On Notice!

The thumb-havers are rather fond of The Colbert Report, so when we saw we had the power to create our own On Notice boards, we couldn't resist. Here's The Typist's:
















And here's mine:















And, here's The Boy's:







(We expect to receive The Alpha's board tomorrow.)

Wet and cool

I kept hearing about Wet and Cool from the thumb-havers after they got back from the whole not-being-here thing (Alaska, they call it). Well, yesterday we finally got some Wet, and compared with what the temperature has been like lately, we also got Cool, too!

It was so refreshingly Cool, we finally got to go on a w-a-l-k (I'm six, I can spell...). Funny thing, though -- even though it was Cool and the rain wasn't falling from the sky anymore, we wound up feeling kinda wet anyway. Humidity, they call it.

But, I didn't let the rain go and drizzle on my muzzle. (Thanks for the advice, Trout Fishing in America).

Ah, visitors!

Friday afternoon the bandannas came out of the drawer and were slipped over our heads, so The Boy and I knew some coming over would be happening. And we were right!

First, two folks who may consider us their granddogs (although Grandaddy might not admit it). They sat around in the living room for a while, then they both went somewhere with The Typist and when they came back, it was just The Typist and Grandaddy. Not sure where the other one went. Something about a conference, whatever that is. I bet there are no dogs there.

Then, lots more in the evening! Miss Martha, and Miss Julie, Mid-Life Rookie and her man, and Mr. Steve and Miss Lynn, who I looooove. (I miss their pool, too; Emmitt and The Boy don't get along well at all, so I don't get to go over there much anymore.) The Alpha and Grandaddy went out for a while, but they came back and had dessert with the rest of the thumb-havers. The Boy and I snagged some dessert crumbs from the kitchen floor, but then The Boy threw up on the dining room carpet, so I think next time they will keep a closer eye out for falling pie.

Grandaddy stayed until this morning. He even let me lick him some. (He probably would've let me lick him more when nobody was looking, but The Typist kept telling me to stop, as she did when I tried licking all the other guests Friday night, too. Guests are yummy.) He also played ball with The Boy, which was fun except when I got jealous and tried to steal the ball.

If he saw our doggy-fur tumbleweeds rolling around, he didn't say anything about them. Whew!

They came back!

Yeah, yesterday the front door opened, and it was The Alpha and The Typist! We could hardly believe what we were seeing through the patio windows. The Boy even stood on the windowsill to get a better look. But seeing them before getting to come in and smell them helped us stay a little calmer, I think. I mean, what if it had been the whole garage door thing? We might've just thought it was Aunt KitCat again. (Not that seeing her every day wasn't great, because it was!)

They had lots of interesting smells when they got back. Places I've never smelled before. Also some outdoorsy-type smells. I think I caught one hint of wet dog, but then they did laundry, so I didn't get to investigate further.

I have no idea...

...where The Alpha and The Typist are, but I don't really so much care! The Boy and I are being spoiled rotten by Aunt KitCat. (As if we weren't rotten enough already.)

Wheee!

Hrrmph.

Remember that Best Day Ever report? Well, the thumb-havers decided to rain on our little doggy parade: showers for both of us before bed. I should've guessed, what with all the brushing (The Alpha harvested another pomeranian from my undercoat). And this morning, that squirty stuff between our shoulder blades where we can't lick it off. I'm not too fond of routine maintenance, but I gather that it does serve some sort of legitimate purpose. Still, it's always a challenge to get my proper scent back.

The Best Day Ever!

Or in a while, at least.

After supper tonight, we got to go for a RIDE!!!!

And it was to a place where we usually just walk -- down to the window at the pharmacy. (I guess that's why they call it a drive-up window...maybe we're the only ones who ever walk there.) The Alpha said something like, "Pickup for Cub the K-9," and then there was a bunch of back-and-forth paper passing, and a little paper sack that I'm pretty sure contained those things they wrap in peanut butter and give to me before breakfast. But then it was time for the fun part.

The guy in the window brought out two huge Milk Bones -- way bigger than we ever get at home -- and handed one to me through my window, and another one to the thumb-havers to pass to The Boy on his side of the car. We crunched and crunched and they got all over the back seat and the floor, and we licked it all up. The car started moving again, but because of all the crunching, we didn't really notice except for the rocking around a little (we were buckled into our harnesses, so nobody fell down).

But then before we knew it, we were turning in somewhere else and going up to another window! This time it was pretty clear that whatever the thumb-havers were getting would be just for them. That is, until the guy at the window said, "And would you like a Puppy Cup?"

Puppy Cup? That sounded good. The thumb-havers agreed, but only if they could have two. "Oh, I didn't see the other one back there -- hi!" said Window Guy to The Boy. And in a minute he came back with big cups of creamy treats for the thumb-havers, and Puppy Cups for us! They were kinda like Frosty Paws, only not as much like frozen gravy. Also, they were not as full. There was just enough to lick all around the inside. Which was nice, and not too messy to be had in the car.

So, two windows, two snacks for two dogs. Yes, this is the Best Day Ever. And nothing will spoil that!

Snack captured, confiscated

This afternoon in the backyard, The Boy made a great catch. No, it wasn't a Frisbee(tm). Or a ball. It was a bird!

The Alpha spotted what was going on, but it was too late. He hollered and hollered, but The Boy messed with the bird until it stopped moving. The Boy did not get to keep the snack he caught. I think The Alpha buried it in the side yard. I can't be sure, but I think I heard "Taps" playing softly in the distance.

I wonder why that silly bird didn't remember it could fly.

Indignities

Last night was a night of awkward inconvenience for dogs.

First, while we were out going pee, The Boy started limping, and when the thumb-havers managed to get a look at his right front paw, they sprung into action. Seems he'd managed to leave some of the skin dangling. The Typist went on a ride (without us) and came back with stuff to wrap around his paw. The whole time she was gone, The Alpha insisted that The Boy stay right in the spot where he'd put him down from bringing him inside. And, of course, being low in the pack order, The Boy stayed in a quite submissive pose, showing us all his belly. The good part there was that The Alpha could keep an eye on the offending paw, which, oddly enough, wasn't bleeding.

So they put goo and gauze and a bandage on his paw, but the real indignity came when they decided they didn't want him picking at it all night... and made him wear one of The Typist's socks:

The good news is, he can walk on it quite well. I'd be a limping wreck if they did that to me.

To add insult to injury (literally), a comment soon came from The Alpha: "With that sock on his arm, he looks kinda like Britney Spears."

Anyway, this morning's bandage change revealed that there had been some bleeding during the night, so he's still Socky M'Goose today.

As for me, well, when they got The Boy all wrapped up, they decided it wasn't fair to torture him all alone. I knew something was up, but I'm such a good girl that I couldn't run off and hide or anything. Turns out they bought a new instrument of torture for me -- one of those sticks they call a "toothbrush." This one had three brush heads and is supposed to get all sides of my molars at once. Doesn't work too well when I chomp down on it, though. Yet, The Alpha persisted, and I think my breath probably smells better.

Behind the Camera

I know I've already told you we had a week of Dogs On the People Bed recently, but here's the proof. Yeah, it pretty much looks like the last time.

The difference is that this time, while taking the picture, The Typist was sort of hopping up and down on one foot, so as not to bleed on the carpet with the other foot. She insisted on getting the shot of us before she got a Band-Aid.

You see, somebody left a bone in the major thoroughfare of the living room, which The Typist chose to enter in the dark, barefooted. And the bone in question had been nicely sharpened by hours of concentrated gnawing.

I don't really "get" irony, but according to her, the irony of it is that her reason for going into the dark room to grab the camera off the end table was to take a picture of her cute, cute poppies.

Who, while staying on the bed, managed to indirectly cut up The Typist's toe.

I hear that little thumb-havers sometimes do the same thing with Legos.

Oh, her toe is okay now. But she's been much more careful in the dark lately.

Friday Five: Hot Hot Hot!

The Typist and I have decided to play this RevGalBlogPals bit together. See my answers first, then hers:

1. What's the high temperature today where you are?
Cub: Uh, hot!
Typist: The forecast is for 97 degrees, cooler than some recent days and some expected next week.

2. Favorite way(s) to beat the heat.
C: Either sitting on the top step of Ms. Lynn and Mr. Steve's pool, soaking up to my shoulders (Wet Dog Alert!), or stretching out on the cool tile in the front hall. OR, Frosty Paws.
T: My more selfish, sinful, and costly ways include cranking up the A/C and camping out under a vent, opening up the side-by-side freezer and standing where the door would be when it's closed, and turning the car's A/C on full blast even though I know it sucks power away from my dutifully functioning four squirrels -- er, cylinders. Less selfish, sinful, and costly, but also less available: wading in a chilly creek and falling down accidentally on purpose.

3. "It's not the heat, it's the humidity." Evaluate this statement.
C: It's all of it.
T: I have to agree with the four-footed furry on this one.

4. Discuss one or more of the following: sauna, hot tub, sweat lodge, warm-stone massage.
C: I think those things fall under "Not for Poppies."
T: Sauna, no thank you. Hot tub, like 'em in the right weather (and this ain't it). Can't comment on the sweat lodge, but warm-stone massages are nice when they are a free upgrade from your regular massage.

5. Hottest you've ever been in your life
C: That time we were in the tiny room with zippers on the doors and windows, out by the lake and The Boy and I panted half the night and weren't allowed to go chase whatever was in the brush.
T: Ah, yes, the camping trip to Oklahoma. I think I'll agree with you there. (At least you didn't have you and The Boy panting directly ON you, like The Alpha and I did.)

Non-temperature related bonus: In your opinion... who's hot?
C: Rex and Tuxedo. But Tux was a little chunky the last time I saw him.
T: The Alpha, of course; also Nathan Fillion and I'm sure some assorted other musicians and movie stars I can't think of right now.

Tidbits

• The thumb-havers have stopped taking showers outside. Nice to be back to the usual routine.
• I think they've been shorting my food allotment by a mouthful or two lately. No, I am not fat! But apparently they want to keep it that way. And you know what? I do, too. Uncle Ren doesn't really even look like a dog. I like looking like a dog. Because, you know, I am a dog.
• Early mornings have been nice for sitting out in the yard, but it still gets pretty hot every day around here.
• Miss Cathy came to see us yesterday! I love her. And she loves me. And I love her for lovin' me and she loves me for lovin' her. And we loooooove each other. (Apologies to Roxie Hart.)
• The Alpha gave me a brushing last night. He gleaned a pomeranian-sized amount of undercoat. Even if the process is kind of annoying, I do feel a little cooler now.

Abnormal Activity

Yeah, it's been a week since I posted. That's like a month in dog years or something. Suffice it to say there's been a lot going on.

First, no Alpha for a week. (DOGS on the PEOPLE bed...wheeeeeee!)

Then, friends over! (Including wee dog Winston -- and yes, The Boy, at 40 pounds, is still afraid of a chihuahua.)

Then, we got to pile in the car and go to Church to pick up The Alpha. (The Boy got to see lots of people I'd met before and he hadn't; plus, he wanted to get in the big white van. I don't know why. Also, we got to sniff a daschund.)

And since The Alpha got back, the thumb-havers have been taking their showers in the backyard. It doesn't really make sense, but then, neither does showering every day, if you ask me. Something about the big tank in the hall closet and not being able to keep a fire lit under it, and The Typist calling a plumber, and it being the weekend and this not being an emergency, and them filling this big bag with water and leaving it out in the sun, then taking their showers with what comes out of the bag. Oh, and them being really glad we have a privacy fence.

Yes, definitely some abnormal things happening around here. Must be that "new normal" I keep hearing so much about.

Got in trouble.

It's all better now, but Friday night there was some yelling in my direction. You see, they turned on that big hot thing in the kitchen and made sweet yummy cookies for thumb-havers. And one of them was given to the Maris (see "What's a Maris?"), who thought it was still a bit too hot and gave it to her Mom, who then let down her guard, and the cookie, to my nose level, right on the arm of the couch.

So I ate half of it.

I would've eaten the other half of it, too, if it hadn't been for the yelling. The Alpha and The Typist did all the shaming and hollering and everything, and after a few minutes it was all okay, but I certainly did not get any more cookies anywhere near my nose that night.

Oh, and Maris was very good. And I'm not just saying that because I got to eat half her cookie.

Misuse of Sticks

Once again -- I'm pretty sure this happened in the dining room last year -- the thumb-havers rubbed various sticks against the wall over a period of several days. No chewing them at all.

Yeah, the staging area for w-a-l-k-s (or entryway, or foyer, or front hall) looks different now, but that doesn't really concern me much. It smelled a little different for a while, too, which was interesting. But thankfully I know better than to stick my nose in one of those buckets (I learned that when I was a puppy and they were rubbing sticks against the wall in the room where we watch that flickery box thing while I take naps on the couch).

So, The Typist didn't have much time for typing for me in the past week. Too much other stuff to be done. Also, we had new dinner guests -- nice folks, all thumb-havers, no poppies. Thank goodness, because sometimes it's just embarrassing to watch The Boy get his pack order challenged by a chihuahua.

Oh, and tonight The Alpha got The Boy all wound up. "Don't encourage him," said The Typist. Which made absolutely no difference.

Nicknames

If I had blog categories, this would be one for the "I Don't Get It" file.

Two trips to Arkansas ago, The Boy and I got new nicknames. Gavin, the short little thumb-haver who spills lots of food on the floor and himself, came toddling through the living room at Grandma and Pop's house, greeting us with "Hey Tub," and "Hey, Anus."

Okay, obviously we knew what he meant. But we get the impression we're missing something in the translation. While The Typist nearly fell of the couch doing that silent laugh thing, The Alpha's first response was, "Oh, that's never gonna get old." And, now, maybe once a week or more, we find ourselves referred to as Tub and Anus. They seem more inclined to use Anus than Tub, because for some reason it's funnier.

Like I said, I don't get it. Glad they're having fun, though.

Home Adventure Kit

1. Take one home security system;
2. Add a really big thunderclap;
3. Observe interesting loud siren-type noise;
4. Bark a lot.

That's pretty much the adventure The Boy and I had tonight, all without leaving the yard. We had a teeny little storm, really, but the thunder wasn't playing nice, and so the house siren decided to play back, and then it quit, and then nothing happened for a while, and then somebody came around on the other side of the fence and we did our Ferocious Barking Act even though I was pretty sure it was only Mr. Jim, who I love, and then some other guys with big lights came and we kept up the Ferocious Barking Act, and then a few minutes after we calmed down The Alpha and The Typist came home. They seemed a little goofy about going to all the rooms in the house and looking at windows, but other than that, things were normal. Sorry they missed it all.

...and they Wouldn't Let Us OUT!

The Alpha was out mowing, but just came running to the back door calling for The Typist in his Urgent Voice. She went out in her sock feet just as we were being told to "stay, dogs, stay," and we got shut inside the house. Then, we watched from the window in disbelief as they messed around with a little bunny, trying to get it to leave our yard! Yes, leave our yard, instead of letting us out to play with it!

After a few minutes, they coaxed the bunnybunnybun to the gate they'd opened and he hopped out along the fence line.

I don't get it. I just don't get it. That would've been the coolest snack.

Maybe they just didn't want The Boy and me fighting over it.

Oh, well.

UPDATE: I forgot to mention the part where the bunny tried to come see us. Hopped right through our doggy hole (I'd say doggie door, but The Boy tore the flap off) from the yard to the patio. The Boy was thinking about trying to get through the glass; I could see it on his face. And ears, and tail.

Uncle B!

We had a surprise Friday -- no, not more dead varmints, but something much better: Uncle B came to visit! The Typist didn't give us the usual signals of bandanna adornment or use of the word "comingover," so it was quite a surprise. We hadn't sniffed him in a long time.

Anyway, Uncle B and The Typist sat at the table and didn't eat any food (although I think they did partake of our signature beverage, since Uncle B designed the label). Instead of eating, they did Work stuff with the Laptops. Which I guess is okay, because The Typist says it's how we get toys and oatmeal, plus occasionally I get to blog. Oh, and apparently the way the laptops were set up was funny, because they hollered, "You sank my Battleship!" a time or two, but I don't get it.

Oh, and Happy Birfday Uncle B -- I say "Woff" and The Boy says "Wwwweeeweeeweeee!"

This Just In...

And by "in," I mean IN the living room. Where I was pretty sure it ought not to be. I became certain of that fact when The Alpha took note of what The Boy (shown in file photo at right) had just snuck IN from the trip to the mailbox. The Alpha was most definitely not pleased to find approximately one-half of a dead varmint in the living room floor, with The Boy merrily chewing away on it.

It smelled sorta like a squirrely, and it sorta looked like the back end of a squirrely, but with no tail. There's a slim chance it was a bunny. However, there's no chance it was among the living within the past week. The Alpha called it "half-dead," but quickly realized his error, as it was obviously all the way dead, and there was only half of it left.

We were both immediately ushered out the back door. As we watched through the sunporch window, The Alpha procured a shovel while The Typist went for the can of Lysol. No more squirr... er, bunn... uh, varmint for The Boy. And he was so proud...