Stick

A stick. The joy of many a dog playing in a park. Let's face it, chasing sticks can be a blast if your human has forgotten your other toys at home. But a stick has its place and that place is in the outdoors, at a park or some such place.

At home, I don't want a stick. I want the soft, squishy stuffed toys that squeak when I squeeze them just right. I want fuzzy cloth and cotton stuffing. Not wood or cold plastic or tough rope. While every once in a while I'm grabbed by the mad desire for tug of war, these are not the toys I want to play with.

Why am I denied the simple joy of ripping a stuffed toy to pieces and stealing the squeaker? Yes, it gets a little messy but isn't my own joy the main reason they buy me these toys? Shouldn't my happiness come before the sensibility of what will last?

But no. I get sticks. Life is so unfair.

What?

I like to think I've become adept at reading your words and expressions (for which I get absolutely no thanks, by the way). But now you've said a string of words that has me stumped. I can kind of tell by your generally piercing tone (which hurts my ears ten times worse than yours) that you're upset. But I just can't understand what you're upset about now.

You just keep yelling and pointing and waving your hands around. It's almost like you're a very loud mime. If you'll remember from our previous trips to the park, I do not like mimes. I tend to bite them. I don't consciously decide this; it's just what happens. And having a mime shriek at me just makes it worse. My ears are sensitive you know; I can hear much higher frequencies which means high pitched noises that are nonexistent to you are painful to me.

Oh, and now you're pushing me. I try to tell you I don't like this but my growl is taken as insubordination and I hear one of the worst phrases you have. "Bad dog!" you shriek. I lower my head and try to look as sorry as possible. You stomp away to get another human.

What does "get off the couch" mean anyway?

Snowball

It's a ball! A big white ball and she waves it right in front of me, squealing when I jump on her trying to reach it. "Do you want this?" she asks. Do I want it? Of course I want it! That's why I'm jumping all over you like a kid on a sugar high.

Finally she's thrown it! And I'm running and running after it. I can see and I'm so close. But then it hits the ground and disappears! Where has it gone? Where is it? I snuffle through the snow searching for it, digging for it, but it's not here! Is it magic? Did she trick me and not really throw it? She's done that to me before. But no, I saw it. How is it gone?

She whistles. "Katara, come back, girl." She hold up a hand and she has a little white ball in it! I run over and jump on her again. This time I'll get it. It won't escape again. She lets the ball fly and I chase after it.

Words of the Wordless

Watch and wait.

Wait for the day to come,

wait for the time

when we will be able

to Live

Wait and watch.

Watch the world as it passes.

Watch for the beginning,

for the day when we will be able

to Live

The day when we are free,

the day when we are seen

as equals.

The day we've waited for is coming.

We will be ready.

Say Cheese.

Adorability

I learned early on that my people have nearly no defense against the look of adorability. It is a superpower that only some dogs can pull off. The key is not being pushy or using it constantly. You have to pick your moment or it loses its potency. And not every dog can pull it off. Slightly floppy ears are gold here.

First you drop those ears just enough that your human goes "Aw". There's a trick to this, so I suggest testing it out on your humans before you put the whole thing together. Then you need to get the really sad eyes. But leave a little hope, or the humans just think something is wrong with you. That's not what you want. Trust me.

Then, and here's the important part, hold that look. Do not drop it until they finally cave. And that's why you need to make sure you've affected the proper amount of adorableness. Otherwise you look creepy before they cave and then you'll never get what you want. For advanced students (do not try if you are not good at the basics!) you can ever try a sad little whine. But only once or twice or again, something will be thought wrong with you

So there is the trade secret for all you pups out there. Use responsibly. And remember, practice makes perfect.

Shock Factor

Dear Human,

I know you like to make me tilt my head, which for some reason you squeal over with manic glee. And I'll admit, not much can make that happen as I get old and less easily shocked. Some of your surprising noises have simply become common background. So I suppose part of this could be considered my fault for being unshockable.

But this does not give you leave to dance like that. Please, for the love of god, never do that again. I promise that I will try to act surprised and do that funny tilt if you never ever look that way again. Really this is for the good of everyone, as well yourself.

As a side note, the fact that you keep Barbies on your desk may be part of the reason why you can't get laid. Your dance moves will not help you there.

Love

Your Beagle

Operation Food

Alpha to Beta. Alpha to Beta. Come in Beta. Do you read me?

Affirmative Captain. I have you loud and clear.

Do you have eyes on target?

Affirmative. She has the goods Captain. The delicious, succulent, morsels of--

Easy, soldier. Remember the mission. Stay on point. Gamma, how's our surveillance?

It's good Captain. No one is watching the girl. But they're due back any second. If we're going to go in, we have to do it now.

Hold just a moment longer. Joe, do you have the Gate?

...

Joe, do you read me? JOE!

Oh, uh, what did you say Kevin? I, um, was...uh you know what, nevermind what I was doing.

Joe, were you chasing squirrels again when you're supposed to be on duty?

Um...no?

Dang it, Joe! This is important! And I've told you before, you're supposed to call me Captain!

I know, Kev--I mean Captain, but I swear, I was this close to catching him this time.

If you weren't my brother I'd...*sigh* What's done is done. Let's move on. Do you have the Gate?

Yes. I'm waiting at it now.

Alright men, Operation Food is a go. Deploy!

Is that when I'm supposed to close the gate?

*sigh* Yes, Kevin, just close the gate.

Play Dead

Hey everyone, Bailey here. I was asked to guest today and I'm always glad to help out. I wanted to share this video I did where I was on national TV! And I want to encourage you all to do what you do best. Who knows? Maybe you'll be up there with me someday ;)

Stuck

This seemed like a good idea when I first found it. A plastic cup full of some kind of people food? It's like a treat and a toy all rolled into one! So of course I stuck my nose right in and went to town on that sucker. And oh, what sweet ambrosia was this food. Not quite liquid, not quite solid, but tangy and sweet and delicious! I ate it all, licking the cup right down to the plastic, making sure not to miss a single speck.

Well, then came the problem. I had pushed my nose further into the cup to get the last bit of cream. But when I lifted my nose, the cup was still attached! The plastic rim scratched my muzzle with irregular plastic ridges. I shook my head, hoping to throw it off, but it held strong, not even shifting.

Oh what I would give for opposable thumbs! I tried to bat it off my nose with my paw, but the angle made my swipe weak and ineffective. So I guess I'm just stuck until someone finds me and takes pity on me. I just know when Emily finds me she's going to laugh and coo and take embarrassing pictures before she finally removes it.

I guess there are worse places for my nose to be stuck.

Sunshine

Mmmmm, sunshine. My very favorite type of weather. So very little sun actually appears in my part of the world so when it shows up, I just can't help taking advantage of it. I love to find the brightest square of sun coming through a window and then roll on my back, wiggling around with joy, soaking the light and warmth into every part of my body.

Sometimes my humans groan and shield their eyes, squinting and complaining about visibility. But I love to sit right in a shaft of light and close my eyes, soaking up the warmth of the rays, watching shadows of red gold play over my lids. A form of meditation that makes my mind blissfully blank.

The very best of the sunny times is right after it's rained and then the sun comes out to warm the ground. A few times I've gotten let out for a walk in that steamy, sunny place. The steam rises in wispy, lazy spirals and dance over the earth. I love to chase those trails, catching them in my mouth, surprised every time they disappear. And then I run off on my short puppy legs to catch the rainbows in the street.

Mandy's Dog

Hi! I'm Mandy! I'm just a puppy but my mommy just got me the bestest present ever! This is my dog April. Mommy says I have to walk her and everything but I already love her and she has to play with me whenever I want her to! Say hi April!

Oh god, I am begging you, please save me. She's already mauled me three times and she is constantly yanking on that leash. Plus she jumps on me and attacks my ear. And I just have to take it. If I try to defend myself Wendy says "April" in this warning tone like the puppy is too innocent and weak for me to knock down. That puppy is a menace.

Oh April, she is such a kidder! She loves to play as much as I do! In fact, I think her favorite game is hide-and-go-seek. She always lets me be It and I sometimes search forever before I find her! She is so good at hiding! And she's so quiet when she wakes up, like she doesn't want to wake me. Isn't she sweet?

Yes, it's true. I work very very hard not wake her. Because once she's up...well there's no escape until the reprieve at bedtime, which is oh so very far away. I'm considering taking up insomnia just so I can have some time alone. But with my luck, she would become an insomniac right along with me and then I'd be back to square one. Great. Please, come for me soon. I'm counting the days.

Spin Cycle

I'm never quite sure how I end up in these situations. I mean, a washer? How the heck did I end up in a washer? It's all smooth metal, not exactly easy for me to climb up with my claws and lack of opposable thumbs.

Sometimes, I can blame my odd locations on my owner. George finds it hilarious to place me in odd places and then take my picture. Like the time he took out an old duffel bag and put me in it. He then picked the bag up by the handles and toted me around. "Look!" he said. "It's a bag beagle!"

Yes, master of wit, George is not. But he feeds me and rubs my belly and keeps his daughter Alice from torturing me with make-up and tea parties...usually. And he always throws my stuffed elephant for me to chase in the evening, no matter how many times I bring it back. He never quits until I do.

I just hope he gets me out of here, before he starts his whites. I tried howling for help, but that just made my head hurt as the sound reverberated around the metal drum. Plus there's nothing to chew on in here. Sigh. At least he'll find me by dinnertime...if I last that long.