Yes, Rigby, There Is A Santa Claus

Not that I ever for a moment questioned it being a cold hard fact.  I need only look back on the years of Christmas presents Santa left me to confirm that he is in fact real.  This year, for instance, he brought me a stuffed gator and a cardboard box to destroy. 

 

Okay, maybe Santa didn’t bring me the box.  Maybe, just maybe, I stole it.  Maybe someone else’s present came in that box and I helped myself to the packaging when they weren’t looking (the shredded and drenched remains have been disposed of…there’s no way to prove anything anymore). 

But this post isn’t about the origins of a former box.  This post is about Santa.  Santa is real and he’s totally dedicated to making sure that good dogs who 

• Only cause a moderate level of chaos in their day-to-day life,
• Only destroy a certain number of shoes each year, and 
• Only bark when goaded by pedestrians, vehicles, animals, and imaginary beings passing by their house 

get all that they deserve no matter what it takes.

You see, apparently, after dropping off my presents underneath the tree at home, Santa must have discovered that one had been accidentally left behind in his sleigh (maybe it slid underneath his seat).  Santa must have already been well past my house when he discovered this, and since he had a lot of other stops to make that night, it must not have made sense for him to circle back just to drop off one single package.  But Santa didn’t want to disappoint me either, so he decided that he would leave my final present underneath the tree in the house out east.  And sure enough, that’s where I found it, nearly a week after Christmas:  A neatly wrapped package (which I promptly destroyed) housing a giant plush green pickle toy. 

But there was more than just a toy underneath the tree to prove that Santa had been to the house.  There were other clues as well. 

For instance, it appears that Santa might have misjudged his trajectory when he landed in the yard.  As soon as we arrived at the house, my family and I discovered that an entire panel of the backyard fence had been broken off from the rest and was lying flat on the ground.  When Pa propped it back up to keep me from wandering off through it and into the neighbor’s yard, he discovered that many of the boards had been snapped in two as if they had been stepped on. 

And what stepped on those boards?  Reindeer of course!  In fact, there were hoof-prints all over the backyard. 

Not to mention, there were skid marks in the grass from when Santa’s sleigh finally touched ground.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I really appreciate what Santa did.  He didn’t have to swing by to drop off that nearly forgotten present.  But listening to my family debate whether or not they anticipate Santa having “sleigh insurance,” I can’t help but agree with the lyrics from an old Christmas song:  “They should never give a license, to a man who drives a sleigh and plays with elves.”

Christmas 2022

 

 

Wishing you a very

Merry Christmas.

 

 

A Turkey Toy-Toy

Behold!  My 400th post (in dog posts, that’s 2,800) and boy are my paws tired!

Sorry, I couldn’t resist saying that.

A lot has changed in the ten years and 399 posts since a rude lizard who jettisoned its tail to get away from me sparked this journey of me sharing my stories with the world.  But the one constant throughout all those years (aside from my devilishly good looks and quick wit of course)?  Sister’s laziness.  Perhaps we’d be up to 800 posts if only Sister would procrastinate less and type faster.  Case in point, the following happened two weeks ago back on Thanksgiving Day.  It just goes to show you, you just can’t get good help these days. 

Anyway, onto the events of Thanksgiving Day 2022. 

On Thanksgiving, I got two turkeys.  I got:

• A sample of my family’s turkey which, while ridiculously small, was tasty (as a side note, I have been instrumental in finishing off the left-over sweet potatoes from that day)
• An awesome plush turkey toy from Aunt B.
  

Turkey Time!

How awesome was this plush turkey?  Well, for one thing, I’ve had it two weeks now and not only have I not ripped it to shreds, but it even still has some semblance of a squeaker.  Also, I hate to be separated from it. 

You see, on Thanksgiving night, after spending the day begging for samples, playing with my new turkey, and keeping Aunt B company, I was understandably exhausted (it takes an awful lot of work to be my happy-go-lucky self).  Anyway, that evening I wandered off to bed with my family and after collecting my goodnight liver treat, I settled down on my pillow.  I snoozed for about twenty minutes, but then, all of a sudden, I jumped up and headed out the bedroom door and into the main part of the house.  Ma and Pa called for me to come back to bed, but assumed that I had merely gone out to get a drink of water (those liver bits can be a bit salty).  But I wasn’t going for a drink.  No, instead, a few seconds later, Ma heard me slink back into the bedroom and soon could sense that I had come to her side of the bed and was standing essentially snout to snout with her.  Ma cautiously opened her eyes and, even in the darkness, could see that I was standing by her side, staring at her with a goofy half-asleep look on my face and my tail a-wagging loopily.  In my mouth was my turkey.  Once Ma admired my turkey and told me how lucky I was to have such a nice toy-toy, I then scurried over to Pa’s side of the bed and showed him.  After showing off my prize, I returned to my pillow and fell back asleep, turkey by my side.

Got any stuffin'?

But that’s not all.  A few days later I was sitting at my desk in the office (Sister brought down to the office the orthopedic pillow she kept for me in her bedroom (which I never use) so now I don’t have to worry about leaving my nighttime sleeping pillow at work) when I once again suddenly jumped up from a sound sleep, scurried into the living room, retrieved my turkey, and stalked back into the office.  I then threw myself down on my pillow and hunkered down for a long nap with my turkey.

Happy Turkey Day 2022

Happy Thanksgiving

to all my pals!

Blooper Reel:

I Hate Weekends

I am a worker-dog.  For the last three years I have acted as Administrative Assistant for everyone in the family, attended countless meetings, and personally closed more than a few deals.  I am a company dog also.  I have given co-workers the stink eye when they've returned from lunch three minutes late and I've gone out of my way to make sure that everyone takes their daily required "coffee breaks."  I know the words "wanna go to work?" and I eagerly follow anyone and everyone into the back room in hopes of getting a few hours of overtime in.  Deadlines must be met!

But when no one's working because of some feeble excuse like "it's the weekend" or "it's a national holiday" or "it's vacation," well, let's just say, I don't like it one bit.  And to show my displeasure, I camp out in the empty home office and giving everyone who passes by a disapproving stare.

Now get back to work!

Autumn Naps

Every summer it’s the same thing. I lull my family into believing that perhaps I’ve grown up or calmed down due to the sheer amount of time I spend hanging around the house snoozing (usually in a pool of slobber). When I do get up, it’s usually only because I absolutely have to (I have to go out, I have to beg for food, I have to rid the backyard of squirrels) and even then, most of the time it's just for a quick jaunt before returning to my prone position in the air conditioning. And then…BAM!...the summer heat dissipates, the air becomes cool and crisp, and suddenly I’m back to my normal troublesome and energy-filled self, leaving my family, who had become accustomed to my laziness, flat footed and scrambling to keep up.

But despite this influx of puppy energy, I am, and will always be, an expert in relaxation and sleep.

Here’s me snoozing on the couch. During the summer months, even with the air conditioner on full blast in the window right behind me, I rarely sleep on the couch because it is just too hot. But as soon as the temperature gets a little bit cooler, there’s no stopping me. Now, every evening, after eating my PB&K and wiping my snout on the couch, I saunter over to my spot, put my front paws up on the cushion, and patiently wait for someone (usually Ma) to lift my back end up onto the couch. From there, I immediately throw myself down onto the cushion and stretch out as much as I possibly can, leaving my seatmate (also usually Ma) scrunched up in a corner.

My other favorite place to snooze is directly underneath the footrest of Sister’s reclining chair. Now, the extent to which I jam myself under the footrest depends on the day (sometimes it’s just my head, sometimes it’s just my back end, and sometimes it’s my entire body), but in the end, no matter what, I always make sure to pick a spot that inconveniences Sister the most. You see, with me occupying the floorspace under her footrest, Sister has no way of collapsing her chair once she’s in it. Instead, if she wants to get up, she needs to propel herself upward from a slightly reclined position while being careful to not step on me or completely topple over. It’s a lot of fun to watch.

Halloween 2022

 

 

 

Happy Halloween!

^^^..^^^

This Face

This is my "there's an air conditioner in the window" face.  

This is my "there's an air conditioner in the window--why isn't it on?" face.  

This is my "there's an air conditioner in the window--why isn't it on?--it's 80 degrees in here" face.  

This is my "there's an air conditioner in the window--why isn't it on?--it's 80 degrees in here--I'm wearing a fur coat" face.  

This is my "there's an air conditioner in the window--why isn't it on?--it's 80 degrees in here--I'm wearing a fur coat--TURN ON THE DARN AIR CONDITIONER" face.

This face is usually accompanied by dramatic huffing, award winning sighing, and occasional fits of hysterical barking.

When you see this face, you should turn on the air conditioner.

Stealth Dog

The mighty hunter lies in wait on his deck for an unsuspecting creature (man or beast) to dare cross his territory.  Hidden behind the lush green foliage of a hydrangea, he's all but invisible to the world.

Upon visualization of his prey, the mighty hunter let's out an equally mighty roar ("Woof") and scares the unsuspecting creature half to death.

Ah...what fun!

Game Time!

That Sucks!
The game of getting the toy or bone you want.

Objective:

For the dog get his pick of any toy or bone in the house and for the human(s) to watch television in peace.

Components:

• One lovable dog
• At least one haggard human
• Multiple high-quality toys and bones in varying forms (i.e., plush, squeaky, tug, balls, antlers, marrow, Nylabones, etc.)
• A storage area (closet or counter) large enough to house said toys and bones
• A chorus of spectators (optional)
  

Setup:

1. Human(s) settle down for a quiet evening of watching television.
2. Dog decides that he is bored, that his existing toys and bones are all dull, and that the human(s) must be hiding far more interesting toys and bones elsewhere in the house.
   

Playing the Game:  

1. Dog begins barking, carrying-on, and generally showing his displeasure for being bored and being denied immediate access to all the toys and bones in the house.
2. Human(s) plead with dog to quiet down (shouting and noise making (i.e., hand clapping and whistling) is acceptable).
3. Dog ignores human(s). If possible, dog increases his own noise and carrying-on levels.
4. After much pleading, human(s) gives in and walks to storage area housing the supply of toys and bones.
5. Human(s) produces a toy or bone from the storage area and presents it to dog.
6. Dog sniffs offered toy/bone briefly then snubs it (chorus shouts “That Sucks”).
7. Human(s) returns toy or bone to storage area.
8. Human(s) produce another toy or bone from storage area and presents it to dog.
9. Repeat steps 6-8 until end of game.
   

Winning the Game:

The game ends when the human(s) presents something to dog that he likes and runs off with it. If no acceptable toy or bone is available, human(s) may try offering a PB&K.

Vacation!

Pa, Ma, and I are on vacation this week (Sister's at home struggling to get by without her Administrative Assistant) which means that I get plenty of....

DECK TIME!!!!!

All this deck time and the week's not even done yet!  

Best vacation ever!

Celebrate the Birthday Boy

Guess who turns 13 years old today!



Yours truly, that's who!

 

 
 

And because it wouldn't be a Sister photo shoot without it, here are my Grumpy Old Man shots (if you listen very carefully, you might be able to hear me shouting "hey you kids, get off my lawn!")...

  

...as well as a goofy picture (because I'm a fun loving guy).

The Best Shoes in the World

Allow me to introduce you to the world’s best pair of shoes. 

They belong to Ma and they are truly a wonder.  Not only is there a nice metal button to chew on and attempt to gnaw off when the opportunity presents itself, but there is also a Velcro strap and there’s nothing in this world better than the sound of two pieces of Velcro being ripped apart (it sounds so much like the noise my toys make when I start ripping their seams apart). 

And how did I discover this masterpiece of modern footwear? 

Well, I was hanging underneath the table last week during dinner, minding my own business, while trying to decide what trouble I should get into first—find and rip up a toy or steal Ma’s napkin from her lap.  Unable to make up my mind (so many great options), I decided to lay down for a bit which put me snout to toe with Ma’s foot.  I gave the shoe she was wearing a good sniff (I’m always interested to see where people have been) and was just about to grab hold of a nearby toy when I happened to notice that there was a little leather tab sticking out from the side of the shoe.  Nonchalantly, I reached over and began chewing on the tab with my front teeth, careful not to draw attention to myself lest I be yelled at.  While contently chewing, I suddenly realized that there was a bit more give to this leather tab than was normal.  Immediately, I knew what I had.  Grasping the tab firmly in my teeth, I gave it a good tug and was rewarded with a loud rip as the two adjoining strips of Velcro pulled apart.  Ah, I thought, music to my ears!  I dropped the tab from my mouth, which allowed for the Velcro to reconnect, then grabbed hold of it again and gave it another tug.  I was once again rewarded with a satisfying ripping sound. 

I repeated this twice more before Ma realized what was going on, gave a shriek, then removed her shoe from my reach.  Oh well, it was fun while it lasted.

Magpie

You know how magpies are supposed to be attracted to shiny objects?  Well, call me a magpie because I have the exact same fascination.  I’m drawn to shiny things.  I can’t ignore them.  Here are some of my favorite shiny things:

Buttons on Ma’s Pants:  There’s a certain pair of jeans that Ma wears that has protruding metal buttons running down the sides of the legs.  Without fail, while lounging with her on the couch, I discover these buttons and start nibbling on them.  Usually Ma doesn’t notice at first, but eventually she does and has to pry the buttons out of my mouth and cover them with a blanket or a pillow to keep me from gnawing on them further. 

Pa’s Bracelet:  Pa wears a metal bracelet on his right wrist which just happens to be the side I sit on when he and I are watching TV (okay, he’s watching TV and I’m mooching ear scratches).  After a few minutes of scratches, when Pa is good and distracted by the television, I start nibbling on his bracelet.  Eventually, he too notices what I’m up to and starts contorting his arm to get the bracelet away from me. 

Zippers:  Many a time someone in my family has noticed that a coat, seemly abandoned over a chair or on a doorknob, appears to be moving on its own.  It’s only after getting up and investigating that the reason for the movement is discovered:  I’m either lying underneath or standing alongside the coat, gnawing away happily on the zipper pull.

 

Easter 2022

 

Happy Easter to All My Friends!

Watch out for those candy bearing, egg hiding, carrot munching, stupid fluffy tailed bunnies gallivanting willy-nilly like all over town.

Happy National Pet Day!

This year I, along with the rest of my fellow Administrative Assistants (yes, even the cats), were recognized as valued members of the library team on National Pet Day.  That’s me in the fourth image, by the way, along with Harry the Horrified Hammy (Sister’s Junior Administrative Assistant).  Given the amount of deals I’ve helped Sister land over the last two years (she thinks she’s responsible, but let’s face it, her vendors are always asking about me, not her), it’s about time I received some recognition.

The Great Banana Caper

Sister is mean.  Sure, she was instrumental in me being allowed to lounge on the couch and she’s very generous when it comes to buying me new toys and fixing my old ones, but when it comes to food and sharing, she can be downright cruel.

Waiting for Ice Cream

We have a very simple rule in my house: if you are snacking on something that I like (and what don’t I like?), you are obliged to share it with me.  If you’re eating popcorn, I expect some popcorn to rain down on me.  If you sneak a piece of cheese, I expect to get a sampling of it.  Same goes with apples, peanuts, crackers, oranges, bananas, and ice cream.  It’s simple--if you eat the dog eats.

Sister has been known to try to bypass this rule in the past, usually unsuccessfully.  She’s particularly fond of the head fake where she pretends to walk a snack from the kitchen to the living room by way of the dining room while I, predicting her destination, scurry from the kitchen into the living room via the hallway only to find myself totally alone.  Eventually I circle back to Sister still in the kitchen and force her to share, but it’s a lot of unnecessary work.

Well last week, Sister did something horrible--something unforgivable.  Sister succeeded in cheating me out of a piece of banana.

It started innocently enough. Pa offered to take me outside to do some business and I graciously obliged.  There was no reason for me to suspect that something nefarious was about to happen and I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to bark at invisible entities just beyond my front gate.  Getting up, I headed for the door, leaving Sister sitting in her chair in the living room.

As soon as I walked back into the house, I could smell it; someone was eating a banana.  Quickly, I scurried into the living room and came to a screeching halt in front of Sister, still sitting in her chair, ready to assume my begging position.  But despite the fact that the aroma was strongest by her, Sister wasn’t eating anything.  I turned toward Pa’s chair thinking maybe the banana was there.  It wasn’t.  Frantically, I turned back to Sister and started snuffling along the top of the side table to her right.  No banana.  Beside myself with panic, I checked my pillow to see if maybe the banana smell was coming from a Kong waiting for me there (sometimes Ma does that, she sets up a Kong for me when my back is turned).  But there was nothing.  By this time, I was completely and totally frantic--my head whipping back and forth with my nose up in the air trying to find the source of the smell.

There was something else I noticed, though.  Sister was laughing hysterically which I’ve learned over the years is not a good thing.

Turns out, as soon as I stepped outside, Sister jumped up, grabbed a banana, and quickly ate it with the intention of consuming it entirely in my absence so that she wouldn’t have to share it with me.  To my great satisfaction, Sister was yelled at for being so mean to me and apparently felt so bad in the end that she even broke down and retrieved a second banana which she shared a majority of with me.

Did that banana make up for the trauma I underwent?  No, but it was tasty.