My mom says she's been really "busy" at the thing called Work, so she hasn't gotten around to helping me update my blog. Boo. But she does have a couple of videos of me to tide you over until she's not "busy" any more.
Here's a video of my mom tormenting me with pizza:
And here is some footage of my thorough work destroying my loofa dog:
Friday, September 19, 2008
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Friday, September 12, 2008
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Make every day a Sunday!
My favorite day of the week is Sunday. Now, as a dog, my daily schedule doesn't change that much, but since my mom has to go to something called Work to support me in the lifestyle to which I've become accustomed, hers does. That's why my favorite day is Sunday.
On Sundays, I still wake mom up at 6 am to politely request my breakfast. About 6:45 I wake her up again to politely request to be let out in the back yard. This is pretty much the same as every other day. But instead of leaving for work about 7:40, my mom hangs out with me until about 9:45, when I get in my crate for sleepies and she goes out to someplace called Church. She comes home a few hours later and that's when the real fun begins. First, I beg for some of her lunch. Then, we take a nap and I'm allowed up on the human sleeping crate with her! We turn on the radio and listen to baseball and snoozel. It's fabulous. After naptime, we go for a nice walk, then I have dinner, then help my mom cook her dinner. Unfortunately, this is usually the point in the day where she gets the Loud Sucking Machine out and undoes all the great shedding work I have done all over the house. I guess it can't be a perfect day. But it's pretty close.
So why can't every day be a Sunday?
On Sundays, I still wake mom up at 6 am to politely request my breakfast. About 6:45 I wake her up again to politely request to be let out in the back yard. This is pretty much the same as every other day. But instead of leaving for work about 7:40, my mom hangs out with me until about 9:45, when I get in my crate for sleepies and she goes out to someplace called Church. She comes home a few hours later and that's when the real fun begins. First, I beg for some of her lunch. Then, we take a nap and I'm allowed up on the human sleeping crate with her! We turn on the radio and listen to baseball and snoozel. It's fabulous. After naptime, we go for a nice walk, then I have dinner, then help my mom cook her dinner. Unfortunately, this is usually the point in the day where she gets the Loud Sucking Machine out and undoes all the great shedding work I have done all over the house. I guess it can't be a perfect day. But it's pretty close.
So why can't every day be a Sunday?
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Alibis
I'm not much good at alibis.
- Last week, I blamed a mess on the cat. Unfortunately, we don't have a cat.
- Last night, when my mom discovered that I had completely unstuffed her last remaining bed pillow (in under 2 minutes), I took a cue from the delightful Petra and said Fig had talked me into it. Mom didn't buy it - something about how Fig and Petra are in corn country far away.
I think I'd better stick to trying to make Mom laugh to divert her from mischief.
Monday, September 1, 2008
Riding out the storm
Hurricane Gustav hit to the west of my den, but we still had tropical storm-like conditions. I used the time hunkered down at home to get some rest.
I call this photo "Ode to Stanislaw":
I call this photo "Ode to Stanislaw":
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
