Down with the sickness...

Started puking Monday morning, and didn't stop until today. DogDaddy vainly thinks it's because he's away this week and I miss him, but I'm enjoying his spot on the bed far too much for that to be the case. Anyway, I had to spend all day at the vet and get a shot, but after DogMommy took me home I got this awesome soft food from a can that I've never had before. Smells like that time we had Thanksgiving dinner here at the house, only it's not warmed up (that having-no-thumbs thing again; I can't work the damn microwave, and I can't even say microwave). I hope I get to eat it forever...

The Rug-Pisser actually pissed on DogMommy's armpit the other day, I kid you not. He got a little too excitable, curled up on his back, and let loose with the pee stream. So, DogMommy was pissed off for getting pissed on. But he's still a cute kid -- he actually whined when I got carted off to the vet! Anyway, glad to be home. Now, it's past my climb-up-on-the-big-bed-time.

Simple joys...

Bone-chewing. Better yet, bone-chewing in front of Rug-Pisser when he doesn't have his own to chew on. He's an okay kid, really, but he's got some nasty habits. The snapping, for instance. He's like IceMan from Top Gun doing that stupid chomp thing in Maverick's face before he leaves the locker room. Wait, how do I know that? Jungian archetype, I suppose.

Licking. Groooooming. All while guarding my bone from the RP. Hey, the fur on my front leg tastes kinda like that bone I was just chewing...no, wait, that was just aftertaste. Gets me every time. Mmmm, what's this back by my butt? Ah, tastes butt-tastic. Oh, time to give kisses!

Little Brothers Make You Fat.

Stealing all The Boy's treats is really getting to my midsection. The thumb-havers have already noticed, and I think they're skimping on my supper. This morning The Boy swallowed his meaty-treat whole to keep it away from me. Clever. But if he pukes it up, it'll be mine after all.

Where is she?

Okay, DogDaddy turned up again, but haven't seen much of DogMommy. The nights of being allowed on the bed are over, even though there's enough room. I suppose she'll turn up eventually and will want that spot back.

Aunt Linda said I'm getting Blog Blogged, whatever that means. Okay, can I lick you now?

Oh, peanut butter, my favorite!

Hey, Rug Pisser, congratulations for learning to make some noise at the back door to be let outside instead of pissing on the guest bathroom carpet! Mad props!

So, here he is...

Yeah, I finally got around to putting a picture up. Yes, I know I picked one where he looks kinda stupid and I look pretty relaxed and happy. It's just how I operate. I do out-rank him, after all.

DogCabulary

For some strange reason, DogMommy feels the need to brag about how many words I know:

My own name, and at least 10 variants thereof
Go, Go out, Go home
Out, Outside
Come, Come here
Sit
Stay
Off
Up/Hop up
Down
Roll over
Crawl
Go to bed
Kong (tm)
Rope
Bone
Dumbbell
Squirrel/squirrely
Breakfast
Supper
Chow
Water
Drink
Walk
Ride
Get dressed (relax, it's only a bandanna)
Bunny
Coming over
Do you love me?
Poppy kisses
Toothbrushin'

I know plenty more, but I'm not telling her. It's embarrassing.

Gravity is a harsh mistress.

Fell off the bed last night. It was my special treat to even be on the bed in the first place, then she let Rug-Pisser up there, too. So, I chose a corner to defend, on the opposite site of her leg from The Boy, which apparently was too close to the edge, because she turned out the light, and not five tail-wags later there I was, not on the bed anymore. Naturally, she turned the light back on, because that's just the kind of DogMommy she is, checked to make sure I wasn't having a seizure, decided all was well, and out went the light again. I didn't exactly feel like reclaiming the mattress, even though it is my rightful space in the absence of DogDaddy. So, the floor it was. Oddly enough, The Boy took to the floor as well. Apparently he's not quite the numbskull I thought.

Then, this morning, WALK time!!!! Didn't think we'd get one, what with one of the walk-ers missing. But she handled both of us and our leashes quite admirably. And I got to pee on lots of yards.

Fun With Seizures

Ugh, I know it's been something embarrassing when I notice that the thumb-havers have been sitting on the floor cooing at me for quite some time, and that they are mopping up my drool with a towel. Did you know that 5% of all dogs are epileptic? I don't know what that means, but that's what they tell anyone who happens to be around during one of my seizures. Anyhow, I managed not to piss myself, which is more than I can say of my new little brother the Rug-Pisser. He really needs his tail washed, as it got in the way a few days ago when he curled it up on his belly while peeing excitedly.

PoppyDaddy did a lot of packing last night and this morning, and he never once asked me if I wanted to go for a ride. Something fishy is up.