Who’s on duvet watch?

Most humans think dogs sleep a lot, but we really don’t.  Saki and I are on high alert even if you think we are on duvet watch.  We are always conscious of what’s going on and ready to protect our mum, dad and surroundings, therefore, our sleep time is never a deep sleep, like our dad gets.  You could drive a bullet train through my bedroom and he wouldn’t wake up.  My mum would wake if a pin dropped!  She practically has doggie status hearing.  On the other hand, we were in the giant, silver crate on wheels recently and the radio was playing Moves Like Jagger by Maroon 5 and our mum had it so loud we had to cover our ears.  We prefer it when she plays that song in the house though because then we can watch her ‘moves like mummy’ which we think are better than Adam Levine’s!

I mentioned nicknames a while back so thought I’d tell you ours.  Saki has the following:

• Sacajawea (from a park in Livingston, MT)
• Sakmeister or The Meister (don’t ask me why)
• Maestro

Mine are:

• Simbarooski or The Rooski (another – don’t ask me why)
• Snooty Boots (because apparently I get my nose out of joint when Saki is getting a lot of attention)
• Scoundrel (Moi?)

There really isn’t much more to say about these…boring!

Well, that’s it for today friends because I need to work on my barking skills ready for next week.

Excess luggage?

My mum is going to England soon to visit our grandparents so for the past few weeks my closet has housed a bright, burnt orange suitcase.  I’ve watched packets of rice, soup mix, stuffing, Swiss Miss hot chocolate, a doggie car seat, a doggie bed, perfume, Boar’s Head horseradish, tea towels, spices, gobs of face cream, Excedrin (she’ll need that after consuming the cheap red wine my grandparents will be serving), and…the suitcase is full to the brim.  All my mum has packed of hers are underwear, socks and dog printed pajamas.  I guess she doesn’t plan on going far when she gets there!  I asked myself, “Self, where is she going to put her clothes?” when another, smaller suitcase appeared which she said would go in the overhead.  Well, at least if her luggage gets lost she will have something to wear other than doggie PJs although what will she snack on?  If our mum is leaving, then it means we must be going on  on vacation.  I’m sure it’s to the place where Saki has to be dragged into on all fours.  Moi on the other hand can’t wait to get there because it’s a bark fest and I need to let all the other doggies know the master has arrived.  Saki and I get to hang out and sleep in separate palatial suites because Saki snores and I need complete silence to fulfill my obligation of manning the joint.  Our mum says that one day she will take us to England with her on QM2.  Saki is already planning his attire for the Captain’s Cocktail Party and according to him, will look really dapper with his carrot shaped tail sticking out of his tux.  I haven’t had time to think about my wardrobe except I know I’ll be all dressed up like a dog’s dinner and be Top Dog that night.  When we do finally get to England, we’ll meet up with Señor Pedro and our cousin, Pepe, who could have a whole page devoted to him on this site with his antics, but, enough about him…this dog blog is all about ME and I say it’s time for a nap!

A bum deal!

Saki began the day going frantic for water.  At 6.50am he was up and pacing my bedroom floor until my mum opened the door.  Saki raced to his bowl and consumed what was left of the water.  Then he proceeded to do a jig until he got more water.  He gulped that down too.  My mum looked very concerned and she asked me if this behavior could be because Saki had been on the generic form of desmopressin for the past two weeks.  I gave her my best cockeyed look and thought, “How would I know?”  Fearing Saki could revert to his old ways of craving water and getting up 2 – 3 times every night for more water and the subsequent outings outside to water the plants, my mum gave Saki an extra half tablet.  I rolled my eyes because all I wanted was to dive into my breakfast.  A few minutes later I was doing just that with one eye on Saki to make sure he didn’t hone in on my dish.  I didn’t need to worry, because Saki wasn’t interested in eating.  Another sign the generic desmo may not be working that well.  We went for our walk and then my mum went to Pilates.  When she got back she gave us a t-r-e-a-t.  Saki as usual didn’t even take time to enjoy it.  He just inhaled it.  I took mine to my favorite area, under the bar stools, and methodically started to dissect it for a more pleasurable dining experience.  Half way through the mutilation, I spotted two legs walk by and got up to follow them into my mum’s favorite area, the loo!  However, I didn’t get far because I noticed four hairy legs were inching towards what was left of my t-r-e-a-t.  That little oinker Saki was trying to pilfer it.  I snapped at him as per usual and we got into another altercation.  We could hear my mum yelling for us to ”be nice” and to “calm down”, but we were in action and by the sounds of things so was my mum in the loo, so we were safe to eat each other for a while.  Then she was back and our little spat ended and once again we had to face each other for a telling off.  Saki and I didn’t make eye contact for the next few hours until the best news of the day came when at 3.00pm our harnesses and leads were miraculously dangling in front of us.  We knew we weren’t going for our usual “WALKIES” and were probably going for a ride in the giant, silver, crate on wheels.  We were ecstatic and exchanged looks of appreciation at each other wondering who had instigated this bonus.  Next thing we knew, we were at our favorite sensory stop, Petsmart.  We watered a few plants as we made our way in with our tails held high, well Saki’s was, mine is about 2 inches so high it was not.  Our excitement didn’t last though because we realized we were not there for a browse, but instead for a hair cut and manicure/pedicure.  I also came to the conclusion that this visit was a form of punishment because later today, the two of us would not be able to sit on our bums!

Baby It’s Cold Outside

My mum has gone to retrieve the mail and the recycle bin.  Saki and I follow her gait and watch in marvel how she navigates my front yard without lifting her leg once to water the plants.  She returns and announces, “There’s an ill wind out there making it b _ _ _ _ y cold.”  I ask myself…self, I wonder if it’s cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey?  (That’s one of my mum’s strange sayings which she probably acquired from the UK.)  I immediately go outside to sniff the air and relay to Saki it’s 54 degrees F.  It’s ’pawsitively’ balmy outside.  Saki’s tail shoots north as he anticipates a chilly WALKIES! this evening followed by a brown-nosing cuddle.  I meanwhile ‘snort at the thought’ of watching them whilst I am sitting high upon my couch.  Later tonight I’ll get my revenge when I am making the flying leap onto my king sized doggie bed and allow my mum to sleep on it with me.  That doesn’t last long because the next thing I know, it’s 6.30am and it’s time for me to wash my mum’s face.  She immediately goes to the loo (not in the bed…WOL…) and then scoops up the Meister so he can join in the morning ritual of hugs before we start another round of peeing, eating, pooping, sleeping, peeing, eating, pooping…it’s time for a nap!

“Nasty Boys…Don’t Ever Change”

In the words of Janet Jackson…”Nasty Boys…Don’t Ever Change.”  Saki and I were just that the other day.  We were NASTY! with a capital N!  We were in MY back yard and barking up a storm at nothing and we really got in each others’ space.  We were really going at it aggressively and our mum was not impressed.  We got called inside and into the master bedroom, however, the master was not at home, but EL HEFFA was.  Mum had us face each other whilst telling us off, but we looked away.  We couldn’t even look at each other because we knew we would crack up with laughter.

Hola Señor Pedro

Our uncle Pedro is Spanish, as you can tell by the hat!  He lived in Lliria, Spain for seven years during which he almost died a few times.  Firstly, he was a stray dog and surviving that in itself is a feat.  Dog shelters are few and far between and they’d be as crowded as the ladies loo at an all female event.  His first encounter with death was when he decided to dine on some rat poison instead of the sumptuous meal his mum prepared him.  He ended up bleeding internally; the poison had damaged his liver, but thanks to a wonderful Vet., made a full recovery.  Next he managed to escape the gated, partially walled in compound which he called his kennel, to see what it felt like being hit by a car.  Not a good idea because now he has a bad leg…good job he has three more.  Spain was proving to be unsafe for him and the lifestyle was hard to keep up with.  Sure, he loved the siestas, but when his parents took him out to eat, they didn’t go until 10.00pm!  Pedro needed a change.  He begged his parents to move back to their home country, England.  Eighteen months later and they are in ‘ol’ Blighty’ and apparently Pedro loves it.  Enjoys pubs, car boot sales, the occasional shower, rain, more rain, and torrential downpours so he can show off his latest fashion statement as seen here.  Well, Uncle Pedro, we’ve ‘señor’ sister wearing red so not surprised you are sporting a red frock like ensemble!  Oh and BTW, we hope to meet you someday, but please leave the human duds (that’s not your parents) at home because Saki and I like to go ‘au naturale.’

The ‘Hundreds!’

My mum did a Pilates class this morning.  Saki and I stared out of the window until she returned which wasn’t long…about 100 seconds.  She told us that when the class did the ‘hundreds‘ she counted them and they did 160.  The instructor obviously lost count.  My mum must be losing count too because we are only getting one t-r-e-a-t twice per day lately and I thought we were entitled to 100, one hundred times per day.  Whenever my mum returns from her long trips, which sometimes last 110 seconds, Saki doesn’t even bother to greet her.  He goes straight for one of his four balls which he still has despite trying to get rid of them on every ‘WALKIES.’  Saki then stuffs a ball into his mouth and runs out the doggie door.  He does the same thing every time.  I make a huge fuss of my mum when she returns.  I fly through the air at 100 miles per hour and land with all four paws on her for a brief second.  Then I nibble on her wherever I can.  Don’t ask me why, but I’ve seen my dad do this, and she seems to like it.  Saki returns after a while, sans ball, which means my mum has to go and find it.  This gives me chance to snap at my brother Saki reminding him who alpha dog is and not to leave his ball(s) outside.  Saki then goes and sulks in the corner and I sit nearby making sure he doesn’t move.  A little revenge for moi.

“Rolling in the S _ _ t”

My mum likes the song ‘Rolling in the Deep’ by Adele, and tonight Saki was ‘Rolling in the S _ _ t’ by Himself!  We were out on our usual nightly ‘WALKIES.’  I am always on my leash as my mum likes to make sure I never roam.  I am also very fast and do not listen when my mum calls me or tells me what to do.  We were way ahead of ’The Meister’ (you’ll hear about our nicknames soon enough) who wasn’t on a leash because he is a brown noser.  Mum and I turned to see what Saki was up to, and he was rolling around, upside down, in the grass.  An investigation ensued.  Saki had been rolling in some animals s _ _ t!  Boy was I ecstatic.  Saki’s been naughty.  Saki is not going to get a lot of TLC tonight, no t-r-e-a-t-s, no cuddles and definitely no brushing.  It will be all about me this evening.  We got back to the ranch double quick where mum immediately took Saki into the shower, the steam shower no less.  He was going to get a spa treatment?  A few minutes later Saki emerged smelling like a bitch.  Good job I’ve been neutered!  Mum then proceeded to fawn over Saki like he’d achieved the greatest victory since dog food.  I need to plan my revenge.  I’ll sleep on that…one t-r-e-a-t, two t-r-e-a-t-s, three t-r-e-a-t-s…Rolling in the Mouth!

Walkies in the rain…

We went out for a walk this morning and it was raining.  My mum was wearing her non-raincoat, raincoat!  It’s water resistant, but not waterproof so she still gets wet…WOL (that’s woofing out loud!)  Once back at the ranch, my mum likes to wipe our paws, bum and our bundle of nonsense (actually just nonsense, bundle was removed) before we enter the house.  My mum wears stuff on her paws and just takes it off.  Why does she need to wear anything?  We don’t.  Back inside the cozy house and it’s time to charge around like blue arsed flies because we’re damp and WE’RE CRAZY!  On the bed, off the bed…up and down more than a whore’s drawers.  Next, the living room.  Never mind the lovely leather couch that we are only supposed to jump on if there is a blanket on it.  Who’s watching?  My mum’s in the loo!  She’s back and it’s time for a hairbrush or should I say fur brush?  Up on the day bed this time where Saki bogarts his way for first brushing.  He’s lapping it up.  On his stomach, his back (with all fours up in the air airing it all), now his ears, jaw, chest, tail and sometime this decade I’ll get a look in.  OK, my turn.  Aaaah, humans pay big bucks for this pampering and we get it for free, don’t even have to tip.  Saki is trying to bogart his way back in for more brushing, but no chance, I’m staying put, relaxing and leaving this world for a while as I count t-r-e-a-t-s rolling into my mouth…nap time!

Dog Attack!

This is old news, but a cautionary tale.  On August 20, mum, dad, Saki and I were doing our usual morning walk in my neighborhood when I noticed a new canine to my domain.  He was a big dude, maybe a cross between a retriever and lab.  I ran up to him (as far as I could because I was on my leash) wagging my tail.  He lunged at me and he wasn’t instigating play time.  My dad quickly moved me out of the way and my mum picked me up way above her waist.  Great view looking down at Saki hurling himself at ‘big dog’ who then had Saki in his mouth.  Saki in his mouth?  This was definitely not fun, big dog was out to kill.  Next thing I knew, my dad had voluntarily put his hands in big dog’s jaws to try and pry them open so Saki could escape.  He did, but guess what?…Saki came back for more.  Once again Saki’s head went into big dog’s mouth.  Was Saki ferreting out any leftovers from big dog’s breakfast?  Meanwhile my mum was trying to keep ahold of me because I wanted to get a good look at big dog’s molars too.  Anyway, back to the scene on the ground.  My dad managed to pry big dog’s jaws open again and told us to run home while he kept big dog pinned down.  My mum, Saki and I bolted.  It was great fun and I could hear the theme tune to Rocky as we pounded down to safety.  Saki, who normally trots at a snail’s pace, had suddenly become Phar Lap.  Just as we arrived at my front door, I heard a blood curdling scream.  Dad or dog?  Once safely ensconced in my home, my Mum jumped into my car to get my dad.  He was already in my cul-de-sac, his arm up in the air with his bloody t-shirt wrapped around it.   More to come…I have to take a nap!

Well to finish the story.  My mum found a gaping hole in Saki’s neck and my dad needed to get to the emergency center.  We called a neighbor for assistance and she picked up my dad (not literally…in the car!) and off they went.  On their way out of the neighborhood they saw a man with two children so they stopped and advised him to be careful of ‘killer dog.’  The man revealed that killer dog was probably his.  He had wandered from his yard (dog not man) and was prone to attacking other animals!  Notice he said other animals and not humans.  Is my dad not the latter?  Saki went straight to the vet (not on his own) where he received 6 stitches and a plastic tube for draining.  My dad didn’t get stitches because being human, it is preferred they are not stitched up just in case infection settles in.  I guess it doesn’t work the same way with us superior beings.  Both patients made a very quick recovery, especially Saki with more TLC and t-r-e-a-t-s than usual.  Now when we go for ‘WALKIES’ my mum carries a cane and some muzzle spray.

Note: Animal Control was contacted and they dealt with owner and dog.