I’m not too happy with humans at the moment, but I’ll say hello anyway. My name is Danny. To my legions of fans I’m known as Danny the Dog.
Today I want to talk about my human, his name is Andrew and he is a real idiot! Andrew wants a Viking funeral. Do you know what a Viking funeral consists of? I didn’t think so, and neither did I until Andrew opened his big yap!
When a Viking died, they put him on his boat, set it afire and pushed it out into the fjord. Oh . . . and one more thing, they killed his dog and laid him at the feet of the dead Viking just so the friggin’ Viking could have his dog with him in Valhalla!
I mean, what the hell? What had the poor pooch done to warrant death?
So I talked to Andrew last night and told him if I went first into the good night, then I would want his buddies to kill him and put him at my feet before they set the boat ablaze.
And guess what? He didn’t think that was such a good idea. So we agreed to just have a simple Lutheran service regardless of who goes first. And if he keeps up with that Viking funeral stuff, I’m sure it will be him that goes first. I’ll make sure of it.
[caption id="attachment_1434" align="alignnone" width="300"] Danny and Mike[/caption]
My friend died today. This is a story I wrote six months ago.
I reckon it’s high time I told you about my friend Mike. You’ve heard me mention him before, he of Mike and Beth fame. But now, I want to go into a little more detail concerning him.
However, before we discuss Mike, perhaps I should introduce myself to all you neophytes out there. Not that there are many. Everyone knows who Danny the Dog is, or at least they should by now. Oh yeah, there is also my hapless human Andrew. We live together on a boat. I keep him around for laughs. Now on to Mike.
Last night just after sunset, I’m reading the collected works of Friedrich Nietzsche and Andrew is playing with his yo-yo when the phone rings. Because it takes Andrew all of his brainpower to get the yo-yo back up, I decided to answer the phone. Now, I understand human, but I cannot speak it. Something to do with my vocal cords or my tongue or something. I don’t really care because when I have something to say to a human, he or she understands me just fine.
Mike was on the phone and he was inviting me to a cookout, hamburgers. (My favorite next to hotdogs.) He didn’t mention anything about Andrew, so I woofed once into the phone. Mike knew what I meant and said, “Okay, just for you. You can bring him if you want, but if he gets drunk and falls in the water again, I’m not pulling him out this time!”
I can’t leave Andrew alone. One time I left him for just a few minutes to go and bark at a dog walking its human down MY street, and when I got back, Andrew had locked himself in the boat. He was pounding on the door and crying like a little girl. So I have to keep him on a short leash, so to speak.
Anyway, we get over to Mike and Beth’s boat and Andrew goes right to the bar, as usual. I situated myself right in the middle of the throng of humans to make sure I’m close by when the food comes out.
Beth came over, rubbed my head and gave me a kiss. I love Beth! Then everyone else welcomed me. Mike was inside getting the food ready to put on the grill. Nobody spoke to Andrew.
When Mike came out and saw me, he came right up to me and said, “Thanks for coming. And please see what you can do to keep Andrew from drinking all my booze tonight."
Mike was holding a bowl of raw hamburger meat and when he saw me sniffing it, he dipped his hand in, came out with a big glob of meat and put it down on the dock for me to eat. Now, this is my only complaint about Mike. Who or what does he think I am? I’m Danny the Dog! I have a sophisticated palate; I’m a gourmand. I do not eat raw food! I don’t care if you call it steak tartare or sushi – I’m not eating it if it’s not cooked.
After Mike picking up the meat, putting it to my mouth, and me turning my head away a few times. Mike finally got the message. He shrugged and told me he’d make a special hamburger just for me and asked how I wanted it cooked. Two woofs meant well done. And that’s how I got it. Mike sure makes great hamburgers. He puts a lot of stuff in them, but the ingredients are top secret. He won’t even trust me with the recipe.
Just one more thing. As Mike was mashing up the meat to make into patties, his next-door neighbor, Big Joe, put on some music and Mike started to do a little jig. Having no hands, I can’t clap, so I barked along with his dancing. Mike ain’t no Fred Astaire, and he ain’t no twinkle toes, but for a human he has a certain rhythm.
So that was my night out. Somehow, Andrew did not fall in the water and I got him home in one piece. As I was putting him to bed, I noticed he had the yo-yo in his hand. I gave him a questioning look. He told me he had tied the string too tight around his finger and couldn’t get it off. As I turned off the light, I looked at the poor fool; he was clutching his precious yo-yo to his bosom like it was a teddy bear.
Post Script: My friend Mike died today. For a human, you were quite okay. Good journeys, my friend.
Merry Christmas to all you dog lovers out there. As usual, it’s me Danny the Dog here to impart my wisdom to you frail humans. I’d rather be imparting my wisdom directly to my canine brothers, but it seems that I am the only dog that I know of that can read, never mind write.
It’s been a hectic year. I’ve been training my human to obey my commands. I thought I had that settled last year, but obviously, he needed retraining. However, down to my yearly message.
As you all know, it’s all about me. So Christmas, Smirmas. This is what I have to say.
Three weeks ago as I was walking my human, we ran into a giant Rottweiler. Now, I’m an easygoing kind of dog. I believe in live and let live as long as I’m in charge. So, I very nicely told the brute that this was my marina and I was the top dog. I couldn’t have been more pleasant. Well, I did jump up on him to make my point.
I guess he misunderstood because he went crazy on me. The next thing I knew his massive jaws were biting into me. Then he got a hold of my leg. I figured that was it. From then on, they would be calling me three-leg Danny.
But you know what happened? My useless human, who goes by the name of Andrew, jumped in and tried to save me. I say tried because he really is useless. Yes, he got the monster off of me before he crushed my leg, but in doing so he received a bite on his thigh. He told me later that if it had been two inches to the north he’d be singing soprano in the church choir.
At the end of the day, I couldn’t walk and we both got infected from the bites. But do not fear, we are on the mend. At least I am. Andrew dithers between taking his antibiotics and drinking Vodka. I think the Vodka is winning out.
That is my Christmas message. I am sure that there were many other things happening in the world over the last year, but they pale in comparison to my adventures.
Hello dog fans, it’s me Danny the Dog! I haven’t been writing much lately because I’ve been helping my human, whose name is Andrew, look after three Labrador retrievers. What a nightmare! There is Chloe, she is fourteen months old, and then there is Beau and Hank. They are both four months old and they are holy terrors. They live on a boat down at the end of the dock. Their human was going out of town and he asked my human to look after the dogs. And Andrew being the idiot that he is, said yes.
First of all, I want to say to my friend Suni that I hope you get well soon. Then I want to say to Jeff, the human that lives with the three monsters, don’t ever leave them in Andrew’s care again. I wouldn’t trust him to look after a taco, much less three dogs.
The trouble started right away. Jeff had two crates (humans call them crates, I call them cages) for Beau and Hank because as I’ve said they are holy terrors. Andrew went over to take them for their first walk after Jeff left, and of course, he has to take me along. More on that later. Anyway, Andrew gets them out of the crates and is getting them off the boat when clumsy Hank falls into the water.
You have to understand this, it was nighttime. It was dark, the water was dark and Hank is black. Andrew and I could see nothing of Hank; we could only hear his splashing around. The dock is about five feet above the water so Andrew couldn’t get him out by standing on the dock. Being the genius that he is (I’m just kidding), Andrew got on the swim platform, which (for you landlubbers) is attached to the back of the boat and is only a foot above the water.
Now this is where Andrew’s genius comes into play. He took off his glasses and placed them on the transom so they wouldn’t slip off when he was bending over to pull Hank out of the water. He called to Hank, and Hank swam over and Andrew got him onto the boat. Then Andrew went to get his glasses and they were not there or anywhere else on the boat. It looked as though Beau knocked them into the water because he had his paws up in that general vicinity while he was watching Andrew rescue his brother (they’re twins). All this in the first five minutes of Andrew looking after the monsters. And it only got better, and by better, I mean worse. I had a ball watching Andrew trying to cope for four days.
On to the next disaster, but first a side note. For some reason Beau is enthralled with me. The damn dog wouldn’t let me alone. He put his snoot in my face, ran around me, bounced around me, he was a royal pain in my rear end. Finally, I had to growl at him and give him a little nip on his snoot to get some peace.
Now back to Andrew’s genius. We got the dogs back on the boat without further mishaps. Andrew fed them and all was well. But then Andrew decided not to put Hank and Beau in their crates. He felt sorry for them being cooped up like that. Big mistake!
The next morning when we went to get them there was poop everywhere. The whole floor was cover in it. The babies got into the dog food bag, ripped it open and ate all the food. Then they pooped everywhere and walked in it. They got it on the couch, on the sliding glass doors, on everything. Needless to say, Andrew, after spending two hours cleaning it all up, changed his mind about the crates.
Last night we were sitting around, Andrew was reading and I was on the computer starting this story when Chloe came on the boat. She’s always coming on here and stealing my water! But she should have been locked in her own boat. Andrew got up, looked out, saw Jeff, and said, “Thank God! Thank God! I barked the same thing. Our days of taking care of the monsters were over. Thank God!
P.S. This morning Jeff came over with Andrew’s glasses. Beau had taken them and hid them in his stash place.
Hey gang; it’s me, your favorite dog. It’s me Danny the Dog! I have some exciting news to tell you. My girlfriend came to visit me last week. Her name is Louise and she and I had a lot fun together. Of course, I had to let my human tag along. His name is Andrew and he’s a loser, but enough about him. I want to talk about Louise and all the fun we had.
First of all, she took me to the park and walked with me. I was so proud to be seen with her. All the other dogs were jealous. Then we went to a place that gives you sandwiches. How cool is that! Louise and I had something called a sub sandwich. Andrew had a salad, he is such a sissy.
Then that night we went to my friends’ boat, Mike and Beth. They cooked for us and everyone had a good time. Except Andrew. He was put out that I was spending all my time with Louise. But hey, I’m with him all the time. Louise was going to be here for a few days only.
Of course, I was the star of the party. There were many humans there. Some guy called Gonzo rubbed my fur. And another human named Crabby Mike gave me a bone to chew on. And Beth hugged me and told me I was beautiful. I already knew that, but I let her say it anyway.
But after the party, I was sad. Louise walked me back to our boat and said goodnight. They don’t let dogs in where she was staying. Something called a hotel. So Andrew and I went to bed. I don’t know what he was thinking about. But I went to sleep thinking of Louise. She smelled so nice. A pleasant change from Andrew.
Beth has a brother, his name is Lloyd. He’s not too bad as far as humans go. And he happens to be a great cook, so of course he’s my friend. Anyway, he took one look at Louise and invited her and me to his house for dinner. We tried to leave Andrew behind, but somehow he got in the car. But it didn’t matter. Once at Lloyd’s place Louise and I communed, and I’ve got to say, that for a human she is alright.
Then the next day she went home. I wanted to go with her so badly. But she told me she has a dog of her own. I told her . . . no problem . . . just let me at the little monster. For some reason she didn’t take to that idea.
So here I sit with friggin’ Andrew, missing my friend Louise.
I’ve had some harrowing tales to tell you folks in days gone by. There was the time I fought it out with an alligator. The time I defeated thirty pirates trying to board our boat in the middle of the night, and the time I met up with that poisonous toad; just to mention a few of my adventures. But they were naught compared to what I am about to convey. If not for my fortitude, my endurance, my character and my all around strength, I don’t know if I could have endured.
Hello, I am Danny the Dog, hero to all canines of the world, and a few females of the human persuasion. I live with my human on our boat in Fort Lauderdale Florida. His name is Andrew, and as you will soon see, he is the villain of this piece.
It all started on a warm and sunny autumn day (today). I wanted to go and visit my friend Beth who lives a few boats over. She is always so nice to me. Always puts out a bowl of water for me. Always finds something in the fridge to for me. The last time it was turkey. The time before that it was shrimp salad. The shrimp were good, I just spit out the lettuce and the other healthy stuff. But I digress, on with the horror.
I was sitting on the dock, giving reign over my domain. I had given my one bark command to Andrew to come up out of the boat and take me to Beth’s. I would have gone myself, but Andrew keeps me tethered with a leash, a rope in actuality. He is so cruel!
Well, Andrew came up alright, but I didn’t like the fact that he had dish soap in his hand. I think the brand name was Joy, but there was no joy in my heart when I saw it, for it could only portend one thing, BATH TIME!
I know that some dogs like water and that’s up to them. However, I am more sophisticated. If the Great Being wanted us dogs to fool around with water he would have given us gills to breathe through. And seeing as how He didn’t, I’ll keep my paws dry if you don’t mind. I mean if you humans had not shown up in the evolutionary scheme of things, how many baths do you think us dogs would have given ourselves over the course of a lifetime? Give up? Then I’ll tell you . . . zero, nada, none. We surely would have rolled in the carcass of a dead animal, but no baths. Thankfully, Andrew is a minimalist. He thinks as I do about baths, both for him and me. But every once in a while he bathes and then that means I have to also.
In a situation like I found myself in, it is important to show no fear. Humans can sense fear, so I stared at Andrew with a look that said, “One more step with that soap buddy, and I might just chomp down on your leg!” It did no good, onward he came. Onward came the soap.
Andrew took my harness off and said the biggest cliché in the world, “This going to hurt me a lot more than you.” It took all my will power not to bite him right then and there. Not trusting me, he kept a hold of my fur with one hand as he turned on the hose with the other. Then he wet me! Drenched me in aqua! I swear, if I didn’t depend on him for food, I would have bit him. It’s a good thing for Andrew I did not remember about Beth. She will always feed me. And Andrew might be missing a hand right about now.
So the indignity was complete. Then soap was administered to my being. I’ll forgo telling of the other ignominies I suffered. Let the record show that I am now a clean dog, albeit against my will.
As soon as I finish typing this, I have to hurry over to Beth’s. I’ve been invited for dinner and maybe a sleep over. Andrew wasn’t invited. He didn’t take a bath today.
Howdy folks, it’s been a while since we’ve talked and I have a lot to tell you. My human and I have been having some fine ‘ol adventures. Well, maybe fine is not the exact word I’m looking for. But we have been keeping busy. I’m Danny the Dog and my human is called Andrew. A silly name I know, not as cool as Danny, but he’s okay for a human.
I’ll start with the light stuff first. As I said, Andrew is okay for a human, but he does leave a lot to be desired. Do you know he hasn’t bought me a chew toy in years? I’m talking about those rawhide things. Yummy! Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not a toy type of dog, but I do like a good chew just like everyone else.
Anyway, we were out walking around the marina about a week and a half ago when we happened upon Chloe. She’s my friend, a chocolate lab. She’s only a year old and very playful. Sometimes I will deign to acknowledge her existence, but most of the time I just ignore her. She’s a mite too rambunctious for me, like most females of my acquaintance.
So while she’s bouncing around me and nudging me with her snoot, trying to get me to play with her, I noticed a piece of rawhide lying on the dock. It was half chewed and it was oh so inviting. Of course, I went over and started to sniff it. Chloe followed me over and put her snoot down to it also. That’s when I had to assert myself. I gave a short bark and little growl to tell her it was now my chew thing. Then I grabbed it with my mouth and it was officially mine. But I guess Andrew didn’t get the memo. He tried to take it from me while telling me stealing was not a good thing. Lucky for Andrew that Chloe’s human was there or he would have lost a finger or two. Chloe’s human, whose name is Jeff, told Andrew that it was all right for me to have the treasure. We went home and I sat out on the dock and chewed the thing until it was no more. All in all, it was a very good day. However, the next day, as you shall soon see, was a day that will live in infamy.
At the moment, I’m torn between telling you of my harrowing escape from the jaws of death or to tell you about Andrew’s slight little run in with mortality. I guess I’ll save the best for last. Here’s what happened to Andrew.
I was out walking him a few evenings ago and I was doing my usual sniffing. I caught the scent of a chicken bone or two in the vicinity and went on alert. Unfortunately, Andrew did also. The place we were walking is infamous for chicken bones, so Andrew was watching me quite closely. And because he was looking at me, and not where he was walking, he slipped on an exposed root. His foot went into a small depression and we both heard a loud SNAP! His only comment was, “Let’s go home while I can still walk.” He knew the pain and the swelling would soon set in and he wanted to be on the boat when that happened. He wanted to be near his pain medicine … I think humans call it Vodka. Well long story short, Andrew broke something in his ankle, but we don’t know what. He has a doctor friend, who offered to x-ray it for him, but the idiot said, and I quote, “We know something is broken, so the x-ray will only tell us what we already know.” I reckon I can’t argue with that.
Now to the important news, me, and what happened to me last Saturday. Andrew is not the only wounded member of this household.
As I’ve told you all before, Saturday is the day the male humans escape their females and come to the Tiki hut to drink beer and talk of manly things. Andrew is not a guy type of guy; he’s kind of a sissy, so he doesn’t hang out with the other males. Me, I like them and I am always happy to spend some time with them. But this Saturday Andrew had some business to discuss with his friend Don. I like Don a lot, he’s the nicest human I know, much nicer than Andrew is.
Andrew, for some reason, doesn’t trust me, so I’m always on the damn leash. After Don and the other males made a big show of welcoming me, Andrew tied me to a tree and then forgot all about me. But I didn’t mind, there was a new scent on the ground and I was in heaven.
I followed the scent over to a log. The scent was getting stronger … oh joy! There was a crevasse at the middle of the log and I poked my snoot into it. That’s when I got the surprise of my life. Out came a crab. But I was undaunted … his pincher claw did not faze me at all, no sir re bob it did not!
This was going to be fun. I barked at him and backed him up a bit. Then he raised his claw over his head in a defensive position. That is when my world was turned upside down. He clamped his big ‘ol claw right on my beautiful nose! Yeow and double yeow. I let out with a cry that sent Andrew scurrying over, bad foot and all. When he saw what had happened he had the temerity to laugh at me.
Now we sit on the boat. Andrew has ice on his ankle and I have ice on my nose. We are just two old males wishing for better times. And I’m not about to forget his laughter during my darkest moment. As I write this, I am plotting my revenge.
[caption id="attachment_1214" align="alignnone" width="300"] Good Table Manners[/caption]
I just got in from walking my human; his name is Andrew. I, of course, am Danny the Dog, purveyor of wit, words and wisdom.
Many a time I’ve kept you engrossed with my wondrous tales of taking Andrew for his morning constitutional to the park; however, I’ve been remiss in not regaling you with narratives of our stop by the Tiki hut every morning. In a moment, The Adventure at the Tiki Hut, but first the Tiki hut itself.
A Tiki hut, for those of you who are from another planet, is a structure consisting of four open walls and a pitched roof covered with palm fronds. The Tiki hut at our marina sports a refrigerator, a microwave oven and three grills, two gas, and one regular. The humans used to congregate there in the evenings and do what humans do, mostly talk. But those humans have moved on to new ports of call. The only humans left here in the marina are like Andrew, antisocial. Nowadays, the Tiki hut is inhabited only on Saturday afternoons. That is when the male humans that store boats here, but do not live on them, come to drink beer and swap lies. They also say they come to get away from their females, but I don’t understand that. I like females, especially human females.
Please excuse me. There is a duck outside our boat, I have to go out and bark at him. Be right back.
I’m back. That was satisfying. I just love barking at ducks, don’t you? Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, the Tiki hut.
So on Saturday afternoons when Andrew needs a break from his so-called work (he thinks it’s hard to write, for me it’s a breeze), we’ll go to see the humans up at the hut. Notice how it’s always all about Andrew. When he needs a break from writing, we go for a walk, but when I need a break from writing, we stay in the damn boat.
I like Saturdays because I like the guys, they always make a big fuss over me and I get many pats on the head and scratches behind my ears. They’ll say things like, “Is your daddy feeding you enough.” When they do, Andrew always says, “I prefer that Danny refer to me as his Lord and Master.” Yeah right! It’s the other way around and Andrew knows it. But I allow him to save face and I say nothing. Andrew will then tie me to a post and leave. I told you he was anti-social. However, I like hanging out with those males, they have such funny stories of how their females make their lives miserable. I know that the stories are not true because no female would ever do that.
Now that you know all about the Tiki hut, I can tell you what I wanted to tell you to begin with. There are two cats that live here in the marina and they hang out at the Tiki hut. They are what humans call strays and the humans have banded together to feed them. They take turns buying cat food. Andrew even bought some . . . once! The cats are fed in the morning and in the evening. It is the morning feeding that interests me.
On our way to the park every morning we swing by the Tiki hut because by then the cats have eaten and they always leave a little. I love cat food, as anyone would. Wet or dry, but wet is better. It’s the only way Andrew can get me to take my pills when I’m sick. He tried hiding them in hot dogs, but I saw through his subterfuge and I ate around the pills, then spit them out. He then started to hide them in wet cat food and I would pretend not to notice (hey, I sometimes have to save face too). I just love wet cat food so much it is worth swallowing a pill to get some.
I’ve gone far afield from what I wanted to say. It is simply this: every morning I eat the food the cats leave in their dishes. It’s dry, but so what. The only problem is that it is on a table about three feet high and I’m only two feet high. So I have to get up on my hind legs to get to the bowls. You would think Andrew would help out and put the bowls on the ground for me, but nooo! Alicia (she’s the female that feeds them each morning), when she is around she will put the bowls on the ground for me, but not Andrew.
That’s it for now. It’s Saturday and I’ve got to get ready to spend some time at the Tiki hut with my friends. And that damn duck is back … gotta go!
Danny the Dog here with another tale of lust and depravity, oh wait, that’s Andrew’s bailiwick. Andrew, for the few of you who don’t know, is my human. My stories have to do with the finer things in life. Such as rolling on the grass, sniffing where another dog has peed and most important of all, hot dogs.
Today’s story has to do with an incident that took place almost ten years ago when I was just a pup, so to speak. What reminded me of it was something that happened this morning while I was walking Andrew.
It was still dark out, we were in the park, and I caught the scent of something vaguely familiar. I put my snoot to the ground and tried to search it out. Andrew stood there tapping his foot and saying, “Come on, let’s go,” over and over again. But as usual, I ignored him. Finally, I got a bead on the elusive scent. It was a toad. I found his hiding place and the little bugger hopped away with me in hot pursuit. Then I was almost yanked off my feet by Andrew as he pulled the leash, that damn insidious leash. Andrew said to me, “Haven’t you learned your lesson? The last time you caught one those, it cost me a lot money to save your life.”
Let me back up for a moment and explain something. Here in Florida, we have these toads, they have a special name, I think Andrew calls them Bufo toads. When they feel threatened, they secrete a poison on their backs and evidently, it can kill you.
A while back when we lived at another marina and I wasn’t on a leash 24/7, I had a run in with one of these toads. I liked that marina. Andrew and I were the only ones that lived there and because it was all fenced in, Andrew would let me roam around at night. It was six acres (whatever an acre is) and I had many adventures on those nights. Someday I’ll tell you about them. However, now it’s about the toad.
I had the run of the marina, and I was having a ball running and sniffing all over the place. Then this big toad had the temerity to jump out in front of me. Me, Danny the Dog! So I took out after him. It was a short race; he ended up in my mouth. I chewed on him for a minute or so, but then I spit him out. He didn’t taste too good. Seeing as how it was near the end of the night (I wasn’t allowed to run around during the day when the gates where open and people were around) I trotted on back to the boat and lay down on the dock to get some much needed rest. It had been a good night.
Andrew must have heard the jingling of my medals (that’s what he calls my tags) because he came up out of the boat. He took one look at me and raced for the hose. Now, you folks that know me know that I do not like water and my first impulse was to run. But I couldn’t move. Andrew later said that I was foaming at the mouth and he knew I had met up with a toad. He washed my mouth out as best he could and when he saw that I was paralyzed (his word); he picked me up and placed me on the front seat of the car.
It being a Sunday, my regular doctor was not around. Somehow, Andrew found a place. This was before he had a computer. I think he used what the ancients called a “telephone book.” Anyway, he carried me in and laid me on a table. A human in a white coat came over and consulted with Andrew. Even though I couldn’t move, I could still hear. The gist of the conversation was that the poison from the toad, among other things, dehydrated me. So a needle was stuck in me. If I could have moved, I would have bit the vet. We were there three hours and the whole time Andrew stroked my head and talked to me. Once I saw a single tear roll down his face.
As Andrew likes to tell it, $900.00 later, he carried me out of there.
In a day or so, I was my old self again, making Andrew’s life miserable and causing trouble. But I did let up bit because I remembered that single tear.
This is another report from Dannyland, and I’m Danny or to my fans, Danny the Dog. Today I’d like to tell you what happened this morning after I walked my human. As most of you know by now my human’s name is Andrew. We live on the “Asun,” that’s the name of our boat. She’s named after my friend Suni. Andrew wanted to call her the “Andrew,” but I nixed that idea. I mean how narcissistic can you get? Well, in his case, a lot.
Before I can get to the events of this morning, I have to preface the story by telling you what happened two days ago. In my last communication, I told you how I outsmarted Andrew and earned myself an hour of freedom. In addition, I told you how while running free I came across a delicious treat and ate it. I’m not sure if it was the treat or what, but that night I got sick. So for a day, I was a bit out of sorts. Andrew made a big show of insouciance and told me it was my karma. He even went so far as to tell me God was punishing me for running away. By the way, don’t blame me for using big words. Andrew makes me learn a new one every morning before he’ll give me my hot dog.
So anyway, after being a little under the weather for a day, I was feeling frisky this morning. When we got back from our walk, Andrew drummed a new word into my head. Today’s word was enfilade. I’m a dog, when am I ever going to need to use a word like that? If he taught me a word like bratwurst, now that is something I could use. I think it’s German for hot dog. And speaking of foreign languages, why can’t he teach me French? I’ll love to go up to a pretty mademoiselle and say, “Je voudrais un hot dog”
I’m getting away from my point. I was feeling good this morning and felt like playing. But would that old fart Andrew play with me? No, he wouldn’t! He sat there at his computer writing some silly story while I lay on the bed and begged him to play with me. I gave a low growl to get his attention then barked one bark. He looked at me and said, “If you want to play come over here and I’ll scratch your head.” I didn’t want a scratch on the head. I wanted Andrew to get on the bed and roll around with me, and maybe rub my tummy. For twenty minutes, every few minutes, I’d give out with a single bark, all to no avail. But in the end, I did win. To shut me up he gave me a hot dog.
I still want to play. When I’m finished writing this, I’m going to jump up on the bed and lick Andrew on the face until he wakes up and plays with me. At the very least, I’ll get a hot dog. By the way, tomorrow’s word is vociferous. He hasn’t told me what it means yet, but he did say my actions this morning inspired him to teach it to me. Maybe it means hot dog.
