Please, Recycle Your Grocery Bags

Hello. It’s me!

I realize that people want to save the planet … they don’t like those plastic garbage bags (I hear there are 1.3 trillion of ’em floating out in the middle of the Pacific if you need one).

But those old-school paper grocery bags? You can recycle ’em. Dad says to me, he says … “Dash, please take the bags out to the recycling bin.” And though I have yet to adhere to any semblance of obedience, when Dad tells me to protect the planet, I am first one the list to help out.

El Nino

Hello. It’s me!

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El Nino is the weather pattern that is bringing rain to California. It also means “the boy”. ‘Nuff said!

I like to bookend my day with moments of tranquil relaxation.

But that meaty, mid-section of every day? Ohhhhhh boy.

Take yesterday, for example. Dad is holding me on his left leg. He’s taking a work call on the phone with his right hand. And then, a worker waves outside the window. Given that we’re having an El Nino winter (although November and December were the wettest months I can remember in my entire life) where it is nice and dry, why not do some landscaping?!

Landscaper:  Do you mind if we fire up the chain saw at 9:00am?

Dad: Sure, let ‘er rip!

Landscaper: Thanks!

Dad sets me down in my pen, and continues his phone call.

The Landscaper fires up the chain saw.

I immediately fire up my bladder.

Dad notices bladder issues in the pen while on the phone.

So that was it for yesterday’s “clean sheet”. Dad gives me credit for a clean sheet every day when I meet my potty training expectations. He got the term from the English Premier League. He treats me like the goalkeeper at Aston Villa, given that I’ve only had one clean sheet in nine days.

Immediately after the great chain saw incident of 2016, I was back in Dad’s arms.

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The conversation changed this morning.

Landscaper: Do you mind if I fire up the jack hammer at 9:00am?

Dad: Of course, let ‘er rip!

This time, no problems whatsoever. I’m a quick learner. And even though a sea plane terrified me while helping Dad take down Christmas lights this afternoon, I like to think the phrase “It Gets Better” applies to me, too.

And it does get better. There’s a lot of stuff to explore, like Christmas decorations.

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Mom even did laundry yesterday. Mom asked me to check out a load of wet clothes she pulled out of the washing machine. I decided to pull a pair of Dad’s underwear out of the laundry basket. (click on the picture if you cannot see the video and you’ll be taken to the website).

It may be a drier-than-average January here in El Nino country … but the pair of underwear I dragged around the house was wetter-than-average, no two ways around it.

A Room With A View

Hello. It’s me!

Thought you might like to see my digs … check out the view from my pen.

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Two things come to mind.

  1. The Salish Sea is pretty big.
  2. I’m pretty small.

Now, I’ll be honest. I don’t appreciate the power converter next to my pen. I’ve tried to bite it a couple hundred times, but Dad says it is possible that 1.21 gigawatts will pulse through my fragile frame if I bite too hard.

Did you see what is in my mouth? My pen is stocked with delicious twigs!

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My Cup Overfloweth

Have I mentioned that I am really fast?

I mean, that’s ridiculous, unfettered, unbridled speed – all caught on camera. That’s what I do every time I come in from performing my duties. It’s my little way of greeting the world.

There are other ways to greet the world – one could waltz around the house with fuzz appended to your face.

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But that’s not the big story of the day. No. Not by a long shot.

What I am about to explain to you is a simple yet entertaining story of gravity, chemistry, and physics.

See, yesterday, I barrel rolled my way to a new “potty perfection” record … more than twenty-four continuous hours without pottying in the house. I know, that’s impressive!

Then Dad gets greedy. At about 6:00pm yesterday, without any conceivable ability to recognize a pending crisis, Dad utters this sentence.

  • Dash drank more water today than in the five prior days he has been with us … combined. What’s up with that?

Well, any bumbletwit who has ever spent time with a puppy knows that you regulate fluid intake. It’s just common sense.

About an hour later, Dad utters this sentence.

  • Dash is whining. Why is he whining? I just took him out fifty minutes ago.

Thirty seconds later, gravity and chemistry and physics took over. My record, my “personal best” to use the parlance of the day, had been established.

Let’s fast forward another fifty minutes into the future. Once again, it was Dad who offered prescient commentary:

  • Dash is pacing back and forth. Why is he doing that? Is he going to go potty again?

The answer … YES!

Somewhere in the neighborhood of eleven gallons of ice cold water flowed through my body … most of it inappropriately dispensed into my play pen. Like an ancient Roman fountain, my cup overfloweth last night.

A Plant Based Diet

Routine is important to a puppy. Without a routine, you have chaos.

When I begin a day, I am a lot like a blank slate, ready to accept commands, ready to begin my assigned routine.

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You probably noticed … I am about 1/47th the size of a door mat.

Like you, I learned long ago that Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.

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It’s a heck of a lot easier to perform your daily duties when you supplement your diet with a veritable plethora of plant-based fiber. At least that is what my parents read on the internet. And if a fact is on the internet, the fact must be true.

Hello!

Adele once said, “Hello. It’s me”. So did Todd Rundgren. Add Dash to the list.

I’m a puppy, born on October 20, 2015. A shaded cream mini long-haired dachshund.

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Like many youngsters, I was purchased for a fair and commensurate price, because I am thoroughly adorable and in time, likely to be obedient to my new family.

I am an athletic individual. Just look at what I do to this pint-sized tennis ball.

My name was Rook, and that was a great name, make no mistake. My breeder is wonderful, kind, and creative. But recent video evidence clearly indicates that my inherent raw athleticism cannot be denied. That’s why I am going by the moniker of … “Dash”. I’m lightning quick, folks.

See the snap below? That’s my Mom and family. I am the one with the green collar.

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And here’s my Dad … seems like everybody gets a participation ribbon these days. Oh. Wait. He has actually accomplished great things.

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I’ve been with my adopted family for four days now. My time alternates between restful slumber and intermittent bursts of mania-fueled biting. Today alone, I pulled my playpen across the room when Mom left, dumping water and food all over the place. Sometimes, you have to take a stand.

And I’m going to be honest with you for a moment. My adopted family are nice, but they are difficult to train. I need to go to the bathroom every three hours, give-or-take. Training them to meet my needs requires a lot of energy. They make mistakes. They’re human, of course. What else can you expect from them?

I think I’ll stop here for now. How ’bout I send you updates about my life from time to time? Hourly updates? Might be too much. Monthly updates? Not nearly enough! Somewhere in-between, let’s begin our journey together.