Not Real

"Our brief winter. Ours for the moment

Before earth's soft hand explored your shape, and melted her snows...."

I plagiarized this.  I make no apologies.  If you can be first to name the source of it- Leah will buy you a steak dinner( I would buy the steak dinner, but I have no money.) I just changed a few words. And google is cheating.  You should just know it. 

Our brief winter- so short lived!  We had a week of beautiful snowy wonderfulness, but it has all melted away to mud.  I am extremely fond of mud, but it leads to several unpleasantries.  Most gratuitous of these?? BAThING. 

Oh horrible! Horrible!

There are many problems.  Examine closely: 

1) I am in a sink

2) I am soaking wet

3) I am in a sink

4) I am covered in foul smelling, patina- stripping soap

5) I am in a sink.

I was toweled dry, which was fabulous. The only tolerable part of being bathed really.  Then I was abandoned for the entire night.  Left alone with the alien, Nessarose. No human in the bed to sleep close to,  NO ONE!  I hate New York City.  I found out this morning that I was actually invited to the party there, but she took someone else. 

This is not real

To add insult to injury- This THING has suddenly appeared. Leah says it is my bust and I should not be so touchy about it. She says it is a great honor to be immortalized in sculpture.  I don't know what a bust is.  But if this is parading around in my place I find it unacceptable! 

Well be forewarned.  I forecast a conspicuous increase in mischief.  Impending. Storm conditions possible.  

Bathed and mocked!  

THIS IS NOT REAL!!!

Uncle Hamish

Firstly, allow me to state- the Rody horse "twenty-two" has been in the trunk of the car since the xmas party last friday.  Seems he isn't so well behaved in public? Should have brought the very real real dog to the xmas party instead....but nooooo.  Inappropriate bearded men in santa hats got to go....but not little scruffy terriers...I can wear a bow tie too you know.  I see exactly where I stand.
But I digress..... significant news is at hand!

I am to be an Uncle!  The joy of this is immeasurable ( if only the oracle were here to revel with me!). Leah says that really I am going to be cousin- but that's just silly, and I prefer the role of Uncle so I am taking that position and I will defend it to the death.  If Leah is to be an aunt.  Then I am to be an Uncle.  That is how I see it.
Obviously this is a huge responsibility.  Apparently these things take about 9 months or so, so I will have some time to practice and prepare. I have many questions:
When are they old enough to give tummy rubs?
Are they born rolling around and adorable- like me- or do they need to be taught?  I volunteer for such tutelage.
Do they have to learn to walk on two legs or can they crawl around on all fours forever?  Seems more sensible to me.
When do they start eating food and throwing it on the floor and everywhere so that I can eat it?
Will Ari and Rima be getting a terrier of their own for protection?  Or will I have to go live with them until it is safe?
At what age can I begin teaching the art of dragon-slaying?  I started at 4 weeks.  That seems totally reasonable. It is important to develop these critical instincts very early in life.
Can we feed the poopy diapers to Nessarose?  she likes those sorts of things and it seems like a reasonable way to dispose of waste.
Will it pull my hair?  Will I mind?
Do human puppies smell as good as dog puppies?

I commit myself wholly to the protection and education of this new being.

I am very excited.

A RODY

Something is amiss if your human brings home a rubber doll and she is older than 10. It isn't even fuzzy.  How is that fun?  It can't canoodle.  It's just a pretty color.  Well, and everyone likes to bounce around on it.  Personally I find the whole thing to be completely ridiculous. It isn't even real.  And Leah is always saying how wonderful and real I am...and my toes.  She always says that- "you are so real.  even your toes are REALLY REAL!"  And here we are suddenly living with this rubber thing and talking about it all the time.  I am even blogging about it.  It doesn't even have a  real name! She just calls it "Twenty-Two."  Well I refuse to be amused by it, and the next time she leaves it on the floor I intend to pee on it.
It is once again the turkey holiday, though I am told I am to be left home. "Twenty-Two" is going.  Seems being rubber has its advantages.  Leah says if I will allow the small children to ride me like a pony I may go to turkey dinner.  I refused. So I will just stay here. ALONE in all my realness, whilst the fake pet goes to turkey dinner.
On the brightside we were visited by Ed.  He still smells divinely of tobacco, beef, and sand.  I was fed many more treats than usual, but it was a short visit and we did not get to do any manly things together. Perhaps he will visit again.
Nevertheless I wish a everyone a very happy Thanksgiving. I will be happy to accept any and all leftovers of any kind.

10 reasons

I remain somewhat vexed.  Though not so terribly so.  In an effort to lift my human"s spirits and educate her as to my purpose simultaneously,  I have composed a top 10 list.   These types of things appear to be popular these days, so it seemed both appropriate and humorous to attempt one myself.

Top 10 reasons not to give up on the male species of the human race:

10) Males are generally dirtier than females.  They have a greater understanding of any patina and are therefore less inclined to be concerned about bathing me.

9) Males understand and respect facial hair.  Even if they do not have it.  DON'T TOUCH THE BEARD.

8) They pee standing up.  (so does Nessarose, but she is also an alien-so not really of any particular sex, and therefore she does not count.)

7)Males do not like leashes.  They also frequently go "commando" - that is to say- without any collar. I aspire to this.

6) Males do not blame me for their farts.  ( this is a common problem among females ) Men
simply admit to them. Passing gas is such a beautiful thing anyway- not sure why the girls always try to pass theirs off on me- they only look foolish, since clearly they are immediately identified by the smell.

5) Humping.  Need I say more.

4) Leah really likes them. Until they screw up that is.  They usually screw up.  But someday we will have one that doesn't.

Look-  an excellent doughnut!

3) The male species does not believe in dressing dogs in clothing.  Thank heavens someone out there is reasonable!  I will be printing bumper stickers:  "Do Not Dress Your Pets."

2)I cannot confirm this totally- but given the length of time men spend on the toilet when using it- it seems they give great contemplation to pooping.  This is an essential of dog-dom.  All man-dogs like myself put great consideration into optimal pooping locations- taking into account weather, temperature, wind patterns....there is just so much to say about this

1)   Men over-feed.  It's a fact.   They don't give a flying fart if  I get fat. And more is always better.

Thank you all for reading.
Post Script:  To "Leah's biggest fan"- I appreciate your sentiments.  Though I do wish you would identify yourself,  or simply change your name to "Hamish's biggest fan"  I hope you will comment further, whoever you are.

A Rebuttal

I put my feet in my mouth often.  Which is both tasty and satisfying ( for any foot-itch), as well as reassuring.  But it seems I have proverbially stuck my foot in my mouth....(still not sure why that is a bad thing at all) with relation to this Joe issue.  Joe has been calling Leah his girlfriend, and us his family for many weeks.  So I felt it appropriate to publish my post about the difficulties of sharing the bed with a boyfriend etc. etc.   Well little did I know that when I tagged Joe in our facebook announcement his other girlfriend would contact us.  So it seems that Joe has had another girlfriend this whole time.  Needless to say I am horrified that my blog post led to such troubling news ( though somewhat relieved to have the truth out).  It seems I have made a serious error in character judgement, as I believed Joe to be totally sincere.  Leah is obviously horrified and disgusted.
I have taken down "I hold these truths to be self-evident part II" out of respect for my distraught human.  That post contained my brilliant poem: "A poem for Joe."  A work I believe to be of particular poetic genius, and an excellent example of my free verse abilities....but enough about me....I am more deeply troubled by a more serious concern.
Leah seems determined to give up on the prospect of men altogether.  Oh sad day to think that we wouldn't have a boyfriend ever again because of this one disappointment!( ahem- Leah insists I clarify- this is another in a string of many disappointments.)But I am a great lover of men.  I have been adored by many these years, but the complex balance in relationships requires my human's interaction to achieve the correct attention and devotion from the man.  Otherwise we cannot properly bond for man-dog fun.
Leah is so greatly discouraged she says she will never date again.  I refuse to be so disheartened. The answer is obvious. This man was just not good enough for us.  I call upon all our close friends and relations to help halt this downward spiral! Give my human renewed faith that somewhere out there...beneath the pale moonlight....someone's thinking of us...and loving us tonight.....
whoops. that's someone's else's song.
Give my human renewed faith that somewhere in this big wide world is a wonderful partner for her and our little animal family! Thank you.

I hold these truths to be self-evident: Part I

My dear readership,
I feel I owe all of my loyal followers a heartfelt apology for my absence of late. I can only totally blame my human, as I am totally dependent upon her for her opposable thumbs. I will offer further explanation but I would be remiss in my duties if I did not first address the most significant change among us: the loss of the Oracle.
At the end of September the Oracle of Joy left this world and traveled to the rainbow bridge, where he will await his humans. The Oracle is survived by the whole of his human family, and of course many disciples. He lived a long full life of uninhibited happiness, and he left us peacefully with the help of his humans. He exuded joyfulness at all times and I myself regarded him as a great mentor.  We all feel his loss deeply, and strive to carry on his mission of happiness.

I know that I have been long absent from this ingenious blog of mine, but dear readers, when you hear my reasons you will have to forgive me.  I simply refuse to submit to censorship of any kind. I demand my right to free speech, and though many may feel the first amendment is not meant to apply to dogs, I disagree! Many attempts have been made to blog in the last few months, and all have been met with the same criticism.  It seems my thoughts and opinions of late have all been deemed inappropriate or offensive subject matter for this blog. Great concern was expressed that my latest musings will most definately offend and shock friends, family, and colleagues.  I was reminded at length that this blog is read by close friends and connections, not total strangers, and I was told in no uncertain terms that if I were to continue in this manner, publishing another post was totally out of the question.  Apparently I am selfish, arrogant, and tactless. I must learn diplomacy, resist such biting sarcasm, and practice the art of subtlety.  If you are reading this then I have succeeded to some extent. I am thoroughly chastised, and I don't really give a hair on a cat's arse if I offend anyone, but my human is editing.

Firstly, I was thrilled at the arrival of the Italians.  It was confusing at first, since we have to come and go through different doors now, but sharing the house with Giovanni and his family is quite pleasant.  He lives with a dog named Dotta, and she is very lovely, though Nessarose doesn't like us playing together. Of course their arrival confined us to the small apartment at the back of the house.  Leah was very angry about this at first, but we have excellent cozy furniture, and though it has been quite chilly in the mornings our little suite of rooms is lovely.

Secondly, Cheyenne moved out and has left the empoyment of the Ridge. Leah may love Cheyenne, but I am not so sad that I no longer have to share the furniture with Lucy.  She would always sleep in my favorite chair. And she has gas.  Leah has been very sad about Cheyenne leaving, she talks about it often and shares her hopes that she won't be gone forever. Apparently Cheyenne belongs to Angus (the African) now, and  she will have to do whatever he says. Our little family is changed forever. It is quite inconvenient that I can no longer frame Chili for pooping in the living room...
We got a boyfriend too.  But Leah says rather, he will have to do everything she says. His name is Joe.  He is very tall, and Leah smiles a lot whenever he is here. It took a few days to work out the sleeping arrangements, but we have achieved an optimal situation where Nessarose and I have full half of the bed and Leah and Joe fit nicely together in the other half.  This makes up for all of the other nonsense that goes on in the bed which I have been expressly forbidden from writing about, since Leah says, and I quote  " My mother reads this blog, you cannot talk about - - -!!"  I could do without all that moaning and groaning etc. but since he doesn't steal my pillow I am willing to say that Joe's a keeper. More on Joe later.

Thirdly, Piglets.  Don't even get me started about piglets.  Leah and Joe are having a piglet together.  Which apparently means we are going to have to move?  We already live on a farm. Where will we move to? I hate moving. I have never known any piglets but I am sure I will hate piglets. My half of the bed is full.  We will have to have a bigger bed to have a piglet.  There is nothing more to say about this. I am not supposed to talk about it.


Fourthly, we remain broke.  Leah went on vacation without us in September, as she could not afford my airfare. I was left alone for a whole week!  In fact I believe the main reason I have been allowed to write this blog is in the hope that it will lead to Oprah.  Well all roads lead to Oprah anyway... I would like to give up horses and devote myself to writing full time.  My first children's book is in the research and development stages.  I simply need more time with my human to fully flesh out my ideas. I suggest a cabin in the woods for several months to focus on our literary genius, but Leah says we will have no money for meat and cheese, or even kibble, so that's out of the question.  We even got in a tiff over it and I suggested she go out and find a job that paid us enough to live in a cabin in the woods.  Alone. This caused a lot of crying, more talk of piglets, and other totally unintelligible emotional mumbling, along with rocking and hugging of me....the terrier. Apparently her dreams are dying....although lately they seem to be more vibrant and even visionary.  But that's all I can say about that.  ( Our vision is going to make us rich!  Once we share it with Oprah).


Sidebar:  I have been immortalized upon my human's wrist.  Forever.

Summer

We are in the thick of it now.  Summer. Mid- July brought the seemingly obligatory week of painful scorching heat at the HITS horse show in Saugerties, NY.  I spent the better part of a week shamefully tied to the edge of a horse stall inside of a baking aluminum barn. Temperatures were near 100 degrees each day, with only a fan to offer any relief from the heat.  Most cruel and unusual was of course being confined approximately 30 yards from a very green, slimy -looking, wonderful-smelling pond!!  I could have contentedly wallowed there all day in that heat.  Instead I could do little more than gaze longingly out the barn door in that direction, while observing several large muskrats busying themselves in and around the pond.  No happy hunting for me!  Of course Nessarose in her usual neurotic way managed to endlessly entwine our leashes, even managing to pull the fan down on one occasion.  Cheyenne nearly lost a hand trying to right the thing.  I guess that's what comes of living with aliens among us.

The horror of a  Leash

We did manage some nice visiting time in the evenings.  We got an excellent night of cavorting with new dogs at Stella Farm, and another evening in the country with Sa Bom Nim Falanga.  She is the human of  Cha-gi, another great oracle of the dog kindgdom. Cha-gi is a french bulldog.  The creases of his snout hold smells so rare and profound, few dogs will ever experience them.  It is always an honor to bask in his presence.  Although he would not follow us into the house,  instead trying for hours to rouse the group into a game with the jolly ball.  To no avail- we were  taken home without any jollies or balls.

Of course we always stay with Leah's friend Elaine when we visit Saugerties.  Elaine lives with a chocolate lab named Wellington. He is a baboon.  But, his house is always full of lovely bones, and he shares well. 

We are once again home and snug in the old farm house. The heat broke this week and I must admit the weather has been totally fabulous!  I am sure this loll in the usual summer oppression won't last but it has been a most pleasant relief. We had an outing at the Whittmore Sanctuary on Friday evening. Nessarose and I had an excellent time frolicking in the creek, and the cloudy watering hole alongside it. Nessarose actually dove for rocks.  I was content to paddle around carelessly and enjoy the cool.  On the downside- we are over-run with strange hopping insects known as cave crickets.  I am including a picture:

 
It may actually be larger than this in real-life.  Leah is paralyzed with fear by these creatures.  I have slain several....not much to brag about really since they don't move very fast and are fairly easy to clop to death with a heavy paw.
Most importantly I went for my headshots.  Of course it was not explained to me that we were having joint photos done with Nessarose.   It was somewhat confusing at first, as there was a strange man with a camera and he kept making weird farting noises with his mouth.  I kept looking at Leah for guidance,  she wanted us to sit on this blue sheet.  It wasn't very comfortable so I kept hopping off and trying to get under the furniture.  But Leah seemed to want Nessarose and I beside each other on the sheet.  Nessarose kept panicking and leaping at the camera-man.  Regardless he got nearly 100 photos of us. After a great deal of deliberation Leah managed to choose 7 pictures.  They will be ready for pick-up next weekend.  I will of course share them when they arrive.  I shall have to get used to these photo-ops if I am to be famous.  I think I will appear very good in print.  The pictures definately capture my intelligence, as well as my exceptional good looks....Of course Leah purchased special gourmet cookies for us on the way home, and we had pig-ears.

SMOD: The Squishy Muffin of Doom

I hate to overstate the obvious, but I have yet again been subjected to the horror of bathing and grooming.  Observe:

Humans just refuse to understand the importance of a carefully developed patina.  It takes weeks of hard work.  One does not simply go out and roll in the first patch of grass or pile of poo.  Each layer of the patina needs to be carefully considered, for though the main purpose is to radiate a lovely odor,  this can only be achieved if each layer is chosen in part for its greasiness and stickiness so as to retain the odor.  Not to mention no terrier worth his salt should be soft and puffy and smell of bathing oils.  It's just plain vile!
On the bright side, Leah has decided that I am to be famous.  She says the grooming is necessary as I am being scheduled for my professional headshots.  She also says that patinas are not captured in photographs, though I am wont to disagree with her.  I think film captures the stink of a dog quite effectively.  But I digress- Headshots. yes.  I am to be famous...Leah says she's sick and tired of being the only breadwinner in the family ( we don't even get any of the bread?) So I am to go into the world and seek my fortune.
I have a plan.  Fame.  Everyone will read my blog and appreciate my genius, and it will only be a matter of time before Oprah declares me to be great.  Then she will come and see us in our everyday state of being and she will introduce us to the multitudes.  I will be adored!  I will be beloved! I will be beatified, deified...the world will fall at my feet! Then I will truly be the 8th wonder of the world.
I will of course also be rich. And with my riches I will save lost dogs everywhere and possibly little girls.  I think little girls are a worthy cause.  They are most likely to offer morsels and tidbits to dogs like me :)
Leah is quite taken with something called "the Girl Effect."  I must concur.  The little girl effect of dropping crumbs of food to adorable dogs like me.
Of course all good celebrities need a name.  Our friend Katherin Hewitt quite graciously helped to create my name ( and of course by default my public persona) during Hurricane Sandy when we were all living in the living room together to keep warm.  She named me the SQUISHY MUFFIN OF DOOM ( it sounds best with a bit of reverberation...) or the SMOD for short.  I will have hats and t-shirts made to sell for the cause. I would much preferred to have been the Oracle of Doom.  But SMOD seems to have stuck.  "Doom" is of course meant in the old fashioned sense of "fate."
Nessarose is not eligible for fame as she is an awkward starer and it puts people off.
Please contact my human to make donations to the cause of my fame or to purchase novelty items.  Thank you.

The Oracle

I barely have the energy to dictate this post, as I frolicked to the point of exhaustion yesterday.  Today was terribly hot, and then I was left home alone and unfed while Leah went gallavanting off to the pub!  I am so weak I should certainly be resting on a cushion......

but I can't disappoint, and there is much to say.
We traveled all the way to Fiamma's for Independence Day.  (That's independence from England.  A very powerful planet of old, full of dog-lovers and connected to Scotland.  I am of course Scottish.  So I don't really understand why we had to be independent, but Leah says independence is a good thing.  She also says that I am willfully independent. I am not sure what the alternative is....Can one be independent any other way?)
Fiamma's home houses the Oracle of Joy.  J.J. is an aged Dachsund.  He is blind and deaf.  And I am quite certain he is the happiest dog living.  His tail wags with a purity of spirit akin to the Buddha.  He is always at peace.  I tend toward melancholy, so myself I view the Oracle as one of my greatest mentors. He greeted us warmly even dragging his decrepit self out of his bed and into the heat to partake in the joy of the day.  He lives on 20 beautiful mostly wooded acres in Chappaqua NY.  There's a swimming pool,  a tennis court, a garden (with excellent bushes for hunting and marking), and a beautiful stone deck perfect for cooling one's belly on hot sticky days.  The entire property is fenced and set back from the road, so Leah stopped worrying about Nessarose and I wandering into the road and turned us loose to frolic freely!!  ALL EVENING! 
So I set about on the very important business of examining the grounds and the house thoroughly,  so as to inspect for any dangers ( dragons). First I peed on at least one tire of every car parked in the drive. Then I marked all the plants immediately adjacent to the house.  By then the humans had said their hellos and kissed and shaken hands, so we were invited into the house for a tour.  Of course we paid our respects to the Oracle immediately.  Leah shared cookies between us all and we had an excellent long sniff of his butt.  Fiamma gave Leah and Angus a tour of the entire house.  Nessarose of course ran ahead of them the whole way, always afraid she'll be shut behind a door. I know better and lingered behind to fully take in all the smells the Oracle and his disciples had left behind.  ( He has several disciples who live with him part time,  Max and Maya- two siberian huskies, Princess Charlotte, a lab mix rescued by Fiamma. And a new chihuahua I have not yet met.)
I carefully left a drop or two of pee in every room as a sign of utmost respect to the Oracle. He is a most gracious host.  Then the tour was over and we were off!
I marked the garden thoroughly, and the edge of the tennis court. I was careful to pace myself and visit the pool for drinking often( it's the biggest water bowl ever!) so as to keep lots of fluid on board. 20 acres is a lot of territory to cover!
Nessarose on the other hand went Ballistic.  She ran around like a lunatic and within the first 20 minutes her tongue was hot pink and hanging all the way out of her mouth, like a deranged hyena.  Once the humans started swimming in the pool she completely lost her mind.  She ran in circles round the outside of the pool chasing splashes of water, barking at the people, trying to herd them out of the pool...for approximately two hours.  She only fell into the pool twice, usually she's in and out numerous times as she misjudges where the edge is in her effort to herd the humans.  It was clear this morning that she had seriously outdone herself as she limped down the driveway to the barn office....no sophistication whatsoever....
Bubbles arrived with her human Morgan later in the evening.  If the Oracle is a Grand Master of Joy, then Bubbles is the rung below as a Mistress of Joy.  She is of course clever enough to have only joined in the pool mania briefly.  We had a good long roll in the grass together.
I was fed several hot dogs and the fatty bit of a steak no humans wanted to finish. Fiamma's boyfriend Joe is an excellent grillman.  The joy of the day so overwhelmed me that I allowed myself to be videotaped performing a trick for food. Normally I would not allow proof of the humiliating, demeaning ritual of dogs performing tricks for  food, but in the spirit of the Oracle and his aura of happiness I felt compelled, so I did an excellent bear dance and I am including it here.  I am man-dog enough to be okay with this.   I am NOT a performing monkey.  I am not.

I have arrived on Facebook

It has been 4 years, 1 month, and 8 days since my fourth birthday.  At that time I requested my own facebook page.  FINALLY  it has arrived.  Perhaps my promised eight birthday present (a subscription to O-magazine) will arrive before I am too old to enjoy it!  That said....I am positively elated that I will now be able to network and share with the entire facebook community.  It is about time after all.  I intend to throw myself full force into my "how to" segments.  I have already liked Oprah's fan page, and shall revel in the opportunity to follow her posts. Furthermore opportunities will abound for public shaming of my human for bad behavior:
buying the wrong cookies
hogging the pillows
touching me with her feet
allowing random friends and acquaintances to pick me up and somehow believing that I enjoy this
putting me in the pool
bathing me
feeding me dry food with no meat
rushing my pooping ritual....

the list is endless.  Humans are extremely difficult to train and control. Public humiliation is an excellent tool for the literate and sophisitcated among us.  Nessarose doesn't speak with words, she only stares.  She has resorted to other methods of control, such as tipping over the trash and eating Leah's panties.  My method is much more effective.  With facebook as a platform I am assured of a much greater success rate. More on this later.

Angus is leaving us.  Which is fine with me since we don't ever get to sleep with him.  What's the point of that?
I am hoping to avoid a summer haircut and bath.  My patina has not yet recovered from the last stripping episode.

I have decided that it would be a terrible waste and a tremendous shame were I to pass on without bestowing my wealth of knowledge upon the rest of the world. I have many secrets which of course will only be revealed upon my death, but in a number of areas I am quite simply an untapped fountain of information.  Of course I have never been good at sharing, but it is my hope that this post will be the first in a series of "how to" segments.  I intend to share a wide range of information....for example,who doesn't need advice on say.... How to choose a pooping site....Where to mark in the house so as not to be blamed....How to tip over the trash( and also frame Nessarose for it).... How to canoodle without being tormented by human feet... How to guard the bathroom door.....Killing things....etc. etc.
This evening's subject is of great importance:

How to Comfort Your Sad Human
This may in fact be a dog's most important duty.  Well, after patrolling and protecting, and of course slaying dragons....chasing squirrels....
At any rate it's right up there with a dog's mostly important duties.

First:  Do not try to understand why your human is sad.  It doesn't really matter.  This is why humans have mothers, and siblings, and friends, and therapists.  They will all talk for hours to try and understand where the sadness is emanating from. You don't really need to know.  Usually the problem is with the heart.

Second: Recognize the signs that your human is sad.  Crying is the most obvious indicator, but there are often other signs.  If your human cooks an entire chicken breast for example, and then cuts it up to feed to you while eating your kibble herself in its place....definitely a sad human. Going to bed early is also an indication. Or refusing to get out of bed.  Subsisting on ice cream and nothing else.  Checking email or facebook obsessively.  Picking up the dog( that's me) all the time and refusing to put me down.  Did I mention crying? Long showers.  I mean really long showers.  I mean like "don't make me come in there! I will break this door down....I know you climbed out the window" kind of long showers ( anything over 3 minutes should raise an alarm). Sleeping in the bathtub( my human has never done this when she is sad, but I have heard of it happening.) Throwing things( don't be fooled into a simple game of fetch).  No desire to play tug... Listlessness.

Third: Run a test.  Get close to your human.  Initiate physical contact.  Nuzzling, paws on the leg, jumping in the lap, even lying on the feet if you have to.  Then gaze longingly and lovingly up to your human's face.  If the  reaction is to pull you close and nearly suffocate you.....you are dealing with a sad human.

A picture of me running a test.

Fourth:  don't panic.  Actual documented cases of smothering by sadness are extremely rare. Try to get your nose near the armpit as there is a space here between the arm and torso which lets in a small amount of air.  Often the smell is quite lovely also.  Breathe very deeply and let out the largest sigh you can muster.  This is a sign of your solidarity with your human's sadness,  It speaks volumes of your unique canine ability to just empathize and not have to understand.

Fifth:  In these situations your comfort remains of the utmost importance.  Be sure to rabbit kick aggressively until the human positions you appropriately for  your task of comforting,  This is essential as comforting sessions can be protracted. Try to stay completely relaxed and limp. A belly rub is a normal perk for this kind of work.

Sixth:You will be kissed.

Seventh:  Try to let your human break the canoodle of consolation first.  This way they feel you have truly done your duty, faithfully remaining at your post, despite your discomfort and hunger.  You will be hungry.  At least I find consoling a sad human leaves me famished, and a bit parched.  Usually the human will get up first in order to feed you snacks.  Often a good canoodle will brighten their mood so dramatically that the whole thing ends in an aggressive game of tug!

Don't forget to be patient.  Sadness can't always be cured in one canoodle.  Sometimes it requires several.  If you are struggling alone call for reinforcements. It has been proven that multiple dogs comforting a human can dissipate sadness at three times the rate of one dog by himself.  But don't be disheartened!  Even a solo dog will eventually succeed if he follows these guidelines.

Check in again for more "how to's."  Such as How to eat horse poop and get away with it.

An intruder!  A break -in!  a real life home invasion!!! This is it friends.  The moment we train for our whole canine careers.  Ready to sound the alarm, pounce, protect, fight!  Fight to the death! I am ready for action...
It seemed like a totally normal evening.  Dinner and cannoodling on the sofa.  Television. Then Nessarose and myself were let out for our late night pee. All seemed fine until we retired to bed.  Angus had already closed his bedroom door for the  night and Leah was brushing her teeth on our side of the house.  At first I couldn't be sure what it was but Nessarose spotted the creature and made her move.  As it tried to flee out the bedroom door it became clear we had a real live Catawampus on our hands.  In our haste we did not account for the sliding of the area rugs and as we chased the creature into the hallway the rug rumpled and Nessarose and I skidded into each other out the door, across the hall and crashed against the railing over the stairs.  Nessa nearly managed to pin it but our skid made us snap and snarl at each other instead of the catawampus and Leah flew out of the bathroom yelling and shooing....

But she had seen it too....then panic set in.  She obviously sensed the danger and called for Angus.  He was completely disinterested, saying there couldn't possibly be a strange animal in the house.  He was quite sure it was a simple house cat, but we all knew better.  Leah had convinced herself that the creature had shape shifted into a bear....I was inclined to think this possible, so I went downstairs to hope for  re-enforcements. Leah fetched a fire poker, and armed with a flashlight ( a rather meager one I might add),  she inched along behind Angus into the spare bedroom to seek out the THING!  Nessarose fearlessly showed Angus and Leah where the creature was hiding under the bed. As Nessa nosed the edge of the bed skirt a strange low moaning came out from under the bed.  Angus asked if a bear might actually fit under there. Leah said probably not, but it could be any kind of creature from a squirrel to a racoon.  Or of course a Catawampus was my interjection from the hallway.
Well by then the creature had taken on the form of a simple house cat: white with lovely black spots.  Calm and pleasant, it allowed Angus to pick it up and remove it from the premises.  Sly thing.  How ever did it find its way into the house unless it is a Catawampus.  Shape shifting and passing through walls?  I see right through you creature!  It will come back again. And we are ready.  Ready to do our duty and stand tall! For God,  For country,  For our human,  For bacon!  May heaven rain down meatballs, and kraft-cheese crumbles!

Here citty citty wampy.....

I declare myself an orphan.  Wednesday WAS my birthday.  There was going to be a party and presents and extra snacks and visiting friends... At the last moment my human ran away to South Carolina in search of the perfect pot of hony ( a small fat chunky horse). She left me under house arrest in New Jersey with the Foreigners!  I could so easily have flown with her.  I would fit nicely under the seat in an airplane....alas I was alone all day with only the alien Nessarose to keep me company.  Barbara offered me most of the bag of cookies ( which she calls candy because she is from the planet France and that is how they call cookies.)  Angus let me out to frolic a bit.  But I was humanless from 3am of my birthday until 2 am the next day.  And still no presents.  No visiting friends.  Thankfully Angus has insisted that I should have a proper party a different day.  Perhaps he will force Leah to follow through. Though I shall not have a bath.  I intend to adopt a new human.  I hope Oprah will have me. Although presently it is too hot and humid to do anything more than pant.

A Very Merry UnBirthday

Aaaaahhhh....What a long strange trip it's been....My blogging seems ill-fated of late.  Leah has been stretched thin, and what little time we have together is best spent in a tight canoodle of consolation. All my tough talk and feigned disinterest has been put to the side.  After all a dog's first and most important duty is to the happiness of his human.  Leah has needed her canine canoodlers these past few weeks, and Nessarose and I are of course always up to the task.  We've even agreed to put aside our differences for the most part in order to be good dogs to our human.  Nessarose actually spoke with words( instead of her mind reading powers) and she has sworn off eating panties for the present.  Sadly she has not been able to control her G.O.D. (Garbage Obsession Disorder) so there have been some slip ups in that department.
Leah is fond of her routines and the "return of the troops" from Florida causes her great stress.  It doesn't seem to really matter if she is among the returning warriors, or just receiving them.  This was complicated greatly this year by the turnover in staff at the farm.  So instead of welcoming home fellow coworkers we were indoctrinating new recruits.  This is also stressful since we have to indoctrinate them into our home as well.
To top it all off this season we were invaded by foreigners!  First Ian came home for one night, bringing with him Angus.  Of course we know Ian from Florida last year, but he's from California(  that's the same thing as being foreign.)  But he gives really good tummy rubs, so it was a bit sad when the very next morning he left for Holland.  Angus is from England, by way of South Africa.  It's all very complicated.  These strange planets and foreign places.  He's practically moved into the house but he leaves at night to sleep somewhere else.  Which is disappointing, since that's one of the few things men are best for.   He says sweet things to me and rubs between my shoulders, but I am witholding final judgement for now since he keeps insisting to Leah that I need a bath.  Thankfully her loyalty remains with me and she has refrained from subjecting me to such a shameful embarassment. Then the French girl moved into the house.  Barbara.  She is nice enough to leave food where Nessarose can reach it and knock it down for us to share.  I sleep with her on the sofa when Leah is out.  Which brings me to the next point.  Cheyenne is back on weekends as well, so Leah goes out all the time.  Between Cheyenne and the foreigners she is out almost every night.  Our entire  rhythm of life has been disrupted.
As if all that wasn't enough Leah is moving all of our things to a different bedroom, and we've switched to the bathroom on the other side of the house.  She took the small trunk away from the foot of the bed and I can't get in and out of bed without it.  She swears we will start sleeping in the other bedroom any day now. But I think she is afraid of the ghosts.
Then there was bad news about our sister Sombra.  It seems she is injured and will have to go on permanent disability.  This made Leah especially sad.

In the armchair at Grandma's, supervising dictation

Fortunately we have been whisked away for a long weekend at Grandma and Grandpas house.  In spite of poor planning(  Leah forgot our meat and our leashes.) it has all worked out quite well.  We have been lounging and canoodling on the leather sofa.  We slept in late, and there was reading in bed. There was also left over lamb patty from the Turkish restaurant since Leah forgot our meat.  Everyone seems much more relaxed, even Nessarose.
Most importantly Leah seemed content enough to write this post for me.  I intend to sleep next to her head as usual.  As that is my most important post.

These several weeks have been an epic debacle.  Not only have I been unable to make dictation for my posts, but I have been severely deprived of my precious lap time and canoodling.  Events are too numerous to discuss here in great detail, so I am forced to "gloss over" the main events, so to all my faithful readers I offer my deepest apologies.  It is rare that I so totally lose control of my human, but perhaps I can sum up:
1. Annemarie's horse fell and she was knocked unconscious. We had to help the weiners take care of her, because that's what friends do...
2. Passover.  Need I say more?  We went to visit Leah's brother and his wife.  We were left alone all day in a strange house, with strange roomates while Leah, Ari, and Rima went frolicing in the finger lakes. Then we went to Grandma's house for Passover Seder.  To my great delight, I was allowed free roam over the whole house while Nessarose was tied to Leah's chair so as to prevent her from eating off the dining room table.
3. The farm truck was impounded and Leah left on the side of the road.  Apparently her paperwork was not in order....This did not effect me much, but Leah was quite angry about the whole thing and spent a great deal of time ranting and raving, hence another evening lost to blogging forever.
4. Fursey.  Fursey developed a severe cellulitis in his left hind leg two weeks ago!  This appears to have developed into a larger systemic infection which caused Leah ( and consequently myself) many sleepless nights, both worrying and checking on the suffering horse.  Though he seems to still have a lengthy recovery ahead of him he is doing much better over this past weekend although he still needs frighteningly large shots of penicillin in his rear twice a day!  He tolerates all the poking and prodding in a most dignified manner ( as he is a much dignified horse) but myself, I would hide and fuss and cause all sorts of ruckus should Leah come after me with any needles and syringes like those!

Well that is the short short version of the latest adventures.  Spring seems to have arrived on our doorstep at last.  The grass is turning greener and the trees are starting to bud and bloom, along with daffodils everywhere. The birds are numerous and the change to warmer temperatures brings countless new smells  Leah's distraction of late with Fursey's illness and the return of the troops from Florida has meant less time frolicing about the yard for Nessarose and myself.  Though this has been disappointing, on the bright side it has given me plenty of time to enjoy the latest issue of O-magazine.  I overheard that I will be getting my own subscription for my birthday in May.  Properly in my name....Hamish McDougal Mcduff.  I would have looked fabulous on this cover.  Oprah is sitting in a garden in a full, flowing purple skirt.   I look fabulous with purple. After all- it is the color of royalty.

Catawampus

It snowed on Thursday evening, but thankfully by Saturday it had warmed up to spring-like weather.  Good thing since I have been stripped of my coat ( and my lovely patina with it).

Of most interest this week: the human debate over the proper definition and use of the word "catawampus." Annemarie used the word casually Friday evening as we were leaving the barn.  It came up again Saturday night while the humans were out together at the Lamplighter.  Sadly I am not allowed in restaurants, so I had to gather the information from Leah.  But she came home telling me what a cute little "cattywampus" terrier I am, and I knew it had obviously been discussed at length.  Upon reading her text messages later on ( I always check her phone when she is not looking, and I can reach it easily from the bed where she leaves it charging overnight.), I now feel the need to set the record straight.  

According to dictionary.com humans believe the definition of "Catawampus" to be:

an Adjective meaning

1. askew, or awry

2. positioned diagonally or cater-cornered

It is common in Southern and mid-Western American speech.

Humans may choose to use it this way, though I don't understand why.  I know exactly what a Catawampus is, and I know that there happens to be one living above the utility sink in the barn.  It is a pretty standard specimen.  Though, it is quite morbidly obese.  Leah refers to it as "Marbles."  It seems too fat to be any real threat to anyone, but I keep a close watch as everyone knows that Catawampi are closely related to dragons.  Though they devolved away from the ability to fly and breath fire many epochs ago, they are still able to make themselves invisible.  Perhaps the best known Catawampus of all time is the infamous Chesire Cat.  This Marbles disguises itself as a cat also.  They can be very dangerous and are known to cause stark-raving-madness in other animals.  Marbles is certainly too fat and lazy to do much of anything other than sleep these days.  

Catawampus

At any rate, you may imagine my relief upon reading Leah's texts and discovering that her father had quite correctly defined "Catawampus."  

So as Dr. Epstein indicated, the Catawampus is:

"Directly inferior to the cloacal fenestration of the New Caledonian subspecies of Platypus is the syndochian nodule commonly called a catawampus ( plural catawampusses, not catawampi)."

Thank you Grandfather.  This is in fact the correct definition of the Catawampus.  They are associated with platypi because they do lay eggs.  However, I must correct Dr. Epstein, because the correct plural is Catawampi. 

But enough of all that.  For all I know Nessarose might be a Catawampus.
If anyone else would like to share a definition of Catawampus, I welcome all attempts ( though of course mine is the only correct one, and should you submit a definition worthy of inclusion in one of my esteemed posts, prepare to have it thoroughly ridiculed!)

Me

Me

This constitutes abuse.  AND YOU ALL KNOW IT. 

 

In case it is not fundamentally obvious to everyone reading....

I have been bathed.  And subsequently shaved to look like a puffy, chubby Affenpinscher.  I should not resemble this dog nearly as much as I now do.

Random Affenpinscher

Where to begin?  Things have been bustling these past two weeks and there has been no time to write.  This was further complicated by my minor foot injury which has Leah in a paranoid state of distress. I am perfectly capable of nursing my wound myself with frequent licking.... But Leah insists on constantly examining it.  She feels it has gotten quite worse since she first noticed it at the time of my last post.  Of course it 'tis but a scratch.  Nevertheless she and her friend June pinned me down Saturday evening to poke and prod at it.  They then rubbed ointment into the puncture and wrapped and bandaged it ( excessively I might add) with gauze and tape.  I promptly removed all these things while they were out to dinner and cleaned the hole thoroughly with my tongue.  The rest of the weekend involved phone calls to Grandma and other friends about taking me to the vet on Monday morning.  Having overheard these discussions I licked my wound vigorously Sunday into Monday and luckily it had shown great improvement this morning.  Upon this mornings examination,  Leah showed a great deal of indecision about the trip to the vet. She photographed my foot repeatedly.  Spent many minutes on the phone with her friend Amy ( a vet) and today put me through the horror of soaking my foot in an epsom salt bath....but no trip to the vet.  Dodged a bullet on that one.
Last week was just one constant state of upheaval.  The old farm house we live in was having some repairs.  On Monday morning a group of men in work boots came in and tore down the living room ceiling.  While debris was raining down from above the farm workers also came in to carry out piles of junk and garbage that past employees have left here, as well as the debris from the ceiling.  This involved a lot of clunking around and the nerve-wracking uncertainty that something might be dropped on my head at any moment.  I therefore spent most of last Monday hiding securely under the bench in the kitchen.  An excellent makeshift bunker from which to observe the goings on but at least have some overhead protection.  Nessarose was so upset she ate two more pairs of Leah's panties.
Thankfully Leah had the good sense to move us out of the house for the rest of the week as the construction continued. We moved in just a couple of miles down the road to her friend Annemarie's.  Annemarie had gone to another planet for work, and we were in charge of the house, the property, and the two dogs and cats.  Nessarose and I are not allowed to meet the cats.  They are confined to a potting shed. Leah forbade us from going inside, insisting that we might disrupt the peaceful calm of the kitty nest. I just wanted to sample the cat poo from the litterbox, but never had the opportunity.
Annemarie's house is a cozy 2 bedroom kind of bungalow on about two acres.  It is nestled against the creek in the bottom of a  kind of gorge.  The lot is wooded and peaceful.  Of course two acres is large enough and I take our responsibilties VERY seriously.  Leah doesn't let us out for long periods of time, so I have to do my best when I am free to mark the territory well (to discourage bears and dragons of course).  She never gives me adequate time to inspect the whole site, and I fear I neglected the corner nearest the head of the driveway, since Leah is constantly calling me back to her whenever I head near the road.  I would ignore her but she has been carrying "canine carry-out" treats in her pockets and coming to call has had its rewards of late!
The house is much easier to patrol, and it has large windows all around which enable me to keep an eye on the outside simultaneously.  I was quite pleased to arrive and find that Annemarie had left me my own water bowl.  She had converted a large mixing bowl into a water dish and labeled it: Man Dog Water Bowl.  Clearly this was for me, since I am the only Man Dog.  Annemarie is owned by two miniature dachsunds, Miranda and Charlotte, or Mimi and CC. They are girls like Nessarose. I was relieved to find my own water dish since I prefer not to share with the females.  Although as the week went on I caught all of them at my bowl at one time or another. The dachsunds have no hair or fur so they are ALWAYS cold.  This is the main reason our walks are so short.  They are so cold they use all their pee at once, and have no interest in marking the property.  All the more reason I need to do my own due diligence.  Clearly Annemarie understands the problem having left me such a large supply of water to convert for marking.  How else can we keep the bears and dragons away?  ( Excellent thinking Annemarie!)
We spend most of our time in the bungalow in the master bedroom.  There is a giant bed. Plenty of room for 3 dogs and Leah (Mimi and CC are so small they only count as one full dog, hence...3 dogs.)  The TV is in the bedroom, so Leah tends to eat in bed. Nessarose and I are fed in the laundry room.  This is because the small weiner dogs are so voracious they might try to fight us for our food, and Leah says they are too tiny for that.  I think it is because she feeds them more meat in their kibble than we get in ours, but I hadn't enough time to prove this.

As I mentioned the bed is enormous! I like to stretch out on the other pillow, although the first two nights I somehow wriggled in my sleep between the mattress and the wall and became lodged there.  I had to be helped out in the middle of the night, it was really quite the embarrassment.  Of course I had to sleep so close to the wall because of the weiners.  As I mentioned they are always cold so they burrow beneath the covers like plump worms. And I do mean they burrow....they wriggle and burrow and squirm around.  I am a terrier lest we forget, and I have to quell centuries of refined high-bred instincts to keep from "going to ground" after them.  Sometimes I grumble just to let them know.  The whole thing makes me uncomfortable.  Anyone who is familiar with the movie "Dune" should understand.  But, the weiner dogs have never emerged from the blankets with their jaws gaping and teeth bared so I suppose they are not as dangerous as the Dune worms. Though a proper man-dog can never be too careful.
Rumor has it I'm getting a haircut on Wednesday.  I hope they leave me some cover for warmth.  This means I am probably having a bath as well.  So much for my lovely patina....

It's been a peaceful week with a conspicuous lack of mischief. There was even a glimmer of the impending springtime when the weather almost reached 60 degrees! Of course I fell through a sharp bit of ice and cut my foot between my first and second toe.  Really no more than a kind of split cuticle, but Leah was quite horrified by it, so I have received lots of extra attention and on Sunday night Leah came home with a hamburger for Nessarose and I to share. Today we had a long nap on the sofa in a puppy pile. I got to lie in the sun in the yard for a long while- my own little slice of heaven. Leah says I have to have a haircut because I am bringing too much dirt in the house. As long as I don't have to have a bath as well. I have escaped bathing these last few months on account of the cold weather and Leah's general apathy.  This has afforded me the opportunity to develop an unusual patina. This carefully built up coating gives me the most wonderful odor. I without a shadow of a doubt smell the best I have ever smelled in all my seven years. A bath would be a minor tragedy at this time! Oh well... I am too contented right now on Leah's lap to plan any great adventures.   Maybe tomorrow.

This is one of my favorite days of the year.  Closing night at the Westminster Kennel Club dog show.... 2011 was the pinnacle of my existence when the elegant beautiful "Sadie" won Best in Show!  Alas....what are we watching tonight?  The State of the Union Address.  Humans. Ugh.
So in the spirit of patriotism-  I submit my own "State of the Union (union of the great and glorious states and activities of the one and only....Hamish McDougall McDuff. )
2013 is off to a fabuolous start.  First we stayed home in New Jersey for the winter, where there has already been a good helping of snow (my personal
favorite) and the weather has remained wonderfully cool.  So much beter than those sticky hot days in Florida!  When there hasn't been snow, we have been blessed with mud, my second favorite. Furthermore I have singlehandedly contained the mouse infestation in the house, so when I am not wet, icy , or muddy, I am certainly comfortable and cozy in the house.  Leah has taken to feeding us a small amount of meat with every meal.  I haven't been bathed in several months due to the cold, so...safe to say we are living in relative domestic bliss.
Foreign Policy and Border Controls:
Here we continue to have some issues.  Our border is poorly patroled and  there are almost no safeguards to prevent outsiders from getting in.  The fence is easy to sneak under, and since Hurricane Sandy pieces of it are still missing. Of course this is not to mention the obvious- Leah never locks the door.  I am forced to remain in a state of hypervigilance-  sounding the alarm at any unusual sound or sight.  Furthermore her late night sneaking around forces me to the only logical conclusion :  She is dating without my permission, approval, or guidance. This has of course been confirmed by my keen sense of smell.  A new man hanging around means new treaties and trade negotiations.  A summit meeting was arranged, and though he stole my pillow, he does give excellent belly rubs.  Of course there should be a large spike in GDB( Gross Domestic Bacon) , since my hunger strike has led to more and more meat appearing in the kibble! Perhaps he will become an ally in my quest to meet Oprah.  Anything is possible.

I've decided to begin a hunger strike. Being a Gourmand like myself, this decision is not undertaken lightly.  However, sometimes it is a dog's only choice. Of course there are exceptions for snacks, and the three major food groups: meat, cheese, and peanut- butter. It's more of a "kibble-strike,"  but in my experience this is the most effective way to show my displeasure and modify the human's bad behavior.  Peeing on the bed is extremely effective as well, but usually results in a number of unpleasant consequences as side effects, so it is best saved for only the most extreme situations. The "kibble-strike" is most effective, since for some reason Leah believes that consuming the kibble in its entirety is essential to our survival.  Kibble seems like little more than a crunchy, salty filler to me....but if I refuse to consume it and appear thoroughly disinterested in the food bowl, Leah is immediately concerned and all attention shifts back to me. Usually I can achieve this simply by hiding out at the manure pile while Leah calls for me endlessly.  Fewer than  10 minutes inevitably leads to extreme happiness at the sight of me coming home to call, and we can fall blissfully into a puppy pile on the sofa.  This week called for something more extreme, since her state of distraction was greater than usual.
Chocolate Cookies.
Chocolate is strictly forbidden for Nessarose and myself.  Leah has been led to believe that chocolate is toxic to dogs and therefore dangerous.  Nessarose did her best to confirm this misinformation as a puppy, by toilet-papering the kitchen in a chocolate induced manic outburst.  Without a doubt the chocolate can have a methamphetamine effect, but Nessarose simply wasn't mature enough to control herself, and she was more than a little bit high.  As usual- the queen of over-indulgence.
Now one might think that Leah would have the generosity of spirit to not openly indulge in the one thing we are not allowed to have right under our noses....Well Sunday afternoon she was not only consuming chocolate, but baking with it!  Chocolate cookies!!  We all know what the house smells like with chocolate cookies baking... then she had the audacity to add insult to injury by putting peanut-butter chips in the chocolate cookies.  Peanut butter.  One of the three major food groups.  Furthermore, the cookies were placed on the kitchen table to cool ( a place Nessarose and I can easily access when not being watched), and then we were forced to follow Leah upstairs and locked in the bedroom with her as though we are not to be trusted.  Imagine that- like common drug addicts.  As though we can't resist the chocolatey peanutbuttery high. (Ahem.  We can't.)
If I refuse to eat my kibble Leah feeds me Pepcid.  As she believes my loss of interest in the kibble is a result of stress induced indigestion.  She feeds me the Pepcid with either cheese or peanut butter....so as you can see, I am getting my peanut butter one way or another.
Sidebar:  She's been out late lately.  Leaving me alone into the night with only Nessarose.  And I can smell there's someone else. I'm going to get to the bottom of this even if I have to give up peanut butter to find out.  If I refuse peanut butter she'll be forced to come clean.
I'll be angry if she's dating without me.  WE date together. I wish to be wooed, courted if you will....  with peanut butter, cheese, and bacon. Preferably all three together at the same time.

I dislike computers. I understand they are a necessary evil of the modern age, and of course without them I would have to find another way to share my thoughts with the world....I feel mind control would be easy to learn.  I'm going to have to explore that further....
Computers.  Human spend endless hours with these machines: Staring at them.  Stroking them. Leah's computer gets more lap-time than I do.  It isn't even soft and fuzzy.  How do they spend hours petting these things when I am right there doing cute as hard as a I can! Sometimes I get one hand on the head while her other hand is typing.  Really?  Who ever got a good belly rub with only one hand?!
Sometimes we have guests.  Leah's friend Cheyenne or June.  They pet the computer all the time too!  All this petting and stroking of a hairless nothing, it's unhealthy.  Just look what it has done to Nessa:  She thinks she's a shoe.
I have to leave now.  If I stop talking and roll over Leah will put the computer away and rub me instead.

Today turned out far better than expected.  It's never good when Leah gets up early. 5AM in the dark...And then she got dressed without putting our collars on.  We are not allowed to go out naked.  Leah is very strict about this.  She says I will slip under the fence and be unidentified and unrecognizable in the ditch without my collar.  This is a major paranoia of hers.  I see no reason why I should end up in the ditch, but Leah is convinced that is the most probable outcome if we are let out in the nude.  So if she gets dressed, and we don't, its a safe bet we are being left.  And this is terrifying. Because there is no way of knowing when the human will return.  She makes lots of promises but her plans often change and we are never notified. Of course Leah like all other humans believes that we are forlorn in her absence out of some overdeveloped attachment to her emotionally.  This is not the case at all.  We are only terrified and concerned because the absence of humans means the absence of food.  After all we are only fed two meals a day with snacks in between.  If Leah leaves us, there are no in-between snacks. This is not so bad for an hour or two, but when Leah leaves early in the morning we could be without snacks for Endless HOURS....She can't leave us any snacks because Nessa is bulimic,  she binges on the snacks and then she vomits (usually behind a doorway where no one is likely to find it for awhile.)  So I took up a place on one of the sofa throw pillows and waited.  Forlorn from lack of food. Leah promised to be home early.  She claimed it was too cold for us to be waiting in the car all morning and promised to be home before lunch.  These things rarely come true but today something truly miraculous happened!  Leah returned home not only before lunch, but she came into the house carrying a small bowl of bacon.   Yes folks....you heard right....B- A- C- O- N.  Crunchy, salty, meaty wonderful bacon!  I firmly believe in extending the forlorness upon the human's return so as to make them feel important, but in this instant it was impossible!  How can anyone be forlorn in the presence of bacon.  It is delectable.  Nessarose of course went bug-eyed wild. We were taken out in the sunshine for a lengthy frolic punctuated with all of the bacon morsels from the bowl.  I had to show some small degree of forlorness when it was explained that the bacon had come from Sir Scott. ( Sir Scott is the food truck guy.  He is at all of our farm horse shows and I am usually assigned to his stand for security purposes.  Sir Scott says this keeps the other hounds away.  He pays me handsomely in bacon for my services.)Of course I was a bit miffed to hear that I had missed an opportunity to work with Scott, but my miffedness melted with the bacon in my mouth. It seems I displayed my displeasure just enough since Leah still sat on the big dog bed with me and stroked my ears, all the while saying what a "poor little forlornling" I was.  Suits me just fine.  I stayed in bed the rest of the day, until we went home to watch football.

Well here I am again. I'd about given up on this blogging thing, and I realize I owe an explanation to those hardy few who've held out these last few years.  I had pretty nearly decided to give up on my writing career....too many failed attempts and no contacts in publishing...it seemed like a lost cause.  However, it recently being brought to my attention that some of you out there seem to enjoy the meanderings of my terrier mind... I thought I would give it another try.  *disclaimer:* expect considerably less enthusiasm- the inevitable result of broken hearts, financial distress, and of course the unstoppable effects of aging.  Cynicism  being the only logical conclusion I challenge all of you out there to try renewing my optimism. Not likely as there was precious little of it to begin with.

I begin with a brief summation of the past 3 years: Ed left us.  I guess he didn't throw us out in the street, but we had to leave. Myself, Leah, and Nessa, and all the horses.  And Leah made it very clear we wouldn't be coming back. No more early morning pond swims.  No more dragon hunting in the yard.  There were a lot of tears. Leah refused to continue taking dictation and when she wasn't working she was mostly in bed with red eyes.
And then Ithilien failed.  No Ed.  No home. No job.  We fell on hard times.  Leah started selling everything!  There was no money.  We were forced to eat plain kibble.  No cheese, no meat....Leah ate kibble.  Revel was forced to get a job. He lost his health insurance and all his retirement benefits.  Leah said he had to become a seeing eye dog, so that half blind half rabid amateurs could pretend they know how to ride, and would pay him for his help.  He was sent away to try and make his fortune.  He sends money home whenever he can, but it has never been much.  Of course he's getting older too.  Turns out though, he's pretty good at being a seeing eye dog.
So Leah took a job working for other horsey people and we relocated to the planet New Jersey. Leah said New Jersey is dirty, and full of bad drivers, but I like it here.  Of course Leah and I define "dirty" differently and I don't drive....

The days of Venison Jerky and lounging on the porch had come to an end.  Then there was Robbie and his dog Coolige.  Followed by the strange policeman who never did figure out how to pick me up the right way, but he did make delicious food.  And Leah sold the truck and trailer!  Now she has a fancy car and Nessarose and I are only allowed in it when we are clean or swaddled.
Working for other horsey people has its ups and downs.  Mostly downs since I don't have my own farmette to frolic on daily anymore.  Especially following the "cat incident."  Another one of Nessarose's major blunders, for which I am still paying the price. I'll tell that story another time. We live under a sort of house arrest, but Leah lets us frolic as much as she can. On sunny days I bask in the sun on the back porch and its almost like being on the porch at Ed's surveying my terrierdom.  We're back to having cheese and meat with our kibble.  So life goes on.  Revel wrote home to say he's getting a big promotion soon.  But Leah adopted a new sister for us.  Another horse.  Sombra. She doesn't know how to do any work yet. She's quite beautiful, so I figure if we get into trouble again I'll just pimp her out.