Christmas Rocks!

To save time in my busy life, I've decided to combine my thank you note to my cousin, Fred, and my latest post. Fred is the first cousin I had, and about the only dog that I get along with, so I feel that it is necessary to maintain a friendly relationship since I don't really like anyone else of my kind. Hence...the need for a thank you note.

Dear Fred,

I am sorry that it has taken me so long to say thank you for my awesome stereo bone that you got me for Christmas. I admit that I was a little leery of it at first and didn't really know what to do with it. The first time I heard it make that noise, I pretty much freaked out -- I quickly dropped it and looked at it like it had just betrayed me. I did that a few times, but eventually learned that it was a "fun" sound and now I like to jump around with it in my mouth, shake my head a lot and (my most favorite) thrust it under the couch and whine...constantly...until they get it out for me. Then, I start the whole process over again. It's awesome!

They took a video of me playing with it (it's a little dark), though it does not show my finest mad skills...which is why I chose to just creepily stare at her when I realized she was videoing the whole thing. Imagine my disgust...here I am, trying out some new techniques, and she busts me. GOSH. No privacy! I guess I'll have to do my perfecting when they're at work from now on.

Love,
Bailey

Here is a picture of my cousin, Fred, from last Christmas:

My people think it is hilarious to give me "bug eyes" with my cool new bone. How humiliating! I think I'll go lay my "tail" on their pillows while they're gone tomorrow.

I Love to Bark

I love to bark. I don't need a specific reason; I just love to bark. I bark at cars driving by, I bark at my neighbors. I bark at people walking down the street and I bark at random noises that don't effect me at all. I bark at the neighbors dogs and I bark at squirrels and birds in my back yard. I bark to alert the empty house when my owners come home and I bark when I'm frustrated by the treats stuck in my kong or bone. Sometimes, I even bark when I'm dreaming.

I can't determine if the owners like it when I bark or if they're correcting me, because every time I do it, they just say my name in "that tone". I think they're encouraging me to continue, so I do. I wouldn't want to disappoint them.

Christmas is Coming

Whew, what a week it has been! I was trying to walk the owners the other day, but they kept insisting we stop at these other houses around ours. (I think they called them our neighbors?) I heard the tall one say something about having a Merry Christmas, then he gave each person a present. (I love presents...) At one house, they opened the door and out shot this scruffy cat. It must have been in awe of my dominant, masculine self, because it stopped dead in its tracks and my taller owner was able to go over, pick it up (yuck) and give it back to the neighbor. The cat's owner was stunned because they can not ever catch it that easily. They acted like my owner had some great skill, but we all know it was because of me. It's a good thing I was there to prevent all of that hassle!

Now, back to presents...as I mentioned before, I love presents. In fact, I was sniffing around this tree the other night when I detected the smell of tasty goodness hiding in the back. I guess the short owner figured I would try to get to it when they were not looking because before I knew it, they were gone. I hope they come back soon though; I'd hate for them to go to waste!

Guard Duty

The other night was a little strange. The tall owner was MIA, and the short owner wasn't concerned at all. I think he may have been stuck in that box that flashes lights and makes a lot of noise because the short owner kept looking for him in there. The short owner and I went off to bed, but I was suspicious. I slept with one eye open, for fear that someone, or something might try to invade the homestead while I had no backup. When the numbers on the noisy thing that wakes up the owners were very small, I heard a noise! I leaped down from my bed and barked ferociously, racing towards the front door. I noticed that the short owner didn't stay low like I've instructed, but I can understand. Cracking under pressure is typical in this sort of situation. I raced into the living room to find that I had already scared off the intruder and standing there was the tall owner. He didn't even realize that I had saved us all with all of that awesome noise. I let him rub his hands on my dogly coat for a bit, then I headed back off to bed... all in a night's work.

An Icy Run in the Park

Today the owner and I took a really crazy walk/run in the park. He takes me there all the time, but this time, the white stuff was mostly clear, very hard, and slippery... It doesn't bother me because I've got these great claws and hair between the pads on my feet, but my owner, that was a different story. I was groovin' up a hill when I looked back to see him laying on the ground in the middle of the woods. I laughed pretty hard, and he gave me a dirty look because I was chasing a squirrel or something. He must have slipped, but he got back up and we continued on. It's pretty cool at this park because he takes that stupid thing they call a "leash" that I use to walk him and puts it away in his pocket. I think he has problems keeping up with me as I dart from one odor to another. I think he'd rather just let me lead him around the park without being tethered, even though the signs say that owners are to be kept on a six foot leash at all times.

My owners visited Breckenridge a while ago (and left me at home gosh darnit!) and they took this picture. I am completely insulted, if I ever see a sign like that I intend to publicly urinate all over it.

Man-Dog

In case there is any ambiguity here, I am a man-dog. Yes, the name Bailey has been used for she-dogs, but let there be no question from this point forward.

I Rock the Google Video

I am totally awesome. A long time ago, my owners started putting treats on my extra dogly snout and leaving them there, telling me to "stay" while it sits there, resting in it's perfectly delectable, delicious, tasty state. I play their games. I wait patiently, not moving while they point at me and tell their human friends how "good" I am... geeze... Sometimes I throw a good bit of drool into the mix so they think I'm really suffering, whatever. When he says "get it", it's my cue. Sweet tasty treat, welcome home!

[I received a comment from Norm on this post. He wonders who "holds the leash" in my household. I like to run the show by allowing my owners to think they are in charge. This way my underlings don't lash out at me and lock me in little cages all day, eh hem... it's been a long time since I've been locked up in a little cage.]