Pooped.

Poop.
     Or, Poo, for short.
That's right, I'm going to talk about it.  Because, whether you want to hear it or not: We dogs love poop. LOVE it.

That's one of the many mysteries of humans.  Why don't you like it?  I mean, you don't just dislike the aftermath of a meal, you treat it with disdain.  You even have a not-so-clever saying for it: Treated like crap.  I won't use the other word for poop here - you know what I mean.
But, if you were a dog, and one of your K9 companions treated you like crap, they'd actually be giving you the highest honors.  It could also mean that they are eating you, depending on their preferences.

Here is how humans see poop, based on my observations:
1) They definitely poop indoors, and usually do it behind closed door, like it's something to be embarrassed about.  Which raises the question:  Why is it such an issue when I poop inside?
2) They don't like to talk about it.  Not when it pertains to them, at least.
3) They don't like the smell. I've gathered this from the gagging (which I've learned is also a form of showing disdain) that occurs when my aforementioned pooping-inside happens (which it does, from time to time).
          3a) And, too add to this, though I'd think it goes without saying: They don't like the taste. I've never seen them try to taste it, but considering how angry they get with me when I'm enjoying some nice, fresh poo, they don't prefer it.

And that brings me to my next point in my poopy postulation: Don't humans understand the importance of having a balanced diet?  I hear mom and dad constantly talking about eating healthier (usually, it's right before they settle down to their Thursday, "Beer & Pizza Night").  It's a known fact that our bodies have difficulty getting all the necessary nutrients out of every meal - it's just too much for our bellies to process.  So, why not re-eat what we've eaten before to get any leftover nutrients?  It's good, and good for us AND the environment! Yeah, you hear me correctly - I'm calling out the benefits of recycling, too!  It's a much more environmentally friendly option to what humans do with our poop - bag it up and throw it away! What's up with that?  Whether we're on a walk, and I leave a little treasure behind for some unsuspecting lucky dog; or it's in the back yard.  They're right behind us with a shovel and a bag.  Now don't tell me that's not a little strange.

And here is how dogs see poop:
1) We prefer to poop outside.  The better to share with our friends!  However, we don't need to abide by any social protocol that requires us to "hold it."  So, if we need to poop right now, we'll poop right now - discretion be damned.
2) We would talk about it all day, if we could!  What do you think we dogs are barking back and forth to each other about all the time?  That's right, it's poop.  That's about the only thing that little Bean, Zeus and I have in common. It's all we talk about!
3) If we had opposable thumbs, the first thing we dogs would do is bottle our fecal scents to wear later.  Mmm, I'm drooling just thinking about it.
4) Poop is a K9 delicacy.  See above for further detail.

So, next time you scold your pooch for any poop-related activity that you deem inappropriate, remember what I've said here.

I don't doubt that you will, I'm sure it's seared into your mind.  And for that, you are welcome.

Tooth Fairy Ain't Got Nothin on Me

They talked about it for weeks.
          Then they went out and actually bought the stuff.
                    They took another week to ponder the idea some more.
                              And then it happened.

They Brushed My Teeth.

They started with Zeus.  I think it's because his breath could be used as a weapon of war if there was a way to bottle it and spread it across an entire country.  One lick, and he can render mom and dad useless...they gag, they whine, they cry (ok, that's exaggerated a little. But they do beg him to stop).  It's sad, really, because that little Bean sure loves to lick his family. And his couch. And his toys, and his bed. And anyone that comes within tongue's reach.  Actually, knowing his demeanor...maybe he has already realized his breath is a weapon of war.  Good dog.

I also think they started with Zeus because he is an even bigger sucker for treats than me.  The toothpaste they used is chicken flavored.  The only thing we love more than peanut butter is chicken!  He played along the first time, let them brush his teeth - and his breath was tolerable for at least a day!  The second try was not quite as successful...

{Don't be fooled. He's actually wide awake. Just seconds before, he has been licking the toothpaste off the brush.  But, when mom tried to actually brush his teeth, he immediately laid his head back down and pretended to sleep until she left.  No joke.  He's inspirational.}

So, mom moved on to me.  I know she gives me pets, and I know she always tells me I'm a good dog.  But, when she puts her mind to doing something absolutely ridiculous, like brush my teeth, she turns into something completely different from herself.  Something evil.

{The tools of torture.  There is also a finger brush, but apparently mom doesn't feel comfortable putting her fingers directly in my mouth when she knows I'm upset. I can't understand why!}

{This was fine.  Some harmless chicken flavor on mom's fingers.  This, I can handle.}

{Ok. Weird, but not horrible. I don't mind licking the chicken flavor off of this brush, though I thought it was strange that mom didn't just keep letting me lick it off her finger.}

{ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!  WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!}

{And this is where I put myself until mom took the brush away.  I wish I knew how to fake sleep.}

Now my teeth are squeaky clean.  What's that the wolf said when his teeth were complimented?  

The better to eat you with, Zeus.

I Gotta Bone To Pick

So I was given a rawhide bone for Christmas.  It was scary at first, but then I got used to it and grew to love it unconditionally.

Until I ate the entire thing.

The good news? Zeus got one, too.  A smaller one...because he's a little Bean.  He was never scared of his, but he was never particularly keen on it, either.  Thus, I had 2 bones!

And here is where the picking comes in.

Just because I might have given one little growl (or 5) or whipped my head away from mom aggressively (not my brightest moment), I got it taken away!  I haven't seen it for at least a day!

How is that fair?

I mean, what rude gift-givers mom and dad are. 

And I know I'm short, but do they really think that I don't see the bone high up on the mantel?  Well, I see it.  And I want it.

I feel like they want me to learn something from this.  I tried to sit and figure it out, but I decided to nap instead.  I'll think about it later.

All I know now is: this is ridiculous!

Mornings

Mornings are my favorite time of the day.
         I also like afternoons.
                    And evenings aren't too shabby.
                             I don't mind nights, either. Some of my best work is done at night.

But, I've decided this segment will be about mornings, and about mornings it shall be.

I wake up around the 3rd time Mom's alarm goes off.  You see, she's a fan of the snooze - and me, well, I'm a fan of waking up very slowly.  It's also around the third time that mom finally gets up herself and swings her legs over the side of the bed.  It is then that, out of self defense, I lift my oversized forehead off my bed to look up.

As I mentioned before, my dog bed is on mom's side of the human bed - but on the floor.  So, depending on its exact position in relation to the human bed, how sleepy mom is, and where my head is placed in the bed - my reaction time in waking up varies morning to morning.  This morning, it was swift.  And just in time.

My day then proceeds like this:

1.) Wake up (avoid foot on head)

2.) Stretch. Most often with butt in sky and head down low.  Where do you think they get the yoga move, "downward dog."  Just an extension of the human's desire to be more like their canine counterpart.

3.) Make any noise I can muster:  Groan, Snort, Yap, Moan, Bark, Howl, Cry.  Depends on the morning and just how I'm feeling (and whether I escaped the foot in time).

4.) Jump at dad.

5.) Jump at dad, again, for good measure.

5 is the highest I can count to...it's up to you to list these numerically in your head from here on out. Frankly, you should be impressed that I got you to 5.)  Jump at Zeus.

Remember when I mentioned that my reaction time is directly related to the proximity of mom's feet to my head?  Dad's reaction / wake up time is in direct connection with how close to Zeus I get with the first jump.

Get carried downstairs by dad.  Funny thing about this one.  I can go UP stairs just fine.  I do it whenever I want (and when mom and dad say its ok). I can go up stairs fast, I can go up stairs slow. I can stop halfway up the stairs just to take a look around before continuing my journey up.

Down is another story.  Some may say this is very cow-like of me. But it turns out, some would be wrong.  

Anyway.

Due to extenuating circumstances beyond my control (ie: mom and dad never wanted me to learn to go downstairs for fear I may make a break for it at our second apartment on the second floor), I don't go downstairs.  Period.  Well, that's a lie.  If it's 3 stairs or less, and I get a running start - I can leap over them.  It always makes mom a little sick to her stomach to watch it.

So now we're downstairs.

I go outside. Do my business.

Come inside for the Most Wonderful Time of the Day.

Go back outside to finish my business (there is too much outside to discover in the morning. I don't have time to do both 'tricks' my first time out!)

RUN back upstairs to go watch mom and dad get ready for work.

And to chew on socks.

And jump at Zeus.

And lick the shower water (more on that another time).

And lick mom's lotion (yum).

And then, finally, the humans are ready for work.

So I'm carried back outside.

Where I proceed to do none of my business because, honestly people, I already did it once for you today, and don't you think that's enough before 8AM?

Come inside, where I'm set up in my Play Pen.

Get my treat.

Eat my treat.

Watch mom and dad leave.

Bark.

Chew on a toy.

A number after 5.) Sleep.

And that's why mornings are my favorite.

{Helping Mom put on her shoes. It's the last thing she does before we go back downstairs.  We do not eat shoes. We do not eat shoes. We do not eat shoes.}

{This is my playpen.  And thats my Tire.  And that's my bone. I love my bone. And that's my bed.  My bed's comfy. And that's my ball. I usually leave it under the couch, but one of the humans got it out for me and I love my ball. And that's my water on a placemat because I can be a messy drinker. Imagine that.  And that's me. See: Bark.}

Night Night

You may be noticing a common theme with me:  I like to sleep.  Whether it's Bedtime (called "Night Night" by my humans...even though I'm 2 and Zeus is almost 13....and the last thing we need in our lives is MORE babytalk), Naptime, a car ride, or any other situation where I can lie still long enough to close my eyes and relax - I love sleeping.

You see, I'm a million-kilometer a minute puppy (I'm Welsh, I use the metric system. America needs to get on board).  When I'm awake, I'm AWAKE.  There is no mistaking it.  I jump like Michael Jordan, run like Jesse Owens, bark at a decibel Susan Boyle can only dream of,  and lick with a ferocity that has only been noted once before: in Clifford the Big Red Dog.  Oh, and there may be some lunging at Zeus, the occasion nipping of ears, and the very rare biting of fingers.  Hardly ever, actually. Don't quote me on that.

But my biggest energy depleting activities fall into 3 categories:  Doggy Daycamp, Wrestling, and Walkies.  Damn, the babytalk has infiltrated my brain.  More on those activities later.  

So, with all this daily excitement, when I crash - I crash hard.  I'm talking, borderline comatose:  Eyes half open, unseeing; the occasional whimper/snort/snore that doesn't even cause me the slightest flinch; limp arms and legs (yes, dogs call our front feet arms) that can be shaken unmercifully by the humans without my notice; and kicking that can go on for minutes.  Squirrels are really fast in my sleep.  It's truly a thing of beauty.

Night Night used to take place on the Human Bed.  Mom never intended it to be that way.  But between my big brown eyes and Dad's rubber backbone, I was on the bed and in my spot faster than you could say rawhide!  But, a few unfortunate instances too many occurred (I've been asked not to comment at length. I'll just say, canine had it comin' to him); along with my inability to sit still (see above, Re: Awake), my affinity for licking (again, above) and my love for laying on all things cranial (human, dachshund - I don't discriminate) -- I found myself curled up in my little bed on the floor in no time at all.

Don't get me wrong, I don't mind it. I'm right by the Human Bed if I ever want to steal something from the laundry basket to leave underneath for later entertainment, or want to jump up (see: Michael Jordan reference) to get a nice lick on a human hand - or, if I'm lucky - face.  It has its advantages.  But I do miss that nice cozy spot between mom and dad - where I could kick my feet right into dad's lower back with as much force as a 30 pound dog can muster on her side (which is a surprising amount). 

Maybe one day I'll earn my spot back on the human bed.  Until then, Zeus can sleep a little sounder, and I'll have to be content scaring the bejeezus out of him in the daylight - which also has its perks.

Night Night!

{Zeus, on his 'spot'.  Lucky Dog.}

{Nope, no socks under here. Don't even bother checking. I'm asleep, anyway!}

{Peaceful puppy. A little too peaceful, if you ask me.}

Napping House

'Twas the day after Christmas, and all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, especially Zeus.
Big Bang Theory played on a continuous loop,
and I layed on the floor, feeling beyond pooped.

Mom & dad on the couch, computers in laps
Zeus in between, enjoying his fourth nap.
Because yesterday was Christmas, filled with joy
And I spent too much time chewing on my new toys.

So now we're all resting, enjoying the day,
Not thinking, not moving, not trying to play.
Maybe later we'll get up and go for a walk,
But for now I'm happy, snuggling with my flock.

A Very Corgi Christmas

I'm not even sure if the past few days were real.  But, boy, did they fly by.  My humans put me through a Christmas marathon unparalleled by any other.  At least, I'm sure it's unparalleled. I've only had one other Christmas with my family, and it was not nearly as exciting as this one.  Phew.

It started Christmas Eve morning. In anticipation for the inevitable onset of the insanity that is sharing a Christmas with multiple families, my mom and dad decided we would have our Christmas on Christmas Eve morning.  Now, I'm pretty traditional.  At least, that's what I'm told - being the Queen's Dog and all - it would make sense that I hold tradition on a pedestal.  So, although I wasn't sure this was the best idea, I was willing to try it.  I mean, it meant I was getting presents, right?

So we got our stockings and, with a little help from the humans, ripped into our presents like there was no tomorrow.

There was a little confusion for Zeus...

In the end, mom had to take Zeus's stocking away so he would pay attention to his new toys.  What a senile old fart.

I, however, got the ultimate gift.  It was myrrh, frankincense, and gold all rolled into 1 (for Corgis):  A peanut butter flavored rawhide!! 

It took a second or two for me to warm up to the idea...

But it wasn't long until my new Chew and I were inseparable.

Apparently you can only chew on your rawhide for an hour at a time - according to mom and dad.  Which, I think is a ridiculous rule.  And they keep taking my bone away... then giving it back.... then taking it away again! It is getting very frustrating!

But that's neither here nor there.  Back to Christmas!

I guess I should mention that Zeus got toys, too. Here he is enjoying them.

He sure does know how to have fun.

The rest of the day consisted of getting ready for everyone to come over, and then everyone coming over!  It was all very exciting. I got to jump on so many people (which I've been told I shouldn't be bragging about), and lick so many faces.  I did learn, though, that it is a little scary to watch everyone open presents.  Here are some pictures from the evening.  

I spent most of the time under dad's feet.  It was nice and safe there.

I did manage to find my way onto a few laps.

Zeus always seems to find his way into a box.  Here he is doing whatever it takes to get a little attention. 

I didn't need to try - note the petting.  Ok...I did try on one bow. 

What a day.  We couldn't wait for everyone to go home so that we could finally go to bed.  If that was just Christmas Eve, what will Christmas be like?  And so off to bed we went, to have Bully Sticks dance through our heads...

 Merry Christmas to All, and to All a Good Night!