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.”

Happy Father's Day!

This weekend was Father's Day weekend (yeah, technically it is only one day but Pa is so great he deserves the entire weekend).  I love my Pa a lot.  He really "gets me" and is always looking out for "his boy."

Pa and me (I'm on the right)

This weekend's fun started on Saturday when I helped Pa fix the washing machine.  Sadly, I wasn't allowed to actually help Pa take the washer apart (which really would have been a lot of fun--I'm great at breaking things), but I did get my chance to help when Pa started cleaning out the vent pipes.  What he did was hook an old towel to the end of one of my leashes then pulled the leash and towel through the tube thereby cleaning it.  I watched him do this a couple of times and I thought to myself, "I can help," so I grabbed hold of the towel and gave it a yank in the opposite direction.  Pa was very grateful for my help.

Next Pa took me outside to play in the yard.  After helping me check the perimeters, Pa decided to sit down and read a book while I kept an ever vigilant eye out for rogue bunnies.  After a while, however, I got restless so I went in search of something to chew on which I found in the form of a branch a squirrel had dropped from its nest high above in the tree.  I looked back at Pa and his book; he looked so bored.  He wasn't even ripping out the pages and shredding them!  It was then I decided that I should give Pa the opportunity to feel like a hero on his special day.  I repositioned the stick I was chewing on and...CHOMP...I managed to lodge the stick across the roof of my mouth.  Revving up a sad and pathetic look, I pitifully approached Pa and gave him the international symbol for "help, something is stuck on the roof of my mouth" (it goes something like "haaack" for those not in the know).  Obligingly, Pa put his book aside and, after going in wrist deep, managed to pluck the offending stick from my mouth.  I wagged my tail at Pa and he shook his head, rubbed my ear, and called me an idiot.  My hero!

The next day, the official Father's Day, was just as much fun!

First thing in the morning, Pa and Sister took me to the doggy toy store where Pa bought me a new collar (while I love my new black collar, I really wanted the collar stamped with bat signals--it would have made me look tough), food, greenies, and a brand new bone.  While we were there I met a number of new human friends who oohed and ahhed at how handsome I am.

Later in the day we had present time.  Sister placed my present for Pa in a big brown bag and handed it to me with the instructions to "Bring to Pa."  Well, I was so excited that I got a bit carried away and rather than bring the bag to Pa, I grabbed it and started ripping the bag to shreds.  After a second or so, I suddenly discovered that the brown bag was not empty--there was a bag of Beggin' Strips (It's BACON!) in there!  You see, I had asked Sister buy Pa a bag of Beggin' Strips about a week ago, but I've been so busy lately keeping track of all those bunnies that I completely forgot making my discovery a big surprise.  Spitting out the pieces of brown bag that were stuck on my tongue, I grabbed the Beggin' Strips bag and hightailed it out of the room and up the stairs.  Unfortunately, Pa was right behind me and managed to catch up to me before I got the opportunity to rip open the packaging.  I felt a little sheepish that I had essentially stolen back the gift I got for Pa, but he took it pretty well and gave me one of the treats to test.

Finally, rounding out the day, I got some Father's Day Surf 'n Turf.  Yum!

Holidays are great!

Happy Birthday to Me!

Today is my birthday; I am three years old! My family keeps telling me that they didn’t think I’d make it to my third birthday considering what a troublesome and sometimes mean little puppy I was. Obviously I grew out of my mean days...it’s the troublesome years I’m still taking full part in.

Me and my litter mates at 7 weeks

My special day didn’t start out exactly how I would have liked. A tiny little bunny (my family has decided to name it Henry) has, over the last two weeks, been trying to make itself at home in my backyard despite me repeatedly sniffing him out and chasing him away. This morning I discovered Henry lounging in my driveway in full view of the side door where I was sitting enjoying the cool morning breeze (it’s been super hot these last few days so the change in temperature was a welcome relief). I really wanted to go outside and chase that interloper off my property (if I ease up and let bunnies take up residence I can only image what would move in next…zebras or maybe rhinoceroses!), however, Pa wouldn’t let me so I just sat by the door and barked and barked and barked with my most menacing voice (my Sister later told me that I woke her up with all my barking). Despite all that effort, that stupid little rabbit wouldn’t go away. Afraid I would wake up the rest of the neighborhood, Pa closed the side door so that I couldn’t see that bunny any longer. To humor him I stopped barking, but I knew that Henry was still sitting there mocking me—eating my grass and hopping through the flower beds that I like to trample. Thoroughly depressed, I climbed up on Ma and Pa’s bed and stared sadly out the window. Apparently I looked so sad that Ma didn’t have the heart to boot me off the bed. I guess I should look depressed more often!

My day got much better later on though.

The Birthday Boy

At lunch time, Sister took me outside to get a picture of me wearing a ridiculous birthday hat she bought me. It was really kind of embarrassing, but, like the good dog I am, I humored her by letting her take my picture. In the process, however, I got five cookies, slobbered all over her, and destroyed five hats. I count that a win in my book.

Me & my Mini-Mecki

The birthday fun continued when Sister came home from work with a shiny paper gift bag. She said my two best friends in the whole wide world, Mecki and his mom Karin, had sent me birthday presents! First, she took a box out of the bag and showed it to me explaining that it was from Karin. I gave it a big sniff and my tail immediately started going around in circles (that’s how you can tell I’m really excited). It smelled really, really good—a bit like chicken and sweet potato. She opened the box for me (if I had thumbs not only could I open my own cookie boxes whenever I wanted but I would eventually rule the world) and handed me one of the cookies. Oh boy was it tasty and crunchy and did I mention tasty? When I finished the cookie, I begged for more but my Sister said that it would ruin my dinner and that perhaps I could have another later in the evening. I was very sad that I wasn't getting another cookie, but my mood changed when my Sister reminded me that I still had to open Mecki's present. With baited breath, and drool filled jowls, I watched as Sister pulled a long stuffed orange Bobo from the bag. "Mecki thinks it looks like him," my Sister told me, "and he made sure to roll on it so that it smelled like him too!" I must admit, there were definite similarities between Mecki and the toy! I grabbed the toy, made a bee line for the side door (I've found the best place to enjoy a new toy is outside), and, when my Sister opened the door, I ran straight for the backyard. I threw the toy in the air, I pounced on it, I ran around in circles with it, I played tug with it and my Sister, and I rolled on my back with it. I love my Mini-Mecki! Thanks Karin and Mecki!

My birthday didn't end there though! Later, after my humans and I ate our dinners, Sister played Mini-Mecki with me (tug, keep away, and chase) in the living room while Ma and Pa cheered me on. After a while, however, I started getting a little too rough with Mini-Mecki--I have a plucking problem--so Sister took my toy away from me saying we could play with it again tomorrow. I guess Pa didn't want me to feel disappointed on my birthday so he gave me a brand new flavored bone to chew on. That kept me quite busy for two hours.

The day might now be over, but the fun will continue. According to my Sister, I still have other birthday presents coming to me, but the decision was made to hold off giving me them all at once (no one asked my opinion on the matter). I was told I could have another some other day when I needed something to keep me busy. I would have liked to have all my toys at once, but I guess having my birthday spread out over days or maybe weeks isn't too bad either.

Happy Mother's Day

I love holidays.  Who wouldn’t?  Holidays come with the guarantee that at least one of three things will happen.  Number one, people will come over to pet the dog (can’t beat that!).  Number two, presents wrapped in brightly colored paper will be exchanged (the paper, of course, will be shredded by the dog).  Number three, tasty food will be made and hopefully shared (or stolen) by the dog.  Needless to say, it’s great to be the dog!  Well, yesterday was Mother’s Day and this holiday arrived with two of the three aforementioned promises.

Ma's Mother's Day gift

First, there were presents.  I was really excited about this part of the day because I remembered that Pa had helped me to pick out the perfect gift for Ma: a big stuffed rabbit with long ears, multiple squeakers, and a pink tongue that stuck out.  Adding to the enjoyment of the gift was the addition of the colorful paper Pa had wrapped it in (wrapping gifts isn’t my forte…tissue and wrapping paper gets stuck on my tongue).  As soon as Ma opened the present I quickly snatched it (plus a little wrapping paper) from her hands.  I knew that it was my responsibility to show her how to properly play with this new gift (it’s not like it came with instructions or anything).   I showed her how to shake the toy while running, I showed her how to roll on her back and chew on the squeaker, and finally I showed her how to let other people check out the toy without actually letting them touch it (you look with your eyes not with your hands after all).  After some time, and much consideration, I determined that Ma wasn’t quite ready for the responsibility of playing with such a cool toy so I decided to hold onto it for the rest of the day.

Later, Pa started making dinner.  At first, nothing seemed special; he started the barbeque and took some stuff out of the refrigerator.   Then he took a strange shaped package from the fridge.  It smelled really good and looked really weird.  It kind of looked like a giant hand but it smelled like fish.  Pa told me that it was crab or the fish half of fishsteak (known to the humans as surf ‘n turf).  I followed that crab everywhere:  I lay on the floor by the kitchen counter and glared lovingly up at it, I followed it and Pa to the grill where it cooked and I drooled, and I took my place on the floor next to Ma’s chair when the cooked crab was placed on the table.  And then I waited.  As the minutes passed I became more and more depressed.  How could my humans eat such tasty smelling food and not share it with the cute little dog with big brown eyes—especially after I devoted so much of my time to teaching Ma how to play with that really cool rabbit toy?  “Come on,” I thought, “what’s one little leg?”  Just as I was about to give up all hope, Pa leaned down and gave me a piece of crab.  It was so tasty and that was even without butter!

Ahh…what a holiday!