How long do I have to wear this ridiculous neckerchief for?

 There have been some weird doings going on around here. But never mind that, can you just believe how I am being forced to wear this hideous neckerchief?  Just in case you can't see—better for you if not—the horrid design, well here you go. Below.

I Just Ate the Best Potholder by Joey Ramone (Airedale)

Yes! I Just Ate the Best Potholder. She had company last night and wasn't paying attention at all. And there on the countertop was this great potholder, handmade, I understand, by Nora Maybury several years ago during her days as a fiber artist. Well, the colors were truly vibrant, irresistible you might say. I did not resist. You can only imagine my disappointment upon having this unexpected meal-of-all-meals snatched from me when I was a mere 3/4 of the way through it. This morning I stole and ate up a hard-boiled egg, already peeled out of a bowl on the same counter. Note to self: check that countertop more often.
postscript: not been feeling great today. must have been the hard-boiled egg.

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)

I Ate An Entire Tibetan Rug

Not all in one sitting, mind you, but in it's entirety just the same. Lip-smacking good, you know it! I'm putting up a picture of this sort-of-Airedale thing that's at our house. Seems like he's been here for a while now, and shouldn't he be leaving soon? That Person says his name is Joey Ramone. She also calls him Little Joey Man or Happy Joe. Will you just look at the size of those paws? Do I have something to be worried about, I ask you? That Person says he has a laid-back temperament. A laid-off temperament, I call it. He likes to be held ( A sure sign of weakness in a dog) and he comes when she calls him. Oh, really! He also pees and poops on the kitchen floor. She forgot to mention that! What could I do? I had to develop a special little tattle tale bark so as to point out all his misdeeds, and there are plenty of those, I assure you.(can you post sound on this blog? I know you all want to hear the new bark)

There's a butt-load of catching up to do here. Like--did you know I can catch a frisbee in the air? Have you heard that I was the star of my dog training class? I like to out-perform the other dogs because it makes That Person seethe, She, knowing how truly terrible I can be.

I saw my main man, Yaron! Twice! At the new dog park, Yaron was not very happy with me at one point. Can't quite remember what happened there. But of course that Joey-man was a perfect doll and all that, yak yak yak.

Well, for all of you who were hoping I was dead or something, I'm not. I couldn't get into the energy-activated software on the computer due to some re-arrangements in the house. Got it all figured out now so head for the hills (I wish I could) I am back.

Frankie T Wallace, the Airedale Criminal

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