What is Wrong With This Picture?

Do you see any puppy paw prints with those shoe prints? No? Me neither!

Brad and Julie have been some road trip taking fools this past year, and I can bet your pretty little fluffy kitty they'll be taking more trips this year. Will I get to go? That is the question I have on my mind as we enter the year two thousand ten.

IF they plan to take me, you better believe I'll be making sure Brad gets a tune up, gets an oil change and the like. I Howard, do not want to be broke down on the side of the road waiting for some jack ball to come tow us to safety.

For instance, I've been wanting to take a trip to Houston, Texas, because I am a cowboy at heart. Do you know what makes me a cowboy? I don't take guff from anyone, except Brad, but that's because I have no choice if I want to eat and I LOVE to eat. A cowboy has to keep up his strength and I don't want to be stuck in some Houston Auto Repair shop wondering where my next meal is going to come from, while some Acura Integra driving yuppy gets his oil changed on his lunch break.

You know I like routine.

I thrive on routine.

Even the kitties in the neighborhood know to come by at their designated time. At 10 a.m. Orange Effer usually makes his appearance. At noon, Black Bastard shows up. It's just the way my life works. And it works for me.

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.

Orange Effer

I feel the need to set the record straight. I whooped that cat one-on-one. Orange and black fur were flying!!! Dooce was like, "I told that effer Howard, I told him you were one fierce bastard." The yapping squeeky toy dog on the other side was like, "Word...Howard busted his ear with me through the fence. He doesn't take #$#@ from anyone, especially a cat."

HOWEVER, a certain species never learns. Orange Effer was spotted by Julie this morning in my backyard. I'll bust another ear if I have to. You know I will.

Ear Problems

Hello...I am back. I, Howard, have another aural hematoma. It may or may not have happened when I tangled with a certain orange kitty who LOVES to sashay through my backyard like he freakin' owns the place.

Brad and Julie are beside themselves. How are they going to afford another $600 vet bill they ask? I feel bad. I really do, but what am I supposed to do when this effer taunts me? I'm a dog. I don't know how to turn the other cheek.

Should I take anger management classes? At my elderly age, I just don't think I can change.

Should I or shouldn't I?

I just look so damn handsome in this picture.

As Julie types this, I am laying in my back with all four legs in the air. I feel the need to air out once in awhile. What can I say? It has been awhile since I've had a bath, which is A Okay with me! I like to stink.

One issue I need to discuss on my blog is the fact that I need more walks. I currently get two walks a day, which is up from just one a day not too long ago. I basically pester the you know what out of Brad until he gives in and takes me. Heh heh. Question is, should I go for three?

I don't know that I need a third walk a day, but the power I get from demanding and getting my way is addicting. I cannot explain it. I just get high from it.

What to do?

A Pig on a Beach

Brad and Julie Griswold have been at it again. While I was at home keeping a close eye out for the orange kitty who thinks my backyard is some kind of extreme adrenaline rush for him, they got to see this. Oh. MY. Word. I would have totally lost my sh...ahem...composure if I saw this effer on the beach. Who takes a pot-bellied pig to the beach? It is just all kinds of wrong. Beaches are for dogs and humans. NOT farm animals, and certainly not KITTIES.

I hate kitties.

With all the traveling and whatnot, Julie has been ignoring my blog. How am I supposed to become famous I ask you?

I am so neglected.

Poor shiny-coated, magnificent, bastard that I am.

The Griswold's Are At It Again!

I was blindsided last Wednesday. BLINDSIDED!!! The day started off like any other, and then wham! Out came the damn suitcase, and I knew I was doomed. Brad and Julie took off again, this time for the Pacific Northwest, and this is who I had to deal with while they were gone. In my own home no less!

I do not need this nonsense going on in my own castle. I am a king, and should not be forced to deal with young pups like Anabelle. Not to mention I am old! This could be detrimental to my health. I could have a stroke or myocardial infarction. I don't even know what an myocardial infarction is, but it sounds really bad and I don't want one!

Brad and Julie Griswold need to stay. at. home.

Watch Out!

Let me show you my teeth, just in case you don't think I mean business!

Happy 4th of July

Happy 4th of July to all you fine folks out there.
Basically just you Anonymous Commenter.

Wake Up Little Snoozy!

Julie took a nap this afternoon, and this is what she saw when she woke up. Sometimes I just sit and stare at Brad or Julie when I want them to wake up. I use my telekinetic powers, and it usually works.

As far as I am concerned, Brad and Julie should get their sleep at NIGHT. The daytime is my time to relax and nap. How can I let my guard down while they are napping? The kitties would take over, Effer would think he is in charge, and that yapping bastard next door would NEVER shut-up.

My job is never done. Being King is not easy. Trust me.

Letter of Concern

Dear Makers of Greenies:

Do you have any idea how disappointed I was to find out that you are now producing my most favorite, delicious treat for KITTIES?!?! Kitties do not deserve such pampering. Kitties are arrogant and unappreciative effers. Why would you even try to please them? They will not appreciate it. Whereas I snatch a Greenie out of my master's hand faster than you can blink, a cat most likely will sniff it and then walk by with their nose in the air. Then they sneak back later and take it. How is that for appreciation?

I am baffled, and this has rocked my world. Treats come few and far between for me, so I take my treats very seriously. I have a bit of a weight issue, and Greenies are my treat of choice to help keep me satisfied, yet not fatter. However, I now will look at my favorite treat and think of kitties, and I HATE kitties.

Will this keep me from eating Greenies? Most likely not, because they are just too damn good, but I'm still disappointed in you.

Sincerely,

Howard

Maintenance Money

How do I manage to look so young and handsome at my advanced age?



I need some "maintenance money" for toys and new dog stuff. An elderly gentleman like me should not have to skimp in any way, and I have been spending some time on the online shoppers paradise that is ShopWiki.com. Say for instance I wanted to replace my Aflac duck with a new plush duck, I just go to ShopWiki.com and search for plush duck dog toy, and you should see some of the choices. Wow! No more Mister Nice Guy for Aflac...I want a new duck.

I also saw a John Deere dog toy that I wouldn't mind having. Now that I'm old, plush toys are my thing. No more hard rubber toys. I'll leave those for the young pups with stronger teeth and bites.

I happen to have a taste for expensive treats like Greenies, and was able to find some reasonable deals on ShopWiki.com. However, the thing that angers me greatly, is that they now make Greenies for cats!!! HOW DARE THEY TAKE SUCH A DELICIOUS DOG TREAT AND MAKE IT INTO A TREAT FOR CATS. Kitties do not deserve delicious treats. After this blog I shall compose a letter to the makers of Greenies to reconsider their feline products.

Evidently greed knows no bounds.

Humble Pie a la Effer

Tonight the neighbor dog had a lot of issues to get off of his chest. He went on and on and on, until I had a headache. I mean, when I speak, it is for serious business. I don't just sit around and yip and yap until I'm blue in the face.

Sure, I may let it rip at 3 a.m. when a kitty sashays past my fence, and give Brad and Julie a heart attack, but they're just lucky to have a watchdog like me.

This guy just gripped about one thing after another. His owners weren't home, and he spilled all the dirty laundry. Just laid it out for all the neighborhood dogs so we'd feel sorry for him. Evidently his owners are lazy bastards who do not leave ice cubes in his water bowl for him, never take him for car rides, and feed him crap, off brand dog food.

I was almost feeling sorry for him, until...

Effer told him to shut his big fat pie hole.

Then there was silence.

Haven't heard from him since.

Effer fed him a big slice of Humble Pie.

Rule the School

I need a new collar. A handsome devil like me deserves to look good.



As I was on my evening walk with Brad, this lady stops us and says to Brad, "I don't know what it is about your dog, but my dog just goes crazy when he sees him!"

What is it about other dogs that makes them lose their minds in my presence?

Do they want to fight me?

Why is fighting always the first thing on my mind? Maybe the little effers just wanted to be my friends, but I'll never know because I CANNOT AND WILL NOT BACK DOWN FROM BEING THE TOP DOG.

That is why a place like doggy day care would NEVER work for me. Not in a million years. I would be kicked out the first 10 minutes and asked to never return. You should have seen me in obedience school. I wasn't necessarily at the head of the class, but you can bet your puppy chow that the other dogs respected me. Even as a young puppy, happy and free, I still had a commanding presence.

Let me take you back in time for a moment...

Just picture me driving up in the white truck with Brad...my ears flopping in the breeze. As I get closer, the other puppies heads whip around and start to whisper to each other, "There is Howie...he is such a stud." I deftly jump out of the truck and run over to meet my peeps, and they all roll over on their backs to show their respect for me. But then, there is always one who must challenge me, and must be corrected by me. I fight him. Brad pulls me off by my tail, but that dog now knows that he cannot get me to back down. Another one fears me. I, Howard, rule the school.

Don't tell Brad, but I did learn a few things there. He's the only one who has ever been able to dominate me and get away with it. So if you are looking to get a puppy, or already have one, I highly recommend obedience school. I would be a hot mess without it.

Payback

Mid shake!



I got even with Brad this morning. At 3 a.m. I barked like it was an effing emergency, and as far as I'm concerned kitties in my backyard is an effing emergency. Evidently Brad and I do not agree as to what is and what is not an emergency at 3 a.m.

I woke him up out of a dead sleep.

He was pissed.

Ooops.

Maybe he will think twice next time he fake throws me?

Pretend Throw

Aflac ate all my food. Get me some more food dammit!



I am speechless.

This morning Brad lets me out at 6:30 a.m., and I am enjoying the nice cool breeze and sniffing around taking my sweet ass time. I am conveniently ignoring Brad's demands to come back in the house pretending like I am hard of hearing. Evidently Brad is not in the mood to let me take my sweet ass time, so what does he do? He tells me, "Julie's home!" and suddenly my hearing becomes sharp and keen, and I trot into the house all kinds of excited to see Julie and...

She is not home.

He fooled me!

That was worse than pretend throwing a ball!!!

He will pay for this today...oh yes...he will pay.

Nothin' Like a Good Fight!

Maybe peoples who are afraid of snakes should not take vacations to the desert?

Anywho...

I got in trouble this morning. Call it passive aggressive punishment, or whatever you will, but I was ready to start the day at 7 a.m. My owners were not. I do not think you should have jet lag between California and Arizona, especially for two days.

I was restless this morning, and in need of a good fight through the fence. Pepe Le Pew next door was obviously in the same damn mood, because as soon as he caught my whiff in the air it was on. Oh yeah, it was on! I went at it like white on rice, and was having a good ol' time until Brad marched over to me and pointed toward the house and looked at me like I had lost my mind and forgotten the five weeks with an e collar, and the $550 it took to repair my ear.

Oops.

My bad.

Bad Day

Aflac Fears for His Very Life!

Sometimes I just wake-up in the wrong damn side of the bed. Old men do this more frequently as they age. It usually happens on a day that my FOOD DOES NOT END UP IN MY BOWL IN A TIMELY MANNER, because some vacationing fools think they should sleep in after long drive.

I.
Don't.
Think.
So.

Did I ask them to go on vacation without me? Let me check...

Looks like I did not.

Long Live Aflac

This is who I had...

keeping me company for 3 days and 2 nights.

Brad and Julie LEFT ME AT HOME ALONE while they went on a vacation. Now, before I make them look like neglectful dog owners, like Effer's owners, I must say they made excellent arrangements for me. I got to stay in my own home, while my grandma, who calls me her granddog, came and visited and watered, fed, and walked me throughout the days.

That, however, does not excuse Aflac sitting in my bowl. WTF? What the feather? I mean, do they expect me to murder my fluffy stuffed duck and eat that instead of my old man Science Diet food? I don't think so. I'm a big guy. I need real food. I deserve real food.

Speaking of being a big guy...someone I haven't seen in 8 or so years saw me tonight and said, "Jeez, Howard is HUUUUGGGGGGGGEEEE." Was he calling me fat?

So help me.

I need a vacation.

I deserve a vacation.

Where shall I go?

Dear Howard

Dear Howard,

I am interrupting your blog to ask you to please not get any older. I notice that this summer is starting out rougher on you than usual. You never have liked the heat, but I notice that you are slowing down more and more because of it. Don't worry, you and me will fight Brad to keep the air at a comfortable degree in the house. I've got your back boy, just like you have always had mine.

You are an old man now, and while you can be so gosh darn demanding, like most old men are, I love you more than ever. I'll never forget you as the little puppy that I picked up and brought home to keep me company in Arizona. I left you in the laundry room while I went to pick-up food and toys for you at the store, and you were so scared that you peed all over the floor while I was gone and was crying when I got back. I'm sorry boy, I should have known better, but I was young and you were one of my first responsibilities being newly married and on my own. Not long after that we settled into a routine. Brad would be gone 3 days a week, and you and I battled it out for who was in charge. You were one wild puppy, and if I failed to walk you one night you would run your race track around the living room barking your fool head off at me.

Remember Chuck, the crazy man who lived behind us and drank too much and barked at you? Thanks for making me feel safer around him. You always have been a good judge of character. I'll never forget the time at the dog park by the lake, that you would not leave this strange man alone. You would get approximately six feet away from him and bark and bark and bark. Brad would go get you, but you would head right back over there each time until we had to finally leave. It was embarrassing, but I know you knew something was off with him and I didn't doubt you for a minute.

You are so much more well-behaved now, and I love this picture of you and Aflac. You have had Aflac now for 2 years, and he is still intact because when we tell you to "be nice to the duck," you lick him. What other dog would mind so well?

You, Brad, and I are all 11 years older. We've been through a lot together, and you've always made the journey more enjoyable and entertaining. I know you've got more good years in you, but dogs don't live nearly long enough.

All my love,
Julie

Howard's Morning Routine

When Julie gets home from work after a long 12 hour shift I need things. I need to be let out, then I need an ice cube, after that I might need to be let out again, then I need a snack and ice water, after that I need to make sure my food is in my bowl, because even though I do not plan on eating my breakfast for hours, I want to know it is there. What can I say? I am an old man with bowel and bladder urgency, and I need my routine to be maintained or I simply freak out and cannot handle it. If she is home and happens to sleep past 8:30 in the morning, I just will not have it. I need stuff to start happening by 8:30 a.m. max.

Somebody please get me a prescription for Xanax!

Who Wouldn't Want to be Me????

One of Julie's co-workers paid me the ultimate compliment the other day. She said, and I quote, "I want to be Howard."

I ask you, who would NOT want to be me?

A short list of my best qualities:
1. Handsome.
2. Shiny coated magnificent bastard...according to my anonymous fan.
3. I get respect.
4. I've slimmed down a little thanks to my new diet that I am going to write a book on and sell it on the internets like Richard Simmons, only less gay and way better looking.
5. I can smell the hind end of a cow from more than a mile away. Can you?
6. I wake Brad and Julie up every morning so that I can start my naps, and they fall for it every time.
7. I like to lay out in the scorching hot sun, and then run in the air-conditioned house to cool off.
8. I am an awesome swimmer. When I was little I could get a running head-start and jump from the ground into the above ground pool that we used to have.
9. I get brushed and walked almost daily, and if I don't somebody pays. BIG TIME. His name rhymes with sad, dad, bad, glad, you get the picture.
10. I get my food bought, paid for, and served to me. I am served fresh water two to three times daily, and Brad fluffs my dog bed as needed.

I live like a KING!

I'll Be Back!

I'll be back Mr. Anonymous Commenter. My typist happens to be working a lot of 12 hour shifts in a row, and she is one tired bear and I DO NOT want to disturb her. She might bite MY hot dog off, and I cannot afford that.

The Faces of Evil

Usually I am locked in the bedroom with Brad and Julie at night. Apparently those two jack balls have the impression that I will bark my fool head off in the middle of the night and give them both heart attacks if I am allowed to roam around.

What can I say? Those kitties love to cruise my backyard in the middle of the night and THAT IS SIMPLY UNACCEPTABLE! What am I supposed to do? Quietly say, "Oh, hello neighbor cat who should not be in my backyard. Would you consider leaving before I bust through this window and bite you?" Hell. No. I have to bark like a raging beast so that those kitties run like the effers they are. So help me damn kitties are going to be the death of me! I am old and cannot take such constant stress in my life.

Well, last night Brad let me sleep out in the living room. I slept like Rip Van Winkle and did not wake up until morning when Brad came to check if I was still breathing and had a pulse. You know WHY I was able to do this? Because those bastard cats know I mean business. What now?

All Hail King Howard

I got caught. On the couch. This morning. By Julie. I tried to use my best, "What? Huh? How did I get up here?" look. It didn't work on her. She was ticked. T-O'ed. I just don't know what it is. Why can't I stay off that couch? I mean, I KNOW she does not want me up there, but I still do it. Is it my passive aggressive way of telling her I am the boss and not her? Brad doesn't care one way or the other. If it were just me and Brad, we'd be on the couch together at nap time.

Man it is so cushy and comfy on the couch. I was sleeping like an old hound dog, and having great dog dreams where I was the ruler of my kingdom and all the other dogs and cats feared me. FEARED me! Muhahahahahaha. Then Julie had to come wake me up and I was humbled. I don't like being humbled. I HOWARD DO NOT LIKE TO BE HUMBLED...not even by Brad who still has to sit on me after 11 years when I sometimes misbehave!

Now I'm ticked! I need another nap. On the couch.

GQ Howard

Brad, so help me, hurry up and take the damn picture.

I'll bite that smirk off of your smug little face you barking, squeaky toy, rat dog.

Yeah, it's a dog in a shirt, keep walkin' big boy.

Damn, I look good.

Fiesta

I might be over-exaggerating, but in my opinion this is what was going on at the park across the street today.

Next time they need to invite ME.

I like chips and salsa.

Cable Sonofa B

That sonofa B cable guy is next door right now and I'm having a hard time keeping it together while Julie sleeps after a long 12 hour shift. She is going to be the one with white, hot blinding rage if I keep barking at them. Believe me, you DO NOT want to wake her from a dead sleep. She is like a hibernating bear when she sleeps.

Squeaky Toy Fights

One thing I like to do in the mornings, after I have taken care of business if you know what I mean, is to fight with the neighbor dog (not Effer) through the fence. He happens to be a rat dog who thinks he is one tough dude, and I have to set him straight every now and then, that "No, you are not the tough guy, I am and don't you be forgetting that you little squeaky toy you!"

You would think I'd know better than to do this, since I ended up with an aural hematoma, or bleed in my ear flap, where I had to have surgery and wear a cone on my head for 5 damn weeks.

But I don't know better.

Because I really do have anger management issues.

The only thing that gets me out of my blinding, white hot rage in this instance is the water hose squirting at me. Then I snap back into reality and Julie or Brad are standing there looking at me like, "If anyone else owned you, Howard, you'd be dead by now."

I'm so glad they love me.

Anger Management

Isn't that puppy cute? There is nothing cuter than a fresh new puppy. Even, I, Howard, can admit to that. I'd still want to fight him if he came near Brad or Julie though. I don't know, maybe I need anger management?

I hate it when the attention is not on me. When Brad and Julie hug, I just lose it. I bark and cry and carry on like a bastard. I cannot help myself either. I know I am being bad, but I'm helpless to stop myself.

Home Alone

Now that the Effer drama is behind us for now, and forever I hope, we can focus on issues near and dear to mine own heart. Issue number one: Brad and Julie taking off on road trips without yours truly. What kind of crap is that I ask you?

Do they not think that I would love to go to Monterey by the Sea, and see things like this deer eating grass in someone's front yard?

Hells yes I would! I'm a travelin' pooch. I have logged miles and miles of roadway between Lake Havasu City, AZ, and Santa Barbara, CA, and then 4 cross country trips from California/Arizona to Iowa/Illinois/Wisconsin. I've got my road legs and know when to brace myself for when Brad rides up to a stop sign too fast and hits the breaks too hard, or when Julie is driving and turns the corner too sharp and practically puts the car up on two wheels. I know those jackballs well. I've studied them for years. They are my very life.

Now I'm old and don't travel as well as I used to, and have a harder time getting in and out of the car, but like I said, I would've loved to have gone to Monterey. If I would have seen those deers I would have lost my shiznit. I would have gone into a blind rage of barking non-stop until Brad or Julie finally pulled out the big guns and threatened me with a bath. You know how I love to stink.

Oh well, it is what it is. I get even by napping on the couch while they're gone. Until they get home I'll just be here on the couch listening for the garage door...

Yours truly,
Howdog the Stinkdog

The Effer Got Out and Drama Ensued

Yes, the drama escalated this week when the effer escaped his backyard paradise. I, Howard, say this with all the sarcasm intended, because evidently our City's Animal Control thinks that Effer had adequate living conditions. WTF? When did sitting and laying in your own poo become acceptable? Did this happen when Obama became president?

I digress.

So Effer escaped and Brad caught him in the park across the street. Nice, there is nothing more serene than a pit bull running loose amongst a park full of children. I must say that Effer is actually a pretty nice guy. He is friendly and full of the energy of a young pup.

Effer's owners are another story.

It killed Brad, but he took Effer back to his owners who were peeking through our fence looking for him like the bastards that they are. They even got in the car and drove around looking for Effer. Brad called a couple of rescue organizations who wouldn't touch Effer because Animal Control was involved. So after giving him some food and water, back he went to his bastard owners.

As Brad was handing Effer over, who happens to actually be named Deuce, Brad made a couple of comments about how thin Effer was and that if they didn't want him we'd be glad to find him a new home. Turns out Effer's owners think they are kind, compassionate dog owners who take good care of their dog. Denial is not just a river in Egypt folks.

Effer's tough guy owner comes around the corner to our house a few minutes later, puffing his chest out and hopping around like a damn Mexican jumping bean who wants to kick Brad's ass. I could not believe my eyes. Did this guy think he could mess with Brad in MY presence? Oh. Hell. No. I stepped in the middle of them, Julie is telling her mom to call the police, her mom runs to Brad's side trying to be a peace maker, which makes me doubly nervous, Julie is standing to the side and paralyzed with fear because her fight-or-flight mechanism had not kicked in yet. Was it broke? No! Soon she is telling the guy that she was the informant who called Animal Control, and I'm thinking how am I going to protect all three of these jackballs? None of us are used to ghetto-like neighbors wanting to kick our asses.

Finally Effer's mom comes flying around the corner like a drama queen, yelling at her husband, "Stop! Stop! He isn't worth it!" What is Brad doing? Acting like a damn tough guy himself, saying, "Hit me! Hit me! Go ahead! I dare you!!!" Oh geez...my job was getting more difficult by the second.

Brad didn't get hit, the situation fizzled out, but now we have neighbors who hate us. Brad and Julie think it was worth it if the dog is taken better care of. As you can see in the picture above, Effer has missed more than a few meals, but the City Animal Control thinks he is adequately fed. Dude...they haven't seen ME. I'm the well-fed one!

Stupid Neighbors

This is just wrong. Why do humans do this to the kindest animals on the planet? God did not make us man's best friend to treat us like this. Do these owners of this dog actually think they are doing him a favor with a plastic dog house?

LISTEN UP YOU EFFERS: WHY DO YOU HAVE THIS DOG? TO IGNORE AND FEED AND WATER ONLY WHEN IT OCCURS TO YOU?

Your dog cries during the day. Is it out of loneliness? Thirst? Hunger? I hope that you go to bed with a full stomach and have had fresh water to drink throughout the day, but as far as I'm concerned you do not deserve it. You should be the one behind bars, ignored, and watered and fed only at the whim of an irresponsible effer like yourself.

And your bratty little spawn of Satan who makes monster noises at this poor dog, tells him "Quiet! Go in your house!" when he whines? He should go to a new home as well. You should never have been allowed to breed. Now the world will have to deal with your offspring who already is just like your sorry ass.

My owners want to knock on your door and ask to take your dog off your hands, but you are such a selfish bastard that you will probably not allow this. They are afraid if they call the animal control people they will either just give you a warning, or take him and put him down because he is a pit bull. So they try to feed and water him through the fence, because you are too damn lazy and cruel to do it yourself.

Is there anyone in the internet world who reads this who can help us get a better life for this dog? Any ideas?

Good Lookin' Howard

Damn, I'm good looking!

King Howard

From my Most Loyal Reader: Howard, what's shaking, haven't heard from you in a while? How they hangin'?

Dear Most Loyal Reader,

First, let me say, I'm glad that you care. Second, they aren't hangin'. My owners had them snipped back in the day. In fact, they were so small at the time, the vet told them they basically dissolved. I can't believe I'm divulging this to the internets, but hell, I'm old and it doesn't matter.

I've been bad lately, and it feels great! The only thing that half-way keeps me in line is Brad or Julie threatening me with a bath. I like to stink. What can I say? I'm a stinkdog, and proud of it. It's how I keep my certain badness, and scare the little rat dogs on my walks. I want those pampered pooches to smell me before they see me.

The effer behind me got a new dog house, and Brad made it so that he cannot crawl under the fence anymore. I still growl at him through the fence. It's what I do. Brad feels sorry for him, because his owners are neglectful bastards who don't see to it that the poor guy, I mean effer, gets fresh water on a regular basis. Lately he has been crying through the fence, and it is this sad pitiful cry that tugs on even my heartstrings. Then I have to get up and bark at Brad to let him know to get out there and stick the hose through the fence to give him some water.

Julie says she wants to be me every night before she heads out the door to work. Who wouldn't want to be me I ask you? I live like a King.

Sincerely,
King Howard the First and Only

What Watching the News Does to Me

I, Howard, am sick I tell you, sick, of hearing about the rotten economy and the stupids that are running this country.

Not You Again

DO NOT let his innocent face fool you. This effer spends more time in my backyard than I do! I don't know what his name is, but I call him Charles. Short for Charles Manson, because he is a psycho!