Project Runway--Fierce

So I was downstairs playing with Mommy last night: she was throwing my baby (don't worry Roxy's Mom, it's only a stuffed toy) and I was chasing it. We were having a great time when she looked at her watch and said, "Whoa, Project Runway is on." Then she went upstairs to the TV, turned it on, flipped a few channels, and then sat down to watch for the next two hours. I was like, "huh? what happened to play time?" I went to look for Daddy but he was watching his mixed-martial arts on TV. Now, normally I enjoy watching it with Daddy, but I thought the fighters that night were kind of lame. I went upstairs to stay with Mommy and see what Project Runway was all about.

I must say, I learned all sorts of things that evening. My new favorite word now is fierce. My new favorite phrase, "Girlfriend, that looks fierce on you!" I didn't know that men had better dressing sense than women did (my Daddy is an exception). On one episode, they had the people there create something for Sarah Jessica Parker (Mommy doesn't think she is all that, whatever that means); then on the next one, they had to make an outfit for Tikki Barber. Mommy got all excited because he played for the NY Giants and we used to live in NYC. So they had male models come in -- whew! even I got slightly excited. For humans, they were pretty impressive-looking. Daddy came in and started watching also -- I pointed out that they didn't wear those embarrassing rain boots that Daddy has (Daddy was not amused). Now, can someone explain what the difference is between a straight guy and a homosexual guy . . .?

I like big sticks

I have this thing with sticks. I love to chew on them. It drives Mommy nuts when we are walking -- I will stop on a dime and start gnawing on a shrub or little shoots that are coming up from the ground. And I keep chewing and chewing and chewing. Until Mommy gets inpatient -- then she will snap the branch off. That doesn't faze me as I will keep biting it until Mommy tosses it away. This is one big stick I dragged home with me . . . whew! it was hard work but well worth the effort.

Yummmm. Nice chewing.

I like to think of this as a gigantic toothpick

On a different note, I want to give my Daddy a big hug for staying calm and collected today while he was taking on the Borough officials. There was some legal snafu with his trying to start up his diving business; but he managed to get through it and now he is approved to begin establishing his own little scuba diving emporium. Yay!!

My Neighbor

I want to introduce all you guys to my neighbor Logan. He is a big dog and not so cuddly. My parents call him some kind of labrador mix. He is about one and a half years old, like me! I like playing chase with him and fighting and wrestling. His parents like me alot (how could they not), and think I am quite cute and cuddly; whenever they see me sniffing at their back door they let me in so I can jump on their couch and rule their house as well.

This is known as the stare-down. For all you MMA fans (Daddy and I watch it on a regular basis), this is where the intimidation starts

This is the butt-sniff (not a MMA -- mixed martial arts -- custom) as we walk to our separate corners.

This is the bribe. Notice how Logan is trying to swing the judge to his side by pretending to be all friendly (evident in the tail wagging).

This is me looking in disbelief as this goofy lab is obviously begging for attention and love. Talk about laying it on too thick . . .

If you need adoration, this is how it's done. Voila! -- no begging required.

Fashion Sense -- NOT!

From my previous entries, I know you guys must wonder what's up with my parents' fashion sense? Let's just say, Mommy doesn't dress me. Now that my leash mishap has been solved, I have to work on Daddy's style. For instance, take a look at these boots:




















Not horrified enough? Take a closer look:










I don't think I need to say anything else, do I? Pretty appalling, eh? I know it rains all the time in Ketchikan, but come on, don't embarrass me when we are going for our walks.

Daddy please -- get some fashion help!

In Remembrance of Maggie

Mommy and Daddy and I simply wanted to share our sorrow with Maggie's family. Enjoy your angel wings, dear little Maggie . . .

Go Away Mr. IRS Man

Mommy was not happy today. She received a letter from the IRS people saying that they had reviewed her 2005 taxes, and she owes them more money. What made her angry was that she has an accountant do her taxes, and apparently, they missed a good portion of her income that year. And then Mommy started ranting about compounding fines and penalties and interest payments . . . I didn't know what the big deal was until she told me that we would have to cut down on my treats and stuffed babies for awhile. What?! Totally not fair! I wasn't even born that year -- not even a twinkle in my pug mommy's eye! But Daddy pulled me aside and reassured me that I shoudn't worry -- I can still live the life of a spoiled pug. Thank goodness for fathers.



And then, Mommy was sad because it gets so dark here early. She was working and looked out her window and saw it was pretty dark; she thought it was like 8pm. But she checked her watch and it was only 3:30pm! Talk about seasonal depression! I don't mind because I nap most of the day anyway.

Daddy was trying to cheer Mommy up by giving me the Princess Leia look.

Home from the Kennel

It has been a bittersweet several days. Mommy and Daddy left for Portland and put me in the "Pet Resort" (aka kennel) to try it out. My parents had heard some good things from other dog owners about the place. So, I was unceremoniously dumped there for five days and picked up today. I was so happy to see my Daddy when he picked me up! It was kind of fun; at least I had a chance to play with other dogs. There were big dogs and little dogs and I introduced myself to every one of them. But get this, the people who run the "Pet Resort" told Daddy I was a very good dog and not aggressive at all; however, I was a bit spoiled. Spoiled?!!? I was outraged when Daddy told Mommy. I overhead him telling her that I supposedly couldn't wait for my turn when it came to being led outside, being fed, etc. Just because I think I deserve the best treatment, I get labelled as "spoiled". I am beginning to have sympathy for this Paris Hilton human that Mommy keeps reading about -- I think we both have been misunderstood.

My parents drove to Mount Hood to see what all the fuss was all about. They tell me that people try climbing that mountain all the time. It was quite foggy and rainy that day so they couldn't see very much.

Tall trees.

This is me after Daddy has picked me up. We were picking Mommy up at work. Notice how my red harness is sliding around on me -- I swear I must have lost weight during my time in the kennel.

I am trying to jump out the window into Mommy's arms.

Back at home.

It's not called spoiled. It's called being loved!

May the Force Be With You

We went for a walk one day and my organized parents lost the fashionable red leash that matched my harness. Don't ask me how -- they brought it into the house and, according to my Mommy, dropped it right on the middle step. So when it comes time to take me out again, the next hour is consumed with flipping the house upside down saying, where is the leash? where is the leash? While this is going on, I have been crossing my hind legs to prevent from going pee on the carpet of the living room (sometimes I am very well-behaved). I am trying to telepathically tell them "Forgot that leash, I have to go outside NOW!" So, my college-educated parents decide, "hey, let's use the leash Frances had when she was a puppy!" What?!? That was like one year and 20lbs ago!

As you can see from the pictures, it was a totally embarrassing situation. Not only did the blue leash clash with the red harness, it was super-skinny!

I am none too pleased. My parents obviously don't realize the need for a puggy to look chic and svelte when going out for a walk. That skinny blue leash did nothing to hide my figure flaws.

But I got my revenge. Using the powers of the force, bestowed upon me by my biological father who had turned to the dark side ( he had an affair with a poodle. A poodle for goodness sake), I transformed my pounds-enhancing leash into an instrument for vengence -- a light-saber leash!

See how my Daddy recoils in pain and fear as the light-saber leash unleashes my fury on his poor soul.

Seeing my wrath and afraid of garnering a similar fate as Daddy, Mommy drove to Wal-Mart (another evil empire, but that is a different story) lickety-split to buy me a new leash. A fashionably red one (sometimes they learn quick . . . .)

Packing

Mommy and Daddy are going to someplace called Portland . . . without me! They told me that I wouldn't like the airplane ride. Pshaw! What do they think I am, a fragile pomeranian? a yapping yorkie? I can handle anything that moves . . . except boats, I don't like small boats. Mommy was trying to pack, so to voice my displeasure gently, I jumped on her clean pile of clothes and wouldn't get off. Ha! Let Mommy attend that conference with pug hair all over her nice silk blouse.

I am pretending not to hear Mommy as she is telling me to get off the chair.

Change of tactics -- I think looking sad might be the key to get me on this trip. Unfortunately, it didn't work.

Blog Hog

I was going to write about my weekend of napping, eating, and napping when Daddy made Mommy take some pictures of him in his new drysuit longjohns. I don't know what they are but they look funny on him. And after he put them on, he put on a drysuit and went diving. What?!?!? It was like 37 degrees outside; why would anyone want to go underwater when the sun is not shining and the water is not at least 80 degrees? Mommy thinks Daddy is a bit crazy (she tells me this when Daddy is not around).

Here I am wondering what the heck Daddy is doing with the dummy

Daddy was trying to give me the rabbit ears, but I was onto him!

Hmmmm, is it just me or does it seem like Daddy is in as many pictures as I am? I am onto you Daddy -- get your own blog!! This is my blog!

And Pug Created Fire

It has been plenty cold here recently so Daddy decided to start our fireplace. Yay! Daddy was chopping wood all last month and now we get the rewards of his hard labor. We have two fireplaces -- one upstairs and one downstairs.

Being the helpful little pug that I am, I decided to help Daddy start the fireplace.

My job is to blow into the fireplace while Daddy stokes the fire. Teamwork I say!

Isn't this a nice, comforting fire in our wood stove?

I needed to make sure the fire was burning evenly on both sides. Supervising is hard work.

Greenies, yum!

So, I have a confession to make: I am super addicted to Greenies. This is not an endorsement of any type (although free Greenies from the manufacturer will be graciously accepted), but I have been hiding this shameful secret for awhile. They say the first step to kicking an addiction is to admit you have one, so here I am, taking the first step -- I AM A Greenie JUNKIE.

It all first started when my parents received some Greenies samples at the SuperPet Expo in Edison, NJ last year. My mother, being super cheap (oops, I meant frugal), gathered as many freebies as she could. My parents didn't think I would like the Greenies since they thought it smelled god-awful. But lo and behold! from the first sniff, an addict was born. Daddy gives me a Greenies every night before bedtime, but he makes me do stupid tricks before I am able to get any. I feel so cheap -- it's like a crack addict willing to do anything for the next hit.

The following are blackmail pictures taken by my enabling Mommy to further embarrass me into quitting. Well, it just won't work!

This is me attacking the leftover plastic bag

As you can seem, I am a "Petite" fan

C'mon, c'mon, there's gotta be one more in there!

Daddy's home

Hooray! Daddy is home from his trade show in Orlando. Mommy and I met him at the airport where I made lots of new friends. Mommy tells me I get alot of attention because I am a pug, but I personally think it is because I am one adorable dog. I mean, look at this face:







Mommy was so happy that Daddy was coming home, she decided to make her first-ever apple pie. I was supervising from the sofa. As she was rolling out the dough, I told her she needed more flour as the dough was cracking and sticking to the rolling pin. She asked me how many pies I had made before. Harumph! I was only trying to help . . . But she did let me taste test the first piece: it was quite yummy, although the crust was funny-looking (I didn't tell Mommy). Mommy also made some cheese-egg dish for Daddy, but he wouldn't eat it because it was "too rich". Huh? NO such thing. I told Mommy I would eat it, so she gave me some to try. Unfortunately for me, I keep forgetting that eggs make me throw up (except when it is well-hidden, like in cake or cookie mix). As soon as I finished the food, bam! I felt the contractions of my stomach and in a few short minutes, barfed up the entire meal. Oh well.



Daddy felt bad for me, so he gave me extra loving that night . . .

I am looking a bit queasy

Come home Daddy!

I am a little out of sorts right now. Daddy is away at a trade show so Mommy has been taking care of me for the past few days. Unfortunately, Mommy has a rather haphazard schedule, which means my walks have occurred at irregular times. This is throwing my bathroom regimen way off. Daddy needs to come home quick before I develop PIBS (puggy irritable bowel syndrome).

This is me and Daddy striking a pose -- notice the similarity?

I did manage to outsmart Mommy: she puts my treats in little plastic sandwich bags whenever we go outside. Last night she dropped the whole bag on the floor as she was leaving for work. I saw it fall, but being incredibly sneaky, didn't tell her. I just looked at her, pretending to be all sad that she was leaving me all alone. Then when she was gone, I pounced on that bag and ate all those beef jerky treats! Yum!

Post-Halloween . . .

It was certainly not a fun day for me . . .

First of all Grandma and Aunt Judy left and took Daddy with them. Who is going to walk me during the day? Mommy says it is about time I learn to pee on the "designated areas". Who is she kidding? I am a wild Alaskan pug and I pee wherever I want to pee!

And then Mommy took me to work with her so I can meet the kids that were coming around for trick-or-treating. I though whoo-wee! I get to go someplace new and show off my cuteness. So we get there and the next thing I know, boomph! the lobster costume is on me. I am trying to stare my Mommy down and show my displeasure, but she and her co-workers are busy laughing at me. I didn't think it was so funny . . .

So here I am wandering the hall, meeting new people when someone shouts, "the kids are here." I zip off towards the door and run into a pack of little, screaming, slobbering human tots. I realized my mistake and tried to turn around but I was quickly surrounded. I looked for any escape routes, but the toddler pack quickly closed in -- I was trapped! I cannot tell you how not fun it was being petted, kissed, slobbered on by 20 young humans. Those little monsters ripped my lobster costume right off -- I started fearing for my life. But then the adult humans accompanying the children finally restored some order and began peeling the kids off me. And I fought back -- I started licking a few of them. They squealed and ran away. Those little ones smell nice but they act weird. Anyway, Mommy thought I had enough so we went home after that. The only good news is that my lobster costume is pretty much a goner . . .