Happy Thanksgiving!
Thursday, November 24, 2016
A Thanksgiving Wish and Goal
Wishing all my two- and four-legged friends a very happy Thanksgiving filled with good company and tasty treats. And remember, you haven't eaten nearly enough tasty treats if you don't look like this when you're through:
Wednesday, November 9, 2016
The Puppy Files: An Honest Mistake
Welcome to yet another edition of The Puppy Files, a series in which I
travel down memory lane to when I was an itty bitty little puppy with
large gnashing teeth and a bad attitude.
Street fairs are a big thing in my neck of the woods. At least three times a year, a major street in my neighborhood is shut down and all the local vendors, store owners, and (my favorite) eateries spill out into the middle of the street and the whole town shows up.
For the first fifteen months of my life, I only heard about these shindigs and while they sounded fascinating (especially the food part), I was never especially interested in checking them out. Why? Well, it was twofold. First, I was too busy biting and disobeying my humans to care about much else. Second, walks back then involved the Gentle Leader (AKA snout guard) and, as my loyal readers know, I truly despised wearing that.
But then, one day in my sixteenth month (when my gentle Golden Retriever genes started kicking in and my behavior became almost tolerable to the general human population), Pa, Ma, and Sister suggested that I accompany them to one of these fairs.
Needless to say, I was really excited about this outing. Little did I know that my excitement would multiply exponentially in mere minutes.
My first surprise? I didn't have to wear the Gentle Leader. Granted, I did have to sit through the whole, "you're a big boy now and you're going to walk like a big boy, right?" speech, but I saw it as a small price to pay for my freedom.
With a bound and a leap I jumped into the car and off my family and I drove to the site of the fair. After parking, receiving yet another "pep-talk" about being a good boy, and patiently waiting for the okay to jump out of the car, my family and I made our way toward the fair--me walking like a model doggy citizen.
The smell struck me immediately. There was food everywhere: sausages, zepoles, popcorn, cheese steaks, hamburgers, pickles, hot dogs, cotton candy, and ice cream! I didn't know where to look first or, for that matter, where to pull first. Yes, despite the multiple "big boy" speeches, I started pulling toward the food trucks pretty much immediately. This resulted in a series of stern "no"s from Pa after which I resigned myself to walking like a good boy (while pledging to pounce on and swallow up anything even remotely edible that happened to cross directly in front of my path).
After a few short minutes, my family and I made it past the food carts and while you might think this would have been a bummer for me, you'd be wrong. You see, there were dogs and people all over the place! Immediately, I straightened up, shook once to fluff my fur, and proudly pranced down the street--wowing the crowds of people and dogs with my devilishly good looks.
I was so busy showing off that I almost missed it. Almost. A few feet away from me were two giant swan-like creatures. "Wow! I didn't know they made plush toys that large!" I thought. "They're human size!"
Throwing dignity and obedience aside, I lunged at the closest five and a half foot tall swan catching Pa completely off guard and wrenching his shoulder. I also, in the process, frightened the swan who unexpectedly sprung to life, screeched, and jumped backward away from me. Almost immediately, Pa gained control of the situation, apologized to the giant swan (who took it fairly well despite the scare of a lifetime), and dragged me away all the while scolding me for having been a bad boy.
I found out later that that pair of plush swans were actually human members of an acrobatic team that was playing at a nearby venue. For a brief moment, I contemplated asking Pa if we could buy tickets to the show (can you imagine...a stage full of giant plush swans?!) but I ultimately thought better of it. I figured that Pa wouldn't appreciate my suggestion given the most recent development.
Needless to say, it was a long time before I was allowed to go to another street fair and when I was finally deemed "mature enough," the swans were nowhere to be seen.
Now, flash forward about seven years to a week ago last Monday--also known as Halloween. There I was, minding my own business in the side yard (you know, eating grass, hunting lizards, and patrolling for squirrels), when what did I see literally crossing the road but a giant white chicken! Now, I knew it wasn't a real chicken, but I'd be lying if I said that I didn't have an overwhelming desire to run up to it, grab it by the wing, and start plucking its feathers out. As an alternative, I decided to bark hysterically at the giant chicken.
Alerted by my manly bark, Sister stuck her head out the door to see what was going on. She was just about to call me a "Barky Boy" (a compliment in my eyes) and bribe me inside with a cookie, when she herself noticed the giant walking chicken. What could she do? How could she tell me not to bark at a giant walking chicken? With a shrug, Sister went back inside the house and left me to bark until the chicken strolled out of sight.
Street fairs are a big thing in my neck of the woods. At least three times a year, a major street in my neighborhood is shut down and all the local vendors, store owners, and (my favorite) eateries spill out into the middle of the street and the whole town shows up.
But then, one day in my sixteenth month (when my gentle Golden Retriever genes started kicking in and my behavior became almost tolerable to the general human population), Pa, Ma, and Sister suggested that I accompany them to one of these fairs.
Needless to say, I was really excited about this outing. Little did I know that my excitement would multiply exponentially in mere minutes.
My first surprise? I didn't have to wear the Gentle Leader. Granted, I did have to sit through the whole, "you're a big boy now and you're going to walk like a big boy, right?" speech, but I saw it as a small price to pay for my freedom.
With a bound and a leap I jumped into the car and off my family and I drove to the site of the fair. After parking, receiving yet another "pep-talk" about being a good boy, and patiently waiting for the okay to jump out of the car, my family and I made our way toward the fair--me walking like a model doggy citizen.
The smell struck me immediately. There was food everywhere: sausages, zepoles, popcorn, cheese steaks, hamburgers, pickles, hot dogs, cotton candy, and ice cream! I didn't know where to look first or, for that matter, where to pull first. Yes, despite the multiple "big boy" speeches, I started pulling toward the food trucks pretty much immediately. This resulted in a series of stern "no"s from Pa after which I resigned myself to walking like a good boy (while pledging to pounce on and swallow up anything even remotely edible that happened to cross directly in front of my path).
After a few short minutes, my family and I made it past the food carts and while you might think this would have been a bummer for me, you'd be wrong. You see, there were dogs and people all over the place! Immediately, I straightened up, shook once to fluff my fur, and proudly pranced down the street--wowing the crowds of people and dogs with my devilishly good looks.
I was so busy showing off that I almost missed it. Almost. A few feet away from me were two giant swan-like creatures. "Wow! I didn't know they made plush toys that large!" I thought. "They're human size!"
Throwing dignity and obedience aside, I lunged at the closest five and a half foot tall swan catching Pa completely off guard and wrenching his shoulder. I also, in the process, frightened the swan who unexpectedly sprung to life, screeched, and jumped backward away from me. Almost immediately, Pa gained control of the situation, apologized to the giant swan (who took it fairly well despite the scare of a lifetime), and dragged me away all the while scolding me for having been a bad boy.
I found out later that that pair of plush swans were actually human members of an acrobatic team that was playing at a nearby venue. For a brief moment, I contemplated asking Pa if we could buy tickets to the show (can you imagine...a stage full of giant plush swans?!) but I ultimately thought better of it. I figured that Pa wouldn't appreciate my suggestion given the most recent development.
Needless to say, it was a long time before I was allowed to go to another street fair and when I was finally deemed "mature enough," the swans were nowhere to be seen.
Now, flash forward about seven years to a week ago last Monday--also known as Halloween. There I was, minding my own business in the side yard (you know, eating grass, hunting lizards, and patrolling for squirrels), when what did I see literally crossing the road but a giant white chicken! Now, I knew it wasn't a real chicken, but I'd be lying if I said that I didn't have an overwhelming desire to run up to it, grab it by the wing, and start plucking its feathers out. As an alternative, I decided to bark hysterically at the giant chicken.
Alerted by my manly bark, Sister stuck her head out the door to see what was going on. She was just about to call me a "Barky Boy" (a compliment in my eyes) and bribe me inside with a cookie, when she herself noticed the giant walking chicken. What could she do? How could she tell me not to bark at a giant walking chicken? With a shrug, Sister went back inside the house and left me to bark until the chicken strolled out of sight.
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