I might have to do one of these myself at some point…
This dude was asking for it.
Allegedly, Tim was going to take me on grand adventures by bike. Yeah, that’s not happening. Please enjoy this pictoral and video history of my brief bike touring career…
Tim is watching the basketball game… it appears the state of Michigan is not getting good news tonight as North Carolina is making them look like Tim’s CYO basketball team circa sophomore year (I won’t mention he rode pretty deep on the bench… oh wait, I just did…)
Tim’s been busy rehabbing his new cabin in West Virginia, so I’ve been able to go out and run around the land a bunch lately. Sounds like we may be going out there a lot starting this summer, so I’m pretty psyched. The other day I got to bark at wild turkeys. Wild turkeys! who knew they made em that way? The only way this city dog ever sees a turkey usually is at Thanksgiving and they look waaaaaaay different.
Alright, enough blogging. Don’t forget to check me out on Twitter… I post there a lot more often than I blog these days, but you probably noticed that…
Introducing the unholy alliance of puggle and Louis the Pug. Allow me to explain.
A wise man… or at least a man… once suggested that the enemy of my enemy is my friend. Well, puggles are my enemy… we’ve established that. But ticks, as we have learned (check out my Twitter feed for the news… I gots me the bacteria that cause Lyme Disease in me) are the enemy of me AND my enemy. Simple tautology, yo… me and the puggles are allied against these freaks:
Now… let me see if I can explain this all to the puggles… verrrrrrry… slllllllowwwwwly. (they ain’t bright).
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?
So, it’s been a while since I posted… I could go into all of the reasons why (international intrigue, massive economic collapse impacting Louis the Pug Industries, followed by a rebound and the acquisition of the other 2/3 of the Fortune 500, and… of course, a brief stay in the gray bar motel) but that might be telling too much.
Instead, let me tell you about 2 cool new things on this, the day after my fourth burfday.
(1) I got to hang out on a Caterpillar, thereby enhancing my love of commercial demolition equipment, and
(2) Tim just pulled a huge friggin tick out of my skull.
The first is self-explanatory. The second is worth describing. Man, they are guh-ROSS! I got it during cabin week in WV… I think it might have a pint and a half of LTP goodness in its gullet. Tim did a lookup and it’s not a deer tick or anything else that could do some harm to yours truly. He did slather about 5 gallons of antibiotic ointment on it now, which makes my fur look all spikey and stuff. Who knew triple antibiotic ointment was a proper substitute for haircare product?
Anyways, the tick’s in a plastic bag so I can taunt it. And if that’s not a burfday present, I don’t know what is…
Oh yeah… hockey season kicked off too. Oh, and the Bills are playing really good for the first time in my life. The gifts keep coming, yo!
Furley and I made up the other day… basically I just told him what was what, and he could just deal with it, yo. Actually, I think he just actually forgot about our little altercation the other night… cool dog, just not the sharpest knife in the drawer if you know what I mean.
Anyways, he and I engaged in a spirited wrasslin’ session tonight. You know… when he wasn’t barkin’ at Bonnard and Matisse. The kid’s not used to cats. Come to think of it… neither am I.
I’m beat. Off to bed…
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.
This is me chillin waiting for Kimberly to finish up her workshop here in NC. What a day.
Started off fine… Dogpark yadda yadda yadda. Then, I inexplicably began drooling luke a friggin Mastiff. Like cup fills of drool. Seriously gross. Tim had no idea what was up so he turned his iPhone to “the google” (as that guy in that white house down the street calls it… I think he’s a little slow on “the uptake” but I try to stay outta human politics). He figured out it was either upset stomach, bloat, or a new disease to be named later. Two hours of going vet to vet led us to closed vets and finally a PetSmart with a smart vet tech. One half of a pepcid later and I’m drool free and the proud owner of a new shirt that Tim thinks makes me look cool (see below). All in all… quite a day.
Next stop Asheville tonight. Hoping for some mountain runnin’ tomorrow afternoon!
Video quality’s not exactly hi-def, but check me and Furley out!