Shout It Out!

Hello! It’s me.


Spring has sprung in the Pacific Northwest. And with record high temperatures forecast for Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday, I thought I’d saturate my already malodorous fur with yard clippings from the grassy knoll adjacent to the Farmers Market.

By the time Dad loaded me in the car, I was in full bloom.


All was good in my world. I lay next to Dad’s leg on the five minute ride home.

But then … the script writers presented me with a plot twist.


It was time for me to present the script writers with a  dizzying twist of my own (visit the website if you cannot see the video in your email).

Life is a big ‘ol game of whack-a-mole … I enjoy fresh cuttings, Dad enjoys bathing me, I enjoy terrorizing our living quarters.

Now, if you will excuse me, I need to be next to the fireplace, where propane-infused heat evaporates cleansing fluids from my soft coat of adorable fur.


Seal The Deal

Hello.It’s me!!


Dad thought it might be fun to “broaden my horizons” today. So he took me on a one hour walk. Now personally, I think Dad was fed up with me ringing the bell every forty minutes to go out and go to the bathroom (I really had to go, often, sorry) and wanted me to vacate every possible fluid or solid contained inside my modest frame.

Exhausted from the walk, Dad takes me over to the local seafood market … and asks me to introduce myself to … THIS:


Yup, that is a SEAL. And as you can see, I was NONE TOO HAPPY about having to spend any time with this squid loving pinniped. NONE TOO HAPPY at all. Terrified Uninterested is a more reasonable word to describe the situation. I didn’t need to seal the deal with this one-eyed seal allegedly named “Popeye” (seriously, that’s his name).

As we speak, I’m trying my hardest to dream the indignity of a random meeting with a phocid out of my mind.


Real, or Not Real?

Hello! It’s me.


There was a time when you could count on things to be real. Like back in February, for instance. But in modern times, it’s hard to discern what is real, and what is not real.

Like this one, for instance. Why would somebody do this?


But that was Saturday. Yesterday, somebody really upped their game – you want to talk about fake animals – then take a look at this video (visit the website if the video does not appear in your email message).

I mean, are you kidding me? A fake pig?

This is the world we live in. You simply don’t know what is real and what is not real. At least not until you investigate the situation.

And let’s be honest. These investigations take precious time away from the activities that really matter, like leaving pee-mail for my friends.



And DOWN The Stretch They Come!

Hello. It’s me!!


It’s important to look back, to gain perspective on what has been accomplished.

Our cannonball trip from Arizona to a handful of miles shy of Canada began last Friday. This is what I gave up.


This is what I acquired.


And this …


Dust devils. Yup, we spent a half-hour dodging Satan’s spinners so that we could crawl along at five miles per hour through Pasadena.

Eventually, we turned north … through the mountains outside of Los Angeles.


And then, we encountered three hundred consecutive miles that looked something like this.


Allow me to tell you a story. We don’t have any pictures to back up our claims … primarily because the pictures would terrify you. We stopped at what appeared to be a nearly vacant Best Western outside of Bakersfield. Dog friendly. 2.5 stars. What could possibly go wrong?

No room at the Inn.

Again, there had to be three cars in the parking lot. It’s hard to imagine where all the phantom residents were.

The proprietor told us to visit a Days Inn about twenty-three miles up the road. Fine. We’ll take an establishment that wants us.


It took Dad a half-hour to figure out how to open the door to room 105, a process that included vigorous training from the staff at the hotel. That turned out to be a good thing, because it was thirty minutes that we didn’t have to spend in the room.

I saw a bug running across the floor. I don’t want to hazard a guess as to the genotype or phenotype of the creepy crawler, but I ate it as soon as I could. Eight hours later, I saw the bug again, following a healthy regurgitation of the insect. It’s completely normal to throw up hotel insects at 4:18am, in case you were wondering.

It’s not normal for sticky substances to populate stained hotel carpeting.

It’s not normal for a shower head to be positioned fifty-four inches above the floor.

It’s not normal for the hot water and cold water to be reversed.

The following morning, Mom and Dad were able to get ready to go and pack the room in about eight minutes. We eschewed the generous hotel-supplied continental breakfast and hit the road. I was exhausted.


So tired, in fact, that I needed to occupy the space below Mom’s feet.


As you can clearly see, this left no space for Mom’s feet … for the remaining 1,000 miles.



Dad thought we should interrupt a two-hundred-and-seventy minute stretch of unending travel with a break at Mt. Shasta. Fortunately, the sidewalk was peppered with scientific minutia.


Wait … are you telling me that Mt. Shasta could blow? I am OUTTA here!


But Mom forced me to remain for another moment … begging me for an “appropriate” picture before fear thoroughly consumed me.


I asked Dad to get us out of path of a potentially warm, comforting lahar bath as soon as possible. Nobody needs a slurry of pyroclastic material to engulf their recreational vehicle, if you know what I mean.

We blew through Oregon.


And my Mom kept her feet on the dashboard as we entered Washington.



We avoided Dust Devils, Lahar Baths, and a rogue Days Inn … eventually arriving at the ferry terminal.


My job was to prevent open flames during our ferry ride.


And that’s the story of how we arrived at home. We left Phoenix at 11:20am on Friday morning … we arrived just shy of the Canadian Border at dinner time on Sunday night. That’s fifteen hundred miles of thunder, pups.

When I got home, I walked into the house, strolled into the dining room, and piddled on Mom’s dining room carpet … it was my way of demonstrating that this was/is MY house. I also pottied in the house at bedtime … ending eighteen consecutive days of flawless urinary behavior. I’m blaming my bad behavior on the insect at the Days Inn.


While Dad Was Away …

Hello. It’s me!


So Dad takes a business trip for a few days, leaving Mom and I to fend for ourselves with friends.

I don’t know about you, but when I stay with friends, I like to help out. Dusting, for instance, is an underrated job … one well worth a pup’s time (visit the website to see the video if you cannot see it via email).

Apparently, our friends like to travel places via golf cart. I am a big proponent of this form of eco-friendly transportation (again, visit the website if you cannot see this via email).

After the exhaustion of a harrowing golf cart ride across a relaxing retirement community, I chilled to the dulcet tones of 80s music and propane-infused fire.


Up next – I’ll share the deets about our trip home … we arrived at home early this evening … and it started raining an hour later … typical.