Pa's Tale

The following story isn't about me.  It isn't about me getting a bath or spitting on walls or shredding something that I probably shouldn't have had in the first place.  No, this story is about Pa and something that happened last weekend--something very disturbing.

It was first thing in the morning and Pa had gone outside to water the front yard.  In an attempt to make watering easier, Pa had, years ago, set up an above ground sprinkler system that allowed for any area of the property to be watered with the simple redirecting of a connector and a turn of the main faucet.  So, that morning, Pa redirected the connectors, turned on the water, and immediately realized that something was wrong.  He couldn't hear the sound of the sprinkler running in the front yard.  Figuring that one of the connectors was diverting the wrong way, Pa rechecked the system.  Everything seemed fine, yet the sprinkler in the front yard still wasn't running.  Puzzled, Pa then wandered into the front yard to inspect the sprinkler head itself.

As soon as he stepped foot in the front yard he saw it:  a bunny sitting in the green grass a couple of feet away from a length of exposed hose.  Pa looked at the hose.  Water was gushing out from the middle of the length.  He looked back at the bunny.  The bunny stared back at him, his nose twitching.  Pa looked at the hose again which was still gushing water.

Something was fishy.

Pa then approached the hose (the bunny took this opportunity to scurry off) and discovered that the bunny had gnawed a 1/2 inch hole directly into the rubber.

I feel for Pa.  I know how it feels to struggle against the brazen gall of those stupid little fluffy tailed trespassers.  I only wish I had free access to the front yard.  If I had, I would have chased that stupid bunny away long before he turned Pa's property into his own private chew toy.

When the Spit Hits the Wall

Quick!  Drop everything and call the newspapers!

I am proud to announce that I have achieved a personal (and perhaps world) record:  I managed to fling spit a full 35 inches up the side of a vertical wall.

I'll pause here a moment to allow for the inevitable applause.

Thank you!  Thank you!

Wait, did I hear someone say "speech"?  Well...okay, if you insist!

It has been a long hard yet rewarding road I've traveled.  I've spent countless hours honing my skill.  I remember back when I was a little pup and first discovered the ability to leave unattractive black drool on unsuspecting pant legs and bedspreads.  I was so proud and my family was so disgusted (little did they know that that was just the tip of the iceberg).  But despite my success, I chose not to stop there.  I set my sights on higher goals and that was when I discovered the joy of leaving my drooly calling card on walls.  Of course, I started small, a few inches at a time, but with hard work and vigilance, I finally managed to reach the epic level I'm at today.  Look at me, I'm a champ!

A Summertime Walk

Sister is usually pretty cool.  She's almost always willing to share whatever she's eating, she's always hot so she's usually the first to suggest turning on the air conditioner, she's given up trying to stop me from dig-dig-digging under the forsythia, she was the first to allow me to sleep on the bed, and it has been through her co-workers that I have met pretty much all of my four legged friends.  But sometimes, despite all of her good ideas and willingness to share, Sister comes up with some truly stupid ideas.  She had one of those today.  Today, Sister took me for a walk.

Now you might say: "A walk?!  So what?"  Well, allow me to list three well known facts:

1. It is July and I live on Long Island, New York.  The daily temperature for my neck of the woods is between 80 and 90 degrees Fahrenheit.
2. I wear a full (and luxurious) fur coat all year round.
3. I hate walks--always have, always will.  I'd much prefer to be chasing squirrels or barking at people passing by from the comfort of my own backyard.

So, yeah, like I was saying, going for a walk was a really stupid plan.  And what's worse, when Sister put my leash and collar on me, I thought that we were going for a ride in the nice air conditioned car.  When we got outside, I even ran straight to Sister's passenger side door.  And when we walked past her car, I actually looked up and down the block for Ma's car (which wasn't there).  Talk about a bummer!

So anyway, Sister and I trudged our way to and from the local park which, while only a couple of blocks away, felt like it was in the next state.  Needless to say, I was not a happy camper.  So much so, in fact, that I even downright refused to eat the cookie that Sister bribed me with when she dragged me down one particularly shade-less street (I spit it out and left it on that street).  When we finally got home, I drank about a gallon of water out of the doggy stream (the garden hose).  Then Sister and I went inside.

In an attempt to buy back my love, Sister turned on the air conditioner in the bedroom and insisted that I hang out with her in the coolness (she was looking a bit worse for wear from our walk too--her hair, which is almost as thick as mine, was rather frizzed out).  I was tempted to refuse her offer on principle--plop myself down on the kitchen floor for a marathon panting session--but the cool air was just too enticing and I was so hot.

I snoozed on the bed in the air conditioning until lunch time when I sauntered out to see what Sister was eating.  Obviously feeling bad about dragging me out for a walk in the hot summer sun, Sister gave me a sampling of cheese from her sandwich.  All was almost forgiven.