Thanks Santa

Santa is the best.  He told Chlo-wee that I am contagious.  And that she should love me and all of my ways.  And she did.  Chlo-wee is very noisy when she is playing with me.

I am such a happy camper on Santa's day.

Dear Santa

Dear Santa, I want to play for Christmas.  For about 3 hours straight.  And there should be toys involved.  And the foster people should move the furniture so I can twist and turn into little pretzel shapes with my little body.

For Christmas, I want to show Chlo-wee how precious I am when I open my little troll mouth.

And do twisties on the floor like a little fishie.

And even though it's taken 4 weeks for Chlo-wee to pay attention, I want you to make her love me until she can't stand it anymore and caves.  Because I am so damn cute.

The Ancient One

I finally met the Chi-wa-wee they call "The Ancient One" today.  

"The Ancient One"

 She has been with the foster people the longest, and she lives in a cave in the back of the house.  I am always in my crate when I hear the shuff-shuff, shuffling coming from the cave...across my room...and to the backyard and then back again.  But slowly, like a long-lost ritual, I got to see her.  Just a glance at first.  If I forgot to look, I would miss her, and for awhile I thought she was trying to play tricks on me.  And then I got to be outside the room with my leash on only.  But, I was never allowed to look directly at her.

"The Ancient One" has many rules.  When I get too close, she opens up her mouth at me and I have to run away because I think she has an angry squirrel that crawled up inside and fell asleep in there.  When I want to smell her butt, she goes into a scary dance, and at first I think she is playing so I play bow, but the foster lady says that will only get me into trouble because "The Ancient One" is displeased.

I think she is so small that it would be fun to roll her around like a circus ball on my paws, but when I asked her to do this with me, she said foul language at me.  I got so fus-trated that I peed on the foster people's table.

But the lady says I'm being a good boy and that I just have to let her "be." Anyways, I snuck into the Chi-wa-wee's cave last night and found this picture tucked underneath her bed.

I think that she has a spell that gives dogs Bad Manners, so I will limit my time with her and just be a good boy...on my bed...with my toys.  A little fus-trated, feeling like I need to pee on many things, but safe at least.     

I am a happy boy

This is me after playing with my flirt pole.  My tongue is very long.

The lady asked me to sit with my tongue for a happy shot.

Wait...did you take my groovy side?

Yes, yes you did.

I am a helpful boy

I learned to roll over today.  And I also learned to be helpful in the kitchen.

And when Mister wants to light a fighter.

And when the lady folds blankets and she wants to make sure they all fit in the closet.  This is me smooshing them down.

 And this is me running with "crazy eyes."  I am helping other dogs run after me.  The lady and Mister say I am a very busy boy being helpful.

This is Me. This is my Crate.

I have spent some time thinking about a way to memorialize my "alone time," which I hate.  Today, I shared with the lady my ab-horr-ence (learn a new word every today...check), with the thing that has cuddly things inside it and treats tucked in the crevices but also has "alone time" and THAT cancels out everything else.  I did it in a song...a ballad, if you will.  An old ballad from the olden days.  Low, long yodels.  Little bubbles of song deep from my belly that go on for a long time.  The lady took this picture after I was done.  She said that it showed my per-son-a-lity but it wouldn't help my case.  I need to be one with my "alone time," she said.  I will sneak a recorder in with me next time so I can start my new album, "The Life and Times of a Foster Dog Who Doesn't want to be one with alone time but just wants to be one with the people and the stuffies and the walking around the city and cuddling and learning parlor tricks." 

The Art of Pleasing

My foster lady says I'm like the Goldilocks story.  She says I'm "Just Right."  She said this after I learned how to lay down when she told me to.  I already knew to lay down, see?  This is me laying down with Penny (I miss her by the way).  But I get sweet goodies when I do things that my foster mom says I should do.  She also said I was "Just Right" to the foster Man when I came up and snuggled in her armpit.  And she said it again after I played really hard with my stuffy toy and then fell asleep.


Here is me laying down in black and white.  I did it so fast and fancy-like that it means I was doing an "Art," so we put it in a picture with no colors.

She doesn't say I'm just right or doing an "Art" all the time though.  She made a stinky face when it was so cold outside today and she wanted me to potty so I stood straight and did it on my feet to warm them up.  It sure felt "Just Right."