Two years ago, I began a hard-nosed investigative journalistic expose on one Tipsy McDrinksalot, AKA “Santa Claus” AKA “Kris Kringle.” The results were inconclusive. This year… I intend to bring the fat man down.
Put aside Christmas and the whole generosity angle for a second and ask yourself this… a rotund “elf” (who happens to be human sized) breaks into your house well after everyone is asleep. He enters the house generally through the chimney or perhaps even by walking through walls. In any event, the man has no key. He is dressed from head to toe in velvet and drives a vehicle pulled by rabid deer. Reindeer. Whatever. He has an expectation that you, the home owner, will leave him food… sometimes sugary, and often with a touch of the hard stuff (um, hello eggnog?).
Now, my dear readers I ask you this… if the date on the calendar is August 15th and you encountered this gentleman in your home, would you chalk it up as a holiday miracle, or would you call 9-frickin-1-1?
Exactly. Call this pug a littlle cynical, but I’m not buying the whole thing. Furthermore, with several trillion cups of eggnog in his belly, I’m guessing Santa’s blowing a breathalyzer WELL above legal flying limits, thereby putting our entire North American airspace in great jeopardy.
People… this is serious. I began my investigation yesterday at Bloomingdales. They had Santa there taking pics with dogs for a Humane Society event. The perfect cover – I had my undercover team snap the shot you see above. Although Santa seems to look different than last we met (strangely so, in fact… it was like they were two different people: clearly he’s a master of disguise) I could tell there was something not quite right.
Of course, he’s smart this Claus guy. No sudden movements. He petted me right. Gave me a treat. Hmmm… he’s a shifty one that Kris Kringle. I’ll keep my eyes locked on you buddy…
SC ’06 – not the same dude?
It was cold in DC this week… like freezing cold. Now, for those of us who are from the hinterlands of western NY, we’re used to it. And frankly, being a pug… it’s much easier to breathe in the cold than in the hot. So, I go out sans sweater to play ball even when it’s in the mid 30’s (or in the single digits for all you metric fans out there).
Quick update on my worms… I think I have em licked. I hear muttering about another round of medicine in 2 weeks to get larvae, whatever the heck they are… and I have to say I welcome it. In order to take this medicine, I need to have the powder sprinkled on wet food. I don’t normally get wet food, so basically Tim just poured gravy over the muffins he bakes me. So, I might just have to get hookworms all the time, ’cause I love me some gravy, yo!
So, that’s the scoop. A lot of people wonder if I’m going to be out for the inauguration next month, but I don’t do crowds all that well, so I think I’ll kick it with tim and kimberly at the studio and watch on the tv. I’m still hoping the dog they get over at 1600 Pennsylvania is someone I can roll with. We DC dogs need to stick together…
I hear I’ll be getting a new neighbor down on Pennsylvania and 16th… and they’ll be bringing along a new dog too! Perhaps he or she (paws crossed for a girl dog! va va va voom!) might have a slightly better temper than the current resident… check out the fangs, yo!
Seriously though, I think Barney’s pretty funny. I also think he’s a bit cranky that the moment DC is about to get a shot of adrenaline, he’s been informed that he’ll be moving to west Texas. Nothing against west Texas, mind you… but I don’t think there’s many decent gourmet organic pet food establishments in Crawford.
Anyways, on behalf of the DC establishment of pooches, best of luck to Barney the fierce and a welcome to the future new dog in the big white house down the block…
Yeah, that’s me chillin’ and chompin’ on my compressed rawhide bone while Kimberly shows people how to stretch their spine six ways to Sunday. I’m, like, totally famous. I’d do yoga too, except it might make my body totally more ripped and cut. There’s a point where you can’t improve upon physical perfection, and I’m humble enough to not want to show up others even more than I do. Namaste.
The dogists at Mitchell Park are basically kicking us out. We’re clean and nice, but they have issues with dogs. I have a theory that they probably got barked at once and wildly misinterpreted the kindly “hello” as “dude, I so want to bite you in the butt.” We need translators to help with the next round of negotiations. Anyways, they sicked the Park Police on us, so we get the boot. Luckily, I’m not one to direct scorn and ridicule in my blog. I’m way bigger than that, yo.
The weather’s been ridiculously hot until last night… we got one of those boomers that brings temperatures down to normal pug friendly numbers, so today with my walker Juan was waaaaaay better than normal.
By the way, if you’re into walkers and you’re in DC, you really need to get hooked up with Juan. He’s super nice and leaves little notes for Tim and Kimberly when he comes back with me. Most them include my bathroom proclivities (which I think should be private, but whatevs) and how I fare in the waters of Rock Creek Park. If you want the hook up, email me at louisthepug -at- gmail -dot- com and I’ll give you the scoop. Juan’s the man, yo!
Because it’s summer (note: I recognize it’s not summer until later in the month, but when we hit triple digits, it’s summer by my non-rotation of the earth around the sun standards!), Kimberly fed me some ice cream…. problem is I can’t lick down. That may be amusing to you, but I find it to be problematic when I have ice cream on my bottom chin. Not cool…. not cool at all.
By the way WOOHOOOOOOO WINGS!!! They’d never won the Cup in my lifetime… it’s nice to finally see one, even though Tim says he’s seen 4 of em in the last 11 years now. He’s old.
it’s been a crazy long time since I’ve posted. It’s largely because Kimberly and Tim have been moving an entire business from one side of Dupont Circle to another. Who knew moving could be so dramatic? G-Ma was in town and took good care of me, and I also now have a dog walker. Juan takes me out every weekday and I get to roll with a new playgroup. Most of the dogs are way bigger than me, but I keep them on their toes ’cause I’m waaaaay faster.
How about them Red Wings? Tim and I watched Game 1 together in our gear. I grew so bored by the lack of fight in the Dallas Stars that I fell asleep midway through the game. Maybe Game 3 they’ll show up… nah, probably not…
Hopefully my little hiatus didn’t bum ya out. Plenty of me to go around, yo. By the way… Bonnard? Still fat. Exhibit A: