In the past, a few people have asked me to post more often. Well, what am I going to write about? I know some blogs post about the daily events in the authors' lives. I guess I could do that.
Here goes. This is a typical day. I wake up. I pee. I eat. I drink. I sleep. I poop. I sleep. Rinse and repeat.
I guess I could write that every day, but it would get old in a hurry.
Speaking of getting old, my birthday was this week. That's right; I'm now the big one-one. Yup, I'm 11, but I don't feel a day over nine.
Now that I've reached what some refer to as "senior citizen" status (don't let me hear you say that or I'm likely to have a "senior moment" on your butt, if you get my drift), I guess I'm going to have to finally give in and join AARB. (That's American Association of Retired Beagles for those of you not up on your acronyms.)
They've been after me to join ever since I turned eight. I think of all the trees that went into printing those materials, trees that could have been marked as territory by other beagles, and it makes me want to howl.
Anyway, the benefits look pretty good: discounts on Nylabones and dog treats; reduced pricing on trips to places like Dog Walk, Kentucky; Dog Town, Alabama; Dogtown, California; and Dog Bluff Landing, South Carolina. I'm seriously thinking about a trip to Beagle Bay, Australia (seems a no-brainer), but I think I'll skip the trip to Kathmandu. (Those sneaky felines, adding a silent 'h' and starting the name with a 'K' trying to fool folks, but I know this is a cat town. You can't fool us beagles.)
On second thought, all this talk of traveling has worn me out. Maybe I'll just take a little nap. The daily routine works fine for me, and if it ain't broke, don't fix it. Bark. Bark. Howl.
