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—
Bye
