On The Job

Just came in a little while ago from making my security patrol around the perimeter of the back yard. While I was making my rounds, my human - I almost slipped and said the "m" word ("master" for those of you not well versed in human-canine relations) - stood at the sliding glass door, waiting I suppose for me to finish my rounds.

Seeing him standing there put extra pressure on me to hurry, but some things cannot be rushed. My human's son knows how that is. Sometimes, it takes him ten or more trips to clear the table after dinner. And does he ever drop a few crumbs for me? No! But I digress.

Securing the perimeter of our back yard is a time-consuming job. I have to check each blade of grass, sniff each clump of dirt to make sure no unwanted intruders have gotten in. Sometimes, the wind changes, which means I have to go back over some spots in case I missed anything. Occasionally, I also have to lift my leg, if you know what I mean.

Now this is not merely performance of a bodily function. No, this is part of the patrol process. It serves to mark a particular area as secure, at least until the next patrol. Occasionally, I have to chase off intruders - cats, squirrels, and the like. I suspect my humans think I'm too slow to catch any of these intruders, but I don't really want to catch. I mean, who really wants a mouthful of cat? I sure don't. Yuck! There's not enough toilet water in the world to wash out that taste.

Well, the next patrol will be coming up pretty soon, so I'd better get some rest.

Bark. Bark. Woof.

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.