Got A Bone to Pick (I Wish)

A big shout out to my fellow K-9s and K-9 servants, I mean lovers. I don’t know if I’m sticking my snout into a hornet’s nest or not, but there’s something that’s gotten under my fur and I just need to howl about it. (I think my humans would call it having a bone to pick, but if I had a bone to pick I wouldn’t be here. I’d be somewhere else with that bone. Just saying.)

Did you ever wonder why our humans feel the need to talk to us sometimes as if we’re babies? What’s up with that? You know what I mean, that high-pitched, whiny, sing-songey tone they use to try and sound cute when they talk to us. It kind of reminds me of one of those high-pitched whistles some people have that only us dogs can hear. Thankfully, my humans don’t have one. If they did, I’d find the darned thing and bury it in the back yard. Or maybe I’d just take it outside and leave my mark on it, if you know what I mean. I’m sure most of you fellow four-leggers would do the same.

What really gets to me is when they combine that high voice with slow, drawn-out tones: “Wooood Ollll-eee like a tree-ttt?” It’s kind of like listening to a talking snail on helium. Come to think of it, I’d like to hear that.

Humans must think us dogs are stupid or something. Not that I mind that too much. It keeps the expectations low. Heck, I only have to hold up my paw when they say “shake” or howl when they ask me to “sing” (I’m a tenor, by the way) and I get a treat. I’m just glad they don’t ask me to do real work.

All in all, I guess I can put up with high-pitched talking if it makes them feel good. After all, without me, what reason would they have for living? I tell you, it ain’t easy being this stinking cute at my age. A dog’s work is never done.

Excuse me now fellow pooch pals. I’m off to see if I can find a bone to pick. Bark. Bark. Howl.

 

My Kind of Fun

Ah, the weekend! Nothing like a little time in the sun, a little food, and a little game of keep-away from my human. You can take a look here: 
Of course, I have to let my humans have the ball once in a while, or they lose interest. So, I let them think they're taking the ball away from me. Then I howl so they'll know to give it back, and we start all over again.

Playing keep-away with my humans is fun - for a little while. Eventually, though, I get tired of the game. Then it's time for a little snooze, unless of course there is food to be had. Nothing perks me up like a little snack. Maybe I can get them to serve me on the veranda, whatever that is.

Bark. Bark. Howl.

The Other Dog

Lately, my human hasn't been home as much as he used to be, and I'm getting a little suspicious. I can't prove anything, but I suspect he's got another dog on the side.

It's late when he gets home, and he's usually too tired to do anything except rub my belly a little and maybe throw the ball once or twice. He doesn't seem to have the energy to chase me when I'm keeping the ball away from him (my favorite game).

I hear the other humans talk about him working so much, but I think he's been cheating on me. After all, I don't see any new treats or toys for me. If he's working extra, where the proof?

So far, I can't prove anything. I sniff every night when he gets home, trying to catch a scent of "the other dog," but so far, nothing. But I know it's out there somewhere.

Regardless of whether it's another beagle, a collie, or, Dog forbid, a poodle, I can wait. Sooner or later, he'll come to his senses and remember whose human he is. When that time comes, I'll be waiting to play keep away or maybe just to lay in his lap. He seems to like that.

It's a Dog's Life

Here within these virtual pages, I will use my human to relate to those of you not fortunate enough to be a dog, what a dog's life is really like. Occasionally, I will share bits of canine wisdom I have gained and perhaps pose philosophical and other questions.

First, though, an introduction. My name is Oliver, and I am a six-year old, tri-color, purebred Beagle. I am a member of hound royalty, but I do not expect you to bow before me. No, seriously. Get up, you're embarrassing yourself and me.

My humans are a pretty good group, as humans go. They feed me, they let me sleep, and they occasionally let me play keep away with a tennis ball.

I think that will do for a start. This blogging stuff is hard, and I need to get some rest. I'll leave with a question that has bothered me for several months now. Humans teach us dogs how to "shake hands" with them and learn their form of greeting. Why won't they let us teach them to sniff each other's butts so they can learn ours?

Bark. Bark. Howl.