Monday, August 05, 2024

Running with mama

Every week my mom takes me to this trail where people run. Old people, young people, girls, boys, parents with strollers Sometimes, if it’s not too hot, she makes me run with her. Other times, I hang out with my brother who stands around and does something called volunteering. I don’t know what volunteering is but it involves standing around and wearing a yellow vest and doing something when people cross this made up finish line. Other times, my dadda comes along and he walks me on the road. Now I don't understand why these people run because nothing is chasing them. They aren’t chasing anything, at least nothing I can see. Sometimes there are dogs running with them. And I've asked those dogs what are they running to or from, but they don't know either. They just run along because their humans run. These humans don’t even stop to sniff along the way. They just run. I went running with mama a few times. That was fun. It was fun to feel my ears flap in the wind. It was even more fun to abruptly stop, to sniff the ground and savor and follow the smells. But since mama doesn’t stop to sniff and can’t smell adventure and excitement lurking in those sniffs, she wouldn’t let me follow my nose. In fact, she didn’t even like when abruptly stop since it makes her jerk back. If only I could take her on my own sniffing adventure.

Thursday, August 01, 2024

A decade later, it's Butters time!

It's been a number of years that my dear Mariposa passed on to the next doggie world. But every time I see a mariposa, I know she's nearby. My name is Butters. It used to be Buttercup. My older sister named me. She thought I’d be a girl. But they got a boy dog. Still she named me Buttercup. That was my baby name. As I got older and more manly (doggly), my older brothers decided that Buttercup wasn’t manly/doggly enough and they shortened it to Butters. Now, I’m Butters. I am 6 and a half years old in human years. I have a pretty chill life. I sleep. I eat. I love to eat – anything and everything. I got out to pee and poop. I go for walks. Occasionally, I play with other dogs. Other times, I bark at them. I don’t like to chase the ball. I like to chase dogs chasing the ball. I do not swim. In fact, I do not like to get near the water; I scurry away from the water. I love chasing squirrels and rabbits. Especially rabbits. And occasionally, cats. It depends on the cat. I used to chase deer, but there are too many of them so I gave up. Occasionally, there is a fox in my back yard. She ignores me, and I ignore her. This hound and that fox aren’t getting friendly. My mom is trying to figure out why I bark at some dogs and want to play with others. But she’s a human and a mom, so she just doesn’t get it. Some dogs are just to be barked at! And some dogs scare me - like the loudmouth fierce 3 pound chihuahua and her 2 sidekicks, whose parents are friends with my parents. I have many friends, but my most favorite friends are my next door neighbors – Pixie and Johnny. They’re 2. They’re full of energy. They lift me up when I see them. I can see Pixie across the entire dark field. I pull my mom toward her. She’s so much fun to play with and sniff with! There is also Luka, Diego, Mahalo, Eli, Cookie, Butter, and some other friends. Even my mom notices an extra spring in my step when I see Pixie. When I was a puppy, I used to be all over the place. While I didn’t chew up the furniture legs like Mariposa did (well, because she had done it and they hadn’t updated the furniture, there was nothing more to chew), I did pee all over the carpets and made some serious scratches in my parents’ expensive blue leather couches. I mean I need to make myself comfortable, right? Mama kept the carpets rolled up and out of reach for 1 and a half years, until I learned not to pee inside. I love to sleep. I can sleep on the couch. On the floor. In the yard. In the sun. In the yard, in the sun on the yoga mat. Mama puts out that yoga mat to do yoga so I help her with downward facing dogs by getting under her and trying to lick her face. Then when she’s done, I do my own outward napping dog on the mat. I have a doggy daybed in the dining room. I have my “apartment crate” upstairs in the bedroom. The “apartment crate” is a big, now broken, gray storage box, in which Dadda picked me up when he came to get me. When I was a tiny puppy, it was huge. But as I started growing, I learned to tip it over to get out of it. Now, it’s just turned sideways with a cushion inside it so I can sleep in it. Now, I barely fit into it. It’s my apartment. I don’t have a crate. Never had. I also have two favorite couches: one outside on the porch. And the other, is an Ikea Pong sofa in the bedroom. I also have two human beds. One is the lower bunk in my brother’s room, in which currently no one sleeps in. The other, is of course, my parents’ bed. I like to sleep there, right along side with them, with my head on the pillow, between them. Just like they do. (Mariposa used to like to ask to get under the covers and then go and sleep by their feet. Not sure why. It’s much better to sleep next to their heads.) I don’t think my parents understand that I am bored.

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Wood Trails, Opossum Carcasses and other Gross Things

This weekend, Daddy took me on the trail twice--both Saturday and Sunday.

On Saturday, we all went--Mommy, Daddy, and the Litte Whiney Thing (which from now on I'll refer to as the Toddler). It was a beautiful day. Just perfect for Posa to run around and dart back and fort. We passed many dogs. Some were worth sniffing; others were not. Then we passed by this dirty dog (so his owner said), who to me smelled wonderfully. He had rolled in something smelly-delectable. But the woman warned Mommy and Daddy so even though I made a beeline for the animal carcass, Daddy caught up with me just in time.

Shucks!

But on Sunday, Daddy, the Toddler and I went down the trail on the other side of the road. Mommy had something better to do than to hang out with us. While Daddy and the Toddler were busy throwing rocks and sticks in the creek, I snuck off and found an opossum carcass. I got inside of it. But then Daddy found me out.

I hid my scent so well, I was very pleased with myself. Unfortunately, as soon as we got home, I was scuttled to the bathroom for a bath. I unded up smelling like peppermint, which was not at all what I intended. But Mommy thought I smelled good and that my fur is nice, shiny and soft.

Today, I spent the whole day home alone recovering from the weekend-worth of trail hopping. It was just as good. It was soo ugly and rainy outside. I liked a day to myself to sleep off my fatigue.

Saturday, April 11, 2009

Tricked by Daddy

Yesterday when Mommy and Daddy got all dressed up to go to the Big Yard, where they spend their dayhours, I found it a bit suspicious that they wanted me to go along. But Daddy put the harness on me so I was happy to be going out. I thought we'd go for a long, long walk or something.

But then, he put me in the car. Oh goody, we're going on the trail, I thought.

But no, Daddy took me to the vet to have my teeth cleaned. I don't like going to the vet.

He left me there. They put me to sleep. The next thing I knew I was awake but really groggy. Daddy came to pick me up. I could barely walk, think or stand. I walked out of the vet room into the waiting room and then stood there. I got confused and wanted to go back into the vet room. But Daddy wouldn't let me. Instead he put me in the car and drove me home. I slept the rest of the day.

When Mommy came home in the evening, she cuddled with me. She said my breath smells better now.

Friday, April 03, 2009

Jean Valjean Posa

Mommy has started to call me Jean Valjean. I don't know who that is or why she's just added another name to the arsenal of names they have invented for me over the years.

It's hard to remember that I'm Mariposa, MP, Posa, Mary (as Daddy calls me when we're out and when he's introducing me to someone too American to be able to understand Mariposa), MPosa, Popo, Marypopo. And now Jean Valjean.

Mommy calls me that every time after I steal bread from the table. I can't help it that the Little Whiny Thing is not careful enough with him food.

And he leaves the crust behind. Why let the yummy crust go to waste!

Wednesday, April 01, 2009

So what Martha that your dogs now blog (and the Little Whiny Thing update)

As my Mommy just learned, now even Martha Steward's dogs have a blog, called The Daily Wag. Aren't they fancy!

I have been a dog with a blog for over three years now, although as I've complained before Mommy hasn't really been doing a swell job of blogging about my life. Something about her being tired, having too much to do and having to contest with The Little Crying Thing.

The Little Crying Thing is really no longer so little, and should really be renamed The Little Whiny Thing, and who's started to try to boss me around.

Who does he think he is! He's not the boss of me. As Mommy says he is my younger brother not my boss. But he seems Mommy reprimand me when I try to steal food off the table (I know I shouldn't do it but table food smells so tasty) so he tries to do it too. I also probably shouldn't try to steal food from the Little Whiny Thing's hands but I can't help it. He's just my size. And his food is just at my snout level.
Too easy and too tempting.

I do love him and try to lick him to show him that. Sometimes he thinks it's funny and even positions himself so I can give him a head lick; other times he starts whining and crying, like when he comes home from wherever he goes during the day three days a week while poor Posa is stuck home alone.

I also try to play with him. Like when I position myself right in the middle of the train tracks. (It's like when Mommy reads the newspaper on the floor, I sit right on the paper so I can read it too.)

I also sometimes try to play with his toys when he's not around, especially if they are the nice wooden ones which he sometimes forgets to put away. They are delectable to chew.

Monday, February 23, 2009

Sleeping

I've been sleeping a lot lately. I'm a dog. That's what I do when I'm not out walking, running, sniffing or barking. Or trying to steal food from the kitchen.

I also blame Mommy and Daddy. They could walk me more. Like twice or three times a day instead of walking me once a day in the evening, when it's dark outside and none of my friends are out.

This past week, Mommy woke me up at 6:30 am to take me for a brisk walk. I was confused. Why? Why the sudden urge to walk me? I hope she continues to do that. I enjoyed it.

Daddy also says that I'm overweight. I should apparently loose 8 pounds. Again, walking me more would help!