep hitting this guy’s horn non-stop.

RV horn continues to beep.

BOY’S FATHER to my DAD: But you’ve got to admit it’s funny.


GUY: I’ll buy it.

DAD: It’s not for sale.

GUY: You’re not a dealer?

DAD: No.

GUY: Darn.





Spelling Error

Hello, it’s me.


Yes, I realize there is a spelling error in my last message. Mind you, I don’t have thumbs, so I can’t quite manage the keyboard on Dad’s phone. I apologize. I was busy with toys from Grandma when I was drafting my message to you, the loyal reader.