Spring Training!

Hello. It’s me!!


Here’s the thorny subject of the pending spring season. Can I, a lovable but otherwise intensely young pup take an RV trip to Arizona?

In the Major Leagues, players prepare for an arduous season by participating in Spring Training. For six weeks, they practice, they play practice games, and by the time April 1 arrives, the Seattle Mariners are ready to endure a 13th consecutive season 15th consecutive season without a playoff appearance.

So this week, Mom and Dad took me on a pair of “practice trips”, designed to see if I had what it takes to make the 1,470 mile trek down South.

The first test was the “can Dash see outside the window from a car seat test.” I passed this test with flying colors.


The test I failed to pass was the “can Dash sit in his car seat quietly test.” No. Lots of screaming. Crying. Amplified screaming, too.

The next test was the “can Dash sit patiently between Mom and Dad and act like a spoiled brat test”. Yup, can do that!!


Next up was an outdoor walking test. Was I chicken?


I passed this test as well. In fact, I walked all across the East side suburbs of Seattle, logging close to 6.7 miles on my tiny feet. My dogs were barkin’, if you know what I mean!

The next test was a critical test to pass … it is the “can Dash eat a savory doughnut while sitting between Mom and Dad” test.


Turns out I could do that all day long.

Finally, I had to pass the “can Dash take a two hour nap while hurtling through Oregon at 70mph test”. I’ll let you be the judge:


There Is Your Dagger” … as a certain Green Bay Packers radio announcer says when the Packers have wrapped up yet another victory … I passed the test! I made it through Spring Training.

At some point in the next two weeks, I will prepare for the adventure of a lifetime … my four month lifetime!

One Step Up, Two Steps Back

Hello! It’s me.


That’s the aspirational “me”, if you will. The one Dad expects me to be. I’m four months old now. Dad thinks I should act like a four year old.

Each day starts out just fine … we wake, we chill.


And with each passing each day, my bladder enables me to progress further and further through the day. Three hours, easy. I’ll even ask to go outside to eliminate unseemly bodily substances. Progress. Maturity. Sanity.

Then, early evening arrives. Something changes. It’s a primal thing, really. Have you ever seen what happens to those Minions characters when they turn purple? Yup. That’s what happens to me. It’s water. I drink it. I literally get drunk off of it. It’s a bladder-busting experience that results in accidents in the house. Worse, for some of my toys (like this Terrapin), the outcome is terminal.


But eventually, the bladder passes all excess fluids … it always does, by hook or by crook. When that happens, I return to the peaceful pup that you’ve grown to know and love.


I know, I know, it gets better. Until then, it’s restricted water intake interspersed with bouts of mania.

My Dad Competed At Westminster Today!!

Hello. It’s me!

Well, the BIG news of the day is that my Dad (the pup who contributed half of the DNA that allows me to strip the bark off of a twig in just eleven seconds) competed today at Westminster in the long-haired doxie category. My human parents captured a pair of screen shots. Take a look at my sensational Dad.



You can see a recording of the show (click here) – Dad didn’t place, but my goodness, to actually compete at Westminster is something I can’t even aspire to think about. ¬†Heck, I just fell off the side of a chair, to give you an idea of what I need to aspire to.

And if you click this link, you’ll see my Dad enjoying a tender moment with his handler.

Meanwhile, I’m currently enjoying a tender moment with a tissue that I am tearing to shreds.


How To Get A New Car Seat

Hello! It’s me.


Have you ever taken a car ride? There are many ways to do this. Comfortably seated in the front, secured with a seat belt is as popular a way to ride as any. Legally mandated, too. Crammed into a crate in the back seat, screaming and crying for five consecutive hours? That’s the way I used to roll.

Early in my screaming and crying jag, we stopped the car. These are always uncertain moments. Will I get to play at the dog park? Will I get to visit friends? Will somebody use a rectal thermometer on me again? These are the question that scroll across your mind, in a fashion similar to the ticker scrolling across the bottom of the screen on a cable news channel.

But on this day, here’s what happened.


That’s me on the right … and that’s my BROTHER on the left!!! Turns out that my Mom and brother Ruger came to see me!!

I greeted my Mom with unfettered enthusiasm!


I know, I’m growing up, don’t you think? I’m almost as big as my Mom already.


Maybe you were ripped away from your family at the tender age of ten weeks old. If so, you have in inking into the varied emotions that ripple through your slender frame at a moment like this. Emotions that fueled my manic screams from inside my crate for the next four hours, manic screams that resulted in a new car seat that I now enjoy on car rides.

Thank you, Mom, for the new car seat … #muchappreciated.

Next chore on my list … to get whatever I want via bad behavior resulting from losing many of my puppy teeth. #manipulationviapain




A Potpourri Of Pup-Fun!

Hello! It’s me. A kaleidoscope of cute.



That’s what my friend Robin did for me. It’s downright psychedelic, don’t you think?

Last week, Mom and Dad took me to the vet (again). More shots. My vet did a great job, a truly great job. No screaming this time. And I didn’t make a noise either. Though I learned that I have glands surrounding my hind quarters, and those glands can be pressed in a way that yield an outcome I’d rather not talk about.

So after another veterinary experience, Mom decided that I needed to burn off some excess energy. Mom instructed Dad to drive me to … wait for it … wait for it … THE DOG PARK!!

Alright, I’m going to share something with you … I’m going to share an illustration of raw athleticism that may never be paralleled again. Watch the video below (and if you are reading via email, visit my site – click here – to watch the video).

I mean, are you kidding me? When is the last time you, the loyal reader, clean-and-jerked a Michelin P195/60R15 with your bare teeth and then toted the ponderous radial to a nearby repository?

Speaking of tender family moments, here’s a snap of my Dad (left), my brother (center), and my Mom (right).


I can’t believe how big my brother is! Crazytown, don’t you think?

I must say, my brother has lighter fur than I. Life is like a box of chocolates.

Today, Dad and I enjoyed the abnormally warm, sunny, El-Nino infused conditions by taking a long walk. Nearly a mile, if I may be so bold. These are good times to be a sixteen-week old youngster! Or a Denver Broncos fan.




It’s Our Time!!

Hello! It’s me.

I just had to tell my Mom the BIG NEWS!


Are you ready? ARE YOU READY?

When you watch The Big Game this Sunday (no, not Chelsea hosting Manchester United in the English Premier League on Sunday … I’m talking about the Super Bowl, except that the NFL won’t let you say “Super Bowl” publicly, so I’m calling it The Big Game as compelled to by law), watch the TV commercial featuring the Wiener Stampede!

In particular, watch at the eighteen second mark … that wee little pup is a mini … that’s gonna be my size when I grow up! Watch the video below.

It’s our time, friends … we’re coming … and we love ketchup!