I Am Growing...

Dad says I weigh more than 100 pounds! Mom is busy packing boxes for our move. So, for those of you who want to stay in "the know" you can jump over to my mom's blog:

www.andmyhouse.blogspot.com

I'm Almost 6 Months Old

"No, this is not my guilty look..."

Mug Shot

How could you not love this face?

Doggie Buffet

Yes, I'm a smart dog. But not smart enough to open a bag of dog food by myself. Dad did that and I just dug in. Lunch!!

Dad, I Mean, Dog Training

Dad's been "training" me. For what, I'm not sure, but he says the words "come" and "sit" a lot. When he took a break the other day, I decided to "train" him.

Don't leave your shoes in a place where I can get to them.

Mom thought that was funny.

Conversations With My Mother

A day doesn't go by when my mother doesn't have something to say to me. The following conversation is actual dialogue from this morning:

Mom: How you doing over there? Can you still see me? I'm just making my bed. Don't be upset.

Me: How can I not be upset, I'm not smack dab against your leg. You've got this ridiculous setup of a rocking chair, kitchen chair, baby gate and Barbie castle stopping me from getting to you!

Mom: You okay? You're not peeing on the floor are you? Juno?

Me: No, just licking myself.

Mom: Because I have to get things done. And don't flip out when I start running this vacuum, the dust bunnies are crazy in here!

Me: Dust bunnies? You have bunnies in there? Let me in!

Mom: Alright, I'm almost done. You know, if you'd learn how to hold it, you could be in here right now.

Me: Promises, promises.

--Of course all of this sounded like:

Mom: "Wa-wa-wahh, wah, wah wah."

Me: Woof.

When Mom's Away...

Beyond repair? Not yet.

There's nothing better than when Mom decides to do something other than watch over me.

This time she was on the phone. I assumed it was important because she was pacing.

But turn your back on me for a minute and well, when Mom's away, the dog will...you know the saying.

Yesterday it was the older sister's running shoe, today, Mom's mitten.

Wordless Wednesday

Sorry Mama, not a single photo-worthy shot this morning...

Sweating The Small Stuff

Yesterday Mom, (or 'Mama' as she likes to be called) made the mistake of not locking me up properly in "THE KENNEL." I managed to squeeze myself out of there while 'Daddy' said I should have been named 'Houdini,' whoever that is.

So I left her a present on the basement floor. Ta-da!!!

Today, Mama tried to shovel, but see, I've never been to the front of my house. It was scary. I met a neighbor dog and tried to run into the street, because seriously, Dude, what's a street? Everything I see is highly suspicious. I mean you take me from my real mom and then my sisters and put me in something that moves for over an hour. Then I'm supposed to "sit" and "go potty" in some strange neighborhood. Give. Me. A. Break. I'm only 4 months old you know.

I was about to take a much needed nap, when I found myself barking at something suspicious on the floor turns out was Mama's purse.

Mama told Daddy (the man with the deep loud voice) that I was smart. If I was so smart, I wouldn't get yelled at for eating something Mama calls "poop-sicles" and I would've known what a purse was. Duh.

Another Day, Another Accident

Mom says she loves my face.

Mom thought it was so cute when she started to play the big box (piano,) I would cock my head from side to side wondering where the sound came from. Not sure I trust that thing.

Five minutes later I peed on the hardwood floor.

She sent me outside, soaked it up with a towel, threw all the other “doggie rags” in the washing machine and came outside to find me. I was chewing on a piece of poop at the time. She didn't like that.

I'm still not sure I trust Mom, she let's me lick her face, but the next thing you know, she's dragging me to my kennel so she can pick up her 'real' kids. I do like her slippers though, they're fuzzy and now they're ripped from chasing me outside in the snow.

Mom's point-of-view.

"P" Is For Poop, I Mean Puppy

I’m very frustrated with my new mother ("Mom") right now. Does she realize I'm still a puppy? I mean so I jumped on the screen door, and peed on the carpeting, what's the big deal? I think she's upset by this new routine, or that I'm giving her more work.

I know that my sisters would say ‘grow up, lady’ you agreed to getting a dog, a big dog (like my real mom,) so this is what you’re going to have to endure. I agree. Mom needs to deal with her frustrations better.

[30 minutes later]

Apparently both of us don’t realize my huge inability to hold my urine.

I just peed on the kitchen rug! How could this have happened? I just went out! Mom is muttering under her breath about running out of paper towels and scrap rags. At this rate, I’ll have ownership of all the ‘good’ towels, probably by next week. Oooh, Egyptian cotton, lurve it.

[10 minutes later]

Mom just spent 10 minutes shoveling my enormous turds and urine off the deck. I thought they wanted me to go in the snow! If there’s snow there, then I must take a dump there. That's just good reasoning.

Lesson #2 for Mom: Must. Shovel. New Snowfall. Immediately.