The Occasional Cavorting and Musings of a Female Staffordshire Bull Terrier

Wednesday, December 06, 2006

Thinking About Thinking

Hello my friends.

Metacognition. A great word, is it not? Thinking about thinking.

With the holidays fast approaching, one hardly can think about what it all truly means, especially if you happen to live in the midst of bustling human activity.

As evidenced by the attached photo, dogs claim whatever meditative time is available to them, even though it may be nearly next to impossible to experience a successful session. This goes without saying, right? Whenever we dogs allow our minds to focus on next to almost nothing, there is generally far too much interference from unbridled human thought transference. It's not that we invite it, mind you. It's just that, if you're a dog, it just tends to come at you willy-nilly.

Ah, yes. The two-leggers out there look puzzled. What do I mean by this, you ask?
Well... read on.

The following is an excerpt from a self-professed animal communicator, designed to explain this phenomenon through his personal experience:
“I broke my ankle in five places,” writes the unnamed author at Interspecies Telepathic Communication. “I was lying in bed in a great amount of pain when I heard, ‘I know we come from different cultures, and maybe you don’t think I can help you, but if you just pet me, I will take away your pain.’ I heard these words in my head as clearly as someone speaking to me. I opened my eyes to find my angel cat Kisa on my pillow and looking right at me. I knew it was her. I did pet her and my pain did go away! I slept comfortably for the first time since the accident.” The author goes on to say that animals communicate in pictures, feelings, emotions, and concepts, blah, blah, blah, ad nauseum. Quote: "It's done in pictures," he says.

Hold on, Sweetcakes! Didn't you just claim to HEAR words? The audacity of these humans!

Humans always have to complicate things. It is also no surprise to me that two-leggers always claim the biggest bone for themselves.

Pictures, my rump. Give us some credit, would you? Not only are we dogs expert in analyzing human behaviors, but we are VERY open to genuine childlike wonder in its most authentic and purest form. After all, it was a dog who asked why dogs are not permitted to ride the Greyhound bus. I hate to break it to them, but these humans need to control their own thoughts. If they only learned to channel them properly, they could move mountains,
but..... let's not tell them. They wouldn't get the picture.

Saturday, November 25, 2006

Who Is Better Looking?

It's no contest, right?
In fact... you might say that both photos are one and the same dog, but the photo below shows the dog AFTER the bench press accident.

Sunday, November 12, 2006

Big Back Yard

This looks like a really good place to bury my bone, but you can NEVER count on Old Yeller's hound dog instincts. The last time I tried to hide Miss Kitty, he totally exposed my plan.

Yes, I do have a fairly decent backyard. It's not that I'm ungrateful, mind you, but it is what's ACROSS the street from my home that has my attention. Yeller and I know the front yard is off-limits, but it's kind of hard to throw hints from a distance. If anyone has an idea on how to convince a human to install one of THESE (see photo below) in the backyard, please let me know.

Saturday, November 04, 2006


My friends, beware of THIS.

At first glance, one might assume that Miss Kitty is an affectionate, adoring creature who is capable of cross-species bonding.

Let’s not lose our heads over one photograph.

For one thing, Miss Kitty is a CAT. It is unnatural, if not unlawful, for cats to lie with dogs. We all know the lion sleeps, but NEVER with the wolf pack and...
to ensure that such a thing NEVER happens...
they naturally reside in distinctly different biomes.

Secondly, when it comes to cats, things are not as they sometime appear. Cats are master manipulators. Consider the proximity with Old Yeller there. Looking at the photo, I might take a gander and say that Miss Kitty is afraid of the dark. This can’t be the case, however, because Miss Kitty is a she-beast with razor sharp talons for defense. Three seconds is all it takes to rip a victim's eyeball from its socket or slice a rodent down to the abridged version of Gray’s Anatomy of a Mouse.

Okay. A need for warmth, perhaps? Could Miss Kitty be chilled by November’s raw dank nights? Hardly. The humans are forever petting, scratching, and pampering her. Warm laps beckon her, warm hands stroke her. Besides, Miss Kitty is a cold-blooded creature by choice.

If it isn’t for love, warmth, or protection, why then, would Miss Kitty lie with Old Yeller? Why, you ask?

It’s simple really. She’s a bully. Not the “bigger-than-you-punch-you-out” kind of bully, but the carefully calculating, well-paced insidious kind that undermines you and tries to make you feel excluded from the pack. You know this kind, I’m sure. The “I’m-your-best-friend-one-day-but-today-I’m-HIS-friend-and-you're-NOT-Ha-Ha-Ha” kind of bully. The worst kind. The kind that thrives on making unsuspecting victims green-eyed-monstery kind of jealous.

So. Am I a victim?

I think not.

Little does Miss Kitty know that I prefer not to be in the same room with Old Yeller when he naps. Very soon, if not already, Miss Kitty will discover that her friend for the day is the grand master of stench. Yep... Ole Yeller there can fill a room faster with rank noxious fumes better than any political candidate in an open forum.

Miss Kitty can play this one out for as long as she is able, but I suspect a thick green cloud of lethal gases is enveloping her pretty little head as we speak, and the general outcome will prove more than fatal.

Oh... that's right! I guess I should also mention that the deli egg salad somehow managed to disappear from the fridge and found its way over toward Ole Yeller's big shiny bowl. Tsk tsk. Who needs opposable thumbs when you've got dumb humans?

Hang on, Miss Kitty... it takes a LOT to get even with the likes of Kaluah-lu.
Let the games begin!

Sunday, October 29, 2006

Lulu For World Leader

Sometimes we find we are in the hands of something much bigger than ourselves, regardless of support. When this day comes, we are obliged to answer the call no matter the risks and sacrifices we must make.

Saturday, October 21, 2006


Okay, kiddies… I’ve got a thinker for you!
First some background.
On October 12, 1967, zoologist Desmond Morris published a book that rocked the human world. The book was aptly called The Naked Ape because it described our human friends as members of the ape family. Dr. Morris highlighted some startling facts that were not entirely embraced by humans, for obvious reasons, but those on the lower end of the food chain found the brouhaha altogether quite amusing.
I quote: “Out of the 193 species of monkeys and apes on the planet only man is not entirely covered in hair.

Interestingly, this statement has provoked some thinking on my part about human head hair AND its vestigial anatomical origins.

Please turn your attention to the attached photo of my human. Observe how the hair growth on her head resembles the horse’s tail in the first photo.


In direct comparison, both the human head hair and the horse’s tail hang in elongated strands and both sets of growth can flip and move at will. In contrast, however, the horse’s tail is attached to a short tailbone which moves the tail hair, while the human hair is attached to the head, which does not move independently of the neck. Hypothetically speaking, the human neck shows similarities to the horse’s tailbone in this respect.

Upon closer inspection, we see that the tailbone of the horse is directly attached to its buttocks area. That said, could we then make a comparison to the buttocks of the horse and the neck of our human friends? A chilling thought, but logical in scientific conjecture. Perhaps Dr. Morris might conclude this matter in a sequel, as he is still alive at 78 years of age. Certainly, it gives food for thought.

Speaking of food, it’s about that time. Until next week, my friends.

Sunday, October 15, 2006

Football Anyone?

Ah... autumn. Crisp clean air and seasonal scrimmages.

Football anyone?


you know....
I'll pass you and you try to block.

I mean... don't get so excited.

Aha! Now here's a fitting opponent!
Um... don't look so serious, big boy.
It's only a game! Sheesh.

Hey, wait a doggone minute!
I said I'M passing!





Fine! I'm tougher and stronger, and if you insist... I'll rake these leaves with those front claws of yours, you needlenosed furbag!

Hey! Hey! I was only kidding!
Give me my ball, doggone it!

Miss Kitty!!

You KNOW I always speak so highly of you!

Come on... help a girl out!

You dolt!
So you won... big DEAL!

Feel like a champ, do you?

LOOK what you did to MY ball!!


Well... I never liked football anyway.

Say, anyone see my frisbee?

Saturday, October 07, 2006

It’s Downright Embarrassing!

This week’s posting is devoted to the poor wretch of a dog who suffers humiliation at the end of a leash. Those of you who are unfortunate enough to be walked after dawn by a pajama-clad human know EXACTLY what I mean.

Sometimes it’s pajamas; sometimes it’s sweats that should have found their way to the car waxing cloth bin many moons ago. No matter the breeding, dogs can, and often do, find themselves accompanied by humans in attire unfit for criteria on Blackwell’s worst dressed list. Certainly, you cannot dispute the mortification of a dog being walked on the roadside with a woman sporting a head full of jumbo pink plastic curlers.

And while we're on the subject, not only are dogs disgraced by human apparel, but also by human behavior.

Pity the poor dog walked by the no-pooper-scooper human who suffers the disgusted looks of drivers-by for obvious reasons. Worse yet is the human escort who strategically puffs a pocket with one hand to simulate the appearance of the hidden plastic baggie. For a dog, it’s downright embarrassing to be on a leash with a socially slipshod human on the other end.

Then there are dogs who have no choice but to leave their business on the neighbor’s lawn since that is where their humans - leash in hand - deliberately pause and wait. If given that choice, dogs would much rather mark their own territory. Dogs know full well that marking the neighbor’s lawn clearly sends a mixed message to all parties involved. Often this situation results in a phone call or a visit from the offended neighbor who wrongfully comments on the DOG’S bad habits or obvious lack of manners.

And what about
the business of the atypical human who meanders along puffing on a cigarette or sucking a brown stogie? It just LOOKS bad, you know? I mean, for Dog’s sake... you’re finally out for a walk! At least, give SOME semblance of routine exercise.

On an even more profound level, dogs can find themselves in exceedingly embarrassing situations, quite unexpectedly, when out with humans. Take the following scenario, for example. A dog blissfully trots along on the sidewalk attached to a leash, held by its owner. Suddenly, the dog is approached by a strange human walking from the opposite direction. As the human nears, the dog is inclined to do what comes naturally: it immediately sniffs at crotch level to explore the personality of the strange human.

Sad to say, this basic form of doggie communiqué has been known to be blown way out of proportion by humans in general. They are inclined to overreact when dogs exchange a greeting in this way. How embarrassing for a dog to have its owner violently jerk the leash to pull its head away, followed by the usual stream of explicatives or a loud and lengthy reprimand. In either case, the dog is made to feel entirely guilty and thoroughly disgraced for simply saying hello to a new human along the way.

So, then. What have we learned?

We have learned that humans not only embarrass themselves. They always take hostages. But… whether they act out of fear, desperation, recklessness, or just plain ignorance, we love them anyway. It’s our job.

Saturday, September 30, 2006

Recipes by Lulu

Well, friends, dare I say it? Yes, it’s time to bring summer to a gentle, loving closure. Nights are longer, days are cooler and the leaves are turning to reds and yellows. (For us dogs, anyway. Brown doesn’t exist, remember?)

As I’m sure you’ve noticed, appetites increase during these cooler days of autumn. All things considered, this is part of a natural process. Our recent ravenous appetite is a direct vestigial link to our mammalian cave dwelling ancestors and their readiness for hibernation during the endless bleak winters of an earlier time.

My purpose in writing today is to share two of my favorite “cooler weather” entrée recipes with you. Those of you who are skilled in culinary arts may wish to try these on your own, but I should warn you that some tasks require specific manual dexterities and the use of opposable thumbs. You might consider enlisting the help of a human, if you can get one off the couch.

Beef Stew

• 4 pounds stewing beef – leave fat ON!

• NO onions

• 3 - 4 cans (approx. 10 1/2 ounces) condensed beef broth

• 3 cups diced potatoes

• 2 cups diced carrots

• 6-8 fresh kitty turds, all litter removed, cut into 1/4-inch pieces

• seasoned salt to taste

Place beef in a large pot. Exercise caution in sampling so not to disproportion the additional ingredients. Add beef broth until liquid level is about 1 inch above the beef. Add potatoes, carrots, and kitty turds. Gently stir mixture with a very large spoon. (You will need opposable thumbs. Get a human to do this!) Add salt to adjust flavor. Cooking is optional, but remember to pour mixture in a bowl that will accommodate neck length.
(Serves 2 large dogs, 4 small breed)


• 4 (7 ½ ounce) refrigerator biscuits

• 1 (16 ounce) jar pizza sauce

• NO onions!

• 2 – 4 pounds of your choice of pizza ingredients:
Italian sausage, pepperoni, hamburger, Canadian bacon, ham, liver, chicken, salmon, tuna, knockwurst, frankfurter, lamb, pork, veal, fresh kitty turds (remember to remove all litter)
• 16 – 24 ounces mozzarella cheese

• 16 – 24 ounces cheddar cheese

Cut refrigerator biscuits into halves or quarters. Stir together in a supersized bowl with pizza sauce. (Again, you will need opposable thumbs! Get a human to help with this!)
Add desired pizza ingredients to the bowl and mix well. Spray 9 X 13’’ pan with vegetable spray. Pour in pizza mixture. Bury the mixture with cheese. Crumble additional kitty turds on top for added flavor and presentation. Bake, if desired.
(Serves 2 large dogs, 4 small breed)

My friends, I do hope you take the time to treat yourself to eating well. Remember, presentation is very important! Your human will continue to serve you cardboard tasting science diet from a bag or jellied obscure body parts from a can ONLY if you allow it.

Don't you deserve an enticing, well planned meal after a day of guarding the home from unwanted solicitors? You would do well to remember, too, that Chopin and candlelight are NOT solely reserved for the top link in the food chain. Bon appetit!

Saturday, September 23, 2006

Dog Talk

I have a dog who barks all day,
And all he ever has to say
Is "Woof! Woof! Woof!" and "Bow-Wow-Wow!"
I wish my dog could talk somehow!

If he could talk, I'm sure he'd say,
"Woof, Woof! Have fun at school today!
I'll wait right here 'til you come home.
Bow-Wow! Then I won't be alone."
Author: Terry Kluymans

Hello, my friends.

I don’t know about you, but I wonder how long they will remain in denial.

Since the beginning of time, dogs have accompanied humans on life’s unpredictable journeys. Dogs have observed their fellow humans cautiously and witnessed their every waking move. Indeed, we have listened and learned, analyzed and assessed – cumulatively - for what seems like several thousands of years.

How is it, then, that humans have not reciprocated in this regard? How is it that, after all this time together, they still fail to recognize our superior capabilities?

What do I mean by all of this? Hey! Glad you asked.

Clearly, dogs can second guess the end result of any given situation. Take this following scenario as an example:

Cause: Human picks up telephone receiver and dials after sun goes down.

Effect: Dog immediately relocates to "den with TV" and lies next to couch.

Twenty minutes later: Fellow humans generously offer leftover pizza crust to said dog who is conveniently proximated with award winning “Hey…remember me?” face.

To our credit, a dog’s thinking patterns are exquisitely simplified without the excess of clutter stashed in all those hidden cranial compartments. This allows us to predict a situation before it occurs.

Basically, our thoughts utilize whole concepts, quite similar to the translation of symbolic hieroglyphics or Chinese character writing. Words never enter into our thought processes, that is, with the exception of the spoken human word which translates into singular concepts if recognized…. or an endless stream of unidentifiable sound bytes.

That said, you will never catch a dog talking to himself about where he left his bone, or rehashing an embarrassing circumstance that occurred with the mail carrier. But… how is it that I am able to wordsmith this posting? It's simple, really.

Dogs are skilled in the art of mimicry. Just as the viceroy mimics the monarch, dogs can mimic select abilities of the homo sapiens. In this case, it is the minicry of creating and interpreting language patterns to communicate on a basic fundamental level of understanding.

And so… where does barking enter the equation?

Down through history, humans have depended on dogs to protect them from their own kind. Dogs were encouraged to bark to frighten or warn of impending danger. They were expected to bark. Barking, not to be confused with howling, has become an invaluable trait of the loyal family watchdog. Social mores currently dictate that dogs, who demonstrate great skill in proper situational barking, earn recognition as coveted pets with enviable perks and pampered lifestyles. Hence, barking is a learned behavior that has been carried over from generation to generation, similar to Native American storytelling.

It should be noted, however, that monotony in a dog’s everyday life may provoke “boredom barking.” Barking due to boredom is purely done for a dog’s own amusement, and is brought about by the unchallenged level of intelligence I alluded to previously.


For a human child to wish that a dog talk is human self-gratifying, to say the least. The sad fact is that humans are forever trying to control their world and everything in it. From their limited egocentric viewpoint, it is far more comfortable for them to live in a world where human fantasy reigns and biodiversity is nonexistent. A world where cats wear hats ... and dogs can talk.

To that, I can only say, "Woof, woof, arf, and bow wow wow."

Saturday, September 16, 2006

Egad! I've Been Tagged!

Thanks a BUNCH, Buster.

I’ve been tagged and now it’s MY turn to list five weird things about myself.

I guess I need to post instructions for my victims, so here goes:

The player of this game starts by listing “5 weird things/habits” about him/herself, then tags five friends and lists their names. Those who get “tagged” need to write on their blogs about their “5 weird “things/habits,” as well as state this rule clearly, then “tag” 5 more victims.

Note: Don’t forget to leave your victim a comment that says “you’re tagged!” in their comments and tell them to read your blog.

Uh oh. Before I begin, I have two questions.

1.) What if I tag someone who’s been tagged before? Is that okay?

2.) Is this game limited to dogs only?

I guess I'm operating in a vacuum. Since I don’t have access to game footnotes, I choose the following victims:

Let’s see now…WHO will it be, hmm?
I think I’ll go with:

1.) Sid
2.) Simon
3.) Wally
4.) Fufu
5.) Ray and Jay Monkey

And now… drum roll, please!

Hmm… this takes some courage.

Five quirky things about myself by Lulu:

1.) I’m absolutely terrified of the vacuum cleaner. I can’t tell you if it’s the growling sound it makes or its serpentine neck with that sucking mouthpart. Whenever it comes out of its closet, I try to get that coiled neck by the throat and pull. I even will stoop to sneaking a "sucker nip" when its totally unguarded, unplugged and sleeping. My human gets so annoyed with me, but I can’t stop. Maybe it’s a past life connection, I dunno.

2.) I really don’t know if I should reveal this one. Well... what the hay. Okay, so I’m afraid of strangers. I guess I’m just a big wuss. When a strange human comes to the door, I hide downstairs and bark from the basement. When a strange animal comes near the house, I bark at it from INSIDE the house. There’s even this family of deer that frequently pass through the backyard and they scare the bejeesus out of me. Even the baby fawn terrifies me. It’s remarkable how much noise you can make from the basement when you have a good healthy bark.

3.) I know I’m not alone in this, but I like to feast on fresh kitty yummies right out of the oven, especially Miss Kitty's. I usually can pull this off because I wait till no one’s around and my head fits perfectly through the top cover door of the litter box. Thing is, I often forget to wipe the litter off my bottom lip and they’re now beginning to talk.

4.) I’m not a natural blonde. The summer sun and chlorine from the pool tends to bleach my fur. Of course, all one has to do is look beneath where the hairline is darker.

5.) Whenever Ole’ Yeller is sleeping, I hump his head. My human calls this a dominant behavior. She may be right because, as I see it, it’s totally asexual and I like to do this because…well… I can, and he still sleeps through the entire event. I’ve been spayed and besides, I sometimes won’t align myself well and I hump his neck, his back… his leg… his tail…his anything. Oh, God, this is so embarrassing.

Hey, Buster… can I tag you back? I don’t see that in the rules, ole’ buddy.

Thursday, September 14, 2006

Express Yourself!

Alright girls... can we talk?

Let's put it right here on the table.

Scooting. You know... the drag the butt thang across the carpet.

It's bad enough when you have to handle the discomfort for yourself, but the stares and comments of horrified spectators add insult to injury.
From the looks we receive, one would surmise that they are completely ignorant of WHY we scoot on carpets. And, as you know, it is not a behavior limited to dogs. Although they would rather be more discreet, cats earn their share of frequent flier miles in rug scoots, as well. I'd like to say I've observed my humans do much the same, but the closest I've seen to this activity in humans involved a Billy Blanks workout tape.

Scooting, I understand, is generally caused by one of two reasons: clogged anal glands or... I can scarcely say it... worms.

Bag the worm thing, I KNOW I'm clean. Rather, it must be due to the... forgive me if this catches in my throat... "clogged anal glands."
The sad thing about this is that we dogs can't help this affliction. We really could use some assistance relieving the pressure that builds in these glands. I've read that ANY well-meaning human can do the job. However, here's where I draw the line, for obvious reasons.

To these humans I say: It's bad enough we dogs need some help, but please don't bother if you need a road map to do the task.
The following is informational background posted on the Internet to educate humans about how to relieve a dog's anal sacs.

Please be forewarned that the following content is neither for the squeamish nor faint of heart:

Most dogs are not too concerned about having their anal sacs expressed but we do have some that resent it -- even though they are trying hard to express them on their own by scooting and rubbing on the rug or ground. It probably is uncomfortable for the pet to express these sacs when they are very full or difficult to express.

If you want to try this at home it is often possible to do so. The anal sacs are located at about the 4 o'clock and 8 o'clock positions if you imagine the area around the rectum to be a clockface. It is usually possible to feel them under the skin at these points when they are full. In some dogs the sacs can be pretty far to the side of the rectum but most are about 1/4th to 1/2 inch to the side. If the glands are pressed against each other by pinching the rectal area together they will usually express. It is hard to get them as empty as the vet can by doing this rectally but most pets tolerate it better so it can be done more frequently. Don't push so hard that you rupture an anal sac, though. That leads to significant problems.

If you succeed, you should see an exudate exuding from the ducts. It can vary from liquid to a thick paste and may be gray, tan, brown or black and be normal. Blood or other colored exudates may indicate a problem.

Whoa, baby! Thanks, but NO thanks, Dr. Mike!

Certainly, this procedure is a tad more involved than one might think. That understood, wouldn't you agree that a certain degree of empathy is required to do the job? I mean... do we want just ANY human to do this? I strongly doubt that someone - who five minutes ago glared at me in horror and shouted, "DON'T DO THAT ON THE PERSIAN!!" - would handle my fragile posterior with the utmost of concern. More importantly, we dogs do not want clods manhandling our bodies when there are risks involved.

Somewhere in all of this is a dog's plea for simple dignity. We reserve the right to have qualified caring humans attempting this delicate procedure. Ultimately, I say we dogs reserve the inherent right to "express" ourselves whether it be the classic unprovoked bark in the night, or a good saucy scoot on the carpet.

Saturday, September 09, 2006

More Miss Kitty Jokes, As Per Request


If you are a cat and offend easily, don't read any further!
Of course, if you ARE Miss Kitty, read on!

MORE Miss Kitty Jokes

What's red and gooey and found in a shark's mouth?
Miss Kitty overboard!

Did you hear about the dog who missed Miss Kitty?
He took another punch!

What do you call it when a buzzard throws a dead Miss Kitty to another buzzard?
Food fight!

What do you do when Miss Kitty goes out?
Use lighter fluid!

What do you do when Miss Kitty has a bruise?
Be careful to eat around it!

What would you call Miss Kitty with half a brain?

And...while we're on the subject...
if you've never pawed through this book, have a look. It's one of my very favorites!

Monday, September 04, 2006

I've Got Mail!

My Irish heart is stirred. It's not that I fall in love easily, mind you.

You may recall my brief encounter with the dashing golden from Canada.

He had asked me to.... of all things... "marry" him, but then... well, he disappeared just as quickly as he came on the blogging scene. (No link, right? Like I said, *POOF* gone.) It may have been the comment about my being the alpha in our home. I should really learn to keep my darn feminist mouth shut.

Well, let me tell you - the other day I received the following email from yet another admirer. Shortly thereafter, I suffered a rash of symptoms which include uncontrollable tail twitching, general inattentiveness, or not responding when called (even when there's doggie treats involved), and a loss of appetite, to name a few.

Here's the letter:

Hi Lulu,

I couldn't agree with you more about the blahblahblahing they all seem to do. When I bark, and a fine and fierce bark it is, if I do say so... I have good reason. Why, just the other day my human parked his car in a different place than he ususally does. That was a fine reason to warn the house something was not quite right, eh? And I howl when I feel neglected. Sometimes my human goes in the next room (odd dens they create...don't you agree?) without giving me a decent amount of morning affection... you know... big hugs, scratching in the usual places and, of course, biscuit de jour. And I let him know. I hooowwwwwl as only an Irish Wolfhound, or perhaps a Basset, can. But I tell you... no blahblah involved. But, I mean every sonic sorrow. No matter that the door is open and I could get off the couch and just go to him for the completion of the morning ritual. No! He needs to do this properly. And he knows it as well as I. After I am sated, he can go about his business... and I can have a snooze on my couch.

I have a confession to make. About once a week I bark... at absolutely nothing. No woodland creature passing in the night.... no automobile coming up the drive, not even a passer-by on foot. I bark a bit, standing right in the middle of the room with my couch, and my human will come out to see why I have sounded the alarm. I just smile at him and then go sit on my couch. A mild form of entertainment for me. And nobody gets hurt. Understand that this is as close to blahblah as I ever get... and it clearly is NOT blahblah.

Lulu, about the feline thing... I have one of those as well. It imagines itself to be canine so I indulge its delusional construct. I even go so far as to give it a canine greeting when we meet. I stick my schnazola on the tail end of the feline. It seems to at once accept the greeting and act as if there was no greeting taking place at all. They are, at best, odd creatures. At any rate, the kitty jokes are laughoutloud funny... keep 'em coming.

Well, I need to go have a nap.

Oh, how rude. My name is Fergus. If you're ever in the neighborhood I know of a fine beach with the finest odors.....mmm..mmmm.mmm. A fine place to sniff and romp... romp and sniff.


Lulu again. Now isn't that just the sweetest letter ever?
Fergus, he says. Sounds sort of like something you'd contract from fleas or mites.

Clans, pipes, and drums.
Scottish extraction, Irish eyes.
Furry legs in kilts.

A romp on the beach.
Salt air, crashing waves.

My Druid on the woodland shore.

Ah. There's that lightheadedness again... the uncontrollable twitching tail.

I think I need to chew some grass.

Dog Stereotyping

Reading is one of my most favorite pastimes, next to spying on Miss Kitty, and occasionally I might come across something I may wish to share with you... like now.

Here is a poem I find most disturbing:

My Dog Chewed Up My Homework
by Bruce Lansky

I'm glad to say my homework's done.
I finished it last night.
I've got it right here in this box.
It's not a pretty sight.
My dog chewed up my homework.
He slobbered on it, too.
So now my homework's ripped to shreds
and full of slimy goo.
It isn't much to look at,
but I brought it anyway.
I'm going to dump it on your desk
if I don't get an A.

Whoa, Bruce... I'd say you're barking up the wrong tree!

I’m not certain if Mr. Lansky is attempting at humor, but if you’re a dog, this poem is highly distasteful and grossly insulting. The very idea of the family pet as the scapegoat for the human child’s inability to commit is unprovoked and downright malicious. Moreover, I take great issue with the common dog here portrayed as a drooling, dim-witted creature whose only purpose in life is to satisfy an overactive oral fixation. Words like “slobber” and “goo” leave little room for the imagination to conjure anything else but an offensive stereotype.

I may write to Mr. Lansky via email and tell him of my concerns. Discrimination against dogs, humans, or otherwise, should NEVER be tolerated. We dogs need to nip these things in the bum, as they say, and that’s precisely where such narrow-mindedness dwells.

Saturday, September 02, 2006

Help is Sought

The word is out. I've contacted the “All supreme Ayatollah of Pug Life Ministries" to attempt his assistance in purging Miss Kitty of her demon(s). I had suspected that Miss Kitty was under the influence for quite some time. It is no surprise to me that she is, indeed, a refuge for impure and malevolent spirits - as evidenced by the above photo.

All precaution will be taken with regard to feline waste in the event that impurities seek new unsuspecting hosts.

There appears to be a contagion of sorts that may be transferred to cohabitating organisms, and THIS I suspect from the photo posted below.

Please note the offending curvature of the tail, as well as the sulfuric yellow glowing eyes.

Old Yeller will not approve of my hiding his kitty litter box tray full of fresh kitty yummies, but I am compelled to act in his defense. May heaven protect us.

Friday, September 01, 2006

Tug O' War

Ever try this at home? You should! There is no better way to have a tug o’war then on the kitchen floor in your doggie paws.

What appears to be an impasse in the photo belies the battle that followed. I dragged Old Yeller clear across one end of the room to the other as his feet slipped every which way – kind of like humans would do if they tried this in their socks.

Anyway, I guess I should tell you we agreed winner takes two out of three tries. Miss Kitty even volunteered to replace the red rope Frisbee toss you see here... but she doesn't know it yet.

Wednesday, August 30, 2006

Bad Habit

I'll admit to a bad habit or two, but this one? Whattaya think?

Monday, August 28, 2006

Smart IS Sexy!

Alright, Loveys...

Regardless of what the human media industry would have you believe, I'm here to tell you that smart
IS sexy!

Actually, the two go paw in paw.

If I were not blessed with exceptional reading comprehension and writing skills, I’d probably be content to nibble fleas and chew on table legs. My literate background, however, enables me to derive great pleasure from reading high-quality literature that flutters the heart and stirs the soul.

Take this poignant piece by poet William Cowper, for instance:

OK, Tucker, you win.
My arm got tired of throwing the ball
before you got tired of scrambling up the river
bank to fetch it. OK, Tucker, you can come, too.
Since you open the door with your clever snout
I'm not about to shove you back in. You win
the beauty contest, the most finicky eater award,
and the like-a-dog-with-a-bone prize; you win
the first-one-in-the-car sweepstakes. Look,
Tucker, we had no choice when we squared off
in your adolescence, we had to get along, it was a live-
and-let-live situation, both of us in love with her.
OK, I bribed you with biscuits and rides;
you conned me with a handshake and a smile.
Remember hide-and-seek in the cornfield,
the jack-in-the pulpit, the lady slipper?
That week at the beach with smelly gulls
wrapped in slime and tangled lines of seaweed?
Old girl, you chased the phantom squirrel
up the slope again and again, returned
slack-jawed, refused to come off the porch,
stood your ground in freezing November rain,
showed your dog's teeth when I showed my human
fear and for good measure ran circles around me--
when I was her woman, but you were her dog.


As the wordsmith I tend to be, I find this poem profoundly romantic and downright affecting.

On the contrary, here's an obvious attempt at smut written by one such John Hegley:

I saw you in the park
I wanted to be your friend
I tunnelled my snout
Up your non-barking end

I do realize that Hegley’s work might be humorous to you male-types, but I would hope that you see it for the crass pick-up line that it is.

Shall we ask Sir Hegley if he has difficulty sustaining relations outside of mating season? We girls know the answer. The fiddle can’t compete with the Stradivarius. For us ladies, it is the deeper, richer, purer, authentic, impassioned, INTELLIGENT experience that will win us over everytime.

Ah, yes.
There's still fire in this old girl yet,
but gentlemen...
please remember to play it smart.

Sunday, August 27, 2006

An Open Letter to Ray and Jay

Dear Ray and Jay,

I am very flattered that my comment assisted you in choosing a leader for world domination by monkeys. I have concerns, however. You mention that we dogs should go light on the chocolate bars or, better yet, mail them all to you.

Forgive me if I stand incorrect, but does this mean that you, as world leader, would claim all things sinful for yourself?

I'm not so sure about this world domination thing. Pass the M&M's and let me sleep on it.



P.S. So ARE you a monkey or a cross-dressing canine?

The Dreaded Closet Monster

It waits.

I can’t see it, I can’t hear it, but I know it waits.

Very soon, I suspect my human will carry it from its lair for one of those odd wrestling trysts on the rug.

The dreaded closet monster!

For the life of my doggie self, I cannot figure these episodes out. I’ve watched my human and this... this thing... locked in lethal combat: a flailing of coiled and twisted serpentine appendages... a relentless growling, nay... a snARling... that cannot be claimed by neither man nor beast.

The sight and sound of this loathsome creature compels me to save my human from what could be a most unthinkable, unimaginable fate worse than... well, death. For me, both outcomes have similar implications. I mean... who, then, would feed me? Who, then, would open the back door?

I wish my human understood this. She only seems to growl twice as loudly at this fiend whenever I try to protect her from it.

she yells (which is humanese for "STOPITLULU!!!") as she struggles to pull that repulsive segmented neck away from me. Little does she know that if I let go of this sucking mouthpart, she, meaning my human, will be sucked into oblivion. Forever, I think... and forever is a long time without doggie treats. THAT, dear friends, is a clearcut struggle betwixt good and not so good.

Hmm... sucked into oblivion. A mouth-watering thought just came to me.

Oh, Miss Kittttttttttttttttttttty....

Saturday, August 26, 2006

Is it live or is it Memorex?

I’ve told Miss Kitty she had better watch her step. These two imposters have the arresting good looks of Miss Kitty WITHOUT the attitude.

Their presence foretells that our humans could very soon see Miss Kitty as expendable as spoiled milk from a pampered cow. Of course... I thought it in Miss Kitty's best interest to warn her.

Strange... I can’t help feeling just a tad bit sorry for Miss Kitty...


Monday, August 21, 2006

Miss Kitty Jokes - by Lulu

Where do you find a no-legged cat?

Right where you left her!!

How do you raise a cat?

By its neck!!

What kind of cats don’t mew?

Dead ones!!

What has four legs and flies?

A dead cat!!

Why are cats luckier than frogs?

Frogs croak ALL the time!!

What says, “Mew Mew, catchmeifyoucan?”

A suicidal cat!!

What do you call your cat when he gets stuck in the dryer?


What has twelve legs, six ears, a foul odor, and one eye?

Three blind cats and half a rotten fish!!

What is small, furry, and smells like bacon?


Why did the human put the cat out?

It was on FIRE!!


Exhibit A

According to latest research, we dogs can see in color but not in the way humans do. Unlike humans, dogs ONLY see two colors but it is still undecided as to which colors they are. It could be blue and yellow OR red and yellow... no one really knows for sure. What humans DO know for certain is that we dogs have less cones, or color vision cells, than humans, and hence the two colors rather than the full spectrum. So far, this sounds about right because I've never met a dog who can name the colors of all the crayolas in a box of 6.

Humans also know that dogs can see better in the dark than humans can because dogs have more rods, which detect low light.

Okay, then.

So back to colors. Is it is blue and yellow OR red and yellow? If dogs can only see blue and yellow....we can't see brown, right? If dogs can only see red and yellow... we can't see brown, right?

A wise human once asked, "If a tree falls in the forest and no one hears it, does it make a sound?"

I ask you, dear friends: if the color brown does not exist, is there a guilty party?

Slobber Ball

Some things are just better left unsaid.

Sunday, August 20, 2006


Now here’s someone who looks the part of the ever faithful canine companion. Shades of Ole’ Yeller, right?

WRONG!! Think again, you silly humans!
Boy, does he EVER have you fooled.

This sly fox sleeps with both eyes open patiently waiting for unsuspecting humans to politely disappear so he can overturn that questionably dog-proofed garbage can. With the speed of a voracious predator, this clown rummages through trash before returning to his spot with that “Is it time to get up?” look on his face. Of course, fingers point at me everytime.

And THIS wily devil! A seller of snake oil! A furbag of fraud and deceit! This scheming con artist deserves an Oscar for his starring role as the poor ill-fated kitty, abused and rescued by new humans. His fur is a matted mess crammed with burrs and assorted unnatural debris. Do you think he would let anyone comb it? Not a chance… it might lower his sympathy barometer. It’s not enough that humans continuously bestow offerings of food upon this phony feline, but they also let him snooze on their bed at a most inappropriate alpha height level.

He works as a constant reminder that humans bear the shame and guilt of a thousand lifetimes. And…everyone knows… if humans aren’t happy, their dogs suffer.

Now this one… where do I begin?

Miss Kitty is a whiny little goody-two shoes princess that really gets my goat. I mean, just LOOK at her. I don’t trust her as far as I can fling her and that’s pretty far! Once, when I was a teensy weensy puppy, she TOLD me to chew up the antique chaise lounge foam mattress, which, I might add, was custom fitted. I gnawed a decent chunk from one of the corners as little pieces of foam covered the entire floor. Everywhere. Foam was everywhere.

I remember how this little shrew egged me on, heated by the excitement of it all. That’s when my human walked in and found me…only me… with the evidence. The cat had disappeared and I caught it good. Real good. I'm still waiting for that perfect day when Miss Kitty decides to take a swim in the pool... when no one's watching.

Ah. Now THIS is a true-blue friend.

Teddy never gets me in trouble. He is never mean. He never gets mad or jealous. Best of all, I know if I leave him on the floor in the den, he’ll be right there when I come back.

Thank you, Teddy, for being a friend I can trust.

I love you.

Bath Time

I read the news today, oh boy.

CORAL SPRINGS, FLA. — A woman was mauled by her 120-pound Presa Canario while she was trying to give it a bath, police said.

I'm not quite sure if there's a lesson in this, but it's pretty well understood that we dogs are skittish at bath time. Of course, fingers will be pointing at the BREED of dog as the cause of death.


I’m thinking.

Why is it acceptable for a cat to overreact if swiped with even so much as a slightly damp cloth? Humans are well aware of how vicious cats can be if wet. Humans can rightly predict loss of skin, bone, even possibly an eye, if they were to give kitty a bath. They know what to expect and STILL they find cats amiable and alluring creatures.

What humans don’t know is just how smart cats are. Cats have them thinking that they would NEVER roll in their own turds or walk through mud puddles. Thing is they are just never caught. Cheeky devils.

Poetry by Kaluah-lu

My Ball

See my ball?
It’s oh, so small
With yellow fuzz
I like it cuzz
It’s my hobby
To make it slobby
Humans swipe it
And try to wipe it


What if I turned like a gloomy cloud overcasting thoughts of me in murky
gray and raindrop blue soaked in sloppy wet kisses?

Bad Cat

A mouse scurried behind the lily
I thought it strange and yet so silly
For cats to terrorize such things
Oh, if only mice were given wings!

Blue as the sky on a bright summer's day
Blue as the day that you went far away.
Blue as the water I drink from the toilet.