The Best 90 Seconds Ever

I've said it before and I'll say it again:  I am one lucky dog because I have some of the best friends ever!

Monday afternoon, when Ma came home from work, she told me that my friend Deborah had asked her to deliver a very special present to me.  I love presents.  Sometimes it's food, sometimes it's a toy, and sometimes it's a visit and an ear scratch.  Whichever it is, I'm always super excited and quite grateful.  Well, with my tail wagging furiously in circles, Ma dug into her work bag and pulled out a bright orange Frisbee.  I rose up on my back legs to get a better view of the new toy just as she threw it into the backyard.

I ran after that orange Frisbee with all my might and when it finally landed I pounced on it to make sure it didn't fly away again.  I wanted to pick the Frisbee up so I could prance around the backyard and show Ma and Pa how proud I was, but it had landed face up and I couldn't get my teeth around the edge.  I didn't panic though; nope, not me.  I started to dig at that flying disk in an attempt to pry up an edge to grab hold of (an added bonus was that I managed to pull up a few tufts of grass while doing so and Pa couldn't yell at me because technically I wasn't digging a hole).  Eventually, I prevailed--even though the Frisbee tried to escape through my legs when I accidentally kicked it backwards while digging--and I celebrated by joyfully running around the yard.

After a while, and being the good sport I am, I decided to let Pa in on the game as well by allowing him to grab the Frisbee from me a couple of times.  Now, I've shown him time and time again the proper way of playing, but he still doesn't quite get it.  You see, he thinks that throwing the toy (be it a Frisbee, a ball, or a cookie for that matter) down the driveway and expecting me to go running after it is a sure-fire way of having fun.  I beg to differ.  Why would I want to repeatedly fetch something when I could simply lay down and chew on the item instead?  Sometimes I just don't get Pa.

The Remains

Anyway, after letting Pa play for a while I chased down the Frisbee one last time, grabbed it, and sprinted past him into the backyard.  Pa gave chase and I pranced around, just out of his reach, flipping the Frisbee in the air and catching it with a satisfying crunch as my teeth pierced the orange plastic.  Disclaimer:  Before anyone becomes concerned, I just want to say that I never eat the pieces of the things that break while in my possession; I just leave a trail of destruction in my wake.  Eventually, Ma and Pa took the Frisbee remains away from me and tossed them in the recycling bin (I went back later and tried to fish them out again, but Pa was on to me and, after shooing me away, buried the pieces under some soda cans and newspapers).  The game was over but it was the best 90 seconds I've had in a long time.

Thank you Deborah!

Happy Dog Day to Me

Today is a very special day.  Today is the three year anniversary of me coming to live with my two legged family.  In my family, we call it Dog Day.

Cute Little Me

I remember the day I was adopted well.  I had just turned eight weeks old and was tipping the scale at thirteen pounds.  That fateful Sunday morning, I was curled up with my brothers and sisters taking a late morning nap saving up my energy for lunch time (that was back when I got three meals a day--aah the good old days).  Suddenly, my dreams of puppy chow and chewing on my sibling's tails were rudely interrupted by Elaine, the nice lady who took care of my siblings and me since we were born, scooping me and one of my brothers up and bring us both upstairs into the kitchen.  We weren't awake yet, so when she placed us down on the linoleum floor we both slumped back down to continue our naps.  Well, the humans would have none of this and proceeded to try to get us to wake up.  My brother had no intention of humoring the humans and only groggily lifted his head up long enough to get his chin scratched.  I, however, eventually gave in and started to rough-house with Pa (we played the Spider Game--I chased Pa's hands as he made them scurry around the floor like a big five legged spider). After a little while, I determined that these three humans would be the perfect family for me and apparently my fun loving personality won them over as well.  Papers were signed, Elaine gave me a kiss on the snout, Ma, Pa, Sister, and I jumped in the car, and we started to my new home.

This wasn't my first car ride (Elaine had taken my siblings and me to the vet a couple of times for check-ups), but this was the longest ride I had taken thus far.  For most of the ride I slept in the backseat on Sister's lap, however, after about twenty minutes I started to feel a little car sick.  Without going into great detail, let's just say it was a good thing Sister had placed a towel over her lap.  Feeling better, I fell back asleep and didn't stir for the rest of the ride.

Already Crushing the Flowers

When we got home, I was once again rousted from my sleep.  My family took me into the backyard where my Aunt (and future babysitter) was waiting for my arrival.  I snuggled in her arms for a while then started to explore my new home while Ma and Pa went to the toy store (AKA pet store) to buy me food, bones, and toys (this was the first in a long line of events which made me realize that I was adopted by some pretty cool people).

My First Toy:  "Booda"

That night I slept in a my crate in Ma and Pa's room.  They were a little concerned that I would miss my siblings and cry all night, but I didn't make one peep (well, except for when I needed to go out).  Now don't tell my siblings this, but I kind of liked having the crate all to myself.  I could stretch out and no one tried to sleep on my head.

The next morning, I woke up bright and early to continue exploring my new environment.  The rest, as they say, is history.

Behold the Power of Cheese

The good old days!

Another steaming hot day.  Did you know that it's been nearly a year and a half since I've seen snow?  Now if that isn't depressing enough consider this:  A year and a half for humans like my Ma, Pa, or Sister equals to about ten in dog years.  Imagine no snow for ten years when you've been born with a thick (and snazzy) fur coat and a fun-loving personality.

Anyway, realizing my obvious discomfort, Pa, when he came home from work this evening, surprised me by setting up my doggy pool (don't worry--it had been more than an hour since I ate my dinner).  As soon as my pool touched the ground I jumped in it and immediately dedicated my attention to trying to drink all the water as it came out of the hose.  I failed, but I gave it a good try.  I wasn't disappointed by my failure for I had suddenly become aware of a little painted penguin clinging to the bottom of my pool.  Well, he seemed to be mocking me with his ducky inner-tube so I began to dig...and dig...and dig.  I dug my little heart out trying to get that penguin, but he always seemed just out of reach.  It didn't matter though.  Like a dog possessed, I continued to dig.

Suddenly, I heard something--a faint crinkling sound.  I stopped digging for penguins and raised my sopping wet snout in the air.  With a deep sniff I realized what had drawn my attention away from my pool.  Sloshing water behind me, I jumped out of my pool (spraying Pa and Sister--who had recently come outside to cheer me on with penguin quest, with water after a single, and well timed, swish of my tail), hot tailed it down the driveway, jumped up the side steps, and skidded to a halt in front of the side door.  Then I started to bark.

Sister, after a few seconds, caught up with me and asked me what I was 'yapping at' (on a side note, I am not particularly fond of her phraseology in this circumstance).  I barked in response, but apparently she wasn't paying attention because she still had no idea what I was trying to tell her.  Someone understood me though.  From inside the kitchen Ma called out:  "He heard me unwrapping a block of cheddar cheese."

Good Friends

I have some really nice friends (both of the two legged and four legged variety).  Let me explain:

My Sister told me a couple of days ago that my good friend Rita had read about my run-in with the hound from hell in the park last week and was concerned that I was alright.  Sister told her that I was okay, that I wasn't bitten or anything--just a little frightened, and commiserated on my behalf with her how irresponsible some dog owners can be and how nasty certain dogs are.  I'm sure they also discussed how good natured and handsome I am, but Sister didn't tell me about that part of their conversation in fear that I might develop a big head.

After checking on my condition, Rita went home and informed her four legged companions Ralphie and Brandy of my status.  Now, I've never personally met either Ralphie or Brandy, but that hasn't prevented us from becoming fast friends.  Their Mom and my Sister have shared tons of stories about us and I know Ralphie and Brandy appreciate the videos I've posted (especially the one where I voiced my displeasure at getting a bath).  We've even exchanged Christmas cards!  Anyway, Ralphie and Brandy were quite relieved to hear that I was alright, but decided that I still needed a little cheering up.  What they did was really, really nice.

When my Sister came home from work yesterday she told me that Ralphie and Brandy's Mom had given her a note and a little plastic bag with my name on it.  I wagged my tail in anticipation as Sister read the note out loud to me.  It said:  "Dear Rigby.  Practice on these 'bunnies.'  Your friends, Brandy & Ralphie."  I wagged my tail harder.  "Bunnies!" I thought, "Brandy and Ralphie sent me a couple of bunnies!"

Bunny Cookie!

Well, it turns out I misinterpreted the note, but what Brandy and Ralphie gave me was even better.  They sent me two molasses and peanut butter flavored cookies in the shape of bunnies!  Now I ask you, what could be better than that?  I get to eat, I don't have to chase my meal (it has been really hot this summer), and I get to work out some of my bunny related frustrations.  It's a win, win, win situation!

Because it was almost dinner time, Sister said I could have one bunny cookie now and save the other for later (for some odd reason she thinks that me eating one, two, or say...thirty cookies would ruin my appetite--I really must talk to her about that misconception).  In order to make it last longer, Sister broke the cookie up into pieces and gave me each piece one at a time.  First, I ate his tiny bunny ears.  Next I ate his itty bitty little head where his stupid little pink nose would be.  Sister then broke the cookie's body up into four pieces which, pardon the expression, I wolfed down.  Last, but not least, I ate what would be his fluffy white tail.

I felt so much better after eating my tasty bunny cookie.  Thanks Rita, Brandy, and Ralphie!

A Trip to the Park

On Tuesday, my family decided that I needed something to do.  You see, according to them, I've spent far too much time lately looking--and finding--trouble to get into.  I've especially been fond of shredding papers, most recently the instruction booklet for the family's new washing machine and a roll of paper towels.  Anyway, because I've been so troublesome, my family decided to take me for a walk at Belmont Lake State Park.  I like it there a lot; there are always lots of smells to sniff and geese to chase (though I'm not allowed in the water which is really disappointing).

As soon as we got to the park I made a break from the car to the path so fast that I gave my Sister leash burns on both of her hands.  Yeah, I know that I really shouldn't have bolted for the trees like I did, but I was really excited and wanted to start sniffing all the great outdoor smells as soon as I could.  Sister was a bit annoyed, but she admitted that it was all her fault and that she should have expected and been prepared for my excitement level.  Still, she warned me not to bolt like that ever again.

We started down the path.  After walking for a little while we came across a man and his dog.  The man asked if I was friendly and I scoffed to myself.  Of course I'm friendly!  Anyway, his dog (a ten year old yellow lab) came over to me and we started to jump and guffaw around.  It is always fun to play with big dogs.  Don't get me wrong, I like playing with little dogs like my best friend Mecki, but you can't really stand on your back legs and box with a dog that only comes up to your knees.  As we played, I suddenly became aware that I was at a definite disadvantage.   You see, the yellow lab could jump and run and zig and zag without restraint.  I, on the other hand, kept getting tangled up with my humans.  It was then I realized that the other dog was off leash!  Imagine the fun we could have had if we were both off leash.  I'm going to have to talk to my family about that.

After a little while, the yellow lab and his Pa and my family and I went our separate ways.  Then, about a mile down the path, I noticed a little dachshund coming my way.  "It's Mecki!" I thought and wagged my tail excitedly.  As we got closer, however, I realized that this dog, while long like my best friend, wasn't quite as furry.  I was really disappointed. 

It was later, however, that the walk turned bad.  We came around a bend where a medium size dog and his owner were standing.  I went over to bunk noses with him and do you know what he did?  The dog snarled and snapped at me!  Now I don't associate with dogs that are so rude that they growl and bite.  In fact, two years ago when I was playing in a dog park I actually walked away from a group of dogs that were play growling and found a nice pit bull who just wanted to run around and had no problem with me drooling all over his back.  Anyway, I was really scared especially when the man brought his dog back to me in hopes that we could become friends.  Luckily, Pa stepped between me and the other dog and helped Sister pull me to safety while telling the nasty man with his hell-hound to leave me alone.

Despite my encounter with the hound from hell, I had a lot of fun on my walk.  In fact, I was so tired from the trip that I slept the entire way home and felt no need to shred anything...at least for a few hours.

A Mocking Opportunity

I love my family.  I really do.  Sometimes, however, I don't appreciate the games they play at my expense.  One of their favorite games is to look at other animals and try to determine which act or look like me.  Now, if they were comparing my golden locks to, say, the mane of a lion that would be okay.  And I'd love for them to compare my shiny white teeth to those of a crocodile.  But no, instead they look for unflattering similarities which is exactly what happened.  Let me explain:

My family went to Atlantis Marine World yesterday.  Now, they could have been nice and brought me home a smelly eel to roll on or a puffer fish to play catch with (and I know for a fact that they were hand feeding skates so they easily could have stuffed one or two in a bag for me and brought it home), but no, instead they decided to play "The Game."

The Seal

After much searching and contemplation, my family ultimately decided on the animal they felt best personified me and took a picture.  Personally, I don't see the resemblance and I certainly don't appreciate what they are insinuating.  See what you think.

Me

Now tell me, isn't it truly amazing what I put up with?  I mean, what a mean family I live with!  How could they possibly compare me with a big ugly gray seal sprawled out unattractively on its side by his pool?  So wrong...it's so wrong!