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    August 31, 2006

Alpha Dog for a Day


So the other evening Woody and I were hanging with some dogs from down the road, playing a little poker, sniffin' a little butt, barking at the moon as it were. Unfortunately, as the night wore on we ran out of milkbones, which pretty much killed the poker game, since you pretty much can't bet 'em if you eat 'em. That left us playing one last round of no-limit Trivial Pursuit for all the remaining kibble. The round featured both skill and luck, and finally it all came down to me. One right answer and I was alpha dog for the night. Think I wasn't sweating? (Well, actually I wasn't. Dogs don't sweat.) Anyway, I swallowed hard as I listened to the question: "Name the top selling homosexual dog album of 1966." Yes! I nailed it!


[NTTAWWT -woody]

    August 27, 2006

wears my servant end other trivials


bbbn, bbbn, bbbn. jest a little housecleaning today. furs end foremost, as ewe mite half noticed, eye have a gnu bit of technology two show off. ewe remember how last weak eye was getting awl excited about internet acrobats? well chigger was awl worried that eye'd get carried away with that sword of thing, sew she taut me this castrating style shit trick wear eye kin use my acrobats, butt if ewe doughnut get it, ewe kin roll yor mouth over the acrobat, witch will half a tiny dotted line under it, end the hole thing will display buy yor cursor. at leash it works in netscape 9 four dogs. if it doesn't work four ewe, ewe mite half two upgrade yor browser. as eye like two say, etiefi!

eye also knead too note that wee took a break this weak because wee got email from sum mysterious person who sad wee should take a brake because wee whir getting a new server. okay, wee took a brake. butt the service around hear isn't any better than it used two be. sew if ewe sea hour server, tell them we hour out of food, sew get yor butt in gear.

end finally, eye half two mention the fact that a bunch of "scientists" fired pluto, won of the grate cartoon dogs of awl thyme, as a planet. they kept a planet named after they're butt wholes, end another planet named after a woman with no arms, and they fired pluto. fmbtyk.

Pluto with moon

btw - pluto may knot bee a planet any moor, butt he still has a moon. trust me.

    August 20, 2006

Tags? We don't need no stinking tags.


I realize that there just aren't enough hours in the day for Woody and me to sniff the butt of every living thing, or for every living thing to reciprocate. So you shouldn't be surprised when a well-meaning gesture towards one or both of us doesn't elicit the expected response. You just don't know us that well.

For lack of a better word, we're more or less "free-range" dogs. We run when we want but most of the time we sleep in holes we dig in the yard just by farting. We don't wear bandanas, we avoid leashes, no one picks up our poop, we eat dead things we find laying around, and most importantly, we don't play games.

If you're visiting our place and throw a stick, it'll stay where it lands unless you go get it yourself. And if you're thinking of using that frisbee for anything other than an improvised food bowl, fuggidaboudit. And the last person that tried to play tug with Woody ended up on his butt 'cause Woody just let go. It's our way. My dad used to say he was "half aussie and half cantankerous" which makes me at least 1/4 cantankerous. (That's 7/4 cantankerous in dog fractions.) Woody doesn't remember his dad, but nature or nurture, he's with the program.

This is all preamble to noting that a couple dogs named Anna and Mr. Meaty, the "adventure dogs," have taken the liberty of trying to get us involved in a game called "tag." Now these are righteous dogs that go on adventures like cliff-diving in Mexico and butt-freezing in Canada. So we couldn't just offer our standard response which translates roughly to "you can take your friggin' game and stick it up the butt of that person who's holding the other end of your leash." (To which most dogs usually reply, "sweet!")

Anyway, here's the game. We're supposed to list five weird things about ourselves or our pets. Then tag five friends and make them do the same thing. Argh. Do you feel my pain?

So pay attention. Here's how this is going to play out. For starters, we're dogs. We don't have any pets. But in deference to A and Mr. M we will list five weird things about ourselves. But after that, we're through. Mr. Meaty notes that we're the only dogs online that haven't been tagged. So enough is enough. We're not going to tag anybody, thank you very much. The game stops here. We've got a reputation to protect. If we start tagging folks, they'll start expecting us to play well with other dogs and stop barking in the middle of the night. From there it's only a small step to poodle cuts and doggy boots. The horror.

  1. Woody - eye'm a sum of a bitch. it's true. eye really yam.
  2. Chigger - I love little kids. So go ahead an arrest me.
  3. Woody - eye kin lick my butt and scratch behind my years at the same thyme.
  4. Chigger - I hate canned dog food, but I eat it anyway just so Woody doesn't get it.
  5. Woody - eye half had sects 327 thymes with stump's leg.

Now I've got to go barf. (No, it doesn't have anything to do with the game. I always barf around this time of day. Really. I do.)

    August 17, 2006

btw eye am rotflmao


btw, btw, btw. ha! inn case ewe didn't no, btw stands four "buy the weigh." it's a cryptic phrase, two say the leash, butt that's knot the point. the point is that it takes eleven letters and two spaces and reuses it two three characters. that's 13 to 3! on a dog computer that's 91 characters reused to 21 characters. that's sew hot!

ken ewe sea wear aim going with this? sure ewe can. this is gong two save me sew much thyme. because it's knot jest btw. there's also lol, witch means "laughing out loud," and rotfl witch means "rolling on the floor laughing" and rotflmao witch means "rolling on the floor laughing my ask off" end imho witch means "in my human opinion."

inn case ewe haven't figured it out, what these things all half in common is that they take the first letter of each world end use it two foreign a shorter word. it's awl over the internets now. inn fact, these things our called "internet acrobats."

the only problem is that a lot of them hour useless four years truly. four instants, eye don't laugh out loud, or half human opinions or no what "buy the weigh" means.

but nun the less, this is a good think, because eye kin crepé my own internet acrobats. witch eye intend two due. hear's sum of my first wons:

dots - "drooling on the sofa"
wmf - "what? me fart?"
estcw - "ewe smell that crotch, whew"
potnt - "pissing on the neighbor's tree"
hegtetsow - "hour ewe going two eat that stake ore what?"
fmbtyk - "from my butt two yor knows"
tlcptm - "tastes like cat poop two me"
ritss - "rolling inn the smelling stuff"
ritsslmbo - "rolling inn the smelling stuff licking my balls off"
iedliekapiu - "if ewe don't like it, ewe kin always puke it up!"
bbbn - "bark! bark! bark! nevermind."

sew that's enough four now. aisle sleep on this end come up with sum moor soon. inn the meantime, if ewe half any suggest 'ems, well go ahead end suggest 'em.

    August 11, 2006

Dog Dials 911. Yawn.


Doing some digital housecleaning tonight. Getting rid of a few post-it notes as it were.

Here's a story the Internets are making a big deal about. It's a dog that dialed 911 and saved his, well, the story calls him an "owner." (I prefer the word "pawn," but then I don't work for a friggin' newspaper.)

Now all I got to say about that story is, get used to it. Dial 911? Big deal. That's what we do. Don't believe me? Then read this. And then read this.


I want to throw out a shout-out to Ash, a cool dog who has managed to put together a crib with some chickens and a couple of artists in rural Scotland. Not too shabby. It's not Frog Pond Farm with Stump and Tweet, but I could tolerate it.


On the technology side, I'm struggling to find a balance between making it easy to post comments while still making it hard enough to discourage cats and spambotulators. Today I made it a bit easier and will monitor how it goes. After all, we're dogs. We need your love. Talk to us. Please!

And finally, for dogs who are relatively new to the blog dogs, I've added a brief blog bio to the greetings dogs!!!!!!!!!! link on the upper right. Try it. You'll like it.

The Half-Life of Wolves


Tell me what this is about. Here's this human who is allegedly killed by her nine dogs, or, more accurately, half-wolf/half-dogs. Or, to add a bit of clarity to the human need for statistical analysis, she was killed by four-and-a-half dogs and four-and-a-half wolves. Now if you read the story, and you're a dog, what you really notice is the fact that, buried in the tiny type and without fanfare or elucidation, it says, the nine wolf/dogs "...were later euthanized." Now for you chihuahuas out there, that doesn't mean they got youth treatments, it means they were killed.

Now I'll refer you back to Woody's last post where a bunch of humans killed 50,000 dogs. There's no place in the small type that says anything about any of those humans getting euthanized.

I'm just sayin'.

    August 10, 2006

stop the violins


phuque, phuque, phuque. czech this out. end jest when eye was about two have a nice day. sum bunch of humid beans half kilt 50,000 dogs. y? parent lee because they whir worried about rapid dogs. now eye don't care how fast these dogs whir, that's know excuse four killing them.

chigger tells me eye am missing the point. they didn't kill them because they whir rapid, butt rather they killed them just inn case their was a chance they mite get rapid in the future. that makes me bang my head against a tree, but chigger says that this is called the bush doctrine, witch is sum hot knew idea wear ewe kill other stuff before they figure out that they mite half a reason two kill ewe. specially if they half gas, end dogs definitely half gas.

now this is knot jest sum pigment of my imagination. Look at this pitcher:

man beats dog

that is knot sum pin-yada those humids are whacking. inn fact, that looks a lot like me. eye guess the lotion of "cruel end inhumid punishment" doesn't apply if the object is snot humid.

update: hour good friend spot is eluding two the same tapestry inn her blog. butt two make matters worst, she says their going two kill another half-a-melon dogs. due the matt. that's me and chigger times 250,000. argh.

it makes me sad that humids don't love dogs as mulch as dogs love humids.

in fact, it makes me sad that humids don't love humids as mulch as dogs love humids.

update #2: from the npr blog... "One of the many reasons for the outrage," Louisa tells us, "is the barbaric methods used for massacring the dogs. In Mouding, some were beaten to death in front of their owners. Also, in order to find dogs that were hidden by their owners, culling squads went out after darkness banging pots and pans and setting off fireworks to frighten the animals into barking -- so they could track them down and kill them."


    August 7, 2006



Just to be clear on a few things, I want to revisit the issue of dogs and dummies that I raised last week. After all, there are worse things than dogs for dummies, such as DOGS FOR FREAKIN' IDIOTS. IT MAKES ME WANT TO TEAR ALL MY FUR OUT AND STICK IT UP MY NOSE. ARRRRGH.

Anyway, the obvious point is that in spite of my outspoken efforts, there are some of you dogs out there who sooner or later are going to find yourselves in the company of dummies, or, if you live in Washington, DC, maybe one of the aforementioned idiots. My message to you is don't despair. With enough effort and a ton of patience, even a total idiot can be taught a rudimentary skill or two.

Take Stump and Tweet. I mean I love those two dearly (Like I have a choice. I'm a friggin' dog. It's hardwired into my DNA.) but they were never the shiniest collars in the pet store if you know what I mean. And yet now, after only ten years, I've taught them how to spell at least six words, all because I kept working at it and never gave up.

How did I do it? I'm here to tell you.

Let's take the word "walk." If you want to teach your dummy to spell you've got to show them tons of enthusiasm and shower them with affirmation. Every time Stump or Tweet would say the word "walk" I would rush to the door then back to where they were sitting and jump and down and wag my tail real hard and pant and bark and run back to the door and so on and so forth to acknowledge the fact that that was the word we were working on. Sometimes they would figure it out and we'd go for a walk, other times they wouldn't, but I never gave up. (I knew a city dog that had some success at this stage by pooping on the kitchen floor, but that's a specialized skill that should only be used by more experienced dogs.) It also helps if you have another dog around, like Woody, to increase the level of affirmative enthusiasm.

Anyway, to make a long story short, with lots of work Stump and Tweet eventually learned to spell "walk." They were tentative, and tended to be soft-spoken about it, looking furtively and saying, "Should we take the dogs for a w-a-l-k?" But they spelled it. And because they spelled it, I could just sit there quietly and relax knowing I'd done a good thing.

These days Stump and Tweet can spell also spell "treat," "food," "bone," "dog," "bath," and "vet." I'm so proud. Will they ever be able to spell well enough to write a coherent position paper on the Boxer Rebellion? Well, you know what they say about monkeys and typewriters. But hey, at least they're not total idiots, and it goes to show that with persistence you can indeed teach an old dummy new tricks.

    August 5, 2006

cat scratch fever


ow ow ow. dang eye had the most terrible knight mare lass night. eye was sitting down two the computer two right up a really funny blog dogs entry end eye discovered that my computer was full of a million brazilian cats. then eye woke up end discovered it was reel.

this kin only bee the work of the radial write wink ex-creamist infinite cat project. it may bee two late two stop them. sigh.