Dog Turns Owner Over to Police

I’m not a snitch.

When my father rolls in at midnight after boys’ night out, I don’t bark to alert my mother of his arrival. I wait, knowing he’ll dig into the fridge for something to eat. Sure it might be a week old plate of spaghetti or a plate of tuna salad from an era long gone by, but like him I’m not proud, just hungry.

When my sister Moose captures a mouse, chews its head off and brings it into the house, I don’t bark a thing. It’s not my place. My place is in the corner, to watch my mother discover it and scream in horror. Why would I want to break up the surprise?

Speaking of surprises I don’t bark when my father comes home with Christmas presents either. Why spoil the heartfelt gifts of a swiffer, a toaster oven and a set of pans. Romance baby…the man is all romance.

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Cliff Diving Dog Survives Plunge

I jumped into a lake once.

Not on purpose, but by accident. You see there was this leaf, cleverly disguised as a big rock, floating in the lake a few feet below me. I thought it was a perfect place for a photo opp. Humans love those.

Let’s be honest with ourselves, is there anything more majestic than a beautiful mixed breed dog, dressed up in his best fur suit, sitting in front of a colorful landscape that only fall can offer?  Of course not. Especially when that pup is me.

So I closed my eyes and jumped on the ‘rock’. Much to my amazement my paws did not stop on a hard surface, but rather plunged into the depths of the lake.Water went up my nose and I gasped for air. It seemed an eternity until I resurfaced.

With oxygen back in my lungs, I swam back to shore and struggled up the two foot embankment. It’s a good thing I had my wits about me because my parents were too busy laughing to save me.

As revenge my father’s Chuck Taylor’s did not fare very well that night.

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Cat Thinks It’s a Chick

I’m not sure what I want to become when I grow up.

Yeah I know time is running out, with me being 17 and all, but once you give up on your dream there’s not much left.

So here’s a partial list of what I’d like to become:

1) Firehouse dog Read more

Take Off Zee Bra

What’s black and white and read all over? Well, it’s certainly not the newspaper. Have you seen the circulation numbers recently?

The correct answer, of course, is a zebra with a sunburn.

Zebra’s are funny animals. They’re part horse, part donkey, and part Ansel Adams photo opp. They’re known for…for…for something. Let’s see, we have Secretariat who was a famous horse, we have Gus who was a famous field goal kicking mule, and we have Donkey who was a famous, uhmm, donkey.  But a zebra? I got nothing…until yesterday.

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Look At That Van Go

I don’t like to brag but I consider myself a bit of an artist.

I’m not saying I should be confused with some of the whack jobs in the industry, because I gotta be honest, I’m not going to whack off my ear to show the world how ‘brilliant’ I am. In my case, I’m just going to let my art speak for itself.

That art, as all of you should know by know, is the art of writing. Specifically the writing of the literary classic, and autobiography, “Bad to the Bone, Memoir of a Rebel Doggie Blogger“.

Or how about this:

The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog.

Ok, I plagiarized that last line from my typing teacher, but everything in my autobiography is original…and true!!

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The Smell Of Love Is In The Air

I may be a day late and a milkbone short on today’s story, but it’s the thought that counts.

As some of you know, well 3% according to a recent survey, this past weekend was Valentine’s Day. I’m not one for love and cuddling because a day on the calendar tells me to do so. No, I do it because I want to. Ok, maybe not so much the love part, but the cuddling is to die for.

I admit Valentine’s Day has me a little miffed. The typical gifts of candy and flowers just don’t do it for me. Flowers? What am I supposed to do with them? Sure they might come in handy at Rocky the Squirrel’s funeral, but let’s be honest, I won’t get the invite. Read more

Bloodhound of a Different Kind

Bloodhound.

When I first heard the term I didn’t know what to think. On the one paw it sounds really good. I mean what’s not to like about a bloody steak, a bloody snot rag in the garbage, or my father, a bloody fool.

On the other paw, massive amounts of blood makes me woozy. Yeah I know I’m a dog and I’m supposed to be  tough, but I gotta tell ya if  I had to hunt and kill my own food, I’d become a vegan. Blueberries rarely make a blood curdling scream.

Then there’s all the rage these days about vampires. Is bloodhound another way of saying vampire dog? It used to be when I heard Twilight, I only thought about the Zone I lived in. Nowadays Twilight is the time of day I have to look over my shoulder when I go pee pee. Speaking of which, where did I put that garlic?

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Down the Stretch They Come

I’ve been on a few ‘freestyle’ runs in my day.

If you’re not familiar with what that means Websters has a nice definition. Here it is:
Main Entry: free·style run
Pronunciation: \’frÄ“-ËŒ stÄ«(-É™)l  run\
1. Bo plus his sister Copper minus his parents, running wild in the neighborhood
2. A run the government frowns upon

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Retirement Home for Cats

I woke up this morning to the realization that it was a Monday.

To some it offers the opportunity of a fresh start, of a week full of accomplishments ahead. To me, it’s the dreary realization of another tough work week.

That’s right, I have the daily grind of napping, pooing, walking, napping, eating, pooing and peeing ahead of me for the next five days. Hopefully a vet visit isn’t in the cards. It ain’t easy being me, especially at my advanced age.

What I need is some pampering, the kind I get from the old man on the weekends. We sleep late in the morning, we nap together on the guest bed in the afternoons and we snore the evening away on the couch after sharing a dinner of chicken nuggets…with bbq sauce. It’s paradise, I tell ya.

If only I could do this all the time. Read more

Snake Can’t Kick Cigarette Habit

Sex, drugs and rock ‘n roll. It’s a sure path to ruin.

I don’t partake in any of it. Heck, I won’t even consider the gateway activity to getting there. You know, smoking.

Sure I get peer pressure to take a toke on a Virginia Slim or a Marlboro Light, but no matter how much Ruger the boxer insists, I just won’t inhale.

The reason is simple. If I’m  going to inhale something that isn’t healthy, it’s going to be a Whopper from BK, or dare I say it, a Big Mac from McDees. Yeah life expectancy is cut short by six months for each one you eat, but at least your enjoying the taste. Read more

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