How to Dissect a Frog by Joey Ramone (Airedale)

It's easy, really. In fact, I didn't even set out to dissect this frog. Hard to believe but seeing, or scenting, is believing. But I digress. There I was having a fine time with this green frog and before I knew what had happened there I was passing Biology 101 with flying colors (mostly green, some purple). Now I realize that there's a little piece of stuffing coming out the head, but hell, for a first and unintential effort--NOT BAD!!! Quite good I'd say and I do.

On another note I'm still trying to get my own email from Google. Can't seem to get the wiggly letters right. And the other problem is that Frankie-dog who keeps unseating me from the computer chair. Now for the hard bit. I've got to get that picture of the frog-in-pieces into the post. I am learning, indeed I am.

Your good friend,

Joey Ramone (Airedale)

Well, That Person, What Can I say? Plenty!

Me and My Red Backpack

Who the devil knows what's been going on around here the last three weeks? That Person is just not right these days. Like She ever was? Suffice it to say there was a lot of this and that and mysterious doings. She's still down about it. But never mind about Her.

I am in all of my elements. I'm finally getting these really long walks every morning. And if you haven't seen me leash-walk, you're missing one of the key components of happiness. Perhaps the most important thing next to food, if you want my opinion.

Now, you know I am not one for sucking up the compliments, or looking to praise and fame for fulfilling my essential dog's nature. Oh no, not me. But how, I ask you, can I ignore the compliments that are constantly coming my way? I am surely the toast of Harvard Square, and anywhere else I've been seen lately. "That's the best dog I've ever seen," and, "That's the best trained dog in the world!" "Can I take her picture?" "May I approach her?" these last two when we've (meaning me) been seated. That Person is working the dickens out of me and don't I love it? We are walking in tandem, we two. I sit automatically at each curb. I am so focused. I am the Zen primal walker! After years of watching my man, Cesar Millan, She finally figured out that I actually do need the pack-walk every single day. Her wind was not what it should have been at first.We started out with only 45 minutes, felt more like seconds to a young and beautiful rambler such as myself. Now we're up to almost one and a half hours. Better, but God! I have listen to Her on on that phone everyday telling everything about Herself to whoever will listen. Believe me, that list keeps getting shorter and shorter by the day. Strangely, I do believe She's going to keep up these walks. Who wouldn't want to walk with me for an hour and a half. Now I hear Her talking about turning me into a 'Therapy Dog". Of what this consists I can only imagine with great trepidation. A new haircut? Will I still be an Airedale? What's the use of thinking about it before it happens, something That Person doesn't know how to do! So today's picture is of me on my lunch break over by the Beantown Coffee Shop. She got this huge cheese sandwich. I got some cut-up roast beef and had projectile diarrhea in the yard as soon as we got home. Alas, after that stunt I never got one of the meaty bones we bought at PetCo.

For next time I will overcome my dismay and work up the courage to talk about how That Person is playing--if you can call it that!--the guitar. Great walks, bad music. What a life! Where's Philip Glass when you need him?

And hey! Who's this Airedale called "Joe"? What's the use of trying to figure out everything I overhear?

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.

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.

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

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 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?