Sunday, February 21, 2010
Mom is watching humans play on snow and ice. She says there are no sled dog races in the Olympics, so Zoe must be sad. She says that our team is called USA and that the host team wears a maple leaf on their sleeves.
Jib wants to play hockey. Zoe taught him how to play nose hockey with ice cubes. He thinks it would be the most fun to chase a hockey puck across the ice. He wants to be on the USA team.
I would like to run cross country and wear one of those five collars Mom calls Olympic rings. But most of all, I want be on the maple leaf team. Every time this team wins a gold medal, they sing about dog food.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Mom didn't have a very good time with my dinner tonight. She took my chicken out of where the food lives. And she tripped over my head. My head was inside where the food lives.
She dropped my chicken. She said a bad word that wasn't "bath." Then she said, "Leave it!" And I had to.
Then she put my chicken in my bowl. She put Sailor's chicken in his bowl.
She tripped over me again.
She almost dropped Sailor's bowl. She said another bad word that wasn't "bath." But she held on. Drat.
She made me go to my place. I had to stay. Sailor had to stay, too.
Then Mom put Sailor's bowl on the floor in the kitchen. And she put my bowl on my mat in the dining room.
She said, "Release!" and Sailor ran to his bowl. I ran, too, and bumped into Mom on my way.
Mom went flying. I went eating.
She picked herself up and limped to the sink.
She says that tonight we had a three curse dinner.
Monday, February 15, 2010
Mom's pants barked last night and she said, "Hello."
She listened. She laughed. She yelled like she does when I do something special. She laughed some more.
She said something about Valentine's Day, diamonds, and new daughters.
What does she mean? I hope it has something to do with dog food.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Mom says I had a light bulb moment. SHE had a light bulb moment. She said the right words at the right time.
Sometimes Mom tells me, "Back door." It means to go outside. Out of my house. Out into the yard. I know this. She used to say it every time she opened the door. Now she doesn't have to. I know it anyway. And I run to the back door when she says this.
Sometimes I need to go out and Mom doesn't say Back Door. Then I ring the bell. It's on the back door. And Mom lets me out. I have to sit first. Then she says, "Cross." I run outside.
But today I was outside. I was near the door-to-go-in. Mom said, "Back Door," and opened the door-to-go-in. She said BACK DOOR! Guess what? It's the SAME door!
I did! I knew! It came to me in a flash. It's the SAME DOOR!
So I went in and I rang to go out again. I sat by the BACK DOOR and looked at Mom. She said, "Back Door." I jumped up. I put my paw on the door. Mom opened the door. I went inside.
I rang to go out again. I brought Mom my Frisbee. She tossed it. Then I ran to the BACK DOOR. I dropped my Frisbee. I looked at Mom.
Mom understood. She said, "Back Door," and I jumped up and down. She opened the door. We went inside. It's the SAME DOOR!
Mom, let's play BACK DOOR again!