I Love My Mom

Sailor here.

I love my Mom. I love her, I love her, I love her.

She is the BEST!

Mom, I'm Thirsty!

Sailor here.

I am thirsty. I am very thirsty.

The littlest vending machine has taken over my water bowl. She won’t let me in.

My throat is dry. My tongue is dry. Her bum is wet. Very wet.

And when she is away from my water bowl, it is full. Full of baby toys. Full of spice jars. Full of spoons and cookie cutters.

Is it full of Cheerios or meat? NO!

Is it full of water? NO!!

And I am outside and can’t get in to shoo her away.

Life just isn’t fair. Mom, help me!!!

Bring It On!

Jib here!

Life is good! Life is sweet! Life is full of dropped turkey bits and cookie crumbs. The Two E’s and a C are here. So are their Mom and Dad. Their Mom and Dad don’t drop much. But the E’s do. And C is just my size: tongue level.

I am learning about new food. Cheerios is not a new food, but Cheerios and Milk sloshed on the floor is. Pumpkin Pie is new. So is Peas in a Package. I don’t much care for Peas in a Package. But I love Carrots and Salad Dressing.

But best of all is Turkey Sandwich Bits served on my dog bed. Unless C is sleeping on top of my sandwich. Then all I get to do is Leave It!

Mom is feeding me pumpkin from the can. With breakfast AND dinner. Mom says my digestion is not up to her Granddaughters’ generosity.

I say, Bring It On!

All of it!!

Life Is Good

Sailor here.

Life is loud. Life is messy. Life is full of loud messy little vending machines running all over my house, waving cookies and sandwiches. I burp a lot. Jib is told LeaveIt a lot. He likes his whiskers pulled. He likes his nose bopped. He likes the baby who is up off the ground and wobbling around.

I think he’s nuts.

Mom’s daughter and husband and Mom’s granddaughters came in the middle of the night and stayed. And stayed. Mom says they are staying for a long time. Mom says they are on vacation from Maine to California. They went from Real cold to California cold. They went from snow to rain. They are here. They are staying.

Life is good.

(burp)

Jib Here - Dear Santa,

Dear Santa,
This is Jib. Only Mom calls me Desperado. Again. Well, she really called me, NONO Not Again You Desperado. Again. When she says this, she usually runs for towels.
I tried to be good. Really I did. But the hose was dangling there just barely out of reach. And it dripped. It dripped, dripped, dripped into Zoe’s water bucket. It was a tease drip. A big tease drip. And today I could jump high enough to reach the drip. Last time I tried, I couldn’t, all because Mom put it out of my reach. But Mom says I am growing. So now I can reach it.
And I did. I reached it. And I grabbed it. And I bit it. And the snozzle came part way off. And that made a big spray all over the place. That’s how my face got all wet.
And Sailor barked from his dog run, calling Mom to tell her I was in trouble again. But Mom wasn’t here. So he couldn’t tell on me.
Santa, all I wanted to do was grab the hose and play in the water. It’s really fun to bite the water and catch the spray in my mouth. That’s how my head all wet.
And it’s really fun to prance around shaking the hose. The snozzle feels good snapping around in my mouth. The spray sounds good bouncing off the doghouse roof. And it makes an even better sound bouncing around inside Zoe’s dogloo. That’s how my back and sides got all wet.
It’s really fun to water the dog yard, the deck, the house, and the fence. It makes the back windows drippy and muddy. And it’s really fun to splash in the puddles, too. That’s how my feet got all wet. I don’t know how my belly got so muddy, though. I wasn’t paying attention.
And it was really fun to sit in a puddle and watch the hose spray gravel and mud all over. That’s how my kilts got all wet and muddy.
It was fun, anyway, until Mom came home. She screamed and turned the water off and dragged me out of the dog yard by my collar. That’s when she called me Desperado. And then she ran for towels. And then she gave me a bath and took my picture afterwards because she said I won't stay that way, I will probably blow it again. But, SHE was the one who blew it. She blew me dry.
But, Santa, does this mean that you won’t mush your reindeer to my house this year? I only did this for fun. I didn’t mean to dig a hole in the mud big enough to make a lake when the hose got away from me. Zoe taught me how to dig, so it really wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t Zoe’s fault, either. She is a Siberian and can’t be held responsible.
And besides, Sailor has been good enough to make up for today. And for last summer, too, when the hose leaped into my mouth and I just had to bite it. Off. And make a giant lake. My first lake. (I was rather proud.)
So please come to my house and bring me a squeaky sheep and some freeze-dried liver and a Glow in the Dark Frisbee. And bring Zoe and Sailor something, too, but make my present bigger.
Please.

Signed,
Jib, the Desperado who really didn’t mean it. Or at least, I didn’t mean to get caught.

P.S. If you are looking for Cookies For Santa, I ate them. But Zoe nosed a chicken wing way far under the couch, so you can have that. If you can reach it. I can’t; my nose is too short. (Never thought you’d hear THAT from a collie, did you?)

OUR GIANT DOG FOOD CANS

Sailor here.

Turkey Day was terrific! I got a turkey neck, Jib got a turkey neck, and Zoe got a turkey neck. I am still confuzled about a turkey with three necks, but Mom says not to worry. There aren’t two more turkeys running around neckless. Thanks, Mom, I don’t even want to think about that!

During dinner, Jib and I hung out under the table and watched for scraps. Jib stood, looking up at the people thinking that the scraps came from up above. Silly dog. I lay down and watched the floor. I watched long and hard. And suddenly, POW! A piece of turkey appeared right in front of me! I didn’t tell Jib the truth about sudden food, though; I wanted the scraps all to myself.

But then after dinner, Mom gathered up a lot of our stuff and put it outside in the giant dog food cans by my outdoor bath tub. She says the Biffy Men will come in the morning and pick it up. Well, they do more than pick it up. They take it away. They steal our stuff!!!

Mom says that they aren’t really stealing. She is giving it to them. Where do they take it? Do they give it to homeless dogs and cats? I hope so. I hate to think of all that good stuff going to waste.

Zoe says Mom is right: the Smelly Men come very early in their Smelly Truck and take away the stuff in our Dog Food Cans. Zoe sleeps outside and knows about things like this. I sleep inside and hear the Smelly Men but I don’t see them. Jib hears them, too, but he doesn’t know that they’re stealing or he would bark and jump up and down. Mom likes to sleep in the morning, so I won’t tell him. She gives me extra scritches when she wakes up if she isn’t tired.

Zoe says that sometimes Mom gives our Dog Food Can stuff to the raccoons. The word goes out and the raccoons come at night and have a feast. Then Mom comes out in the morning and grumbles about their terrible table manners. And they DO have terrible table manners! They don’t leave anything for Zoe or give me anything either. Hmmmph.

Maybe Zoe can work on the raccoons’ table manners and next time the Smelly Men come in their Smelly Truck, there won’t be anything for them to steal.

Jib Here - And I Love Her!

AND I LOVE HER

Jib here.

I love Mom. I really do. I always did. But she didn’t always know that. She knows it now.

A long time ago, Mom said, “Oh, Jibby, I love you so bad!” and something warm and furry turned over in my chest and I wanted to lick her and lean on her and I couldn’t stop smiling. I love her. I do.

And I love My Collie Mom, too, but that was a long time ago when my nose knew her scent before my eyes were open. I loved her milk and her licking and her soft breathing. And sometimes I still dream that I am warm and full and she is licking me. And when I dream this, I yip a little to keep my siblings away and have My Collie Mom all to myself.

But now I love Mom. I show her I love her all the time. When it’s light outside after Long Dark Sleepytime and Mom lets me out of my crate, I stretch at her feet to tell her I love her. I lean against her and kiss her arm to tell her I love her. I run between her legs to tell her I love her, too. And when she says, “Where’s my pony?” I run back between her legs the other way to tell her I love her. I love Mom. Especially at breakfast time.

I love Mom when she says it’s time for dessert and she opens my crate after chicken time and gives me the special treat I only get after chicken time. I love Mom when she throws my bouncy ball and keeps throwing it even when I am tired and feel like throwing up. I love Mom when she pulls a squeaky squirrel out of her pocket when I find Heel position without being asked. I love Mom when she throws Squeaky Squirrel for me to catch. I love Mom when her hand smells like liverwurst and she takes me to the dog park and makes me watch her instead of all the other dogs and gives me what is in her hand. I love liverwurst, too.

And I love Mom when I my tummy feels icky and I hork in my crate and yell for Mom. She always comes running and cleans up so I can lie back down and go to sleep until daylight. This happened once a long time ago, but I know if it happens tonight, she will come when I call. And she won’t make me skip breakfast, either, unless I hork more than once. Then I have to skip breakfast and my morning drink-of-water for a long, long time, and when I finally can drink again, Mom only lets me have a tiny bit and I have to wait for breakfast until Sailor and Zoe get supper. But I love her anyway.

And I love Sailor. He is old and wise and doesn’t yell at me any more when I try to lick his lips. He just turns his face away and I am happy. This means I don’t have to take over for him and make decisions I can’t decide and go places I don’t want to go. Like the bath tub.

Sailor is fun to play with when he makes me run, but he doesn’t run much himself. He just starts to run, and when I take off and run across the lawn and down the fence line and when I turn and run down the other fence line and when I keep running and look behind me, he is just standing on the grass with his tongue hanging out. Is he laughing at me? I am not close enough to hear.

I love Zoe, too. She runs more than Sailor even though she is older than he is. Mom says Zoe is twelve-going-on-puppy. She will run with me, but then she stops and I keep on running down the fence line and when I turn around, she is prancing on the lawn, laughing at me. I don’t have to hear her laugh to know she is laughing. I can see it in her feet.

Zoe never told me off when I was a puppy. Not once. She just turned away and ignored me when I jumped in her face and tried to pull her collar off. And if I got too obnoxious, she gave me The Eye. But she never yelled at me or booped me with her nose. Never.

Mom says Zoe is the most tolerant of dogs. Whatever that means. Zoe treats the human puppies like she treats me, but is much better at getting away from them than she ever was from me. I am hard to get away from. My feet are fast.

I love Leisl the Leonberger. She runs with me and chases me and I chase her and her Mom gives me treats if I sit when she commands. Leisl likes to come over to romp and to eat the cat-pee plant and to get in trouble. She likes to warn me that my toys are now Her Toys and I can’t have them. But I can have them. I just have to give her The Eye and not back down, and she lets go. I love Leisl, she is fun.

And I love the bouncy Poodle down the block. Mom says he is everybody’s favorite uncle and would get me in trouble if he could. He would do naughty things and teach me to be naughty. He would bark and bark to tease me into jumping at the end of my leash and then he would just stand there while Mom scolds me. When Mom and I are out walking and we see Bouncy Poodle, she tightens the leash and says, “Here comes Trouble.” But his name isn’t Trouble. It should be, though. Instead of me.

But best of all I love Mom. Even when she is not perfect and doesn’t feed me when my tummy says it’s tummy time. Even when she is not perfect and takes away her yummy pen, and says Leave It! when we’re out on walks, and forgets to refill my water bowl every two minutes with cool water. Even when she is not perfect and makes me watch her instead of watching the dog across the street or the squirrel in the tree, I love her. And even when she tells Sailor that she loves him the best, I love Mom. Because I know she really loves me the best.

When she is lying on the couch, I like to come and lay my head on her chest and listen to her soft breathing. She would be perfect if she had milk and licking.