White or Wholemeal?

On Sunday the humans celebrated Mothers' Day which meant that we were left at home by ourselves.....again! Mum fed us first and then Dad said to me, "Troods, you guard the house." Well, I take my duties as a guard dog very seriously so I started patrolling the house to make sure there were no intruders. Heidi went for an after dinner nap on the couch. I kept guarding. I sat out in the pool room and watched out through the windows. Heidi woke up and had a drink. I kept guarding. Heidi went out the back for....well, you can guess what she went for. I kept patrolling. Gosh, I was doing a good job! Heidi decided nothing was happening so she went back to sleep on the couch. I may have had a short snooze but I was still on high alert. Nothing got past me. No guard dog has ever done a better job than me. All that guarding was making me hungry. Heidi said that there wouldn't be any more food until Mum came home but I was really feeling like a little snack......but I was a guard dog so I kept patrolling. And then....I saw something.....up on the bench. Dad had left something there. He must have known that a great guard dog like me would need a snack halfway through her shift. Good one, Dad! I stood up and took it down. It was wrapped up in a plastic bag and it was a bit of a struggle to get it open but, eventually, I was able to enjoy my snack of sliced bread. It would have nicer if Dad had buttered it but it's the thought that counts, after all. I kept guarding until Mum and Dad came home, but I must confess that I was....um...farting (OMG!!!)....quite a bit. Nobody mentioned that the bread was gone but there were several complaints about 'smelly dogs'. I tried to look innocent because it is usually Heidi who is to blame for these things. It wasn't until the next morning that Mum found the plastic bag outside where I had left it. Apparently the bread wasn't meant for me at all...which explains why it wasn't buttered,I suppose. Mum was not impressed with how many 'little gifts' I had left for her in the back yard either. Judging by the way she goes around collecting them every day I thought she would have been impressed with the quantity, but....no. From this I have learned that Wholemeal bread gives me a tummy ache and so, in future, I will be sticking to white bread.....hopefully buttered...and preferably with cheese.....but, gee, I was a great guard dog.

Home Again...Hooray!

Mum came to get us at last!
Miss Angela is fun and we have a pretty good time staying with her but we are always very glad to come home.

As soon as Mum unloaded us from the car, we raced around to make sure everything was just where we left it.  All seemed to be okay so we gave the neighbours a good barking just to let them know we were back and to warn Otto (aka The Rat) to keep his ratty face away from our fence.
Dad was somewhat put out that we didn't greet him until we had taken care of these things.  Priorities, we tried to tell him....priorities!  You cannot allow the neighbours to think they can just carry on as they please.  It is all for the security of the house that we have to be so firm with the likes of pussy cats, possums and Rats who think they are dogs.  Heidi sat beside Dad on the couch for a while so that he felt appreciated.  (Got to keep the humans happy.)

Now, dinner has been served (on time) by Mum and we are having a well-deserved rest.  Being 'on holidays' sure does wear a dog out.

Our 'family suite' was quite comfortable but there is nothing quite like a snooze on your very own chair or couch.

Help! We Are Prisoners!

We are being held prisoner by Miss Angela at the kennel. Mum dropped us off last week....ages ago...and I think she has forgotten to come and pick us up again. There doesn't seem to be any way for us to get out of here and go home on our own. Heidi says if we could get out, she knows the way back to our house. I think between the two of us we'd find the way. How hard could it be? The problem is that Miss Angela has these big high fences everywhere....and gates which close by themselves. Heidi and I have a "family suite" so we can be together. It has a sleeping space with two beds which is covered in and another space which is more open and allows us to see our fellow inmates.....like Basil. Basil is another dog who is trapped here. He has little tiny legs and a long body.....obviously some strange mutant breed. He has a tendency to wail when he feels lonely. Heidi talks to him through the fence and she says he dribbles too. He doesn't get to play with us because Miss Angela says we are too Boisterous for him. I don't know what boisterous is but I think it must be something to do with his having those little stumpy legs and not being able to run and jump like us. Miss Angela can be bossy but she does serve dinner at the right time....5 pm...however, there are no breakfast treats. I have tried to speak with her on this issue but she just doesn't seem to understand. Heidi says no breakfast treats is totally unacceptable. Even prisoners should have treats, she says. Otherwise Miss Angela seems to have a reasonable grip on what dogs like. She knows lots of good games and has even built a running track and mud puddles in the playground. We like the running track. There is a big square playing yard and the running track goes around the outside of it. Miss Angela puts Joe, the greyhound, in the running track and we go in the middle yard. Joe belts around the running track and we rush from side to side of the playing yard to keep up with him. Boy, is he fast! Heidi says she is the winner because she can go across and back before Joe can go right around. Methinks Heidi deludes herself. I try to keep up with Joe and he beats me every time probably because I am barking as I go. Miss Angela says I am a lunatic. Don't know what that means either. I have worked out that when the bell rings, it means there is someone at the front gate. Sometimes it is a new prisoner being dropped off and sometimes it is someone's human coming to get them. Maybe, tomorrow the bell will ring and it will be Mum coming for us......but,I guess, if you have to be a prisoner this isn't a bad place to be.

Victory is ours!

Update on our earlier story about the pussy cats next door.

Today we learned that the lady in that house has sent the pussycats to live somewhere else. Mum says it happened because the man that owns the house doesn't let the tenants have pets but we know it was our brilliant efforts to rid the neighbourhood of felines that have caused this.
Victory is ours!!!!

Now we just have to work out what to do about the vicious, scratching, biting, ferocious tiger that lives in the bushes out the back.

Mouse trap

In the middle of the night I woke up, climbed down from the nice comfy bed in the spare (Mum forgot to close the door again..haha), and wandered through the house to see what I could see. And what did I see? A mouse!
It ran across the family room and disappeared. I am not a very good mouse catcher because I have big paws and, no matter how hard I try, the stupid little things run around underneath me and get away. I don't like things running under me. It makes me jump. So I went into the walk in cupboard and woke Heidi up.
Heidi is a most excellent mouser. She likes to catch little field mice and carry them around in her mouth. She has worked out that it is best to leave the tail hanging out because if you hold them with the tail inside your mouth it makes you cough and then they get away.
Heidi came out to the family room and soon sussed out where the mouse was.
It was hiding in Mum's office so we blocked off the doorways, pretended to be asleep and waited for it to come out.
When it tried to run out into the hallway we pounced and I got him......accidentally.....with my big paw. Squished him a bit, I did. He didn't want to run any more so Heidi said to leave him in the doorway as a present for Mum. Then we went back to sleep.
In the morning Dad found our present and didn't even show it to Mum. He took it straight outside. We were confused by that.....but he did give us treats afterwards so he must have appreciated our gift.

When is a rat not a rat?

Behind the back fence there is a rat. Mum says it is a dog but I don't think so. I think it is a rat.
It has little stumpy legs....like a rat.
It has little beady eyes.....like a rat.
It has a ratty looking tail....like a rat.
It makes a sucky sound.....like a rat.
It is called Otto.....a rat's name if ever I heard one.

Despite all the evidence to the contrary, Mum insists it is a dog. She says it is a Chee-wow-wah. I have never heard of a Che-wow-wah. Neither has Heidi. So we have been keeping a close eye on Otto the Rat just to see if he shows any signs of dogginess.

We are taking turns at watching. There are spaces between the palings of the back fence. It is not like the side fence which is really high. This makes the watching quite easy and comfortable. We can just sit in under the palm trees and relax whilst peeping through the gaps in the fence. The only problem is that these particular palm trees are right beside the clump of bushes where we think the vicious, nasty, scratching, biting tiger beast lives.

We have come up with a plan to deal with this issue. One of us takes up the observation position under the palm trees and the other reclines gracefully on the patio lounger and listens for rustling in the bushes. That vicious, scratching, biting, nasty tiger beast is not going to get us again. In fact, now that I think about it, if anyone is danger from a nasty, vicious, scratching, biting tiger beast, it would be Otto the Rat.

He is little and tends to scurry.....like a rat.
He hides behind the big plant pot....like a rat.
He is teeny tiny and has no muscles to fight off a tiger......like a rat.
He has, so far, shown no signs of being a dog so I think the tiger beast who lives in the bushes will have no problems turning Otto the Rat into a light lunch.

I hope not. I like spying on him. I like giving him a good barking occasionally and I like running up and down beside the fence racing him. He can go surprisingly fast sometimes. In fact, he's not so bad really.....better than those pussy cats.
Perhaps I should warn him about the vicious, biting, nasty, scratching tiger beast.

Goldidog and the Three Beds

It was raining in the forest by the lake.  Goldidog looked out of the garage doorway.  She had had a busy evening scaring away pussycats and climbing up the fence trying to catch pesky possums but, now, everything was quiet. Mum and Dad had gone to bed.  Heidi was in the walk in closet fast asleep and, now, it was raining.  Goldidog decided it was time for her to go to bed too.

She tried the bed in the garage.
It was too cramped and draughty. 
Goldidog kept looking.

She tried the beanbag by the poolroom door.   It was too soft and scrunchy.  Goldidog kept looking.



She wandered around the house looking for just the right spot to sleep. 

She had been a busy dog and she needed a comfortable place to rest.

And then, there it was.....the perfect place!  The big bed in the spare room where Mum slept on nights when Dad snored really loudly.  It was perfect!  Soft, but not too soft. Cool but not draughty and so, so comfortable.  Goldidog hopped up and arranged herself in the middle of the bed....ahhhh, just right.

Goldidog slept soundly and woke up as soon as the first birds started to sing.  She crept quietly out of the spare room and curled up in the little bed in the garage.  She was very pleased with herself.  She had found the perfect place to sleep and no one would ever know.

Or would they?