Friday, September 28, 2007

The Tale Of The Bloody Hoe.

On one of my earlier blogs I mentioned a story (that I promised tell in the future) about an experience me and my human had with possums in our back yard a little over a year ago.

It happened before we moved here. It was a typically hot night as I went outside to pee and give the yard a quick once over before going back inside to the air conditioning. I just finished when I looked up and saw something running along the top of the fence. It was a baby possum. I wanted to kill him SO bad.

I began barking wildly, then quickly ran inside to get the alpha male (my human).

Now, my human and I are close, but I haven't yet figured out how to communicate with him. I tried looking excited and running back and forth toward the door, hoping I'd get the message across in some Lassie-esque way. You know how they did it on the show... "What boy? Timmy's caught in the well?"

Eventually he figured it out and followed me outside.

Upon seeing the baby possum, he went back into the garage and brought out a BB gun in the hopes of convincing it to leave. He pointed the gun and fired. A small drop of blood appeared coming out of the possum's head, but he didn't move a millimeter.

Another shot. Nothing.

Finally, my human went to get a hoe. He tried poking the possum to make it leave but poking did nothing. Eventually, he pushed hard and the possum went over the fence, presumably to the driveway and off to safety.

I sensed that something was still awry. My all-American mutt-dog senses were on high alert... and I immediately looked further down the fence. In the darkness was another, larger possum.

I barked wildly. "Get down, you pussy! This is my yard and I'm gonna kick your ass!"

The alpha male took the hoe over to that possum. It was HUGE. I think it was the size of a pony, but we dogs, admittedly, aren't the most educated when it comes to making such estimates.

Anyway the alpha male prodded the possum, trying to get him to leave. The possum turned toward the yard, looking down at my human as if to indicate that he was going to jump. I had a good feeling that, soon, I'd have him by the throat.

The alpha male, once again, struck him with the hoe. This time, blood went everywhere. My human clearly did NOT want the possum in the yard. But the more he struck the possum, the closer it seemed to get.

Whack. A huge gash.

Whack. A bloody face.

Whack. It was beginning to look like Reservoir Dogs.

Whack. Holy shit! Let me at him!

Finally, the fence was covered in blood. My human took the hoe and swiftly jabbed it at the possum, using the broad side of the hoe blade to knock the creature off. The possum, covered in blood, went flying. You could hear that huge beast hit one of the cars, even.

I couldn't wait till the next day. With the sun now up and showing all the bloody evidence from the night before, my human went out to the driveway to see if the possums had, in fact, ran away.

The baby was just laying there, dead as a doornail.

But the big one? The one my human hacked up into a piece of shredded wheat? He was gone. I don't know how, but, apparently, he lived.

I'll tell you one thing. If that goddamn possum had come down into my yard where I could get at him, it would have been a whole other story.

Thursday, September 27, 2007

Boy, That's One Ugly Cat.

There's some weird stuff here. I'm not sure where "here" is, but it's a lot different than where we were before.

For example, there's a cat that comes into my yard that is just odd. He looks strange. He doesn't meow. He sits up on his ass like me. And I think he has hands. Clearly, he's got to go.

I have tried to eat him, but, thus far, I have been unsuccessful.

I wonder if he's, like, a rare mutant cat... or if, perhaps, there is a large group of these striped freaks close by. Man, he's hard to catch.

You know, if I could climb trees, I'd own this neighborhood.

Friday, September 21, 2007

Hole #3 Has Begun

As regular readers of this blog will know, I began digging a hole in the backyard shortly after moving here (see image - hole #1).

Some time later, just about when the hole started looking respectable, the humans sprinkled cayenne pepper and covered it in boards, hoping that I would stop, I think.


I began hole number two (again, see image). And it was starting to look pretty good. Until they covered that one with an entire jar of red pepper a couple of days ago.

Well, at that point, what would you do if you were any self-respecting, all-american mutt dog?

Damn right.

Say hello to hole number three. Small, perhaps. But not for long.

I think I will now refer to them as the triumvirate.

UPDATE: Just got a comment from a reader saying that if I have three holes they should be called Tom, Dick & Harry. How silly of me not to think of that. Of course, he's absolutely right. And I'm like Charles Bronson... if he were a dog.

Tuesday, September 18, 2007

Back Off, Foot.

Someone just emailed me this video. Take a look at it. It's footage of a dog gnawing on a bone.

As he gnaws, his rear foot reaches up towards his face. In reaction to the foot (remember, its his foot) the dog gets all pissed and starts growling at it. He then moves the bone over to the arm of the couch, seemingly, to get it away from the foot. The foot then begins reaching again. Finally the dog has enough and simply reaches down and bites it.

He bites his foot.

His own foot.

I may dig holes, lick my wiener, eat bugs, wipe my ass on the carpet, shed relentlessly, and kick the asses of those dogs across the street. But I have never, ever, ever gotten into an argument with my own foot and then, in frustration, bit it as though it belonged to someone else.

That's some crazy shit, right there.

Monday, September 17, 2007

Let's Talk About Asses and Shit, Shall We?

Okay humans. It's time for you to stop getting mad at me for my "behavior."

I'm terribly sorry that I'm a dog and occasionally I need to rub my ass on the carpet.

If I were a baby human, you all would have spent countless hours training me to defecate on a toilet and wipe myself when I was through. And after three years or so, I would have had it all figured out.

Hey guess what? I'm not a human. So instead, when you got me, I already knew that shitting was supposed to be done outside, in the grass. You've never had to train me for that. I just do it.

But you see, then there's the whole thing about wiping my butt. So let me ask you a question. If you pooped outside, and then after you pooped, there was still remnants of fecal matter on your butt, what would you do? Remember, you can't use toilet paper, because you're a dog and that would be impossible.

Well? I'll tell you what you would do. You would go back in the house and drag your rectum across the carpet to clean things up.

Would you prefer that I just leave it there, itching and burning? Or do you want me to come up with some secret code, so that I can tell you when I need it and you can get a wetnap and clean it for me?

Yeah, like that would ever happen.

So every now and then the carpet gets a stripe. Small price to pay for the enjoyment of my company, I think.

Besides... why get mad? You saw how much good that did you with my hole digging.

Wednesday, September 12, 2007

More Holes.

Some time ago I posted about the biggest hole in the world. Well, recently I found this site that features photographs of even more huge holes.

If my humans don't keep covering my holes up and putting pepper all over them, maybe I'll dig one of these one day.

Monday, September 10, 2007


Man, that's awesome.

Not much more I can say about it.

Goddamn cats. I hate em.

Sunday, September 9, 2007

Learn From The Master.

When you love getting petted as much as I do, you learn to do it well.

You wouldn't think that getting petted requires effort on the recipient's part. But you'd be wrong.

The key is to place your head wherever the human's hand happens to be located. If he's sitting in his chair and his hand drops to the side, quickly run over there and put your head or back under it. If he's standing, go sit next to him and and rear up until your head is, again, right under his hand. (see the photo and my excellent form utilizing that particular method)

Another tip... be relentless. If they say no, just walk away for a moment. Get a drink of water. Go outside. Then come back and try again. Sometimes they forget that they just said no.

Of course, I must admit that the fondness I have for the alpha male in my house helps. I remain by his side constantly. He pets frequently... and he's damn good at it.

Humans also love loyalty. That's why the alpha male adores me. I kiss his ass.

But it pays off. I have free reign of the house... I sleep in the human's bed... and, thankfully, there are no other dogs here to get in my way.

Life is good.

Saturday, September 8, 2007

Boards, Smoards.

If you're a reader of this blog, you know about my ongoing digging efforts. You'll recall my humans put boards over the hole in an attempt to stop me.

They forget that it rains here. The cayan pepper didn't last long.

So, as you can see, my work continues.

Friday, September 7, 2007

Someone's Cleaning Up.

It's called the Cat Genie. It's a devise that automatically scoops up your cat's shit and pulverizes it to liquid. It also cleans itself - washing all the granules and automatically dispensing the waste into the human toilet. It dries itself, too. Learn all about it here.

Can you imagine a stupid product like this being sold for dogs?

Of course not.

But they've got one for cats. And it only costs $300.

Yup. $300.

Do cats even cost that much?

Thursday, September 6, 2007

Yeah. And I'm A Hyena.

Okay, what is this thing? My humans call it my "duck," but I'm pretty sure it's a quail. Or maybe even a pheasant. Either way, that's a whole lot different than a "duck."

Look, I don't mean to go on about it or anything, but c'mon... a DUCK? Why not just say "Hey, Pancho... where's your ostrich?" Or "your penguin?"

LOOK AT IT. Clearly, it is not a duck.

That's all I'm sayin.

Tuesday, September 4, 2007

Another Odd Sign.

I can't read Japanese, but it appears as though they have some law against dogs being near soft-serve ice cream. At least that what I think this sign says.

UPDATE: I've thought some more about it and I think NOW I really have it figured out. It says: Do not stop and look back at ice cream in the street, even if you're sweating, and somehow find it all puzzling. Yup. I'm pretty sure that's it.

Monday, September 3, 2007

I've Been Shut Down.

This completely sucks.

My humans did a little land reclamation this afternoon. It seems that the awesome digging job I was doing on the hole was not going unnoticed.

So they covered it with boards and sprinkled cayenne pepper everywhere.

I'm really stumped. I don't know if I should start a new one somewhere else, or wait for the rain to wash away the pepper and dig around the edges of the boards.

The rainy season should be starting soon and I need to have the mud pit ready by then.

My to-do list, it seems, is unending.