I have No Idea What Happened

Suddenly That Person was all yelling and chasing me around the house. Man you should have seen me go! And it's hard to run like the wind with your tail between your legs, believe you me! Something about a cheese sandwich on toast She was making for Herself and then the cheese mysteriously disappeared while Her back was turned. 

By the way, if I did steal that cheese, and I'm not saying I did, you've got to remember I've been very sick and almost died. I won't go into how That Person told everyone about it saying: "Unfortunately, she recovered." And how She went on and on about how it cost her $3,000 and how the two days I was in the hospital were the two best days of Her life. I'm tired of hearing this kind of thing; wouldn't you be too?

I'll be back soon to tell you more about my harrowing brush with death. I can still hear That Person cackling: "Go toward the light, Frankie, go toward the light."

The Final Humiliation

But probably not. Those momzers over at PetSmart finally got That Person to fill out a form for discounts. She says she spends over 75% of her budget at that place so she filled it out. Imagine my impotent outrage when I learned that She checked me off as a reptile in the box that offered to send a birthday card to 'your pet'. Okay, so She also checked dog, but then wrote below 'The dog can't read', the implication being that the reptile can. So I can look forward in March to a birthday card addressed to a reptile! I have to put up with things no living creature (including reptiles) should ever have to experience. Then She ran around the house singing something called Eric the Half a Bee. There was no place to check off insect. I'm sure She would have written that in by hand if She'd thought of it.

Speaking of hands, oh Her right hand is all screwed up so She can hardly use it anymore. She has pain on the back of the hand and a mysterious finger so She has to see a hand doctor next week. With all of this you'd think She'd leave off playing that damned guitar and the one song She knows (and I use the word 'knows' rather loosely). The song that makes Her cry. It makes me cry I can tell you. It is not pleasant around here. Not one bit. I managed to upload the picture She took of the PetSmart application. I mean, really. She thinks she's so funny! If only the Humane Society knew about this. I'm online looking for their website.

Your (NOT) reptilian friend,

Frankie T Wallace, Seriously the Dog Star

Serious the Great Dog

I read about this on Rita the Dog's blog. I a may have it a bit wrong. Certainly no one ever called me 'serious'. Oh, what's that? Sirius the Great Dog? Well, we take what we can get. Rita the Dog has some incredible drawings and paintings. Not like That Person who hardly does anything these days in that department. Oh and it's all sorts of reasons why not. If it's not the frickin' job it's the guitar lessons. You don't want to ever hear her playing "Me and Bobby McGee" She actually calls people on the phone and plays the guitar and sings into the microphone to them. Hundreds of people have left town this week. I am in such pain.

I also found another dog blog: http://toaireisdivine.blogspot.com/ This Bogart, Handsome Devil--another Airedale. And then there's Rita's site:http://rita314.wordpress.com/about-me/ You must get to know Rita, even though she hasn't posted of late. The artwork is atounding! I think Rita and I could get to be friends. and Bogart, well! That Person had me 'fixed' so there won't be a whole lot of action there, but still....

That Person is going off the rails, siriusly. Her neurologist is sick and if she can't get her meds she'll just die, simply die. And what will my life be like then? Doesn't anyone want to call Airedale Rescue?

Yaron came around a few day ago to take me to the dog park. He really understands me, not like That Person.When I went for the small dog in the car he really put me in my place. Calmly. Not like That Person who gets all upset about things. Oh holy crap! I pooped on the street today and That Person had no bags. Not that the bags would have helped She had to clean it all up with Kleenex.

What fresh horror will tomorrow bring? No matter, we dogs live only in the moment.

That Person Says I Wear Too Much Eye Make-up

It's always something with Her. You know the kind. Well, honestly, I don't even think I'm wearing eye make-up at all, unless it was She who put it on me, and I wouldn't put it past Her!

I am a magnificent creature who needs no artificial enhancements. I have many admirers at the Dog Park. Take, for example, that little fellow, Finnegan, who came in today. He made a bee-line for me. That Person liked him, and his name. She started singing in Her head about some Tim Finnegan who carried a hod and fell to his death. Something about a Biddy McGee and whirl your whiskey around like blazes and on and on. Honestly, I think the inside of That Person's head is like a rotten cantaloupe. I know because we had one of those in the kitchen and every fruit fly in Massachusetts....oh it was not good!
Love,
Frankie T Wallace, the Airedale Criminal (Merrylegs)

Not a Spaceship! Worse, Much Worse!!!!

Okay, here it is: you will remember the spaceship from the previous post. Adding picture below for memory-aid. Now, I'm in the yard with That Person who is talking to the downstairs neighbors who I thought were my friends. Turns out not. The erstwhile spaceship is no such thing. It's an item being stored in the yard after being used as a--wait for it!--Barbeque Grill, on which an entire lamb was roasted at the restaurant where Emily downstairs works. Imagine how my relief turned to horror as the full implications of this dawned on me. I did some research using my energy-activated software and found out some more-than-disturbing facts. I am currently in hiding with That Person's laptop.

Space Ship Lands in Hampshire Street Backyard with Aliens on Board

Was I frightened? Out of my considerable wits! Now you know I'm not one to own up to my frailties, but this one threw me for nine loops to Sunday, or something. You see the pictures. Can you honestly say that this is not everybody's worst nightmare? Sure, in the movies you usually see the thing hovering in the night sky, lights flashing, as it slowly, slowly lowers itself down into the center of some cornfield in Nebraska. But this, alas, was no sci-fi movie. This was the real deal. At least I thought so. And in case you're thinking I'm one of those who believes they've been abducted by aliens etc etc, think again. (That Person read a book about it and it turns out those people may not be crazy after all and that it, the abduction, didn't really happen either. Some kind of neurological disturbance. Cool!)

But back to my story. There we were, out for a bit of relief in the yard when suddenly..BAM! Up zooms (well, okay, it was just sitting there) this hideous once-flying machine now 'living the life' right on the spot where I squat. I mean with air slits or maybe they're escape hatches. Chains hanging off the thing. Handles even for ease of opening the hatches and taking young Airedales back to Planet Freakout. Like a bucking Bronco I was. Came close to bringing That Person down on the ground (not all that hard to do, actually). Let me just say that it took four trips to the yard and absolutely hours for That Person to get me to do my late night business.

My next post will deal with the following morning and afternoon, where you will learn that That Person has no mercy, not even one mercy or one half of one.

Oh The Dog Park Was Such a Trial Today

Well, to start with, after sitting and waiting, and sitting and waiting at all the gates (I think there are at least 40 of them) I finally enter the park with That Person. I have to sit and wait to get let off the leash. Man, I am so good, really good. I even pretend not to be excited. Lots of cool dogs come to sniff me. She lets me go, but before I 'go', up comes this character and picks a big old fight with me. Let me tell you, I don't hardly ever pick a fight (well there were those two times when I thought those Yorkies on a leash were prey!) but I don't just stand there for it either. No sir. The person of that other dog, instead of correcting him, took him off and gave him a lecture. Ha ha. Blah, blah, blah Ginger, blah, blah blah. This is in reference to the excellent Far Side cartoon What we say to dogs, what dogs hear. So anyway, That Person keeps me leashed for all round safety reasons. I'm not terribly happy about it but for once She's not all off the charts on it. Finally I'm allowed to go and so's that other character who comes right on over and tries to start up with me again. But That Person has a hold of my collar now and nothing comes of it. When this uppity character is finally taken away by his person I'm let go for real. Some nice lady tells That Person that this other dog has been acting all bad for a while.
That Person is figuring out that it's a holiday crowd at the park. Not the regulars. Some of my old favorites have stopped coming often, anyway. Sad. Things are going a bit downhill--metaphorically-- over at Danehy. Couple a weeks ago some dogs started digging right in the middle of the dog area. Their people just stood around next to them, not even stopping them, and then they left without filling in the hole. I'm not very interested in digging (unless there's something tasty down there) so no big deal for me to be a model of good behavior on this score. Today some dog started digging like fury next to one of the trees. Same deal. No people batted any eyes.
Then some woman had her nose in The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo and was eating peanuts from a very flimsy plastic bag. If you follow this blog you know what I can do with a situation like that. It's my famous teeny-tiny front teeth that can take a thing right out of your hand without you knowing anything even happened. That Person was all over it, standing in front of the mystery-reading peanut-eater and pointing at me if even the glimmer of an idea as outlined above came over me. There were several such glimmers. I can tell that people think She's harsh with me. That's because they don't do much of anything with their dogs by way of correction or learning. Learning is a pain in the butt, but also good because you get skills. these skills are their own reward (you can show off all over the place) and they also get you into places that otherwise might give you the proverbial boot
Another thing was that someone left a large plastic bottle right out in the dog area. There were also two take-out plastic cups with straws stuck in them and some interesting liquid at the bottom. These were left on the people-benches. That person was silently crabbing away inside about it all.


Then this other little character comes up and snaps at me. More than once. His person, instead of giving a correction, used her people-voice (mildly chiding) and then petted the poor little fellow who will never, I promise you, learn a thing that way.

There were plenty of dogs today, but none who were interested in playing with this writer. Finally I found a guy that I jollied into playing with me. I think I might have been the one to teach him how to play. I had to get into the submissive position right away to show him how. We had a pretty good time and we went on for about forever. Before leaving, That Person (who thinks she's the world's best ever) filled in the hole around the tree

In my next post I will tell you about the horror in the back yard. You will be strictly on the edge of your seat for the outcome!


Love,
Frankie

That Person Thinks She's So Funny

So the good news is I got to spend oh-so-much time with the beautiful Matt who was kind enough to bring over his lactose-toleration pills. And it was a brand new bottle, still in the cardboard box. And, because Matt is such a good friend of mine he left this bottle in his messenger bag right on the floor. I know I don't need to tell you what happened. But I will anyway. I nicked the whole thing, box, bottle pills and all and raced down to the backyard to get to work right away on the whole thing. I am not a one for procrastination! Well! That Person went down to the yard later and found the empty, crunched-up bottle. Then She found the shredded bits of cardboard box. You could just see the wheels turning--and that's what She's got up there, wheels, I'm sure--and the look on Her face. Oh it was a rare moment for this writer. She didn't even bother to look around the yard for further evidence, but came right upstairs and called up the vet.

When the vet receptionist picked up, That Person says--get this--"Is there a dog heaven where dogs go when they die?"

There was this long silence on the other end of the line. The poor receptionist finally said, "Huh?" That Person was laughing into her shirt. So they went to get the vet who, believe you me, does not want to see this Airedale in the office again. The vet said it's probably just fine. That Person said she'd have to make a point of putting the more toxic medicine's on a lower shelf. The receptionist didn't even  notice.

That Person thinks she is just so damned funny.

Truth be told, I didn't eat any of those old pills. They were nasty, and this from one who will eat anything. The box was pretty good, though.

Knock knock
Who's there?
Knock knock
Who's there?
Knock knock
Who's there?
Knock knock
Who's there?

Philip Glass

This is supposed to be funny or something?  I simply have to bark and bark until That Person plays Philip Glass for me. And people make fun of his music?
I honestly NEVER!

This picture is from his website: http://www.philipglass.com/  That Person finally got down to ordering more music by, sigh, Philip Glass.

Well!

I finally got my Google I.D. My energy-activated software was upgraded recently and I was first in line to sign up. Now I can post to my own blog as myself and not as That Person. Speaking of That Person, She never, ever goes out of the house except to mail Her Netflix. I have to run on the treadmill because it's too, too hot out there for Her. All she does is sit at that computer all day (preventing me from posting to my blog) working on some website for work and how to optimize graphics for the web and who cares!

Anyway, I put up a nice picture of myself (are there any not nice pictures of me?--on my gmail account and I'm all good. Speaking of good, That Person is so fat she had to go join up at Weight Watchers yesterday and now I get all the skin and the dark meat off the roasted chicken. I spend a lot time sitting next to the fridge in case She has to throw out some foods that have too many points or something. So little comes my way these days because She says I don't get as much exercise. Ha! how would you like to have to run on a treadmill at four miles per hour. Then I have to walk and jump this obstacle course that She set up around the house. By now I can do it in my sleep, really. I know because I dreamt about it last night. There was a huge piece of chicken skin, maybe from the entire chicken, dangling in front of me at the end as my reward. In reality alls I get is a cookie. Cookies are nice too.

My Spring Vacation

Airedale Skulker Par Excellence!

And my only vacation, I might add, since That Person never takes a vacation. No, I went with The Daughter and the beautiful Matt who totally loves me and lets me do anything! Anyway, we went away into the woods and I ran, played--there were other dogs-- and skulked around (see me skulking in the photo) all day We stayed in a cabin. Oh golly it was great. Got some good scraps too. The Daughter, who's called Fionna, is way more fun than That Person who you cannot believe is Her Mother! I was so completely exhaused that Fionna says she stepped on my ear--accidentally--in the night and I never woke up. Then they went and brought me home so I could be cooped up all day with YOU KNOW WHO!

Me & Tosh I think his name is

I do have loads of fun with my dog park friends. below are a couple of pics. There are more dog park friends coming up in future blogs. And oh, That Person finally got around to making me business cards for this blog.

Getting a good thock from Tosh

My Friend Sally

Here she is: my friend Sally from the dog park. If ever there was a dog that was not me, here's that dog. Sally is pictured actually taking a nap at the dog park. (Love the amazing mosaic of pawprints surrounding Sally) If you were to see a picture of me taking a nap at the dog park you could assume I was dead, or at least unconscious. But Sally, my friend Sally, is such a laid back character that it's hard for That Person to believe. Now this does not mean that Sally has no 'person'altiy. Not at all. She's a real queen and a dog you can set your stars by. I know I will never achieve Sally's equinimity, and perhaps that's not what I was bred for. But Sally, oh how she glides like an enormous and gallant ship. Me? I can hop like a bunny rabbit all over the park and over the other dogs. Recently I befriended a couple of dogs that needed a befriendment or two. The owners of these dogs thanked That Person, and were grateful that their dogs had a good experience at the park. This was after these dogs were maybe a bit roughed up by some alpha dogs earlier. I'm always looking to get roughed up a bit, and to doing a bit of roughing up myself. But my code of Extreme Playfulness does not include making another dog less happy than when they walked in. Okay, sometimes I make a mistake.

That Person was grateful to hear any words of praise for me. Perhaps She was starting to think I was a bad hat. That's when all that other stuff (described earlier in the blog) began to get to her. Dogs, praise be, aren't gotten to. People, yes.

I don't like to give That Person too much credit for fear it might go to Her head. But the training about the sitting and staying and how we enter the park has been somewhat helpful to me. Dogs know structure. The right kind can set us on the correct course of action. But let me tell you, it's tough. In my next post I will explain more about that.
Sail on, Sally, sail on

Artwork by Frankie T Wallace

Betcha didn't know I was an artist. It's kinds of like cave art, or, well, something so modern that it hasn't been named by people yet. I just call it art. My tools? My fine teeth and my aesthetic sense. 

 Now this first picture is an example of my work in the fiber arts. Notice the scalloping around the edges of the rug near the back door sliders. The beauty is in the inexact edges. I am so proud of this. I created this piece while barricaded in the kitchen while That Person had to go back to bed this morning because of her neurological issues acting up last night and Her not getting enough sleep by half and how She had to make Herself stay in bed last night, but decided to read up on some idea in Photoshop about optimizing graphics for the web. What a crock!

This other piece is how I decided to view my brand new tiger toy, how to exceptionalize it into a statement all about our modern world combined with traditional Buddhist concepts about the impermanence of all things. That Person just stood there look down at it since She had just given it to me today. I might add that She gave it to me to shut me up for a while, which it did. Artists work alone and in silence. Gotta run, I think it's MoMA calling on the cell.

It's Been a While and Have I Been Busy!

Let me just start off with this complaint: That Person claimed she would make me up some business cards for this blog. So where are they. They are nowhere, which isn't even a place. So I chewed up one of Her bookmarks, and the book it was stuck in. This book, by the way, was written by a dog. She didn't think She was going to like it at first and then She did. It's called Dog on It. Supposed to be written by Chet--just plain Chet, he says. But does a dog ever get credit? The book claims that someone called Spencer Quinn wrote it. Like this blog, in case you didn't notice, says that these posts are from That Person. Just you wait until I get my own Google I.D.
Well, back to one of my favorite topics: chewing. I have had to work so hard on my leash-walking skills and my going-into-the-dog-park skills that something had to give. Chewing is a great tension reliever. People know this. They are always chewing something or other. But just you let a dog do a little therapeutic chewing and, oh boy! I try to ignore all the hullabaloo. Here is a fine list of things chewed this week:

• 1 lipstick and gloss combo case
• 1 padded coat hanger
• 1 tube of watercolor paint
• 1 plastic bottle of Vicodin
• the aforementioned bookmark
• the book, mainly the spine which is the most succulent part

I didn't make much headway on the lipstick case. Not interesting enough.
The coat hanger was a success. That Person thought, from a distance, that I'd destroyed some small ground animal. The watercolor paint--wow--quinacridone burnt orange. And did that ever look good all over the rug and floor. I got my paws all in it and was able to track it up and down the hall and on the kitchen floor. The Vicodin: That Person heard me tossing and catching it all up and down the hardwood hallway. She thought it sounded like I was having too much fun for it to be a piece of old chew thing. This gives you an idea of how much fun That Person is. NOT!  She's telling everyone that if I'd busted through the container and ate the 4 pills--30 mg of vicodin--Her problems would have been over. Not even funny.

She has to take this stuff all the time for some bizarre neurological condition. What with the Vicodin and the cane She thinks She's like that guy House on the television. She is so not that guy.

I almost felt sorry for That Person at the Dog Park Today

So much to write about, where to begin? Well, I almost pulled That Person onto the ground the other day when my leash got wound around Her legs and then along comes this dog...etc, etc. I have to start thinking about my high excitement level; but not today.

We went to the dog park today and there was that nice Lady With the Treats. You know, the treats from the last blog post that gave me diarrhea for two days--the treats, not the blog post you understand. Well there she--The Lady-- was, back with the treats. Naturally, as soon as I saw her I was right there, jumping high into the air right in front of her and on her too. Out of the corner of my eye I saw That Person coming over to try and stop me. The Lady with the Treats tried to stop That Person from correcting me. She told That Person:"Your dog is afraid of you." and, "All Frankie needs is a little more training." That Person watched me jump up high into the air, over and over, at The Lady with the Treats. Finally That Person told her: "She's all yours." and went back to the bench--the nice seat under the umbrella. So I jumped in the air, was told to sit, sat, got the treat, jumped in the air, told to sit, sat, got treat....over and over and over. You see, if I just sat there I wasn't going to get a treat for just sitting around there all day. So I had to first misbehave, then behave, get the treat and so on. The Lady with the Treats got tired of it after a while and walked off. I followed her, jumping and sitting and getting treats all over the park until The Lady with the Treats left.

A big difference this time was that That Person wasn't upset like last time. She decided that either it was funny, or else she could ask The Lady with the Treats not to feed me because it gives me diarrhea. Dogs don't 'feel sorry' for people, other dogs or ourselves. But I swear I almost felt sorry for That Person the other day when that bunch ganged up on her. Maybe they were trying to be nice then, but now they had a point to prove about the whole situation. That Person has no intention of getting into it with the Lady with the Treats. So we came home and I had diarrhea all over the porch just as That Person was getting ready to sit out there with her iced caffeine beverage. I wasn't so happy about it. Maybe I have to re-think the treats. Fat Chance!

A rather nice thing happened at the park today. A woman came in with a small pug. Small pug, ha. That's like saying 'large giant'. Anyway the woman was fearful because her dog, Thuco..something like that..had been bitten once. The pug was not overly fearful, but interested. It seemed a shame he didn't get a chance to check out all of us swell characters. But then That Person told the woman that her pug looked interested. Tucker's person had a great idea. The woman and the pug would go into the puppy area and we'd send in a couple laid back dogs to try it out. It was great. I can't believe I wasn't chosen to go.

By the way, That Person left her Tricycle Community blog page open so I took the opportunity of speaking to a wider group of people.  In that blog I explain about my energy-activated software and why I call That Person That Person. (Its the Third Person Sarcastic)
http://community.tricycle.com/profile/JeanneLafferty

That Person Has Her Gums All Swollen and It's Driving Me to Distraction

I was such a cute pup

What a day. I'm asking you. No, I'm telling you. That Person is so miserable (what else is new?) that she's sitting on the porch drinking that whiskey that she --she says--can't drink anymore. All day long it's with the warm salt water and the gum massager and the percocet which she shouldn't--she says--take with the whiskey. And then with the swollen gums and all, some pedestrian went all batshit crazy on her for something that her friends say could have happened to anyone. So then she gets all weird at the dog park and runs around trying to stop me from jumping up on people and all because a couple of times I got kicked at the park, which upset her more than it did me. And sometimes people yell at her because I try to play with their tiny little puppies that they bring into the big park instead of the puppy area.. They do this because they don't want to think their dog inferior. There is a lot of this thing that people do--mostly with their kids--of thinking that their dog, or their kid is all about them. I will say that That Person doesn't do that. It's about the only thing she gets right. So anyway she's all over me about my behavior and then this woman shows up with that small dog and right away this woman is pulling me off her dog, metaphorically, before I even get close to her dog. And that person, in a hideous moment of betrayal--starts acting like I'm the problem. So you get an idea of how bad things were out there today.

Next she's chasing me all about in the park to stop jumping, something I don't really do a lot, and some well-meaning people get upset with her because she's pointing that cane at me and yelling at me to "Get Off!" You can only imagine my glee. They ask her why she has that cane, as if she's planning to hit me with it. Maybe they are thinking of reporting her to PETER, the animal rights people.

But no. They are actually trying to help That Person. The nice people are explaining that yelling is not the way to get me to behave--something that person already knows but she's lost it by now. They are going to show her how to use treats to get me to behave. That person has no heart in her anymore and is at a loss to explain that I am not just a high-energy dog, that I am a dog that becomes fixated. So there they are, the nice people, out in the middle of the park, doling out treats and saying that their dog's diet is made up about half with all these treats. Right then I was ready to go home with them. They were showing That Person how nicely I can sit for a treat. The old positive re-inforcement, incentive thing. One thing I know is That Person knows exactly how long I can sit for, never mind a treat, my own boring dinner.

I sat and got a treat. Then I didn't sit. Then I sat and got a treat. Then I didn't sit. This went on for a wonderful long time and man, it was great. Then the nice lady who was holding the bag of treats behind her back tried to tell me there were no more treats. I've said it before and I'll say it again: you cannot lie to a dog.You can do things right, you can do things wrong, but you cannot lie to a dog.

Today at the Dog Park Was So Great

Man I just had to tell about this! Some nice woman came into my dog park with a little 4 month old Jack Russell named Pedar, like Peter in Irish. And it was so cool because I jumped all over the wee fellow. But even better, the woman had a plastic shopping bag with treats in her jacket pocket and I just swooped over and nicked the whole lot. That person was yelling and waving her cane while I ate the whole thing. The nice woman said it was okay and she was only worried I would eat the bag. That person was hoping I would eat the bag or accidently pull it over my head and....so long Airedale Criminal. I prevailed, as I always do.

There's Just No End To It, Is There?

Scentless Buddha

That Person is watching something about a Swedish detective--Wallender or whatever, which is weird because she already read all the books. I thought I'd take this chance to complain. Don't get me wrong--I have a very sunny disposition, really I do. Anyway a few days ago a bunch of Persons from this building got themselves out into what was a perfectly fine yard and began to do horrible things to it. It's called "fixing up the yard". All those lovely patches of mud, gone! Instead there are cedar chips everywhere around the edges and I can tell you they make you awfully sick after you eat enough of them. I'm not allowed in the middle of the yard because of "the grass". Birds and squirrels are allowed, yes. NO AIREDALES!

But I digress: the picture here is something That Person apparently paid good money for. Let me tell you, I was terrified. It sits there chuckling at me, and again, no scent. How much of this world is made up of totally fake stuff? I am so depressed I can hardly bring myself to poop out there anymore. That Person gets all bent out when I take forever in the morning before she's had that beverage. Then she starts going on and on about how when she has to go she just goes and how she doesn't need to eat a pound of cedar chips first (all this is taking place inside her head--but I can hear it). Speaking of those wood chips, I don't really eat all that much. Sometimes I get to gagging and hurking about in the kitchen so she thinks it's all my fault. I think it's that same old food she gives me everyday, except sometimes when there's cottage cheese.

Well, thanks for listening. She's all engrossed in Wallender. She likes the way it was filmed (I wouldn't know about that) and how great the soundtrack is (not a bad soundtrack: reminds a bit of Philip Glass my favorite) and how Kenneth Branagh is all that.

When A Dog is Betrayed

On my Frankie T Wallace Profile Page, I wrote, quite masterfully, I thought, of the role of scent in a dog's life vs the use of words by Those People. However, once in a while a mysterious situation arises. It is that kind of situation that I wish to address here. In the picture, upper left, you will see a picture of a perfectly fine looking beagle. Fine looking I say, not fine smelling, nay, not smelling at all. And soundless to boot. All in all a seemingly fine figure of a beagle. Perhaps too fine a figure, for it would come to pass that this is, verily naught but a figure of a beagle.  And to that I say: "go figure!" I came upon this fellow, or rather, this object quite by chance upon the bed of That Person yesterday afternoon. I at once commenced upon barking and carvorting about in my usual way. That Person held up said beagle in such a way as to allow me to get a good scent in the hind quarters. I was stunned. There was no scent at all where all those ripe glands would  normally reside to tell me all I needed to know about this "beagle". But Let me say for the sake of precision in reporting that there wasn't exactly no scent at all, but rather something worse-- a synthetic scent, some man-made concotion.--and where there should have been flesh there was merely cloth. Of course this did not quiet me down for a moment. My frantic barking transmogrified from perfectly normal dog-in-the-area alert noises into weird-thing-in the area notifications. Suddenly the phantom doggish thing was whipped out of my sight and not seen again. I did manage to get a quick snapshot of the offender on That Person's cell phone.

I Was So Humiliated

Get this!. Today! We're on our way to the dog park, in that car of hers when I see another dog in the car next to us at the stop light. Naturally I start up barking in that crazy way I have of putting another dog on notice that I'm here. The person driving the other car turns to take a look--strangely her dog seems to disappear at this point. Sure, I'm confused but I keep on a barking. That person rolls down the window and tells the other driver that I think her ponytail is another dog! Not only don't I know what this means, but the other driver starts laughing. The light changes and both cars drive away, both drivers laughing. Here I am in the picture above, stewing in my own humiliation, still ignorant of what happened earlier.

What is a "ponytail" anyway?