Chief Executive Effer

"....what if the orange effer was standing right next to the water delivery effer and then the rat dog next door strolled up? all 3 at the same time!!..." ~Anonymous

That right there is the stuff nightmares are made of. Whew. My heart is racing like a fat boy at a five minute all you can eat buffet!

I think I'd have to start with the Orange Effer, because he was probably the one who would arrange such a posse to torment me with. In fact, I am not certain, but I think Orange Effer might be the Chief Executive Effer for the water delivery company. I may have even seen a little orange cat logo on the delivery man's shirt and hat, and that my friend is no hallucination! That is the power of the Orange Effer.

Various Effers

The water delivery effer is coming tomorrow. I can just feel it in my bones, and I will be so ready for him. He probably thinks I am one ferocious dog. Heh heh. Last time he walked away, I swear I saw a brown spot on his shorts.

Orange Effer dared to show his ugly orange face yesterday. That cat is pitiful. He walked right up to the far side of my sliding glass door, waited, waited, and then dashed to the other side like a frightened little fluff ball instead of the evildoer that he really is. I tell you, Orange Effer will NOT be the death of me. Oh he tries, he really, really tries, but, I, Howard, am in control of this battle.

Speaking of battles, the little rat dog next door had his shock collar removed and it is on like Donkey Kong! I fought through the fence this afternoon like the ear blowin'-out good old days. What do I care if I blow out another ear? I'm old...ears are a bonus at my age.

Julie got a new Oreck vacuum cleaner. It is red. I take it as a challenge...it is the red cape, and I am the bull. Oh yes. I will conquer the Red Effer.

Blue Damn Effer

Let me just get something straight here. I don't like that picture either! It is sort of a train wreck if you will. I don't want to look at it. It is disturbing on so many levels, but I can't NOT look at it. Then I just shudder. I am not losing my mind, and I don't need doggie dementia meds yet! But I respect your opinion, my loyal reader, and not to worry, I am not losing my hard edge.

I was just outside, and it is damn cold and foggy. So foggy that I had a hard time with my Orange Effer Radar, but I know he is lurking out there. He has ice running through his veins, so icy is his blood that the cold does not effect him in the least! That is why his fur is a warm color, like Orange, and I bet it is the only thing that keeps that effer alive. Otherwise, he would be the Blue Damn Effer!

Julie saw him darting around the park amongst the children. I don't know, I think those kids were safer when those pitbulls were running around wild and free. I have seen Orange Effers fangs. They are nasty.

I am glad Thanksgiving is over. Those delicious smells that tempt me, and I cannot partake in, damn near do me in. It is getting harder and harder, and Brad and Julie are all, "No Howard, you are too fat already!"

Orange Effer probably gets in my garbage cans and gets to feast off of all the deliciousness that I cannot have. Why that thought gives me indigestion!!!

I'm Back!

You can better believe that this fluffy effer did not kiss me, because she would not have liked my smooch!!!

I am still alive. Brad likes to hijack my website with guest posts for a buck. I don't believe in it, but I am just a dog. I think it is tacky, and Julie agrees with me. Sometimes we just humor him. Brad is pretty good about getting my walks in, so I will allow an occasional indiscretion. As long as some of that money goes toward buying more treats for me...

Orange Effer is still flaunting his evil ways. He comes by these days around 5 a.m. I don't understand why he chooses such a terrible hour, but then again it does not surprise me. I still bark like the devil is at the door, because, well, his representative here on earth is.

I am falling a lot these days, and it is really hard for me to get up, especially when I am on the tile. My hearing is diminshed, but my sense of sight and smell is going strong. Getting old isn't easy, but I'm still enjoying life enough to give the neighborhood effers hell! And the occasional delivery man. Heh heh!

My Artisic Sister

My Artistic Sister

Guest post written by my buddy Aldo Mays

My sister recently decided to open an art gallery in downtown Atlanta. She’s been a “starving artist” since she graduated from college and my parents were less than thrilled when she told them the profession she chose after studying social work for five years at UGA. It took her four years to channel her talent onto the canvas, and I have to admit, she is very talented. She decided to open the gallery after a friend of hers in real estate found her a great deal on a beautiful brick building. She spent months prepping the building and even had an alarm system installed for a decent price that she found on ALLHOMEsecurity.com. She had beautiful lighting and hardwood floors installed, and she’ll be displaying her canvases as well as some pottery made by another local artist. Her opening night for the gallery is on Friday, and our entire family will be there to support her. It took my parents a few years to admit it, but they couldn’t be prouder of my sister’s success.

Rabbits

Way back when I was a puppy I would chase the rabbits during my walks in the desert. During one of my walks a guy walks up to Brad and asks does your dog not like rabbits? Brad told him he just likes to chase them, after all he is a dog. The guy mentioned he had some pet rabbits and needed to know where he could find rabbit hutches for sale. Brad told him he had no idea but he knows where to get heavy duty dog crates. I looked at Brad with the look you better not be putting me into a dog crate. I put up with quite a bit but not a dog crate.
I even once was out with Brad while he was using a sprayer for Round Up and I licked some of it off the grass it had a weird taste and I never did that again.
I still eat grass but not right after he has sprayed Round Up

PITA?

I have been a bad dog blogger. I don't know what is wrong with me. Perhaps my obssession with The Orange One's manuevers? No one can make me as mad as Orange Effer does! No one. He came by my sliding glass door, stopped, and lingered for a moment, and made eye contact with me before darting off. He is a brazen fool!

I am up to Stage 3 on the glucosamine joint tablets. I feel like they are helping me, but WHO makes cherry flavored anything for dogs? They taste like, ugh, I cannot stand them. Brad makes me eat them. Next bottle, he promises will be something more palatable, like liver, cow ass, or chicken lips, anything but cherry. Blech!

This morning, Julie said I was a PITA. Perfect, intelligent, talented, animal? Why thank you! Heh heh. Actually, I think she meant, well, I'll let you figure it out. She was up early for work, got called off, so she stayed up. I took advantage of the opportunity. I wanted outside. I barked like I saw satan in the backyard. I wanted inside. I barked at her for a treat. Then I wanted my water bowl refreshed, so I panted like I had just run a marathon, next I needed food. Let me outside again! I needed to poop. Barked for a treat when I was back inside. She ignored me. She got her toast and coffee and sat down. Well, I needed to poop again, so let me out! Barked at her for a treat, and, again, I was ignored and told to go lie down. When Julie tells me to do that, she has had enough!

At least I know my boundaries. Unlike certain orange felines around here.

Bow Chica Wow Wow!

There is an old man who walks the park numerous times a day. He wears a plaid cotton fedora, and looks like a cool cat. He was probably a surfer dude back in the day, hittin' the waves at Rincon, driving a woody, and dating a girl with a bushy bushy blonde hairdo.

How he ended up in the godforsaken central valley is completely beyond my imagination. Maybe he had a run-in with a shark? That is the only logical explanation. Nevertheless, he walks three different dogs around the park, one at a time, rain or shine, without fail. He walks each dog at least once...sometimes more. They are all red retrievers. There is one hot babe that he walks who carries a toy newspaper in her mouth the entire route. Bow chica wow wow!! I like her.

So when Brad tries to get out of our evening walks, I just give him "THE LOOK." The look that says, "Red dogs owner walks HIS 3 dogs TWO times a day and all I ask for is ONE time a day so get up off of that couch and take me for a walk before I make your life a living hell!"

Oh, and I will too. I will bark and pitch a fit, pant, scratch, turn in circles, scratch, pant, bark, bark, bark, and bark. I have my ways of getting my point across, and Brad knows it! He does.

Bawk, Bawk Black Effer

Brad has been running interference for me, and I am not so sure I appreciate it. Does he think I cannot handle effers on my own anymore? I can. I like to know who is sneaking around my house! How can I be effective otherwise? Brad just doesn't get it. Just because I have bad hips, doesn't mean I can't hop around like a prize fighter for 2.8 seconds! Wat, wat!! You wanna piece of 'dis effers??

Black and White Effer has been showing up more often than the Orange One. Makes me wonder, what is Orange Effer planning? Black and White Effer will sense my presence, or perhaps my vicious barking, and will freeze, stare like the slack-jaw he is, and then dart off, probably to tell Orange Effer what happened. Chicken...bawk, bawk! I always wait to see if he will run through the thorny rose bush, because that would make my day.

Tweet Tweet Orange One!

What is up with Twitter? I just don't get it. Why do humans think it is necessary to Tweet, when they are not birds? Here is my Tweet for the day:

ORANGE EFFER YOU HAVE POOPED IN MY YARD ONE TOO MANY TIMES!

I cannot explain to you the utter disrespect this cat has. If I poop on my walks, Brad or Julie scoop it up with something. If Orange Effer poops in my yard, there it stays until Brad or Julie pick it up. For the love of God, Brad and Julie should not have to do this, but I have to say, better them than me!

The Effer Anti-allegiance Party

FROM MY ANONYMOUS READER:

...and your current fearless leader Prez has a Portuguese Water Dog in the White House....probably an orange effer mole spy...he's setting up a new agency in the Department of Homeland Security: the CEA (Central Effer Agency), a top secret effer intelligence and covert action arm of the New World Effer Order...keep bringing us the Effer World News Report, the price of liberty is eternal effer vigilance.

MY RESPONSE:

You are right! I think I need to form a TEA Party! The Effer Anti-allegiance Party.

May No Effers Cross Your Path!

One thing is not going quite right with my morning routine. I am supposed to have COLD water in the morning, and neither Julie nor Brad have filled up my bowl with deliciously cold water from the big stainless steel box in the kitchen. I love my cold water in the morning like most people love their coffee. It just gets me reved-up to face the day fighting any effers who dare cross my yards, and if Julie has eggs for breakfast, and saves some for me, why that is like having an extra shot of espresso!

I hope you have a good day. May no effers cross your path, and IF they do, may you point it out to them in such a way they will think twice before they try it again!

Dull-Coated Un-magnificent Effer

You know, when the economy starts to threaten my ability to eat delicious foods, it is where I draw the line. I haven't had left-over pot roast, or a steak bone, in I don't know when, and I know Brad and Julie are not vegetarians. Tea Party, Obama, Donald Trump, Sarah Palin. Who is to blame for this horrific economy? Is it Bush's fault? No. It is not.

I'll tell you whose fault it is. One beast alone. Orange Effer. He loves to mess with my life, and if screwing up the credit rating of the greatest country in the world will accomplish his evil scheme, then so be it. His hatred knows no bounds. Why I saw him run out in front of the water delivery man, who was carrying two big jugs of water, in order to try to make him fall. That my friends, is hate.

Orange Effer is a big spending, smooth talking, Wall Street crashing, Credit-rating screwing, high taxing, dull-coated, un-magnificent effer. In the words of the oft mis-understood George W. Bush, "Orange Effer is the axis of evil. He is an evildoer." The 'merikan people need to wake up before it is too late!

Howard LaLanne

My apologies for it being a month since I last posted on my dog blog. I have been a little preoccupied with different things. I fell and injured myself for one. It was chasing after a random effer. Never saw the guy before. I guess that is why I reacted so viscerally. It was like that effer punched me in the gut. The wind was knocked out of me and I was blinded by white hot rage. So, I lunged. I lunged and fell and could not use my back legs for the remainder of the evening.

Brad and Julie were crying. I was afraid they were going to take me to Dr. Kantbarkagain. Brad held ice on my hips and Julie gave me a massage. They helped me wherever I needed to go, and by the next evening I was back to my old self. They have doubled-up on my glucosamine tabs and I feel better than ever. I've even been walking the whole park now, instead of half of the park. Just call me Howard LaLanne.

Shiny Coated Magnificent Prankster

Brad and Julie are treating me to an evening of sitting out on the front lawn tonight. I deserve this. I really do. I am a damn good dog, and I keep them safe from more harm than they both know.

Speaking of which. You know one of my favorite things to do? I will tell you. I am a shiny coated magnificent black dog. My coat blends well with the night. If I see someone walking by that I do not particularly care for, they do not see me, and so I bark like a raging beast out of nowhere. I love to see the people jump and run like Cujo is coming after them, as I run up to the edge of the lawn and stop short of attacking.

Does that make me bad? Oh, well, it is all in good fun. Heh.

Guilty Dog

Check this sad sad video out. That poor dog should not be punished for eating the cat treats, even though it looks like he has been hitting the treats pretty hard.

Another Trash Can, Another Victory!

Julie got a new trash can. This is the third one in the past year. I just don't know what it is going to take for her to get it through her thick head that I can get into any trash can on the market. It all boils down to the simple fact that I have time on my side.

The reason I have so much time, is that Orange Effer hasn't been spotted lately. I think he joined a street gang to be honest with you. The next time I see the Orange One, he is going to be wearing a bandana around his head and a wife beater and baggy jeans. Gangs are an epidemic in the central valley you know.

Brad is watching Deadliest Catch. He says it is too hot for me to go for a walk. Exsqueeze me? I am from the desert. I was born in Lake Havasu on a hot summer day in July. Do I like the heat? No. HOWEVER, I get really ticked if I don't get my walk, because I need to keep my presence known in the neighborhood. Dogs walk by my house and slow down and look for me. I am a badass and they know it, and fear it. If I could thump my chest right now, I would.

Wanted Dead or Alive: ORANGE EFFER

I huffed and puffed my way around the park tonight. It stinks to get old. I am still shiny coated and magnificent, no matter what the age! I am, however, 13 years old this June, and that is old in dog years. I fall a lot these days too. Hopefully Orange Effer is not watching me when I do. I don't want to give him any more smugness than he already has! He is one smug effer to be perfectly honest with you. Perhaps you have picked that up for yourself by reading this blog, but I still have to throw it out there if you will.

Last night there were police sirens screeching through our normally peaceful and quiet neighborhood. I really think they were looking for Orange Effer. I do, and do you know why I do? I will tell you why. Orange Effer is a wanted felon. He is wanted in at least 3 states (California, Arizona, and Illinois) for stalking his poor, poor victims to the point of INSANITY.

I am not insane, and I will tell you this, no matter how old I get, I will always have some reserve energy to fight The Effer. Always.

Orange Effer Bottled Water Co.

No sooner did I post my blog entry than did ORANGE EFFER prance by my window. It's like that crazy cat KNOWS my every move! I need to shake off my funk and get back into action, because there is NO WAY I am going to let Orange Effer get one up on me.

The water guy dumped some jugs of water off on our doorstep. I just don't get why this crazy man wants to give us water? I mean, it comes out of the faucet. Does he think Brad and Julie don't know that? That they are ignorant fools? Whatever the case may be, I don't trust him. I think Orange Effer might be trying to poison our water supply. Don't worry, I am not paranoid. I just know what Orange Effer is capable of. As I have said before, never underestimate the enemy.

A REAL Post From the Main Man

First things first, I don't know what was up with that "guest post." Brad pimped my blog out for a lousy $10, and I don't appreciate it. Why doesn't he just let Orange Effer do a guest post? I bet he would for 10 bucks. This is HOWARD the Dog Blog. Me! My blog dagnabit!

Well, as you can see, I am up to my eye-balls in everything baby. That baby is kicking back, relaxing, having a bottle, so he can energize himself once again to be up in my mug. I don't like it. I don't like it one bit in fact. He chases after me, and I don't want anything to do with the little Pepe Le Pew.

Babies have caused me to lose my mojo. For all I know, Orange Effer has taken over and set-up his evil empire in my neighborhood. Last night there was a cat fight on the fence, and I just yawned and rolled over. I am exhausted from trying hard, very hard, to keep those babies away from me, when all I want to do is nap and plot my next scheme against the Orange Effer.

Bleach

Authored by Abraham Brewer
When you're feeling in the mood to watch an anime that is just pure action with hardly any story whatsoever, you should check out Bleach on the Cartoon network. Definitely a guilty pleasure of mine. Anytime I feel like zombifying out after a rough day, I just plop onto the couch and check out an episode of Bleach on satalite tv.
The plot follows Kurosaki, Ichigo, a high school teen who has the ability to see dead spirits -- Six Sense anyone? Anyway, he one day encounters a spirit that is being chased by some sort of demon spirit. In his effort to help the spirit, he is badly injured. Just before the demon can finish him off, a soul reaper emerges to take care of the beast. The encount! er with the soul reaper, Kuchiki, Rukia, results in Ichigo being drawn into this world as an honorary soul reaper himself. You basically follow him as he goes through DBZ (Dragon Ball Z) style power levels. Basically he gets beat up by some new power. Next, he undergoes some super secret training. He then becomes almost equal to the new power. Finally, he powers up during the fight to get the win. Afterward this cycle is lathered, rinsed and repeated. It's pure, unadulterated entertainment and I still get a kick after a power up and evil doer beat down.

Cat Fights and Nap Times

Last night there was a cat fight. It happened around 3 a.m. Julie said it almost made her have a heart attack. Me? Well, again, sometimes an old dog has to play on the only leg he's got, so I laid low. I mean, lately, I get threatened with my very existence if I bark during the day when the baby is sleeping. Why on earth would I want to tempt fate and bark like the devil and wake the baby up at 3 in the morning? Why, I'd want to bite my own hotdog off for that!

Yeah, it doesn't matter that those little ones frick with my nap schedule. "Oh no, don't wake the baby up!!" (Insert mocking tone)

How about, "Don't wake Howard up you screeching little monsters!?!" I need my beauty sleep so I can maintain my shiny coated magnificent bastard status!

Bull Hockey

I needed some "me" time today. These kids drive me crazy. The little six month old is starting to crawl. Any day now he'll be after me like little Pepe Le Pew. Today he tried to grab my tail, and Brad caught him just in time. That would not have ended well. If there is one part of me that I do not like messed with, it is my tail. My tail is long and fluffy, and could knock bricks off of tables it is so powerful! My tail is not a teething toy!!! Why, I think I could even behead Orange Effer with my tail!

I decided to take my "me" time outside in the sun. We had some cloud cover, so I just rolled over on my back and watched the clouds float by. I watched the clouds float by while I dreamed of more peaceful times. Times when there was not a 2 year old little diva living at our house. Times when it was just me and Brad and Julie. Those were the days.

Not to worry. My appetite is back. I ate three times today, and the one benefit of having a 2 year old in the house, is that she likes to drop food on me. That I do not mind, however, a few days ago she thought it would be funny to spit her pop-tarts out on my magnificent shiny coat. THAT was bull-hockey, and I will not tolerate it!

PS Black and White Effer, after a long absence, is back. He was right outside my window eyeballing the birds nest. I barked and scared the white right off of him. Bet I won't see him again for awhile.

Hunger Strike

I have been on a bit of a hunger strike lately. Not that you can see my ribs or anything, but I have lost a few pounds. You see, all of my life I have had it made. I have been the head honcho around here. I get up. I get water, and fresh food, and a daily walk. I lounge around, nap, and keep an eye out for any effers who might dare to lay seige on this house. When I bitch-and-moan about any issues, Brad and Julie have always seen to it that I am made as comfortable as possible.

Until this past year. These children have made my life extremely stressful. They look at me and laugh. They point and coo, and say, "doggy" like I am some sort of circus side-show for them, and not an equal part of the family. I have news for them, I was here first dammit!

So back to the hunger strike. Yes, I have refused to eat the dog crap, I mean food they put in front of me. I refuse. I would not even eat it when Brad tried to hand feed it to me. So what did Brad do to my surpise? He went and bought me some wet food. Good heavens did it taste like a Thanksgiving feast to my hungry belly!

You could say I was acting like a spoiled brat, holding his breath until he got his way, but it is what it is, and I did get my way. I guess it pays off to eat only three bowls of dry food in two weeks.

I can't wait for dinner!

Orange Effer Infiltrator!

The other day, I figured out what the H - E - DOUBLE HOCKEY STICKS is going on around here. That baby girl, who looks likes a little cherub, is actually an Orange Effer infiltrator. She meowed at me. MEOWED. Yes, you read that correctly my faithful reader. ME - OW - ED. She looked straight at me when she did it!

What the fudge are Brad and Julie thinking?

Only Orange Effer could do this, and you know it is true if you have been reading my dog blog for any length of time. Orange Effer, if I may be brutally honest, is Chuck Manson in a cat body. Oh yeah! I said it! My name is Howard, and I speak the truth around here.

There are babies galore around me. There is a dove nest outside my door. You have to know how I tire from watching over that dove's nest. I fear for those baby doves, that Orange Effer will get his evil paws on them. Fly baby doves! Fly! I tell them time after time, but they have not yet listened. Perhaps they will when Orange Effer starts lurking around again! Be so very glad that you do not have an Orange Effer in your life. Maybe you do though? Perhaps it is a co-worker effer, neighbor effer, boss-effer. There are plenty of effers in the world. I hear it is prevelent amongst humans, but thankfully not dogs. We'll bite your hotdog off if you act like one!

Living Hell

I cannot even begin to describe to you the living hell my life has become since last Friday. Brad and Julie are now the foster parents to not one, but TWO foster children, and they want to adpot, so I am screwed. They swore they would NEVER do it again after the last baby left, and I breathed a huge sigh of relief as you can imagine, but things don't always go according to the way they SHOULD.

I thought these were supposed to be my "golden years" where I could sit around and nap and plot the demise of Orange Effer. Not so. Now I have two babies to worry about. They feed the 2 year old 3 to 5 times a day, and the 6 month old eats every 3 to 4 hours. Me? Yeah, I only get fed twice a day. Maybe a dog treat thrown in here and there, but nothing compared to what the babies get.

I am furious. F - U - R - I - O - U - S. I cannot even eat. I've thrown up several times, and now I have to share my walks with them too.

What am I going to do with Brad and Julie?

Here Birdy Birdy Birdy

Julie has a basket with tulips and a couple of ceramic birds sitting on the coffee table for spring. As I was relaxing on the couch this afternoon, all by myself, I felt a growling in my belly. I was damn hungry. To be honest with you, Brad can be a little stingy on my dog food. He is thin, and does not understand the nutritional needs of the chubby. So those two ceramic birds started looking extremely tasty. I could just taste their scrumptious fat little bodies melt in my mouth. I think I was hallucinating from hunger pangs!

I did something next, that I may or may not regret. Okay, I don't. I knocked that basket off of the table and made a mess out of it. I had to have a good chuckle when Brad was so stumped over how the basket ended up on the floor. I tried to tell him that Orange Effer did it. He didn't buy it when he noticed the paper-grass shavings stuck to my mug.

Note to self: ceramic birds are not as yummy and tender as KFC or El Pollo Loco birds.

The Orange Guy!

Julie is a nurse, and when she comes home in her nursing scrubs, the first thing she does is treat them like contaminated trash from outer space that must be decontaminated, immediately. Her shoes stay outside the door only. I watch this routine with keen interest, because the smells that come off of her scrubs are strange and varied. She goes to work in her freshly laundered uniform, and comes home smelling, well, interesting.

Her patients have problems that I bet I could diagnose better than a physician, what with my canine senses and all. I'm just sayin'. Her scrub pants alone give me plenty of clues that something is not quite right at Sunny Valley Community Regional Medical Center Hospital. Yeah, that's a fake hospital name, but it's dog blog, what do you expect?

I bet the "Orange Guy" couldn't diagnose illnesses with his feline senses. No he could not! The "Orange Guy" couldn't sniff a dead rotting fish if it was sitting right in front of him. He is clueless. CLUELESS!

That Damn Orange Effer

Nothing exciting is going on. Some days are warm enough to have windows open, which thrills me to no end and allows me to keep a closer watch on Orange Effer. Damn that Orange Effer. He just makes me so mad.

Just yesterday, I was belly up on the floor in front of the door, and Orange Effer was watching me from a top the fence. All of a sudden I could feel his beady orange eyes upon me. It creeped me out! What kind of crazy effer watches someone while he sleeps? Only an Orange Effer. I flopped around like a fish out of water until I could finally roll over onto my feet and get up and give that effer something to feast his eyes upon: my fangs.

Princes of Shady Lane Park

There was a group of toy poodles in the park yesterday that fascinated me. There were 3 or 4 of these little white puffs of fur hopping and bouncing around in the park like it was THEIR park. I sat and observed for awhile and let them think they were the Little Princes of Shady Lane Park. As I sat there making my observations, I thought to myself, "Self, little white poodles aren't really dogs. In fact, their very breed calls them a toy so why should I not be allowed to go across the street and chew on them?"

I took off like a streak of white lightning, or maybe maple syrup, but whatever, I was making my way over to those toys to make one or two of them my new chew toy. Move over Aflac! I barked and growled until Brad grabbed me by the collar mid-stride and mid-bark.

I was heated. I was mad that Brad would stop me from taking what is rightfully mine, in what is rightfully MY park. I ignored Brad for as long as I possibly could, for about 1 minute to be exact. He needed to be punished for his actions. Then of course we made up. He scratched my ear, and I licked his hand. How could I be mad at the man who rubs my belly and takes me for nightly walks, and lets me lick his plate when he is done eating? Not even toy poodles, or effers alike, can come between me and Brad.

Shamrock Effer

Brad was describing to Julie a new cat in the neighborhood. A big fat cat who waddled right by me in the park on our nightly walk. Brad described this effer to Julie as having green stripes. Keep in mind that Brad is color blind and the portly effer actually had brown stripes, but in this St. Patrick's Day season, we shall refer to him as Shamrock Effer. He is Shamrock Effer, because he is one lucky effer that I did not tie his tail into a knot and make a four leaf clover out of the end of it!

Orange Effer, Blowing in the Wind

My effer war rages on. Orange Effer is as deadly in his tactics as ever. He has taken to chasing critters in my backyard. You can imagine how I deal with such shenanigans. I don't. I let loose my meanest, fiercest, and craziest bark I can. I am the Orange Effer of the dog world. Did I just say that? Yes I did, and I will tell you why. I have a lot of respect for my enemy. He is clever and annoying in a very precise way. He knows exactly which buttons of mine to push, and he pushes them with finesse. Who can deny his talent? Certainly not me. That being said, his orange ass is mine, and one day soon, I will take a big chunk out of it. Stay tuned.

The wind around here has been great. I love the wind. It heightens my senses and brings new and exciting vigor to my day. Julie doesn't like it because it jacks up her hair, and Brad doesn't like it because it goes right through his bones. My fur, however, looks magnificent blowing in the wind, and keeps me nice and cozy warm, so I say, bring on the wind!!!

South Park Really Is About Animals

Our favorite show about animals is South Park. The show featuring a family and a talking dog who is a part of the family is my most favorite show to watch on satellite television from http://www.directstartv.com/. Who can not be charmed by a dog who at one time took the part of the wife's lover when her husband had disappeared for some reason. The show is not really meant to be take seriously which is why accepting the talking, thinking, lover substitute dog is almost natural in our new age way of thinking. There is also something to be said about animals rights when watching South Park. The dog is obviously an animal. The dog wears no clothing. When the dog goes to the office, the show puts a tie on him. The dog walks like a person but looks like a dog. The situation is remarkable.

Few people might really comprehend the significance of the dog on South Park who has human qualities. The dog also eats at the table with the family and used silverware. Actually, I love watching South Park as the one animal show that tries to make people aware of how much they have turned their pets into people.

State of the Union

Here in the United Kingdom of Howard, we don't need to worry about unemployment, spending, deficits, and so on. No, no my friend! We have other issues to worry about. Operation Backyard Storm is on a stand still for a couple of days. I need to re-strategize in the absence of Deuce Jr. Junior may have been a thorn in my side, but he lived outside 24/7, and he helped alert me to Orange Effer's deadly game of taunting and torture.

P.S. I think Deuce Jr. was arrested. The police were in front of his house, and lights were flashing after his romp in the park last night. At least he'll get "3 eats and sheets" for now.

Special Ops

Operation Backyard Storm has moved out into the park. A terrorist cell created by the known and feared Deuce Jr. was frolicking in the park amongst the children, scaring adults and babies alike. I, Howard, had to put a stop to such covert activities. All the training I have been doing with Oreck finally paid off. Brad backed me up by calling in Animal Control, but I kept the situation stable until they got here.

Operation Backyard Storm

Lately the cats have been craping in my backyard flower beds. I go out there and sniff around and quite honestly it chaps my hide. My kingdom is not to be crapped on by a bunch of effers! I will not have it and plan to initiate Operation Backyard Storm. Orange Effer + Calico Effer = Osama Bin Laden + Saddam Hussein.

Toby Keith better write a song about this one.

Before I get started, however, I need a nap!

Orange Deliciousness

Happy New Year. Damn neighbors need to take down their Christmas lights. It is getting past the "acceptable" period to leave lights up. I bet Douce Jr.'s family will leave their Christmas decor up all year. They seem like the type. Lazy and unkempt.

Do you know what else they are? Orange. Effer. Interlopers. I say this, because I was riding in the car past Douce Jr.'s house and lo and behold but who should be sitting on the front porch like only a porch kitty could, but Orange "the damn kitty" Effer! I about lost my mind with blind hot rage. Brad had to threaten me with a bath to pull me out of my madness. It was nearly a scene as I attempted to jump out the window at 30 mph!

I would have too. When I saw that orange furry tail scamper away, I had a sudden craving for cheetos, oranges, and carrots. Anything orange sounded mighty delicious to me.