Sunday, May 22, 2011

I'm a bad dlogger

 My female human has been hoarding her computer, so I rarely get a chance to do my dlogging anymore. Here I am trying to get up to the keyboard...

But she foiled my plan when she came back into the room, and I had to act all dog-like again.

I'm telling you folks, being a dog--and an irresistibly adorable one at that--simply isn't all it's barked up to be. My life isn't as easy as you might think. Honest to Snoopy.

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

All right, Mr. McGruff, I'm ready for my closeup

I overheard my female human say that she is entering my photo in Modern Dog magazine's photo contest. Contest? Excuse me?! There is no contest. Can you say win-ner? Yes you can! Take that, Charlie Sheen (whoever he is). 
All right, Mr. McGruff, I'm ready for my closeup

Sunday, February 27, 2011

S.O.S, H.E.L.P, W.O.O.F

Help. Me. Please. Female human has taken to abuse again. Once every couple of weeks she flies into a mad state of lunacy, forcing me into a pool of lukewarm water. Then she slathers pomegranate-flavored bubbles all over my body. Somebody out there...anybody. Please save me. She's sure to do it again very soon.
Pssst, hey you.  Over there. Yes, YOU!
Read my eyes: Help stop the abuse before it's too late.

Seriously. This is no joke. I don't even like pomegranates. 

Friday, February 25, 2011

Stairs Suck

Can I just say how much I despise two-story houses? And those doggone (there's that word again) humans.

    They're up
       Then they're down
                        Uuuup and dowwwwn
                              Dowwwwn and uuuup

How's an almost-13-year-old-dog (that's 91 in human years) supposed to keep up with this nonsense?

Where are you going? I just got up here! 
Where are you going? I just got down here! 
Seriously? You're going downstairs again?
Uh, no. I will not come upstairs with you.
My legs are broken.

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

I'm just a doggone dog, after all

I bet the three of you reading this are wondering why I haven't dogged--er, I mean, blogged (I get those two words mixed up)--in awhile. Well, you might not believe this, but my life's pretty full. In fact, I hardly have the time to get my five veterinarian-recommended daily naps in, let alone log on to this dog-gone computer to write, which is--

Wait a sec, here's a question I've always wondered: Is the word dog-gone? Or dog on? Or dogg-on? And what does that mean anyway? If I'm a dog and I'm gone, well then I'm hardly able to be here at the same time because I'll be gone. Baffling.

So, where was I? Oh yes, this dog-gone computer--hmmmm, is the word dogg-on or dog on? Oh, shucks, we've already covered that, haven't we.

So, anyway--*sniff, sniff* what the...?

Ooh, ooh, my male human's home! I'm not supposed to be on my female human's new computer when she's not--uh-oh. 

I'm so busted.


Monday, January 24, 2011

Too Tired to Blog

Do you ever have one of those days where you're too tired to do anything? Yeah, me too. 

Thursday, January 13, 2011

The Blog only a Dog Could Write

My female human had a heart-to-heart with me last night. Now that I’m a senior canine-izen, she’s worried that I don’t have enough to occupy my time. In a way, she’s right. When we moved to my new house last fall, Penny—my real-life kitty chew toy—didn’t come with us. The last thing I remember was seeing my female human put Penny in a big green rectangle and carry her outside. When I looked over at my male human to find out what was going on, he was smiling and giggling and dancing. He gave me a thumbs up and three Beggin’ Strips! I was so happy about my good fortune that I didn’t think about Penny again until I wanted to play our favorite games of “Head-Butt the Cat” and “Chase Kitty Around Till She Hides for Three Hours.” But she never came back. Later, female human said something about Penny going to a “good home.” I guess it was good for her. Not so good for me. 

And it reminded me of something else...what was it, again? Oh yeah. Sammy—my best friend. I remember Sammy from the first day my humans brought me to my new house. I was only a few weeks old and didn’t walk very well. Sammy looked so big to me then. But he was very nice. He never got mad at me, even after I got bigger than him and wagged my tail in his face. We became best buddies and used to spend long, lazy days together napping and playing.

One morning a couple of years ago, Sammy got really sick. I licked his soft fur and nuzzled him, but nothing I did made him feel any better. My female human cried a lot that day. When she got the leash out, I got very, very excited. We were going for a walk! I couldn’t believe it when she only put the leash on Sammy! What about me? But female human said “Stay,” and then closed the door behind her. When she finally came home, it was dark out and I was hungry. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she cried when I came to greet her. “Where’s Sammy?” I wondered. I could smell him, but I didn’t see him. I could also smell a lot of other strange scents that I didn’t recognize. As much as I tried, I couldn’t stop sniffing her shoes and knees. Female human bent down and cried and hugged me. She seemed really sad, and that made me sad.

That night, I sat up on the couch staring out into the backyard. I thought for sure Sammy had been locked outside. As soon as I caught a glimpse of him, I was going to bark really, really loud to alert my humans. But I never saw him again after that. Now, I only see him in my dreams. 

Anyway, my female human decided that I needed a hobby to keep my faculties “sharp,” as she put it. I keep trying to tell her that I’m as sharp as a butter knife, but—wait, butter? Did someone just say butter? As in peeeanut butter? Oh! Licking peanut butter off the knife is one of the greatest joys in my—hmmm, where was I again? Oh yes—sharp as a knife—and I don’t need no stinkin’ faculties, but she insisted, and, so, here I am: a dog that blogs.

I’m Peaches, by the way. I’ve heard them call me “Lab Mix,” which means, well, I don’t know what it means. But I like that I’m named after a fuzzy fruit! But I have other names, too. My male human calls me—let’s see if I can spell it right—“Ba-doo-ba-do.” He also calls me “Snooper” and “Peach Dogger”. My female human calls me “Angel,” “Peachy Pie,” “Peachy Poo,” “Snickerdoodle,” “Precious,” and a bunch of other names. They all start sounding alike after a while, but I don’t care just as long as I get a Beggin’ Strip. That’s another thing about me. There’s nothing I won’t do for a Beggin’ Strip. I used to be able to balance dog biscuits on my nose, but they are too hard on my teeth now. So I eat Beggin’ Strips! They are soft and kind of curly, so I can’t balance them on my nose.  

So that’s me. As I keep my faculties sharp, I hope you’ll enjoy reading about my days. Some days are kind of fun, like when male human takes me to the park and makes me pose for photographs. Other days are kind of quiet. But I usually have an interesting story to tell once in a while and so—*sniff, sniff* I smell steak downstairs—