Wednesday, December 04, 2013

A Dog and His Fool

My name is Harley Dawg! My nickname is Monkey and my real name that nobody except other doggies seems to ever use is Woof.

I am typing today's blog with my little paws. This should be paws-itively fun!

First off, to the super duper wonderful angel that sent my pet parent a box with a camera inside, I want to thank you so very much! Now she can photograph the world and especially me. I know she's been cursing the old camera that she blames me for breaking. Well, it's not really broken, it just works randomly or not at all. Kind of like a dog. Kind of like me!

So many angels have helped us out in so many ways.

Thank you so much and when I meet you, to show my thanks,  I am going to plant big sloppy dog kisses all over your face and make you giggle and laugh!

Yesterday I played another trick on my pet parent. I love being a comedian.

She says she is my "pet parent" but to me she is my "Friendly Ogling Only Love" so I will just shorten that to "FOOL" for the rest of my story.

When FOOL opened the door to take me out for a walk, I simply shot out the door without my leash attached. Wheeeee!

I think you all know what a leash is. It's that string like thing a dog uses to drag his FOOL where ever he wants to go.

Today I left without the leash! I ran circles around the campground, laughing and giggling while FOOL called me and walked real funny to try to catch me. You should see FOOL try to run.  She can't. Watching her walk fast is howl-larious. I ran around some more, just to watch her wobble funny with steam coming out of her ears.

WHEEEEE! I was way too fast for FOOL!

Then I saw a camper I knew from last year. They had just pulled in to pawk their rolling dog house. I forgot about my silly trick on FOOL and ran over to visit with my new old friend. When FOOL came huffing and puffing to get me, I rolled over, showed her my belly and looked so pathetic while she stood there shaking her finger and fussing at me. I bet my friend thinks she beats me the way I acted so scared and contrite. But tee-hee-hee I beat her at this game!

Sometimes just for fun, I like to really scare FOOL. Like at Halloween I played dead at the beach on Hunting Island where we were camping. Below is my picture of me playing dead.

For emphasis, I fell over on my side like the wind just laid me out flat. I didn't move and I pretended not to breathe.

Oh my gosh, FOOL was in tears. She thought I was really dead. She even tried to make a video of me. Said she was going to show the emergency veterinarian. At the mention of the vet, I hurled at both ends to show her I was really alive. I don't like vets, they seem to poke and prod me in the strangest places. Yucky poo! Is that why I am spewing at both ends? She said the dreaded word "veterinarian"?

Here's what happened. I know FOOL is always telling me "Don't drink the ocean." Rules and more rules, I am so sick and tired of rules. But I bet FOOL is just telling me that because it tastes like cheese or steak or something I love. When FOOL stopped to take a picture, I knew she wasn't looking at me, so I drank my fill of the ocean. Wheeeee! It was delicious, a bit too salty, but I liked it anyhow since I was thirsty, so I drank lots and lots.

I was so proud of myself, and FOOL didn't catch me at it either. Wheeeee!

A moment later,  I uncontrollably tossed horrible wet things from both ends of me right there on the beach in front of a bunch of people. Oh yeah. My body had become a live squirting fountain and I was spewing forth like a sideways volcano.

Wheeeee..... I think... but my belly was suddenly hurting something arf-ful.

It was fun to see FOOL's face turn beet red and say sweet things like "Oh you poor baby! What's wrong?" while sputtering apologies to the other beach goers and frantically trying to clean up the big mess I was making.

My FOOL is a clean freak I guess. She is always scooping up my poop and hiding it in little baggies. I am so confused. Fool won't let me poop in the rolling dog house, but when I poop outside, she saves it in a little baggy. Now she was bagging up all the yucky stuff coming out my mouth, nose and rear end. Sheesh...

Anyhow, that's when I decided to flop over on my side in the sand and play dead. It was Halloween and there were spooky things all over the campground including a Scarecrow that scared me so badly, I quit walking anywhere near it.

I lay on the beach perfectly still while FOOL freaked out thinking I had dropped dead. Other beach goers came to look too. I lay paw-fectly still. First FOOL cried while bending down to stroke my fur, then she made a video for the vet, which spurred me into action. Playing dead is no fun if it means a gawd-awful trip to some veterinarian who is going to make my tiny little life miserable.

When I was through spitting and sputtering at both ends, I put on the saddest face I could muster. The fun was over and now I seriously felt arf-ful. I don't like to see FOOL cry. I didn't think I could walk or run or play or anything anymore. I just wanted FOOL to baby me like a tiny weak puppy.

I was suddenly so sorry for everything. Was this my punishment for breaking the newest rule? "Don't drink the ocean!" I'd heard my FOOL say over and over whenever I tried to sneak a taste.

I guess my saddest face trick worked, because FOOL picked me up so very gently in her arms. Ahhhhh. It felt so wonderful to be cuddled and carried. I laid my head against FOOL's chest listening to her funny fast heartbeat. I felt bad for making FOOL cry because now I was paying for it dearly with this horrible belly ache.

Next these howl-lariousl hiccups attacked me. Every time I convulsed, I would hiccup and meow like a weak kitten. Oh my gosh. I bet I am in BIG trouble now with FOOL. She wanted a cute wittle puppy and now she thinks I am a meowing cat who hiccups.

I have no idea how THAT happened. I would try to stifle the hiccups, and silent the meows, but my body kept acting like a jumping frog was stuck in my chest and a kitten hiding in my throat.

FOOL carried me all the way back to our rolling dog house while muttering about the closest emergency vet being an hour away and that I better not die.

At this point, I would rather die than go to the vet, but I am not even sure what dying is, but it's something FOOL said over and over that I better not do. More rules!

FOOL calls the rolling dog house our wheel estate, but it's really just a dog house on tires. Tires that I am not allowed to pee on! FOOL has so many silly rules that I just don't understand. I can't pee on our tires or anybody's tires. What kind of rule is that? Dogs are born to pee on tires. Somebody needs to have a talk with FOOL and explain this to her. A campground is just full of tires, and I am not allowed to pee on any of them. I sometimes see other doggies get away with this and I am oh so jealous.

Now a new rule, "don't die". My brain is tiny, how I am supposed to remember all these doggone rules?

I hate following rules but if I don't then FOOL gets real crazy like yelling at me and shaking her finger. So mostly I obey the rules to avoid FOOL going crazy on me. I like it when FOOL is giggling, so I try to do howl-arious antics.

I can control FOOL like a paw-pet. Like when I want to see her roll her eyes, I just tear up one of my puppy toys. Works every time. She rolls her eyes and sometimes let's out a big puff of air too. It's funny! I love to see her roll her eyes.

I stuck toy stuffing on my face to make FOOL laugh
at me and take my picture.

I can make her giggle. One of my tricks to make her giggle is to rush up on her lap and try to plant big sloppy kisses all over her face while she wiggles around trying to avoid me. If I succeed in slapping a big wet doggy kiss on her cheek, then she giggles and giggles while murmuring something about yucky dog germs. The more she giggles, the more I jump around trying to plant more kisses on her. It's a game I love to play. Wheeeee!

When she wants to get me up out of my comfy warm bed too early to go for a walk in the c-c-cold weather, I can turn this into a belly rub and a sleep-in. Yepper I can control FOOL (but she doesn't know it!) First of all, I am a nice little doggy, I let FOOL sleep in my bed with me, but for some silly reason, she gets up early in the morning. That leaves me the entire bed all to my lonesome.

I might as well share my bed with FOOL. After all it's HUGE with pillows, a big mattress, sheets, a comforter and an afghan. I guess FOOL thought I was going to grow into a much bigger doggy when she got this gigantic bed. So since the dog bed is soooo big, I don't mind sharing it with her.

If I don't want to get up early to go walk, I just roll over on my back, stretch my little legs and yawn. This makes FOOL coo sweet things and gently rub my belly. Oh that feels so good. I close my eyes and go back to sleep. FOOL usually leaves me alone for another hour. Wheeeee!

I love being a puppy and I love controlling my FOOL. But I hate all these doggone rules.


  1. Please don't take this wrong, but that dog is so ugly. He looks almost exactly like one I had as a teen and young adult. His name was Julius Caesar Augustus. Yes, I think I was studying Shakespeare when we got that puppy. Anyway, I just love your dog. He may be ugly but he is darling. Thanks for sharing him with your readers.

    1. Ugly? One ear up, one ear down, scraggly fur that sticks out everywhere in gray, brown, white, red, and black, strange curly tail, skinny longs legs attached to a disproportionate body, half blind in one eye, can't see out of the other, and we're taking up a collection to get him to the ugliest dog contest too!


Life is goof!