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.