The Solution

The Christmas tree is up and we have freshly steamed carpet and new chairs in our lounge room. A large and very noisy truck arrived yesterday and, despite spirited resistance on our parts, Mum allowed two men to bring the chairs into the house.

These additions to our home have, however, raised a whole new issue.

Apparently, new chairs are not to be rested upon by canine security patrol officers.  Pffft!!!

You will observe the disdainful pose adopted by Officer HoHo in the picture above after she was informed of the new regulations by Mum.

It seems that only human posteriors are deemed worthy of repose upon these new seats.
Heidi and I are putting together a detailed list of reasons as to why we should also be allowed access to all seating within our area of protective services.

All suggestions will be gratefully received.  We feel this new regulation is a gross abuse of power by our humans. Heidi says we need to act on this as soon as possible before the new regulation becomes set in stone.

Signing off.

Woof!

Confusion reigns

Normally at this time of the year, according to Heidi's diary, Mum builds a Christmas tree in our lounge room. She then explains the Rules Pertaining to Christmas Trees to us, just in case we have forgotten them from last year.
No searching for possums in the Christmas tree branches, no barking at the flashing lights, no chewing anything in, around or attached to the Christmas tree etc.  You get the idea.

However, this year our lounge room looks like this.

The old red chairs have made their way into the garage. This is odd. Heidi slept on one last night to ensure that it was not stolen.

The old blue couches are now in the family room. This is also odd. It happened on Saturday when Heidi and I were outside discussing events of the day with Otto (aka The Rat) who lives behind the back fence. He was concerned about his humans because they had become obsessed with cutting branches off the bushes in their garden and throwing them into large black plastic bags. Otto was maintaining a low profile (not hard for one so small) in order to avoid being mistaken for a branch and ending up in a bag.  We advised Otto to be very careful. You can never tell what these humans are going to get up to.

Anyway, now we have this arrangement in our family room.

You will notice there is a complete lack of Christmas tree.  It is not in the lounge. It is not in the family room.  Heidi's diary (in which all wisdom is written) clearly states it should be built now. We are confused.

Our first reaction to this oddness of activity from Mum and Dad was to check for suitcases.  Usually, when they start behaving oddly, it means that they are about to disappear off to the High Seas or Places Far Far Away and that Uncle Mike is coming to take care of us.

There are no signs of suitcases being packed.  Hmmmm.  'Tis a puzzlement.

Right now, Heidi is lying, snoozing, relaxing,  guarding the lounge room in a deceptively relaxed-looking pose. To the untrained eye she appears to be sound asleep, but in actual fact she is on high alert for any new activity - weird or otherwise.

As senior guard hound, I am being vigilant also. I am performing my usual patrols of the house and garden, keeping Otto up to date on proceedings, checking on all hidden treasures (including one sock carefully removed from Dad's golf shoe last night) and maintaining my dental health by chomping on an ancient bone I had forgotten I'd buried behind the palm trees.  This is called mutt-li-tasking.  I am so busy!!!!

Stay tuned for further updates.  Must get back to work.

Woof!

Things That Go Knock in the Night

Every night, after dinner, Heidi and I have our post-dinner nap.  This is important for our digestive comfort and, according to Mum, is one of the most peaceful times of the day.

Last night, however, our nap time was rudely interrupted.

There was a THUMP on the window of the lounge room.  We both woke up with a jump. It was a loud thump and definitely a scary thump.  I believe that Mum was startled too, because she said a word that even I know is a bad word. Dad hadn't come home from work yet so, as usual, it was up to me to protect the household.

I unfolded myself from the armchair I had been keeping warm for Dad and gave the window a stern bark.

It responded with a series of sharp rattles and knocks.   Eeek!  I hurried over to Mum to make sure she was not too frightened.  I sat on her lap to reassure her. 

More knocking!   Double eeek!   Heidi came to help me look after Mum. 

We waited.  Mum managed to remove me from her lap and put on a show of bravery by walking over to the window.

Another knock!  Look out, Mum!!

She opened the shutters so we could see out into the dark and fearsome night.

We looked.  Who or what could have been knocking at our window?
You will notice in the picture that Heidi is adopting the less brave observational option by putting the chair between herself and the beastie of the night. She maintains this was because I was taking up all the room beside the window and she needed to be up higher so that she had a clear view of the interloper.  Pfft!  What a load of codswallop!  It is easy to see who the big, brave, super-protective, household security officer is...and it isn't her.

So, what was the source of the knocking?  Well, apparently this stupid bird had flown into the window...CRUNCH...and knocked himself out.  Then, according to the rules of bird-dom (which are somewhat similar to the rules of football), had to be sidelined for a few minutes to be tested for concussion.
The initial thump was him crashing into the window and the subsequent rattling around was another bird testing him for brain damage.  The knocking was the injured bird trying to get his bearings by tapping on the glass.

Birds are weird things.  They are all feathery and fluffy and enjoying teasing and tormenting household security officers who choose to conduct their sentry duties from a lying position in the sun.   

This bird looked confused. He had to sit on the ledge for about thirty minutes before he was considered fit to return to whatever bird game he was playing.  I watched him closely until he flew off into the night with one of his friends.

Peace was then restored to our house. Heidi suggested to Mum that treats might be in order for the valiant security team.  Mum poo-poo-ed this idea but, when Dad came home, we told him how brave we had been. (Soft touch is our Dad.)  Treats were then issued.

All was well in our world.  

Cats

We have a strict policy on Pussy Cats.  

They are not welcome on our property under any circumstances.

We understand that some humans, for reasons that are completely incomprehensible to us, actually like cats.  There is no accounting for taste, we suppose.

However, if one has to put up with a pussy cat in one's home, it should be a clean one.

So, at the risk of offending the cat lovers, here is how one should clean a pussy cat.

Woofle, woofle, woofle......rolling on floor laughing. 

Wet Days

Today is a wet and miserable day.  

Heidi and I are curled up on the couches sulking.
Mum has absolutely refused to do anything about the wet weather. Dad has absolutely refused to get out of bed.
He claims to have something called 'Man Flu'.  This is something that causes him to kick Heidi off the big bed every time she hops up there. Heidi tried to inform him that she was there in her capacity as Assistant Comfort Director, but he just snorted rudely at her.  I tried a toe lick, which he normally accepts with good grace, but was advised to remove myself from his presence immediately.
So we have joined Mum in the living room.  She coffee. We have been issued with treats, but that has not calmed our wet weather sulking.

Wet weather makes life difficult for dogs.  

One has to be extremely quick when taking care of business in the back yard.

One cannot spend a peaceful ten minutes digging around the palm trees or barking at Otto the Rat who lives on the other side of the fence.

One has to have one's paws dried every time one re-enters the house.  This is particularly vexing for HoHo.  She does not appreciate her paws being touched.

One cannot perform one's security patrols to ensure that the property is not being invaded by vicious, spitting, snarling pussycats.  Even Kahlua, our exotic Burmese feline neighbour with whom we have a mutual avoidance arrangement, has retreated to the top of a bookshelf in his lounge room.

One has to deal with cooler temperatures. This is being exaggerated for us today, as we spent yesterday being bathed and clipped by Miss Anna at the dog spa.  She cheerfully removed the woolly suits that we had been wearing for the past couple of months.  Now one is a Skinny Minnie instead of Big Blonde Dog.  Brrr.


We will continue to lie here on our couches, curled in tight, tight circles until the weather gods deign to return the sun to the sky, thus allowing normal activities to resume.


Yours Sulkily,
Skinny Minnie (aka BBD).

Deep Disgrace

Oh dear, apparently I am a disgrace.  I have been thus informed by both Mum and Dad.

Over the weekend I was on my usual patrol of the house, looking for potential threats to the well-being of my humans, when I happened upon an odd-looking thing.

It was one of these.  It was sitting on the little table beside the big bed where Mum and Dad sleep. 

I looked at it and had a sniff.  It smelled of Dad's face.  I decided it was a face-sucking- off creature. 

It seemed to be me that this was something to be either eaten or completely destroyed.....or maybe both.

So I took it outside.

And pulled it to pieces.

And chewed it up.

And ate most of it.

On Saturday Mum and Dad were very upset because they couldn't find the funny-looking thing.

They hunted all over the bedroom, all over the house, behind the palm trees and in the garage. 

I said nothing.  

  Heidi retreated to her bed while they were searching. She said I was going to be in big trouble.

That made no sense to me.  Had I not removed a deadly-dangerous, face-sucking-off gadget from the house and thereby protected my Dad?

Then, yesterday, when Mum was adding to her collection of our garden deposits, she found the remains of the plastic nose piece of the face-sucking-off gadget in amongst...well, you know where it was.

Heidi was right. I was in big trouble. There were no treats for me all day.  Pfft!

So, today, I decided to give back the bit of face-sucking-off gadget that I had put away for later. I brought it in for Mum.  She was still not pleased with me.

I am in deep disgrace.  I have been given dinner but I suspect that there will be no treats again this evening.

Sigh!

The trick to treats.

I have discovered something.

I am surprised I have not worked this out before. It is quite a simple thing really.  Heidi says she has known this for some time and has assumed that I knew too, but I didn't know and HoHo didn't tell me.

I know now though.  

What an amazing discovery!  

Here it is.

If, when one's human calls, a clever dog should come immediately (not when the clever dog feels like it) that clever dog gets treats.

Who knew?

Mum, in particular, is easily impressed by prompt response. 

I found this to be true when I was out in the garden on the weekend.  It was a slow morning. There was nobody to be barked at in the park. There was no sign of Otto the chihuahua (aka Otto the Rat) in his yard behind the fence.  There were no pigeons for Heidi to terrorise. Kahlua, our exotic feline neighbour,  was not in his usual position on top of the fence.  A quiet morning indeed. 

So when I heard Mum call, there was no need for me to dilly-dally.  I went inside right away.

Mum was so happy with me that she allowed me to make my own choice of treat.  (A rare event.)

 I chose Vegetable Tagine.  I hadn't tried those ones before.  Mum gave me one. Yum.  I dashed out to tell Heidi that treats were being served.  Mum called us again.  I came in right away again. More treats were issued.  It was fantastic. Heidi got some too, even though she had wandered in at her leisure.

I got more because I was so instantaneous in my my obedience.

I am so clever.  

My friend Tambo says he knows more tricks for getting treats.  I hope he is going to tell me every single one of them.

Post-treat nap time.