In the months since I last appeared on these pages (or whatever you call them since no paper is involved – what’s up with that?), things have been a bit quiet. Except for howling at the neighborhood dogs and the occasional passer-by, of course. There’s been the occasional trip out of town with my humans, but those were a little less frequent this past year. Something to do with what they call “work,” whatever that is. I have a hard enough time fitting in my naps with my eating and patrolling the yard as it is without adding something else to the mix.
Still, the year had a few good moments. In
September, I turned nine, which some human said was like being 63 in
people years. But, like they say, age is just a number, and I don’t
understand numbers anyway. I’m a dog for Spot’s sake. I
notice I have to stretch a bit more than I used to when I get up out of
my bed. Otherwise, I feel pretty good, and I still like to mix it up
with my humans once in a while, playing keep-away (they still call it
fetch, humans are so cute that way) and doing
a little roughhousing.
Christmas (I think that’s Latin or something for
Canine’s Day) brought a couple of nice treats: a little bag of biscuits
from one of my human’s friends (But what’s up with only giving me four?
That’s barely enough for a taste.) and a Nylabone.
I really love those, especially since they have saved me from an extra
visit to the vet each year so they can play with my teeth. (They want to
play with my teeth that badly, I’ll give them some teeth – right in the
fleshy part where the sun don’t shine. If
you catch my drift.)
I don’t much care for vets. They poke and prod and
snip and trim. When was the last time a vet ever gave a dog anything
back? Then they expect that a couple of measly treats will make up for
all of that abuse. Not hardly. Plus, they really
expect me to stand still through all of that when there are other dogs
to check out and other things to smell? I don’t think so.
Well, I’ve gone on long enough. Besides, my other
Christmas gift is calling me. It’s my new bed, and it gives me three
beds throughout the house. (My humans just think it’s their house.)
Typing this takes a lot out of me (I’m all paws),
and I’m getting tired. Enjoy the new year. I hope it’s a good one for
you. Get out and howl at the moon – or at the mailman, it’s all the same
to me. Take a bite out of life (or a passing stranger), and get out and
smell the roses, the grass, the trees, the
bushes, visitors to the house. You know what I mean.
Later. Bark, bark, howl.
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