Cartoon Dog

Effers are driving me crazy around here. I sometimes think I am hallucinating and seeing effers when they aren't really there! You want to know why I think this is happening to me? I'll tell you. Cabin fever. It has been raining like an Orange Effer peeing on a fence top, and I have not been getting my walks. I bet that damn Orange Effer has been doing rain dances just to make me mad and frick with my routine!

We're watching "Olivia" which is a cartoon about a pig. Pardon me whilst I roll my eyes back into my head. Who wants to watch a cartoon about a pig named Olivia? I think a cartoon about a dog, for instance, a dog named Howard, would be much more enriching for young toddlers. It could include a nemesis, for instance, an orange cat named Orange Effer, that would teach the little ones how to settle differences and put effers in their place. Brad thinks the idea is a bit ridiculous, but I think that is just what the kids of today need to learn.

All of the cartoon dogs I can think of are just too soft or stupid. Howard the cartoon dog would be tough, highly intelligent, and shiney-coated and magnificent!

Very Important Pooch

Dearest Reader of Mine,

I apologize that I have not been updating my dog blog lately. I am at the mercy of a couple of humans to do my typing for me, and they have their heads up their, ahem, excuse me. They are busy.

I don't know what has happened to Orange Effer since the photo shoot in the park. Apparently word must have gotten out that I am hot on his trail. He knows he over-stepped his boundaries with me. He knows...and is scared like the little Orange Effer he is.

Christmas is coming and I hope Orange Effer gets a lump of coal in his stocking. I bet Orange Effer does have a little stocking on some mantle in some idiot's house. Probably some dog hating person. Probably his owner is the UPS Effer, or maybe the FedEx Effer, or the Water Effer. Maybe all of those Effers live together in their own little Effer Family. "Hi, We're the Effers!"

Well, I'll be updating again soon. Not to worry. I am sure this coming year will bring plenty of blogging opportunities.

Sincerely,
Howard, Shiny-Coated Magnificent Bastard
VIP (Very Important Pooch)

Orange Effer, Mall Cop

I just grab the SD card...
pick it up with my mouth...
stick it between my toes and pop it in the card reader.

That, my friend, is how I do my blog posts. I highly doubt Orange Effer could do a blog. He doesn't have the wits that it takes. You never hear about bomb sniffing Orange Effers, do you?

No, you don't.

I could get a job with Homeland Security, and do a better job than they are doing by the way, but Orange Effer couldn't even get a job as a mall cop.

I'm bad, I'm bad, I'm really really bad!

Oh, wait, maybe I shouldn't be singing like Michael Jackson. Not very tough. I am a mean, shiny-coated, magnificent bastard. I eat thunder and crap lightning!

Photo Shoot

Orange Effer mugging for the camera

Orange Effer, probably cracking up with laughter at this point, telling Brad, "Hey, get one of me like this!"


That damn Orange Effer had a gay old time in the park
with Brad. Yes, I said gay. The nerve of this cat is limitless. I don't even begin to have the words to describe my fury upon discovering these pictures on Brad's SD card. I am sure Brad thinks it is hilarious to have a photo shoot with Orange Effer in the park, but I am not humored! I'd like to have a shooting range with Orange Effer.


What is next? The water man over for coffee? The UPS effer over for dinner?

I AM HEATED!

Another One Shocks the Pooch!

Well, Junior has a bark collar. He tried to start a fight with me through the fence, and it stopped before it got started. He barked and yelped. Yep...and I think it is because of one episode late Saturday night that involved the police. Junior was barking his fool head off for over an hour, when Julie had had enough. Don't mess with her. She has been laying down the law around here, but that's another story. Anyway, she called the non-emergency number, and asked if there was anything that could be done about a barking dog whose owners did not seem to be home. Apparently there is, and it is as if that damn Junior KNEW Julie was calling the cops on him, because he shut his mug instantly. To be honest with you, Junior is the Chuck Manson of the dog world. I wouldn't go spreading this around, but he is one messed up puppy, and I may or may not have seen a swastika on his forehead. Okay, maybe not, but still, he is cah-razy!

Funny, how these pooches that start fights with me through the fence all end up with bark collars. Kinda makes me feel bad, because, really, I could back down but choose not to. Hmm, oh well, I'll get over it!

Pelosi Effer

Flags Flying Over the London Bridge in Lake Havasu

Thank God the elections are over, and thank God I will no longer have to see that Pelosi Effer's squirrely, sourpuss face constantly on the news for awhile. There is only so much of that woman even a dog can take!

Moving right along... I think Pelosi hatched Orange Effer from an egg! I wonder what Drudge would say about that??? I think he would go along with it personally.

Itty Bitty Doggie Committee

I got in trouble tonight. I snatched a cookie right out of Julie's hand that she was getting ready to eat. She was heated! Do not get between Julie and a cookie. I should know better, but I like peanut butter too! If anything, she should be thanking me for the calories I saved her. I get no appreciation though, just a "HOWARD! NO! NO! BAD BOY!" Pfffttt!

Brad took the baby effer to the park this evening after our walk, and apparently all of the action happened then. Why couldn't it happen on my outing? Why??? According to Brad, Orange Effer was prancing around the park like only an Orange Effer could, acting all fluffy, bad, and orange. I swear Orange Effer has an overinflated sense of ego, and probably thinks he is a tiger. Well, guess what? A little white poodle chased Orange Effer across the park. I was dying while Brad told the story. What I wouldn't give to see that in replay. An itty bitty white poodle. Take that Orange Effer. You've been whooped by a miniature doggie. Woof!

Calico Effer

I met a new effer today. Allow me to introduce you to Calico Effer. I need to get a picture of him, but Calico Effer is new to the neighborhood, and received the baptism of the Church of Howard of Latter Day Pooches this morning. I scared the devil out of Calico Effer when he was prancing across my fence like one Black Effer used to do. See the picture above.

Calico Effer doesn't seem to have the balls that Orange Effer does, so therefore is not a challenge for me. I do like a good challenge. Especially at 5 a.m. when all the neighbors are sound asleep and my ear piercing bark slices through the thick dark air like a tornado warning siren. Heh. It serves right, the bastard dog owners who live around me and don't take good care of their pooches. I hope it wakes them up and sets their day off to a rip roaring good start!

Anywho, unlike Orange Effer who will hiss and put up a good fight, Calico Effer got lost real quick like. I didn't get that good of a look at him, but what I did see was pure evil catness. You read me right, pure evil catness. Pure. Evil. Catness. Is there anything worse? I don't even think the Al Queda Effers are as bad as cats. Uh...maybe I'll have to rethink that, but cats rank up there.

Code Orange

That damn baby effer likes to throw shhh...stuff at me. It really kind of gets under my fur that he thinks he can come into this house and take charge. I have news for you baby effer, this is Howard's kingdom. That being said, I have been growing more fond of him. Julie caught me napping in front of his crib while he chirped and played, so my tuff dog cover has been exposed. I watch over him while he plays, just to make sure he doesn't hurt himself. King Howard has a job to do, you know, and I would not be a good king, or dog, if one of my humans hurt themselves. I am not a complete bastard.

Orange Effer has been out and about. He is a man about the town, and he is getting on my last damn nerve. I see him, I hear him lurking, and I smell his Orange Effer stench. To this day I still have not bared my teeth at him. Oh...I will. You know I will. It is just a matter of time until I scare all of the orange off of him. Then it will be a code orange by golly, because Orange Effer will need CPR and a shot of epinephrine to restart his cold orange heart.

Code Brown

A picture from a few years ago. I have always loved the trash can.

Well, well, well. I am just about sick and tired of the shhh...sugar I have to put up with around here. Now in the mornings I have noted a new routine. Baby effer cries...Brad or Julie get up and change his diaper while I have to hold my bladder until they are done.

Sonofabiscuiteater! I have a geriatric bladder. I told Brad this morning, and believe me, I did not mince words, that I MUST be first priority with morning toileting duties. Is that too much to ask? The baby effer is wearing a diaper! Would they rather clean my pee off of the carpet? Or worse yet? A code brown, as Julie calls it in the hospital.

I better not push the issue too hard, or they will start putting a diaper on me! Orange Effer would have a hayday with that!

Effers of Fire!

I think Orange Effer has a baby. I met baby Orange Effer in the park tonight. Well, let me say it was not a formal "How do you do" meeting, but a "I'm gonna get you effer if you don't run" meeting. Do you expect any less from me? Heh.

I was on a leash, and Brad humored me a little and we ran after baby Orange Effer. You should have seen it. A tall thin white guy and a fat, old black dog running through the grassy park like the Chariots of Fire after one baby Orange Effer. I think I surprised myself, and Brad too, at how fast I was. I know I surprised that damn baby Orange Effer! He did not expect portly old me to run like the wind was under my tail!

The young baby kitty got away. Brad and I are not as young as we used to be. That's for sure! I'm going to have to go get some of those glucosamine tablets that my most favorite (and only) reader of this blog recommended. I don't know who you are pal, but I sure like your comments!

The other baby effer of the human variety likes to imitate me drinking out of my bowl. I am wondering, is he mocking me? That baby chirps around here like he is a damn parakeet, and carries on like you would not believe. Oh well, Brad has cut back on my food and snacks a little, but baby effer keeps slipping me an extra ravioli or two from his high chair.

Medicine for the Soul

This is the kind of crap that gets pulled on me these days. Apparently I am not "trustworthy" enough to be around the baby effer.


My left back leg is hurting mighty bad tonight. It started after my evening walk. Let me put it into perspective. It did not keep me from putting the smack down on Oreck when Julie vacuumed, but it did keep me from caring when Duece Jr. wanted to fight. I have to pick my battles in times like these. Oreck I can handle. Duece Jr. is a bit much. She is a brick house! Too much for this old man sometimes.

Brad always does something for me when I am hurting or acting like I do not feel well. He gets a bottle of "medicine" (it could be a bottle of white out or super glue) and acts like he is putting it all over me. I know he is full of crap, although he thinks he has me convinced, but it is his healing touch that matters. He doesn't even take the damn cap off the bottle. I Howard am no fool!

Baby boy has been trying to work his way onto my good side. He has learned that if he throws food on the floor, I come over and lick it up. Not a bad arrangement, but he better not take my Brad from me!

I Smell an Effer at My Door

I smell an Effer at my front door!

Why yes! There is an EFFER AT MY DOOR who is KNOCKING and RUNNING!!!

Damn UPS Effer!

I overheard Julie telling Brad that she saw Orange Effer in the backyard chasing lizards. She said he was making a lot of noise doing it and was surprised that I did not hear him and go bezerk.

The truth is, I did hear Orange Effer. I heard him, smelled him, and controlled myself. I want Orange Effer to think the coast is clear, and then rip him a new one when he is not expecting it. Is that good strategy or what?

Yes. It is.

Volleycat with Orange Effer

Dammit Brad! Take the baby back.

Yes, the baby still lives here. He eats and poops more than I do. Brad and Julie had it made when it was just the three of us. That baby likes to try to come be my buddy, but I will not have it.

It is bad enough that I have to share my walks with the baby effer.

Still no Orange Effer sightings. I have been wracking my brain wondering what has happened to that damn bastard. This morning at 4 a.m. when Deuce Jr. was barking and body slamming the fence, I got excited. My heart was racing and my veins were bulging with the excitement that quite possibly Orange Effer was sitting on the fence tormenting Deuce Jr. My mind raced with the possibilities. Deuce Jr. and I playing volleycat over the fence sounded mighty damn fun.

That was all squashed when Julie hissed at me and threatened my life if I barked and waked up the baby effer.

It was too good to be true anyway. Julie let me out and there was nothing out there. Just Deuce Jr. being her typical psychotic self. I would have started fighting through the fence with Jr. but Julie was threatening me with the water hose if I did. I hate the water hose.

Baby Effer

Various Effers at the Petting Zoo

Pumpkin Patch - Half Moon Bay, California

My day was pretty uneventful, but the little pumpkin got to go to the pumkin patch. It is just as well. He has a walker now, and drives that thing like it is a German tank. He rolls over carpet, toys, me, and takes no prisoners. I am beginning to think he is an effer. A baby effer, but an effer no less.


Brad and I stayed home. Brad had to work most of the day, but took me on a walk when he got home. I fell on my walk. Apparently I am a fall risk. Julie says if I were her patient she'd put a bed alarm on me so that I wouldn't get out of bed by myself. Whatever. It sucks to get old. It sucks to get old and have a baby effer chasing you around in a walker. Thank God Brad and Julie try to keep baby effer away from me as much as possible.

First Words

Brad took the baby and me for a walk together last night. Julie was at a meeting. Let me just say, Brad is not too coordinated, and it was a scene at first. Admittedly, I did not make things easy for him, but what am I to do when a little rat dog is trying to one up me and a kid on a skateboard whizzes by simultaneously? I will be the first to admit that I do not hold myself together well in the face of triggers like these. I lose all composure and act like a complete bastard. I cannot help myself.

I was thinking today. That baby's first words are going to be, "Howard, NO! Howard go lay down! Howard be nice to the baby!" I wish I could teach that baby a few words, because if I could he would say, "Daddy, go get Howard a treat out of the cupboard immediately! Mommy, let Howard outside to get that Orange Effer!" Something useful.

I have to admit, I do enjoy it when that baby cries at 3 a.m. and Julie and Brad have to get out of bed to investigate the situation. Sweet justice is what I am talking about!

I need a vacation to Monterey. I deserve a vacation after all of the BS I have been putting up with lately. Maybe Orange Effer got to go to Monterey, and I will see him on the beach?

Update From Romper Room

Just an update from Romper Room. We have a 12 month old little boy now. I like this kid and am actually behaving myself. Somewhat. He was pretty traumatized when he got here, it broke even my hard heart. If I have to share Brad, at least it is with this cute little guy.

Duece Junior is one crazy maniac. She is getting aggressive, and I don't even go near the fence when she is there. One of these days she WILL come through the fence. It shakes like the big one is coming when she throws herself against it. I bark at her from afar...just to let her know I am still boss of this backyard. She has not dug into my backyard again.

Orange Effer has not been around lately. I miss him when he is gone. He keeps me entertained. Point blank, Orange Effer gives my life purpose, but at least I have this new little fella to keep my eyes on. He may have pooped his pants, so I am strongly encouraging Julie to get off of here and check him. If you know what I mean.

Little Princesa

A baby Sand-dollar is okay to bring home; a baby human is not.

The baby is gone. My prayers were answered. Friends of the mom wanted her. Brad and Julie are sad. I am not. I am quite relieved and not ashamed to be thankyouverymuch! That baby wore me out, and took years off of my life. Plus she used to make this "Schht, schht!" sound at me like she was that effer the dog whisperer. I don't think so little princesa!!!

I am 12 years old. Brad and Julie cannot be pulling crap like this on me, but I have a feeling they will again. I hope to have a reprieve though.

Yesterday they went off and left me for Monterey. They thought they could escape the valley heat, but no no no...it was hot over in Carmel/Monterey too. Humph! Serves them right for leaving me at home. I like the beach. I just don't tolerate the car ride over there like I used to. It sucks to get old.

Not to worry...I will be done punishing Brad and Julie soon.

The Baby Must Go

You would not BELIEVE what my masters have done NOW. They are foster parents. Foster parents to (their words) the most adorable toddler ever with soft curls and big brown eyes. She is 17 months old and the bane of my existence.

My kingdom has come crashing down around me. This must what be what it felt like for Julius Caesar when Rome fell...or whomever was king then. I'm a dog. What do I know? Not much about world history, I'll tell you that much.

My living hell started last Thursday, and it has not gotten any better. I don't like that sweet little cherub at all. She has usurped my power and authority and taken most of the attention away that I have enjoyed for the last 12 years of my life.

Julie talks to her in a sing song-y voice all the time. Brad plays with her. He plays games with her and tosses her in the air and makes me not only jealous but a nervous damn wreck. I mean, what if he throws his back out?

You thought I'd be nervous about the baby?

No, no, no.

The baby needs to go.

I am up to two walks a day now. Sometimes I go into Cujo mode and must be put in the bedroom or outside by myself. It sucks. I am a mess right now. Julie and Brad are nice people, but this is extreme. They are out of their ever loving minds. I thought cats were bad, but babies are worse. Way worse.

SIDE NOTE: I spotted Orange Effer in the park last night. I thought that effer was dead. No such luck.

Sir Barks a Shock

The water man came by again. I can't handle that effer. He knocks and runs every single time.

Junior is about ready to knock over the fence. Poor Junior. She runs and jumps up on the fence, and knocks and bangs around in her backyard like damn bull. Junior is bored, and Junior is often bored at 2 and 3 a.m. It wakes me up and ticks me off! Then I have to bark and then Brad and Julie wake up and they get ticked at me. It is a vicious cycle these days. It is worse than when Orange Effer used to prance around at all hours.

Speaking of Orange Effer...I have not seen his evil face in quite some time. He must have learned not to mess with me. Good.

Sir Barks a Lot, is now Sir Barks a Shock. I have not heard even ONE peep out of him. He doesn't even try to fight me through the fence anymore. This is a travesty! They have squashed his spirit!!! I fear for my neighbor friends. What kind of people get dogs and just throw them out in the backyard? I would tell you, but it would not be politically correct.

Julie is recovering well from her surgery. Brad has not had any further fainting spells. That is good too, because I do not know how to do a code blue. All I can do is bark and lick and worry. What do they call that? A code Lassie?

Julie was reminding Brad of a funny story about me when I was a puppy. I was born during the hot months in Arizona, and when I would come in from doing my business outside. I would put my front paws in my water bowl and splash them around. Smart little bastard I was even back then! Just looking for a way to cool my paws, or puppy paddies, as Brad calls them.

Old Spirituals

I have a problem. Every single night of the week, I lose my manners and toss my doggy school education out the door. I practically throw myself on the floor and cry and pitch a hissy fit like you can not imagine.

I cry.

I whine.

I pant.

I itch.

I beg.

I bite.

I lick.

I bark.

Rinse, lather, repeat!

And Julie has taken to singing old spirituals to me, like this one:

Nobody knows the trouble that I've seen
Nobody knows my, my sorrow
Nobody knows the trouble that I've seen
Glory hall- glory hallelujiah!

Big Dog

What the fudge is going on in this world? THIS is how I found Junior in my backyard AGAIN. Look at Junior all kicked back in the shade of my flowers...probably pretending to be ME! Now Brad is mad, because Junior came dangerously close to his precious pumpkin he is trying to grow. Before that he was all, "Be nice Howard!"

Thanks Brad.

Something else that has me bothered. Someone knocks on my door, I bark. Simple as that. Brad opens the door, and the effer standing there says, "Wow! That is a big dog!!!" I like to be intimidating, and I know my ferocious presence has something to do with them thinking I am big, but I am not huge for heaven's sake! They make me out to be some gargantuan bull-mastiff or St. Bernard. I am only 86 pounds for crying out loud! I'm just a little feller compared to some, but now I feel all self-conscious about my size.

You know what it is? I will tell you what it is. Since moving to California I have never seen so many damn chihuahuas, wiener dogs, and shih tzus. No wonder these people think I am huge!

Nubz

You know I love my treats! I could not live without them, and a great portion of my day is spent thinking of ways to get more treats. I need more treats, especially treats like Nubz. Delicious? Yes. Good for me? Yes. Help my breath? Yes! Brad and Julie should be handing these to me right and left!!!

Here is the product description:

Dogs love Nubz Dental Treats! Made of highly digestible natural ingredients, vet-recommended Nubz treats help clean dogs’ teeth, promote fresh breath and healthy gums, and reduce tartar. Made in the USA, Nubz are made with real chicken, with no added sugar, salt, or preservatives.

Did you see that? Made in the USA? Even more reason for them to give me Nubz treats! I'm an American dog, and I favor treats made by Americans.

Product Features:

• Natural

• Made in USA

• Helps clean teeth, freshens breath, and reduce plaque and tartar build-up

• Highly digestible

• Made with Real Chicken

• No added sugar, salt, plastic, or preservatives

• 18 Large size bones can break into 36 smaller treats; ideal snack size

• Gluten-free formula

• DOGS LOVE THEM...and so does HOWARD!

Where to find:

• Costco monthly coupon book (Costco members)

• Coupon value is $3.50 (GREAT price!)

• Valid August 19^th – September 12^th (Hurry while supplies last!)

Go get your pooch some of these treats!

Meet Deuce, Junior

Sucks to be you Junior!


What do you make of this scene? I'll tell you what I make of it! Hogwash!!! A bunch of hogwash! Here is the story:

The old Deuce dug himself out to the free world, from his hellish existence, and who knows what happened to him? A pitbull running loose doesn't really stand much of a chance. Sad, but true.

So what do the effers who live behind us do? They bring in another Deuce.

Meet Deuce, Jr.

It did not take Junior long to find out that my backyard, and my life, is paradise. Junior wants a piece of the pie! So he dug a hole to my backyard, and I swear I could hear him singing the "Jefferson's" theme song as he dug each hole. So far three holes to be exact.

Don't get me wrong, I do feel sorry for the guy, but not to the point I'm gonna let him hone in on my life, my territory, my piece of paradise! No way Jose, I mean Junior!

Howard Time

After a long exhausting day of napping, I mean keeping the house safe, I like to come alive at 5 p.m. I call it, Howard Time, and it is the best time of the day! Why is the best time? It is dinner time, walk time, and snackin' time!!! If at least two of those things do not happen, then it is bitchandmoantime!

Right now I just finished my dinner, and I am looking at Brad for my walk, and he is telling me that it is too hot. Unacceptable. Completely unacceptable. I think I may start throwing my weight around.

Code Blue

Costume can be purchased here.

I am alive and well. Brad and Julie have had a tough time, but I am doing just great.

Julie had a surgery, and Brad passed out at the hospital and had a code blue called on him. Don't worry, they are both fine now. It's just that when Brad went to visit Julie in her hospital room, he got a little queasy. Julie told him she'd be alright if he needed to go home, but he thought a walk would do him just fine. He was gone for no more than 2 minutes, when Julie heard a code blue called overhead.

"Code blue, coffee cart! Code blue, coffee cart!"

Brad passed out cold.

He recovered quickly but was whisked off to the ER for evaluation, and Julie ended up being released and was home before Brad. I overheard conversation about Brad wanting to leave against medical advice, and Julie putting a halt to it.

I tell you, the things that happen when I am not around! And they wonder why I get so upset when they walk out the door all smiles saying, "We'll be right back!" Code blues can happen! I don't really know what a code blue is, but it doesn't sound good.

No Treats From Obama

I don't care what side of the political fence you are on...this dog is almost as good as I am. He's just younger is all. I could have learned that trick too.

If we don't laugh at life once in awhile, what else is there? Stress, misery? Heart attacks? Strokes? No thank you.

The Vet

Where are you taking me, Brad?

The park? No, I don't think so because we live across the street from it.

Damn, it's the vet, isn't it?



I had to go get a rabies shot. The scale of shame said I gained 2 pounds. The last time I weighed 82 lbs. and this time I weighed 84 lbs. "Water weight." Heh heh. The vet said that on a scale of 1 being extremely underweight, and 10 being extremely overweight, I was a 6 or 7. I'll take that, and a snack too!

In fact they gave me snacks while I was there. "Here fat boy, have a snack!" I waddled right over and gobbled 'em down too. There is NO shame in my game.

I was good boy. I liked the doctor A LOT. I don't know what it was about the guy, but he was okay in my book, and I am one judgmental dog as you may have figured out by now. Either I like a person, or I do not, and I pretty much know that after the first meeting.

The staff there kept calling me Houdini. Uhh??? I couldn't help but look at Brad with desperation in my eyes hoping that the staff realized that I am Howard, and not Houdini, before they made a mistake and amputated my tail or leg or some horrible operation. I did NOT want to come out of that place with another damn cone on my head. Can you blame me?

Brad reassured me it was because I kept slipping out of my collar, not mistaken identity, and that I was only there for a shot (as if that is not bad enough).

In my recent experiences, if shot = no cone, I can live with that.

Brad Had an Effer

My Main Man

Brad was recently telling Julie of when he was about 6 or 7 and his parents got rid of his cat because it had ring worm, and he prayed and prayed that he would get his cat back. His parents had purchased some land in the country, and his family went out to see it, and lo and behold his kitty cat walked out of the woods. He praising the Lord until his parents told him that the cat turned wild and he couldn't have it back.

I'm sorry, but Brad's parents are MY HEROS. Can you believe that Brad had his very own effer as a child? Thank God his parents had the good sense to turn his life around at that tender age, or where would I be right now? I might not even have this dog blog!

Yogi and Boo Boo

Tuolumne Meadows in Yosemite, where my masters were WITHOUT me yesterday.

I cannot believe Brad and Julie went somewhere so beautiful without me. They mentioned some sort of cockamamie story about dogs not being allowed in the park and off they went like a couple of jet-setting fools.

I would have protected them from Yogi and Boo Boo while they ate their pic-a-nic lunch. I would also have bellyached the entire trip. I'm old. It's what I do.

I stayed at home and licked my boo boos all day long. Licking my boo boos is something I cannot do as much when Julie is home, because it drives her insane. If I do it in the dead of night when I think she is asleep, she will wake up long enough to hiss at me, "NO BOO BOOS HOWIE!" I stop licking of course, but only after I let out a long sigh to let her know I do not appreciate her reprimand.

Words I Love

Obedient Little Fella Even Back Then

Words I know:

Beach
Birdie
Mouse
Mission
Orchard
Seal
Cows
Home
Truck
Bye Bye
Julie's Home
Brad's Home
Stay in the yard
Let's go
Up
Stop
No
Quiet
Go night night
No barking
Kitty
Meow
Arr arr arr (seal bark)
Down
Ball
Get 'em
Duck
Get more (when they want me to drink water)
Ice
Treat
Did Timmy fall in the well?
Be nice
Are you hungry?
Do you want a bath?
Get in the tub!
Walk
Go be a good boy (when they want me to relieve myself)
Get in the house
Good boy! (that's my favorite)

The Dingo Ate Yo Bay Bay!

I am just speechless. Speech...less.

Is this pooch some kind of mixed breed dingo, who is a little off his rocker? Is he trying to make up for the bad press dingos got from the Meryl Streep movie, A Cry in the Dark? "The dingo ate yo bay bay!" I don't know, but whatever the case, I continue to be speechless.

Pooch Power

Last night I think Julie considered sending me to the pound. I'll admit it. I was naughty. I was one naughty, shiny coated magnificent bastard last night.

There is no shame in my game. None.

I was on effer watch all night long, because one Black and White Effer kept all the pooches in the neighborhood stirred up. It was a night where I felt such camaraderie with my fellow pooch neighbors, because we were all in it together. What choice did I have but to disrupt Brad and Julie's peaceful dreams with a dire, this is an emergency, get out of bed and let me at 'em bark?

I did not have a choice. Barking came so naturally as an animal instinct.

Can you believe it? The pure evilness that these kitties harbor in their very beings astounds me time after time. They tease and taunt and enjoy every minute of it, and I had damn well had it this morning when Brad let me out the door.

I may be a little portly, but I can run like a greyhound for approximately 3.2 seconds when need be, and let me tell you, Black and White Effer saw his life flash before his very eyes when he saw me coming. It was like all night long he laughed and mocked me, and said, "come get me fat boy," and I did. I showed him that fat boys can run.

I nicked that Effer's tail. He lost one of his 9 lives. One down, 8 to go!

P.S. Julie has forgiven me.

Howard the Happy Dog

Little Douce is chapping my hide. This guy is crazier than the last Douce. The last Douce tore his dog house down to the ground, and that was bad enough, but this little Douce...I don't know. He bangs and knocks around in his backyard at 2 o'clock in the morning. I mean, I know it is hot during the day, but what are they feeding him to give him so much energy at such an ungodly hour?

It sounds like he is throwing himself against the fence over and over and over again. Poor little fella. I know young pups have lots of energy and require lots of love, walks and attention, and little Douce gets none of that. I Howard, would not tolerate that. I would not last one day in those conditions.

Why, why, why do people want a dog to leave outside and never love on?

Get a cat that does not require as much affection.

Kitties + big bowl of food + water + litter box - attention = Happy Effer

Dog + big bowl of food + water + backyard - attention = Sad and Lonely Pooch

If you have a dog, and you plan on traveling with your beloved pooch, then I highly recommend you check this website out.

I'll do anything to keep the dog to cat ratio in balance, and that means more dogs than cats.

Hot Dog

Julie moved her elliptical machine to the back yard so that she could use it in the mornings or evenings when it is cooler, but Little Douce does not appreciate it. Not one bit. Little Douce barks and barks and barks, and quite frankly it puts me in a mood.

Other things that put me in a mood:

THIS HEAT WAVE

I am too old and black coated for a heat wave. Where is the cold, biting wind that invigorates me? Where is the snow that I can shovel around with my nose?

I will tell you this much, it is not here. It is going to be 101 tomorrow, and so help me I WILL go on my walk. I will go on my walk and dream of colder days to come.

At least I will have fresh, ice cold water waiting for me. At least Brad and Julie don't leave me out in the heat to roast like a marshmallow.

Can you believe the hair-brained things people do or do not do to their poor pets? The fact that someone would leave a dog in a hot car in this day and age just rankles me. Why wouldn't people be good to a creature who worships the ground they walk on, and acts like he hasn't seen them in 10 years each and every time they walk through the door?

Brad always says, "Dogs are better than humans..."

A Sweet Moment in Time

Black Kitty has been taking over for Orange Effer. I wonder where Orange Effer is? I hope he is okay.

What was I just thinking? Must be the heat getting to my head. It is soooo hot out there, but it doesn't keep me from getting my walks. Nosiree!

I need a vacation to Santa Barbara. I miss the boat days. When I was a young pup, I would make the Santa Barbara trip with Brad once in awhile. I would ride around with him in his little white Ford Ranger, while he called on his customers. I'd like to say I was always patient and behaved myself, but that would be a lie, and I Howard do not lie.

One of my favorite things to do was sit patiently when someone tried to walk up to the truck to pet me, and when they would get close enough, I would do my best Cujo impersonation. (Insert Mutley the cartoon dog laugh here)

Oh those were the days...I had a great routine. Start the day between 7 and 9 a.m. Stop by Brad's shop, and get a treat and pat on the head from the neighbor who just so happened to be Brad's dad. Drive around downtown Santa Barbara for awhile. Make a trip up to the Mission where I would get a little walk. If it started to get hot after that, I would be really, really naughty so that Brad would know it was time to take me to the boat for a nap.

On the boat, I would nap in the nice cool ocean breeze listening to sails clanging against the masts. The garlicky, sweet smells coming from Brophy's and Stearns Wharf gently scenting the air.

Around 5 p.m. or so Brad would come back and get me, and then take me on a nice long walk along the breakwater. I loved that walk, except on Wet Wednesdays when the yacht club did their racing. The gun shots would always scare me. So would the seals that occasionally swam around in the harbor. I mean, fish are not supposed to bark, right?

Back to the boat we would go, where Brad would grill up something delicious and share it with me. Then we would hang-out on the deck of the boat and watch the sun go down before turning in for the night.

It was heaven for me. A sweet moment in time.

Howard + Fireworks - Walk = Neurotic Mess

I am so glad that we live in California and the freaking fireworks are over for another year. When we lived in Illinois, those damn looney effers would shoot off fireworks almost every night until September. Not the little kinds you light off in front of your house, as if those are not bad enough, oh no, those Illinoisans would shoot off big, light up the sky, make me think I am in Baghdad, fireworks.

Must of been a Blagojevich thing. Talk about a looney effer! Don't get me wrong, I did love Illinois and the lush green lawns, and snow, oh the snow. All the snow ALMOST makes up for the fireworks, but fireworks are in the forefront of my mind at this time so please excuse the tad bitterness I harbor. You don't mind if I blame it on Blago, do you? Better than the innocent people of Illinois, right?

Anyhoo...I did not get a walk last night, because I was waaaaayyyyyy too riled up.

Howard + Fireworks - Walk = Neurotic Mess.

It was a night made in hell I tell you! Yes, you heard me, HELL.

Brad made up for it tonight though. He took me on a nice long walk, in the heat no less, and I am all tuckered out and ready for bed. I love my naps, and I love my peaceful nights sleep without the disturbance of fireworks.

Heat Wave

It is freaking hot here. Freaking HOT I tell you. The heat really puts a cramp in my style. You would think I had been born in Alaska, and not in Arizona, but nevertheless, heat is not my friend. I bellyache like a fat bastard when I have to be out in it for very long.

Brad LOVES the heat. So he says, but guess who came home from work a big bear today? Not me, not Julie. BRAD.

I love Brad. He is my bud. HOWEVER, I do not feel sorry for him, because you know what he does to me? He turns the AC up to 80 while he is gone!

Exsqueeze me? I am black. I have a fur coat. If I could sweat, you would see big puddles all over the floor. Sure, he leaves the ceiling fan on for me, but couldn't he turn the air down to 68 degrees or something?

I don't ask for much around here.

Okay, don't laugh at that.

Agendas

You know, there is something nice about getting older. It is harder for Brad or Julie to get mad at me. I can get away with murder most of the time. Even swallowing whole chicken bones. Please do not misunderstand me. I do not wish to displease Brad and Julie, but sometimes our agendas just don't match up.

What is high on their list of priorities is not necessarily high on mine.

For example:

Julie buys a garbage can with a lid on it to keep me out of it.
I see this as a great way of keeping delicious leftovers nice and fresh.

Julie uses moisturizer to keep her skin soft.
I see this as a delicious frosting.

Brad wears socks everyday to keep his feet warm.
I see taking these socks as a nice way to get Brad to chase me.

(And then get a belly rub after he catches me)

Brad plants something new in the garden to admire.
I use the new shrubbery as another nice territory marker.

I don't know what to do sometimes, but I just have to keep being me. I am Howard, a fine looking pooch, with an agenda of my own. I came into this world a fighter, and I will likely leave this world a fighter.

Chicken Leg Fiasco

The other night Brad and Julie had a rotisserie chicken for dinner. They gave me a few bites, but instead of satisfying me, it made me hunger for more. It was all I could think about. That chicken was my heroine. My mind was reeling on how to go about getting more of it. To Brad and Julie, I may have looked like I was napping, but I was truly scheming, planning, and devising a mental plan.

Soon the moment of attack came. The kitchen was clean. Brad was in the office. Julie was in the laundry room. The garbage can stood like a beacon of hope to my hungry stomach. All I wanted was in that can.

Using my stealth-like ninja skills I silently made my way to the can. My heart was racing. Orange Effer be damned if he made his way by at this very moment. I would just have to write an IOU to deal with his sorry presence later.

Then it all went wrong. Hopelessly wrong. As I opened the lid, the can came crashing to the floor in an explosion of all the hopes I had blowing up in my handsome mug. Faster than Orange Effer can hop a fence, Julie came racing around the corner to grab the chicken leg out of my mouth. I swallowed it whole.

The past 72 hours have been, shall we say, tense around here, but I Howard am here to tell you that I have the guts of a billy goat. Thank God, because Brad and Julie cannot afford more than two surgeries in a year with this economy.

Just My Dog

No picture needed for the words below, because if you have ever loved one of my kind, you will close your eyes and see the beauty of your own best friend.

Thank you anonymous commentator. This poem is too good not to share on my dog blog. My shiny-coated magnificent dog blog. Ahem.

JUST MY DOG

He is my other eyes that can see above
the clouds; my other ears that hear above
the winds. He is the part of me that can
reach out into the sea.

He has told me a thousand times over that
I am his reason for being: by the way he
rests against my leg; by the way he thumps
his tail at my smallest smile; by the way he
shows his hurt when I leave without taking him.
(I think it makes him sick with worry when he
is not along to care for me.)

When I am wrong, he is delighted to forgive.
When I am angry, he clowns to make me smile.
When I am happy, he is joy unbounded.
When I am a fool, he ignores it.
When I succeed, he brags.
Without him, I am only another man. With him,
I am all-powerful.
He is loyalty itself.
He has taught me the meaning of devotion.
With him, I know a secret comfort and a
private peace. He has brought me understanding
where before I was ignorant.
His head on my knee can heal my human hurts.
His presence by my side is protection against
my fears of dark and unknown things.
He has promised to wait for me...
whenever...wherever--in case I need him.
And I expect I will--as I always have.


He is just my dog.

Anonymous Where Are You?

I miss you, my anonymous commenter. Effer drama just isn't as fun to share without your input. I hope you are okay, and know that I Howard am worried about you. Do you have your own effer drama that you need my help with? I am quite intimidating if needed. I am a dog. It is what I do.

A cat wouldn't worry about you. Trust me. And if they did, they wouldn't let you know.

Cats are evil....I'm just sayin'.

C - A - T = Callous And Terrible

D - O - G = Dilligent Obedient Good

Damn I look good in Brad's shirt. In fact, I think I probably look better than Brad does in this shirt. Not that I am bragging or anything, but when you are a shiny-coated magnificent bastard there is no denying it. Facts are facts my friends.

Well, things have been happening around here that are, how shall I say, unsavory. Orange Effer is back with more courage than ever. All I can say is that he must have a death wish. I think he has lost his mind. Seriously, Orange Effer is off his rocker. Get this, Orange Effer has been prancing two inches in front of my glass door on a daily basis. Yes, you read that right, TWO INCHES!

Don't worry, I'm not going to put myself through a glass door or anything. I am not the crazy one. HOWEVER, one of these days that door will be open and then it is curtains for Orange Effer!

Little Dooce is some kind of strange breed of pittbull. I don't know this for a fact, but I think he may have actual bull in him. He knocks around in his backyard so much that I swear one of these days the fence will fall over. I am just waiting for the horns to grow out of the side of his head.

Brad and Julie have some sort of water delivery service nowadays. It baffles me why of all things they would actually want some stranger in a loud, noisy truck drop off huge jugs of water only to knock on the door and then run like a little bastard! This is poor customer service in my opinion. I think the guy should come it, sit for a moment, let me sniff him up and down and make my character judgment. The Schwann company is excellent about this. When we lived in Arizona the Schwann man would come and drop off his frozen goods, rough me up, and give me a dog treat. That man was the next best thing to Brad.

Anyhow, this is my crazy life.

Treat Junkie

I have to admit to something here on my blog.

I have taken to crying and crying to go outside to go to the bathroom, when I really do not have to go at all, in the hopes that I will get a treat when I get back in. Those damn Trader Joes treats must have some sort of drug in them, because I am hooked.

Unfortunately, it did not take long for Brad and Julie to catch on to my stunt. Now most of the time I get an ice cube. The nerve I tell you! Get me hooked on these treats and then punish me when I try to find ways to get more of them!

That annoying effer who lives next door and barks and barks his fool head off day and night has a little hitch in his giddy up. His owners got him a shock collar. I cannot deny that I have had a few chuckles at his bark/yelp, but lest you think I am a complete bastard (although shiny coated and magnificent) I do actually feel sorry for him.

You see, his owners neglect him, and while he may be an effer and the cause of my two blown out ear flaps, my feeble heart goes out to his predicament. You can better believe that I Howard would need a shock collar if Brad and Julie left me out in the elements to fend for myself, and ignored my need for companionship.

Any of you humans out there that are thinking about getting a puppy and showering your love upon the puppy while he is young and cute, and then throwing him out in the backyard to neglect when he is a little older and not as cute and cuddly, think again. My species, while very loyal and rewarding, is a lot of work. As high maintenance as I am, I should know.

QVC Much?

Life is good.

Orange Effer has not been by in quite awhile. The UPS Effer is another story. I think the neighbor may have a QVC addiction, but who am I to judge?

I got a new bag of food tonight, and Julie bought me the most amazing dog treats from Trader Joes. They are organic even...but don't worry, I am never going she she la la. I will always be a shiny coated magnificent bastard who eats thunder and craps lightning. My mouth waters and I cannot stop my tongue from licking my chops when they take one out of the box. It is about the only thing that can make me stop mid-bark.

Never fear, I am always on constant Effer watch and will be bringing you the latest in Effer Drama soon.

All Night Long!

I would like to dedicate this song to Lord Barskalot, because he can bark like Lionel Richie, All Night Long!

Da Da, ooooh
Well, my neighbors, the time has come
(To) raise the roof and have some fun
Throw away the peace and quiet to be had
Let the barking go on....(Bark on, bark on, bark on..)
Everybody bark, everybody howl
Lose yourself in wild barking
We're going to Ba-ark, Howl, Fiesta, forever
Come on and bark along!
We're going to Ba-ark, Howl, Fiesta, forever
Come on and Bark along!

All night long (all night), All night (all night)
All night long (all night), All night (all night)
All night long (all night), All night (all night)
All night long! (all night), Ooh, yeah (all night)

People walking all down my street
See the rhythm all in their feet
Life is good, wild and sweet
Let the barking go on and on...(Bark on, bark on, bark on...)
Feel it in your heart and feel it in your soul
Let the barking take control
We're going to Ba-ark, Howl, Fiesta, forever
Come on and Bark along
We're going to Ba-ark, Howl, Fiesta, forever
Come on and bark along!

Lord Barksalot and King Dooce

I don't understand something. When I bark, and it does not matter the time of day, Brad and/or Julie are on me like orange on The Orange Effer to stop barking. Immediately. I must stop barking or risk severe and harsh punishment. So severe and harsh that it makes me quiver and shake in my boots. I, Howard, risk not getting a treat when I come in the door from outside.

HOWEVER, the barking damn fool next door can bark his fool head off all evening long. He barks and barks and barks and barks and barks and barks and barks and barks and barks and barks and barks and barks and barks and barks and barks and barks and barks and barks and barks until it pisses even me off, and I Howard have the patience of a saint. Quit laughing! I am patient damn you!

Brad and Julie have had it. What should they do? I am seeking your advice for my owners.

In other news, the Dooce Family has another Dooce to ignore and not feed or give fresh water to. The original Dooce got loose and has never been seen again. Godspeed old Dooce. May you be living it up like the King of the Castle you always deserved to be!

Effer World Daily

Sorry. Can't post much today. Busy on Effer Watch hear at Effer World Daily, so I can bring you the latest in Effer News. On the trail/tail of one Orange Effer in particular. That bastard doesn't take me seriously and is requiring more of my special attention.

Water Boy

Brad and Julie have this effer coming to the door every other week. Exsqueeze me? I have to deal with the trauma and stress of hearing him shuffle around outside of my front door, making two or three trips to complete his work, and I HOWARD DO NOT GET TO TASTE OF THE FINE SPRING WATER!!!???

I have just about had it! I tell you, this water effer is worse than the UPS and FEDEX effers combined. He doesn't even have the courtesy to knock and run like the other guys...he just sneaks up and does his work like the sneaky bastard he is.

Gives me a heart attack...

I'm to old for this!

Did Timmy fall in the well?

Lassie and Timmy

Every night I get restless. I need treats. I need fresh water. I need food in my bowl. I need a walk. If one or more of these things are not happening, I throw a little (or big) hissy fit.

Then I start getting comments from Brad and Julie like, "Oh no! Did Timmy fall in the well?" They think this is hilarious. I do not.

If I could speak human, my response would be, "Hell no! I pushed that little effer Timmy into the well!" No offense to the real Timmy...I wouldn't push him into the well, but the hypothetical Timmy would go down.


P.S. No more butt scooting since going back to my old food.

Stink Dog

Julie says I smell like a combination of dirty socks and ass right now. I don't exactly think that is fair.

I happen to have gone on a walk in the rain, and have a little gas issue at the moment. That is what they get for switching my food to name brand junk food, and then back to the good for me expensive stuff.

I was scooting my butt on the floor, and they switched me back to the old food faster than you can say orange effer just fell off the fence!

That would make my day by the way.

So, it is back to bean sprout salad for me, but at least I won't have an itchy butt.

Chill Pills

Chill Pills

Whenever I go outside and come back in, Brad and Julie have me trained like one of Pavlov's dogs to immediately ask for a treat. Or maybe I have them trained like one of Pavlov's dogs? Har har!

Nevertheless, whenever I cannot have one of my delicious meaty treats, I demand one of these precious gems. Since I am such a hyper bastard, my grandpa started calling ice cubes my chill pill and I have to say, he is right. An ice cube is so soothing to me. I lick them, crunch them, and let them refresh my inner beast.

I think Orange Effer could scamper by, and I would just glance his way and give him the, 'what's up' nod as long as there is an ice cube in front of me.

Ice cubes are like doggie Xanax for me.

Oreck Is Not My Friend

DO NOT let this picture fool you! Oreck and I are NOT buddies!!!

I have never been assaulted by the vacuum cleaner, but it is one horrible beast that I will fight until the day I die. I think its name is Oreck, because that is what is plastered all over it. What kind of prick machine needs to have its name all over it? Anyway, Oreck is loud, rude, and demanding of my time. Why, just when I am settling down for a nap in a soft corner, Julie revs the beast up and pushes it around the house, and then I have to get up and show it who is boss.

I'll admit, I dance around and lunge at Oreck like one mean ol' mofo, but it brings out the worst in me. The worst. At least my teeth marks will be on that effer long after I am gone.

Heh. Heh.

It brings out the worst in Julie too, because she thinks she has to scold me. She is so "protective" of Oreck, which quite frankly hurts my feelings. Yes, I do have feelings.

She should be protective of me over Oreck, but she says that Oreck doesn't run after and bite at me like I do him. Huh? Wha? Has she lost her mind? The reason Oreck does not come after me is because I have whipped that effer into submission.

Oooohhh yeah!

Oreck is a wuss, and very very afraid of me.

Chihuahua: A Breed of Barking Rat

Last night I was enjoying my evening walk like I normally like to do, when this freak of nature jumped out at me getting up in my grill like he was going to take me on.

First of all, Chihuahuas should not even be considered a breed of dog. Let's just get that straight. Chihuahuas are rats who happen to bark. Plain and simple.

Secondly, I take craps bigger than most Chihuahuas. How dare this mexican jumping bean hop around me like he is some prize fighter!

Thirdly, I have no beef with taking a chunk out of a little Chihuahua and most Chihuahua owners are, well, how do I put this delicately, high maintenance humans who would freak out and get all emotional and pissy and I just have no tolerance for that.

Here is my advice dear Chihuahua owner: Keep your rat dog's mug out of my grill! Keep them on a short leash when I walk by, and I won't have to bite 'em.

Ceramic Water Bowl

Pure Genius

I don't know what it is, but I just love a refreshing drink out of the ceramic water bowl. Brad and Julie yell at me if THEY forget and leave the lid up. What the H? Do I yell at them when they do their business on my favorite drinking station? Uh, no, I do not. So they should just leave me alone and let me do as I wish. Or...buy me one of these.