Got Insurance?

Brad and Julie get to see all the interesting sights while I stay home and protect the mansion. My questions about this picture are:

A. How does this goat like being tied to the bumper? I would be T-Oed.
B. Has this guy ever heard of a dog? Dogs are mans best friend, not goats.
C. Can you get pet insurance on a goat?

I just have these burning questions when I look at this picture. I mean, how fair is it that this godforsaken GOAT of all living creatures gets to go on a road trip and I, Howard, do not?

Howard Ali

Damn I'm getting old!

I still call the shots though. I not only make Brad and Julie tow the line, but the two jackballs that live on either side of me as well. I set the standards here at 123 Maple Street. Of course that is not my real address, do you think I would actually give my real address out? Unless you want to send me big monies, then just e-mail me and I'll make arrangements. Heheh.

I digress. My point is this. I want to stay healthy to fight the good fight, and I do mean FIGHT. Just this past week I've been in two fights. Jackball 1 on the right tries to flex his muscle, and take over and don't get me wrong, I like peace, but sometimes you just have to put the smackdown and put pooches and kitties in their place. I HOWARD CALL THE SHOTS!!!

Jackball 2 got me in big fat trouble, however, with Brad. You would not believe how harsh Brad was on me. He not only called me naughty boy and bad boy, but BAD DOG. I Howard am NOT I tell you NOT a bad dog. How dare he! I have since forgiven him, because I'm a dog and that is just our way, but I did sulk around for a couple of hours to make my point known.

I have to tell you, when I fight through the fence it invigorates me. I float like a butterfly and sting like a bee! I eat thunder and crap lightning! Mohammed Ali ain't got nothin' on me!

Not again

Please take this thing off of me.

Good-bye Dooce

You know, I hope this is Dooce's new life. He got out, and is looooooong gone. Dooce, old buddy, I may have complained about you, but I wish you lots of relaxation in a nice warm home where you have plenty of food and drink. May you never have to go back to those bastards again!

Hello, My Name Howard, and I'll Bite Your Hotdog Off

Got in trouble today. Sulked afterward for the rest of the afternoon.

What can I tell you? I like having my way and when I don't get it I get angry. I am used to having my way. I am used to my routine. Brad gets up and I harass the heck out of him...let me out, feed me, give me water, let me out, give me an ice cube, I need to take a dump now so let me out again, now I need back in, hand me your socks so I can tear a hole in them.

Julie gets up an hour or so later, and I WANT THE WHOLE ROUTINE TO START OVER AGAIN. It is only fair, no?

Julie saw things differently this morning. I guess I spoke to early about her being more cheerful since starting the day shift. She shot me the look of death this morning when I started pitching my little fit. I was beside myself. How could she? When she gets up, I need outside to make sure the Orange Effer hasn't been around. I need to bark and make my presence known for the day, "Hello all you furry little effers, Howard's still in the neighborhood!"

I don't mince words either. You know I don't. I'm Howard, and I'll bite your hot dog off!

A Long Overdue Update

Status Post Anesthesia

Me: The Day of Surgery

Well, they did it. They took me to have my ear operated on. This time we went to a different vet, who thankfully did not stitch my damn ear to my head. WTF? I looked like a freak show back then. Whatever. The hematoma was so big this time, that the vet had to make two incisions. Oil well (oh well). I'm all healed up now, and you'd almost never know what happened to me. I'm still as handsome as ever. Shiny coated magnificent bastard that I am!

In other news: I have been waking up every morning with such great anticipation as to what will happen in my backyard for the day. I mean to tell you, all the neighborhood dogs and cats want in MY backyard. The Orange Effer still prances past my sliding glass door like the piece of work that he is. Dooce started digging another hole to get through, and now the neighbor dog who barks like a damn coon dog but is not one, has started to dig a hole. He's too stupid though to figure out how to get more than his nose through. I oughta bite it off. Heh heh. I haven't seen the black and white kitty in awhile...must be smarter than I thought he was. Can't believe I'm refering to a cat as smart, but it is what it is. Must be the long term effects of anesthesia.

Brad, that busy bastard, has me down to one walk a day. I can't believe it. Julie has switched to day shift, and she is a little more pleasant to be around lately. She is not threatening with baths so much anymore, and I like that. I cannot tell you how my heart races when she threatens me with a bath. Nearly sends me into atrial fibrillation. How does a dog know about dysrhythmias? I study Julie's EKG books, that's how. When she is not home, I study, I google, I learn. I am one smart dog, as you know. When she gets home I just look like I've been laying around. I do that too. Heh. Brad even caught me on the couch...and then told Julie he scolded me and told me to get down. Not a chance! He was just trying to score brownie points. He actually came over and sat down with me and we watched some TV.

Gimpy Ear Dog

I don't know what to do with myself...Brad and Julie are going to take me to the vet again. I heard them discussing this, openly, as if I were not even in the same room. Hello? It is my ear that is puffed up like a freaking blow fish. Shouldn't I even have a say in the matter? I question, do I want to go through another surgery? No, no, no! I do not! But my ear hurts, and I cannot live on pain pills alone. I'll become an addict, and that is not good. I'll be out on the streets looking for my next dose of doggie vicodin when my perscription runs out.

What to do, what to do? I heard Julie saying that she doesn't want to put me through another surgery either, because my puffed ear will probably just come back. What is the vet going to do for me? Amputate my ear?

It stinks to get old.