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!