Drunk Baboons Same As Drunk Humans

I’m not a booze-hound.

Maybe it’s because my father never let me drink beer or any alcoholic beverage for that matter. Or it could be because I hung out with a pack of nerd-dogs who were afraid of getting carded at the local liquor store.

Regardless, I’ve heard stories of pups who’ve been aloud to partake in what is said to be a bitter drink. Some probably spent time recovering with Lindsay Lohan in rehab.

The first step in recovery is to admit you have a problem.

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Bears Protect Their Pot Turf

Weed.

Some people make clothes out of it, some build a show around it, while others still use it to enhance their appetite.

Before you get the wrong impression and think,  “Ahh, Bo always has the munchies. He must smoke weed!”, let me assure you, I don’t need performance enhancing drugs to increase my appetite.

I’m no Barry Bonds or Roger Clemens. No sirree, I don’t need anything to make me better. I’m a pro, and a natural one at that.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t begrudge those that do. You want to get high? Knock your socks, just don’t forget to give me some of your Scooby Snacks.

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Koala Hitches A Ride

I love car rides. So do a lot of other dogs on this planet.

I’m not quite sure what it is that so impresses us about going from point A to point B, especially when point B turns out to be the veterinarian’s office.

Maybe it’s the feeling of flying throw space, or it could be that we enjoy getting somewhere without using our own power, or quite simply it could just be that we like wiping our asses on car seats.

Whatever the motivation, the call for “Wanna go for a ride” sets many a dog-heart aflutter across the world. Nay, across the universe!

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Cock-A-Doodle-Shhhh

If I’ve heard it once, I’ve heard it a thousand time, “Bo, be quiet!”

When that doesn’t work, its, “Bo Shut UP!!”

And if that doesn’t do the trick, then its a quick,  “Want a treat?” … which, by the way, always works.

I don’t know why humans are so keen on making animals be unnaturally quiet. I mean, we don’t tell them to shut their pie holes when they go on and on about their mundane lives.

Do I really care that my mother got charged $1 for the side order of special sauce she requested at dinner last night? C’mon honey, get over it and spare my ears.

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Cone Of Silence

I love sucking on a good jar of peanut butter. It tastes great and is less filling than a bacon-squirrel sandwich. Hey, a dog has to watch his weight sometimes.

The problem, of course, is that the buttery goodness is difficult to get at when it’s inside that jar. That’s where an abnormally long tongue, and lots of patience, helps.

I could teach a college course on the best way to attack treats not easily accessible.

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Cow To Sun, You’re Not So Hot

Summer is slowly winding down, and when I say slowly, I mean real slowly.

Temperatures are expected to plummet to 90 degrees this week while the humidity drops into the 80% range. If that doesn’t say comfortable I don’t know what does.

OK, I admit my aging bones love this heat. My parents, not so much.

But there’s a benefit to them, too. I’m low maintenance in this weather. No need for walks, car rides or trips to the squirrel farm this time of year.

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Happy Hour Service at Urinal

I’m thirsty.

My bowl is empty and I’m not sure when my parents are planning to fill it up with some good old H two Oh goodness.

During times like these a dog has to take matters into his own paws. Most times I’ll hoist myself up near the cat’s water bowl and drink from it. Unfortunately today, it has cat hair in it and I find that disgusting.

The second alternative is to go outside and look for a puddle or a container with Mother Nature’s rain water in it. Sadly, it’s been drier here  than the South during prohibition.

Which leads me to my last alternative: the toilet bowl.

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Finger Lickin’ Good?

Stories abound around the internet about dog heroes.

You have the ones that save families from fires, the brave few who take bullets for their K-9 partners, and of course,  the ubiquitous canines defending their loved ones from joggers, walkers and the mailmen.

I’m a hero, too. I saved two humans from a life of self-involvement and boredom. Without me they would have checked out of this game called life many years ago. I’m sure of that.

I also have a special notch on my collar from the time I saved my father.

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Homing Snails

In my youth and middle age years I loved to break free and roam the neighborhood.

This, as one may suspect, caused my parents great fear. In their mind, what was to keep me from darting out in front of a car, or of getting lost and not finding my way home again?

Let me take this opportunity to break down my parents’ unfounded fears.

In all honesty, the chance of me getting hit by a vehicle was slim to none.

Three reasons why: 1) I loved life too much, 2) It would be painful, and 3) There was no assurance it would get the job done. With my luck, I’d end up alive, and drinking my dinner through a straw the rest of my life.

Sorry, not taking that chance.

As to getting lost and not finding my way home? C’mon, I’m a dog not a toddler.

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Love Knows No Bounds

Love is a crazy thing.It doesn’t care who or what the object of desire is.

For instance, there’s a stuffed animal in our house, it’s a squirrel or maybe a large rat, that my sister Mothball loves to play with. In fact she spends all of her time with it.

I could understand if the stuffing was treat filled but the only thing inside of this abomination is what my parents call”catnip”.

Once Mothball gets a hold of “Roadkill”, that’s my pet name for it, she won’t let go.

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