Too Many Things to Sniff

This is Dickens. Every morning at 5:30, Daddy takes Bob and then me outside so we can do our business. The last couple of mornings, I've been too busy barking and sniffing the air to bother with pooping. This gets daddy mad. He pulls on my leash and urges me to do the "poopie dance," where I walk back and forth and go in ever smaller circles until I find the exact place to poop. When I don't feel like pooping, I just plant all four feet on the ground and give him a defiant look, which of course makes him madder. As Bob has told you, it's fun to make Daddy mad. I know that I can always poop in the kitchen. Daddy doesn't like it, and I don't get a treat out of the deal, but lucky for me, Daddy isn't of the rub-their-faces-in-it school. I just hang my head and act all dumb and ashamed, and Daddy sighs, gets a wad of toilet paper and cleans it up. I can get away with all of this, because I'm the kissie dog, and I kiss Daddy's face while looking at him with my loving, soulful schnoodle eyes!

Mr. Kissie

This is Dickens. Mommy and Daddy let me come up on the bed for a little while last night. Now I know why Bob likes to sleep up there. There's all sorts of space to roll around and be a kissie dog, which I'm so good at.

Another Hot Day

This is Dickens. It's another hot day. Mommy and Daddy went to Wal-Mart last night and got a big fan to put in front of our cage. It was a real sacrifice for Daddy, because he hates Wal-Mart. I don't understand why; they always have low prices. Always. Anyway, Daddy left us this morning with a dish full of water, but we probably won't drink most of it until he gets home, because we sleep all day. Come to think of it, I feel a nap coming on right now...

Hot Hot Hot

Bob again. I didn't even feel like eating my breakfast this morning, it's so hot. I just sat on my "girlfriend" (a blanket I'm in love with)and watched Dickens eat his breakfast. Mommy and Daddy put an air conditioner in the window the other night. I really liked it; Daddy says I was sleeping on my back with my paws in the air, getting all the cool air I could.
It's so darned hot I don't even feel like barking!

Hard Work

Bob here. As Daddy's favorite person, George W. Bush, might say, maintaining an interesting blog day-to-day is "hard work." Daddy assures us that each one of us separately has more brain power than the twice-appointed war criminal in the White House. We can't help but agree. We know where to pee and poop, and we haven't caused the deaths of untold thousands through our arrogance and incompetence. We have, of course, barked at untold hundreds of other living things, and that which we don't bark at we are sure to sniff. Anyhow, I'm kind of rambling on here because not much of importance has occurred. It's somewhat hot out, so we don't eat quite as fast, and we try to get more sleep. I guess we'll do some of the latter now....

Our Camping Trip

Bob here. Friday night, Daddy came home and started bustling around getting things ready. I knew this meant we were going on a trip, so I barked nonstop just in case Daddy forgot that we wanted to go, too. Mommy came home and did some packing, too, but we didn't get in the car and go until it was nearly dark. When we got to the campground, Mommy had some trouble driving between the big rocks on either side of the driveway to the campsite. (Daddy's a big chicken, and won't drive the car when it's pulling the trailer.) We went to bed soon after, but Daddy was kept awake by the drunk people at a neighboring site. I got to sleep on Daddy's bed, but it got so cold I had to curl up into a little white ball to stay warm.
The next morning, Daddy as usual got me and Dickens up so we could do our business. Just then, the drunk neighbors started blasting their country music radio station. Daddy yelled as loud as he could "IT'S FIVE O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING! PLEASE TURN THE MUSIC DOWN!" This had no effect on the hungover Hank fans, who, fortunately for Daddy's piece of mind, went on to another campground to spread their infuriatingly obnoxious behavior. We got set up in our cage under a "screenhouse" to protect us from the sun, along with tarps so we couldn't see any other people. This didn't keep us from barking, because barking is our job. It rained really hard in the afternoon, so Mommy took us into the camper. Because the camp rules for pet owners say 1)keep your dogs quiet; 2)don't leave your dogs alone; and 3)don't take your dogs to the beach, Mommy and Daddy were pretty much stuck at the campsite with us. Which, of course, was just how we wanted it! At night, they snuck us down to the beach, so we could see all sorts of lights in the sky,and hear all sorts of big booms. Dickens sat on Mommy's feet most of the time, and then pooped twice on the way back to camp. He's a big chicken, just like Daddy.