Bath? No bath.

But The Boy certainly got a shampoo and rinse today, even though I didn't. I kept expecting to have to take my turn, but I didn't have to. I guess my nose really does know -- I always thought he got stinkier quicker than me. I'm not sure if it's because of his breed or because he's a boy, though. Boys of any species seem to get stinky quick.

Anyway, he's cleaner and softer now (but his coat is still not as soft as mine). And he smells all clean (which I'm sure won't last if we spend any time in the backyard this evening).

And I think maybe it's time to chase him around the room again (The Typist says there's a country song about that, but I have no idea what she's talking about).

Shockingly normal.

Life has been ever-so-typical this week. That's why I have nothing to blog about lately. It did rain a bit the other day and we had to stay inside while the thumb-havers were at work, but that just meant a nice cushy couch for napping, and that The Alpha came home at lunch to give us an outside break.

Oh, yesterday The Boy got in trouble for chewing a branch off a shrubbery that The Alpha planted. I guess, technically, we both got in trouble -- the chewed-off branch was shaken in both our directions, with "no" happening behind it -- but I know who actually did it.

I'm an enigma... what's an enigma?

Yeah, so The Alpha did some mmm-hmm-ing into the telephone after it rang this morning, then he left and came back with... more prescriptions for me! I'm one pill-popping poppy. Or one druggy doggy. Or a prodigiously prescribed pooch. It's a good thing I don't mind when a finger full of peanut butter has something hidden in it.

Rumor has it I may even start eating prescription chow. My liver's giving them fits. They are mystified because I act fine, yet they don't like what the vet says after I get needles stuck in me. They've also mentioned it'd be great if I'd get a job so I could pull a little more of my own weight around here. (I'm thinking maybe a Cafe Press product line?)

Okay, off to chase The Boy some more. It's a lovely day, but even sunbeams can grow tiresome after a few hours.

Trapped at the vet...

Okay, I'm home now. But this morning I wasn't. I had to go get more needles stuck in me. At least they fed me between stickings, because I wasn't allowed to have breakfast when The Boy was. Instead, The Alpha got me all excited by telling me I was gonna get to go for a RIDE, then he didn't take me when he left. After what seemed like forever, The Typist put The Boy outside all alone (poor The Boy -- but he did get an extra-big treat for his trouble), and we girls went out to the car. For a ride with needles at the other end. Oh, well, I like rides anyway, and I got one after the needles, too, which is how I'm back home!

Upon my return, The Boy sniffed me carefully. All over. Several times. He knows what the vet smells like.

He was right!

The Boy was totally right about getting left! We never even saw the suitcase... I think The Typist snuck it out to the car while The Alpha took me and The Boy for a w-a-l-k. Because today when they came back, they rolled it on in from the garage like nothing unusual had happened.

We did enjoy the company of Aunt Jessica and Winston, which meant not just two, but three dogs with Aunt Jess on the people bed! (Even if Winston is a little tiny thing, he still counts. Especially because even at one-quarter The Boy's size, he can freak out said Boy quite a bit.)

He knows.

The Boy (new file photo at right) is suspicious.

When The Alpha left after supper, The Boy tried to go with him. Snaked past him out the back door and into the garage. It was only after a few seconds with the door shut on him in the darkness that he would come back in, away from the car.

"Aw, you know there's a trip coming, don't you?"

Why yes, he does.

Odd. We haven't seen a suitcase, or any Getting Ready of Things, but there's been talk. Not that he can understand fully, by any means, but The Boy knows.

I know that if we get left, it'll be with somebody nifty like Aunt Jessica or Aunt KitCat, so I'm not too concerned. The Boy, however, still has Issues. Poor The Boy.

I thought that was what they wanted.

Darned if you do, darned if you don't, I say.

A couple of days ago, The Alpha was out in the back yard washing something other than me, and he left the bottle of soap outside. Naturally, The Boy decided to play with it. I noticed it smelled pretty interesting, kinda like how we smell after they make us take baths. So, I decided to lie down in the goo that came out of it, just to make them happy.

Well, it didn't make them happy. In fact, it confused them, and The Typist spent a lot of time brushing the spots on my shoulders that were sticky from the good-smelling goo. Also, it took them a while to figure out what the goo was -- but tonight The Alpha found the bottle in the yard and solved the mystery.

So, they want me to smell good... but only if I agree to go about it their way. I say we have a new mystery there.

A creek!

So we went for a RIDE just now (two rides, actually -- one there, and one back), and at the other end there were all these cool woodsy trails and a creek! The Boy and I waded in the creek while the thumb-havers tried not to get too wet themselves. (And they're still forgetting to bring the camera to capture our antics. Silly thumb-havers.)

The Boy seemed to like the water much better when he could go in on his own terms. Not like at the city pool. He even took a drink or two.

We got nice and dusty/filthy after we got out of the water. Fun!

Mmmm, denim!

Jefferson, who lived with us when I was a puppy, came over this evening. It had been quite a while since we'd seen him, so I was very excited. I squeaked and fell down on his feet. A couple of times.

His blue jeans are really yummy to lick. I don't know why. He doesn't have any animals living with him or anything that would make his denim especially lickable. They're just that special, I suppose.

The toys are back in town!

Okay, well, back in my realm, otherwise known as the floor. They'd been confiscated when I came home all groggy a while back. But we had another (another!) trip to the vet this afternoon, and when I came home we got our toys back! I'm having fun keeping them away from The Boy already.

I heard something else about "two weeks," and judging from the warning I got from the heeler in Houston last time, I'm pretty much Eee Ex Pee Eee See Tee-ing to have to go back. (Yes, more spelling. They still don't know that I know, but I know! I do.)

St. Francis had a day

Yesterday was the Feast Day of St. Francis. He's my special unseen buddy who loves animals.

When I was a tiny puppy, Aunt Lidna gave me a medal with his picture on it to wear with my other tags. I wore out the hole where it fit on my collar, so the thumb-havers had to glue it to the back of another tag to keep it on me! This morning The Typist made me sit so she could look at it, and it's gone. It must've fallen off in the yard somewhere. That's okay, though. St. Francis and I are tight, so it doesn't matter where the medal is.

The Typist sometimes mentions getting me and The Boy blessed, but when we go to church we mainly just get petted. That's okay, too. The Typist says we're pretty well blessed all the time, anyway.

I'm being watched.

It's been a while since I got the hole where my toof used to be, but for some reason I'm still not allowed to go outside alone. The Typist is actually sitting out here in a lawn chair typing, and any time I try to pick up a stick, I get told no and drop it. I feel fine, really. I have no idea what they're so uptight about. That silly vet told them to boss me around like this.

Oh, hey, nobody's said anything about my seal! Why hasn't anyone admired my official seal? It's pretty nifty, if I do say so myself.

My official seal

As we all know how true it is, we thought we'd make it look more official.

Notice my Latin motto.
The Typist says it means, "The wolf in the story."
I'm so a wolf, and this blog is all a story about me, so that's perfect!

Adjusting

Well, I mostly feel better now, but I still have something weird going on in my mouth. The hole is pretty much closed up, but there's a blank spot where one of my toofs used to be. The Boy comes over and sniffs my lips from time to time. He knows it's different, but I think he will eventually lose interest.

Oh, and neither of us is allowed to chew on anything. The thumb-havers took away all our indoor toys. The Boy is allowed to play fetch outside, and I'm allowed to chase him, but the minute I try to pick up a stick or grab the Ropey Kong he's fetching, I get the old holler-off. The Alpha said something about 10 more days of that.

They're still soaking my food to make it all mushy, too, but I actually like that pretty well. And I'm taking extra pills, which means extra peanut butter! I like that!

uhh...

The commenters on the last post know what they're talking about Amie the Cattle Dog was right. Mid-life Rookie was right. I'm a groggy doggy today.

Mmmph. My mouth feels funny. There's a hole in there.

They made my food all mushy.

I'm walking realllly slow.

whoo... feel all floaty... why's The Boy moving so fast?... think I'm gonna go lie down again.

One of THOSE rides...

I should've guessed it when I got to go for a ride and The Boy didn't. He was whining at the back window as The Alpha and I left, thinking he was really missing out.

But he wasn't missing out on much. We arrived at the vet's compound, and I surmised it would be only moments until I had to defend The Alpha from those other thumb-havers who like messing with me. When it was time for that, though, The Alpha somehow talked his way out of going into the tiny room with me, and I was led to the back, alone. Without the weight of defense responsibilities, I more easily relinquished myself to the prodding and lifting up and holding down and looking. They spent extra time looking in my mouth, which they never even dream of doing when I'm using it to defend The Alpha. Good thing I'd left him behind for his own safety, or they would've really seen me in action. I'm not sure how they're planning to get to The Alpha by looking in my mouth, but they are nefarious, so I assume they are biding their time.

Before long, my captors led me back out to the Alpha, and we were joyfully reunited. The Alpha and the other thumb-havers said a bunch of words like cracked molar, calcified plaque, extraction, credit card, Friday morning drop-off, antibiotics, and other things they seemed to think were really important. I escaped unscathed, though, so I'm not really concerned.

Six Weird Things About Me

Found this little meme over at Rebel Without a Pew and thought I'd play with it.

Weird Thing #1: I was born with extra toenails. Yep, in the rear dewclaw area, I had two sticking out of each foot instead of just one. The thumb-havers made them disappear once while I was taking a nap at the vet. They didn't want me getting them caught on anything and getting hurt. (Over the weekend, I'll see if I can get The Typist to scan the picture they took before removal.)

Weird Thing #2: I'm missing a hip joint. Trust me, that's a good thing. Life is much better without it. So I walk with a wiggle -- my midsection does kinda go wub-wub-wub from side to side. I think that's why they sometimes call me Cubbins-Wubbins.

Weird Thing #3: Most dogs don't blog, do they?

Weird Thing #4: Even though I'm a girl, I mark things on walks. The Boy doesn't mark; he's afraid to ever since he got scolded for pooping out of turn, on an unfamiliar yard. The thumb-havers often have to remind me that I'm on a walk, not a stop-n-pee.

Weird Thing #5: If you let me, I'll sit and lick you. And lick you and lick you and lick and lick and lick you. And lick you some more.

Weird Thing #6: Okay, this isn't weird from my perspective, just from the thumb-havers'. I splash everywhere when I drink. Except for when I get to drink a wee bit of milk instead of water -- a rare treat. With milk, I never spill a drop. Why would I? How is that weird? Water's just so run-of-the-mill; now milk... milk is special!

Pool Poppies!

First off, the thumb-havers should've remembered their camera. They didn't, so you don't get to see for yourself.

This afternoon, The City gave The Boy a complex -- the municipal swimming complex, that is. It was the Pooch Pool Party! There were all kinds of dogs there!

I've been to Mr. Steve and Ms. Lynn's pool lots of times, so I know what to do. And I know what I like. The Boy has not been to any pools before, so he did not know what to do. But I think he knew he didn't like it.

The first pool we went to didn't have very good steps. I don't just haul off and jump in; I like a pool with steps. So, after The Alpha forced us both over the pool's edge a couple of times (The Boy wasn't sure about that at all), we saw that the next pool over had steps and I could go in at my own speed that way. So, I grabbed a tennis ball and swam some laps all around that pool. At one point it was kind of like a walk, when The Alpha had my leash and followed me around pool-side. Except I was swimming instead of walking. Which was pretty neat. The Boy and The Typist were following too, and The Boy seemed really concerned about me being in the water. At first he wouldn't come join me, and when he did, he didn't stay long.

So, The Alpha took us over to the kiddie pool, even though it was only supposed to be for little not-dogs and mops and stuff. That's where The Alpha and The Boy and I could go wading together (thumb-havers were not allowed in the bigger pools). On the way over there, The Boy had some nervous poop in the flower bed (which had to be Cleaned Up by the thumb-havers right then). Clearly, he wasn't very into this whole adventure. But in the kiddie pool he seemed to get more comfortable with the whole idea of water, because he could keep his feet touching bottom. That didn't stop him from trying to eat the water. Or maybe just bite it. I'm not sure which.

Back in the bigger pool again, I went diving for a Frisbee(tm). I really didn't mean to be sticking my whole head under water, but the thing kept getting away!

I think The Boy might like swimming if he got another chance, some place where The Alpha could go in with him. I didn't like swimming when I first tried it, but now it's pretty neat. I especially like all the shaking off when I get out!

Guest post

He's been wondering what the deal is with this blogging thing, so I decided I'd let The Boy give it a try. Here he goes:

Um, hey! Hey, yeah, hey! I'm Angus. Or 'Guus. Or Goosey Boy, or Anus (they really think that one's funny and I'm not sure why), or Shebangus. Cub's loyal readers know me as The Boy. Which I am. I'm a The Boy.

Today I've had fun. Let's see, what all did I do... I peed, ate, rolled on the carpet, poo-ooped, ran, barked, dug, napped, crawled underbed, went for a walk -- whaaaaaaaaah, I love walks!!! That's the noise I make when I figure out we're going on a walk -- whaaaaaaaaah!!! Oh, and then I did some of that stuff again. Like pee and eat and run and bark and stuff. And guess what -- guess what? You know what? Tomorrow I get to have fun again! Whaaaaaaah!!! Thanks, Cub, for letting me guest blog!

You're welcome, The Boy. (A valiant first effort for a two-year-old, I suppose...ACDs can be a little ADD, or so I've heard. He certainly fits the bill.)

We're off to hang out with the thumb-havers for the rest of the evening. So, we'll catch you later.

Back-yard Hunting

The Boy (file photo at right) started off the morning with an adventure and a mystery.

First thing in the morning, while it's still dark, is pee time. Sometimes we both go out, and sometimes I hang inside with The Typist. Today I hung back. Sometimes the light in the backyard comes on, sometimes it doesn't. Today it didn't.

Not usually, though, does a squeaky noise come from the backyard when there are no squeaky toys in the backyard. Today, it did.

The Boy was called inside, and came in looking a little guilty. The Alpha was informed as he stepped from the shower. Dressed and armed with a flashlight, he took to the backyard. He came back and informed The Typist that he found downy fur, and a spot that looked like it had been burrowed into, but no blood and no bunny.

The Mystery is whether the bunnybunbun got away, or whether The Boy swallowed it whole. Either way, the thumb-havers hope it's feeling no pain now.

And The Boy, while he was doing a lot of lip-licking this morning, is certainly not talking.