Play time with a new kid...

Yesterday we got to meet Jolene.


She's already bigger than she is in this picture.

She came over to play. She's brand-new, and kinda stupid. Puppies can be that way. I used to be stupid, too.

Jolene kept getting too close to my hip, which I didn't like. But she and The Boy became fast friends, and they played and played all over the back yard (but especially in the monkey grass), and The Alpha says she's going to come over again, so I might as well play, too.


I hope she doesn't get bigger than me. Because I won't like that one bit.


She went home all covered in The Boy's slobber. They played hard.

Sooo hungry!

Remember the thing about breakfast being delayed? Well, now it seems to be delayed all the time. The Alpha used to feed us before he left for work, but now we have to wait a little longer, until The Typist leaves for work. The Boy puts on his best so hungry look, but it doesn't seem to make any difference. I think it has to do with one of my peanut-buttery pills that I get way early in the morning. Also, they quit giving me one of my other pills, but that's fine with me. Three is plenty. It's about as high as I can count, anyhow.

We do get fed, the same amount as before and everything. It's just later than it used to be, and this concerns The Boy very much. Me, I just take a nap while I wait.

Breakfast delayed!

Well, yesterday started off confusing. They fed The Boy, and not me. I looked at them with my best puppy-dog eyes, and they seemed sympathetic, but still didn't give me any food.

Then, after The Alpha left for work, The Typist and I left The Boy all alone and went for a ride in the car. I rode shotgun, but with my special harness on that hooks into the seat belt, of course. From the beginning it was obvious we were heading vetwards. And, sure enough, we got there. I think it's plenty just to get there and then walk back out the door and go for another ride, but The Typist never seems to feel that way.

How are you today, Cub? asked the nice lady. Asymptomatic, said The Typist. Which was funny to the thumb-havers.

So, I had to sit on a flat thing while they looked at some numbers, which they seemed to like (wow, just under 50! still svelte!). Then the nice lady took me back to the little room where they poke me with a needle. Which really wasn't too terrible, and didn't take very long. The Typist barely had time to do even a row of knitting when they brought me back out and said how good I was. Because I am.

Then The Typist and the nice lady talked some more, and The Typist handed her plastic card to the nice lady, and then the nice lady remembered I hadn't had any breakfast and came around the counter with three treats!!!

And when I got home I had to take my pill and wait another very long time between the pill and breakfast. But I did finally get fed. And this time it was The Boy giving the sad puppy-dog look and not having anything put in his bowl.

They weren't looking...

...so I danced around the living room with The Boy, while the thumb-havers were eating supper and couldn't go staring at us. I don't mind having observers when we play chase -- it's kinda neat to have a cheering section -- but with the dancey-wrestling-type stuff it's a little embarrassing when you get caught. So, we only do that when they're not looking.

Then, later, I took a nap on the couch while The Boy took a nap on the floor and The Alpha watched the flickering box and The Typist played with her sticks and yarn. I had a really great dream-chase. I think they know, somehow, because they were looking at me with the whole isn't she cute expression. Well, I am cute, so that's fine with me.

Friday Five: American Idols

From Songbird over at RevGalBlogPals:
Yes, it's true. I've been watching Season Six of American Idol with my daughter, our first time dipping into this particular well of pop culture. In the spirit of believing you can do anything, as the auditioners so clearly do, please fill in the following five blanks.

Seeing as how I don't get into singing except the occasional howl or bark along with "Happy Birthday," The Typist has played on her own today. She would like everyone to know that she has never watched more than five minutes of said television program. She confesses that she is a TV snob, and is unaware of when said program regularly airs. (Also, I think it bugs her that she's too old to try out. Or so she's heard.)

1) If I could sing like anyone, it would be Natalie Maines.
2) I would love to sing the song "Godspeed" by Radney Foster. Oh, wait, I did sing that for my friend's baby's baptism.
3) It would be really cool to sing at a recording studio.
4) If I could sing a dream duet it would be with this question is too hard! (Actually, so was number two.) One of my dream careers is backup singer, so I've dreamed of backing lots of artists. Maybe Billy Joel, or Don Henley, or a quartet with the Dixie Chicks.
5) If I could sing on a TV or radio show, it would be Austin City Limits.

The Typist says she has to get ready for "work" now. Yeah, whatever that is. Just looks like a bunch more typing to me.

Hic (hic) ups.

This afternoon I started in with some hiccups. I used to get those a lot when I was a puppy, but I hadn't had them in so long I kinda forgot what they were.

Just as I was getting used to having them again, The Alpha hollered, "CUB!!"

I looked up. What is it you want, dear Alpha? Is there a perimeter to patrol?

"Good girl!" he said. Because I am.

And then I noticed the hiccups weren't there anymore.

Darndest thing.