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.