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!!!