Hello! It’s me again!
That’s what happened after somebody yelled outside and neighborhood dogs started barking … I decided to MONITOR the situation.
Meanwhile, my full-on sister (Autumn … cream-colored litter mate on the left) and Amelia (half-sister) recently earned honors at the International Show. I’m eating carrots and peas like some kind of fool and they’re garnering real recognition.
Hello! It’s me!
One minute you’re just sitting there on a glorious January afternoon, and the next minute, this happens.
Allow me to remind those of you in the studio audience that there are four kinds of threats.
Do you see the threat in the image above? I see it. Look at the yellow arrow.
That’s a Chupacabra, #amirite?
Ok, it’s a perceived threat. Still a threat, nonetheless. You never know when that water bottle will be hurtled though space in your general direction. And I’ll make darn sure this specific situation resolves itself of its own volition before moving forward.
Hello. It’s me!!
Daddy was gone on a “business trip” for a few days, and the look on my face tells one and all that I was skeptical the whole thing was “business”, #amirite?
Yeah … some “business” trip.
You’d think Dad would have brought me something interesting from the Philadelphia Airport Gift Shop … instead it’s an increase in the vegetable component of my diet.
Regardless, I overcame the adversity and really “wedged-in” with Dad on the couch this afternoon.
Hello. It’s me!!
You’d think if Dad were going to take a picture of me he would have the common courtesy to not cut off my hind quarters, #amirite?
It’s a new year, 2019 or so I am told. But it’s all about the same old challenges.
First off, I’m not getting enough food, food like this (from Christmas Eve):
And worse, the threats are real, and they are plentiful. This little dude has inflamed taste buds covering his entire body.
And I have no idea whatsoever what’s going on here.
Dad removed our outdoor Christmas decorations. Turns out it take a few extension cords to run the operation.
Temperatures are improving … we finally got into the 60s today, which allowed us to reinstate a time-honored tradition … the golf cart ride.
May your new year be threat-free, filled with duck jerky and crunchables.
Hello … it’s me!!
Anybody have any food for me?
Hello. It’s me.
Yes, I’m corked off.
Here’s the 411. Dad unilaterally decides that today is BATH DAY. Have you ever been put through one of these experience? You’re dumped into a tub of tepid water while Dad applies a disgusting mix of soap and fragrance to your fur. When the experience ends (and it’s a horribly long, virtually endless 300 seconds, #amirite?), Dad goes through the motions, drying the moisture on my fur by about 25%.
During a bath, I try to go to a special, private place way, WAY back in the recesses of my Beautiful Mind. It was there, in the recesses of my Beautiful Mind that I realized that I had options.
Option #1: Obediently leave the tub area and wait for the evaporative magic of the desert to dry me into a cleansed state.
Option #2: Remember that construction workers removed a support beam out of the back yard and replaced the travertine with sand … sand that will be replaced by travertine tomorrow.
I selected option #2.
Within 30 seconds of the end of my bath, I coated my entire body in a grainy melange of sand and dirt … materials that adhere to moist fur, if I may be so bold.
It’s so important that you know all of your options.
I only pre-thought one of my options, and that option came with consequences.
Dad introduced a new option to me … an option called the “Bonus Bath”. All of the delightful grains of sand were removed from my previously soapy fur.
This left me with few options.
Hello. It’s me!!
That’s a nice snap that Dad took … until you zoom in a bit and see what I was up to.
Now, you’re “prolly” asking yourself why I’d go to the back yard water bowl and partake in a belly-busting quenchable, #amirite?
Well, it comes down to this … each morning I’m busy evaluating threats, and that kind of work makes one thirsty.
You remember the four main categories of threats, don’t you?
Each morning it is my job to evaluate threats. I like to go outside, sit at the confluentia of three arterials, and just see what is going on. Please visit the website (https://dashthedachshund.com/) to watch this video of me “doing my job” in the morning.
Critics say that I’ve yet to identify a credible threat.
My retort to their elucidation is simple … if I weren’t so vigilant, credible threats could arrive in large quantities. I mean, did you hear the golf cart in the background of the video? What if the array of 6-volt batteries powering the golf cart quietly discharged? Then what?
My neighborhood is safe because I do my job – I am resolute, and I am vigilant.
P.S.: Some sad news … my Mom recently passed away at the relatively young age of seven (7). Without Mom in my life, I’m likely to become even more vigilant … I’m the Leader of my family now and it’s critical that I evaluate each and every potential threat.
A tiny version of me can be seen nuzzling with Mom above. This was in the “pre-crunchable” era of my life.
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” …
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?
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.
Dash the Dachshund 