I have a question

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The question:  Who out there is the real smarty pants?

Let me back track a bit.  Today when the mail was delivered I of course let everyone around know the mail delivery person had arrived.  I do this because I feel it is only nice to greet someone when they approach our door…and it is my duty to alert my pack of any potential dangers.  These two mandates are not always compatible as my fierce barking at the window to announce a threat isn’t always taken as a warm welcoming.  Nevertheless, on this occasion my reaction was justified as what was delivered was certainly an affront to my persona…and don’t tell me I can’t blame the bearer of such tidings.  He brought it, he has to deal with my ire even if it IS his job.

This was the label of the package that was delivered – clearly intended for me:

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And it must be someone I know or who reads this blog as they addressed the package using my nickname (or nom de plume) instead of The Tempest – which is my real name – which by the way, has nothing to do with my tropical storm-like destructiveness.

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This Maira woman, who I have yet to meet, does some great work capturing the canine attitude towards life, but I suspect it isn’t she who sent me these books.  No.  I think it is some smarty pants aunt (or two) of mine that is/are responsible.  Now those of you who have been reading my blog recently may be thinking that this qualifies as a proactive Christmas present that I should be grateful for receiving.  However, I feel that this was given in jest (a bit tongue in cheek – which is a weird saying as our tongues are usually hanging thoughtfully out of our mouths and therefore nowhere near our cheeks) and thus not fulfilling my intent on receiving quality presents appropriate for a diva like myself.

Therefore, I decided to express my disapproval on this box of candles (that was supposed to be a present for my FarMor), and a bottle of Vitamin water (that was supposed to help my Dad get over his cold) – both of which were within paw’s reach.  Take that, Pete’s people!

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So, in conclusion, I recommend my family carefully think about what they WILL be wrapping up and placing under the Christmas tree for me.   Just saying.

Happy Holidays!

The Tempest

The Ignobility of it all

The other day I got to go for a ride with Dad while Sammy stayed home and helped Mom make dinner.  “Oh joy!,” I thought.  Then we got in the Honda Elephant.  This is the car they picked me up in when I joined their pack and is still a vehicle I love.

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That is me back in the day.

On this occasion, I was riding shotgun:

However, this time we were not on the way to get another puppacino at Starbucks but instead we stopped at this god awful place with some horrible volatile compounds wafting through the air and irritating my nasal passages.  Wow.  Fossil fuels are something else…and something I haven’t been a part of since last December when we drove to New Mexico in the previously referenced Elephant.   And by the way, don’t get excited.  The Honda Elephant is nothing like this guy:

Sammy ran into this guy back in 2010 when he was an only dog (but with two cats taunting him).  This was a genuine African elephant – but made of bike tires – and was driving out to Montana and stopped in Highland Park.  Boy do I wish I was there to lift my leg on that hunk of petroleum products.

Speaking of, this gets me back to the drive to the gas station that I took with my Dad.  After arriving at this “station” which stunk to high heaven and at which we could not procure any whipped cream confections, I was left alone in the Elephant while the old guy got out and started really stinking up the joint.

In some of those photos you can barely see me because of the horrendous glare and lights at the place, but with a little work in iPhotos I was able to help The Scribe get me some visibility.

Suffice it to say that this trip, along with the buzz collar and the whole putting me in people clothes has left me a bit miffed.  And I am not even going to mention the missed birthday celebration for which I was surely deserving despite having rotten parents.

So I may have just taken out my frustrations on some of the stuff my parents recently got – including some real tasty leather boots.  The hefty bags were fun to shred but not nearly as palatable as the UGGs.

I am thinking they will NOT forget my Christmas presents 🙂

The Tempest

P.S.  Sammy says Santa needs to bring stuff for two stockings for him, as he is back in shape and… bring it on!

Mourning Sickness

Do not be alarmed.  Sammy is not pregnant…nor was he any worse for the wear once mid-day rolled around.   But it was a hard morning for him.  And this is despite the fact that he got good news about his blood tests and the sample they took from his newest lump.  Apparently, some (one of multiple) liver enzyme is out of the normal range and the mass is some nasty sebaceous cyst of some sort that may blow up but then again may not.  What his problem was this morning is anyone’s guess.  He could not sit still.  He stumbled into walls.  He kept making that horrible pre-puke face and was stumbling around the house prior to our walk.  But the old guy powered through our morning journey with a smile on his face – except when he ended up like this:

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OK.  It wasn’t really projectile like this photo…I guess a photo of my parent’s art…?

None-the-less he barfed up some bile and didn’t even poop during our whole trek.  And pre-puke we took a longer route to work with the old man.  THEN he didn’t eat his breakfast, or the rice made for him, or … well he wasn’t offered steak but the look on his face made me think he’d even pass that up.   Then for the next couple of hours he couldn’t sit still.  He’d lay down.  Stand up.  Move 3 feet.  Sit down…or try to.  And then right back up again.   Eventually, Dad and I stayed really still on the couch – not a challenge for him or me at my current weight – and Sammy took a nap.  When he re-awoke he was his old self and wanted breakfast even though it was closer to lunch time (a meal we usually don’t get to take advantage of).

So no need to be mourning here today.  Which reminds me of a different story.  This one was before my time but Sammy shared it with me not too long ago.  Apparently there are these birds called mourning doves.  They would just sit on the telephone line as Sammy and Banshee would jump and bark at them.  Dad walked out to see what the ruckus was all about and mumbled to himself about them being dumb as stumps.  Mom said that was so not fair as they harbingers of peace.  Which Dad then responded that those birdbrains are not regular doves (that bring peace) but loud, dog-taunting flea bags.  Said Mom, “that is so not nice.  I am going to ask my Mom.”  Grandmother said, “Yep.  Not the sharpest of the bird kingdom.”  But Mom maintains to this day that we are all insensitive and have a lot to aspire too.

And, so, back to today, and the indignancies I had to endure after Sammy was back to his normal self.

Really people?  Socks and a shirt?  What the….?  And they know I hate having my feet messed with.  And if you can’t tell from these pics I also have a buzz collar on.  Talk about a buzz kill.  I couldn’t even properly defend myself to this newest torture.

And then when dinner time came around Sammy took his sweet old time.  And once again, I behaved with utmost respect for my elder and stood back while he finished (maybe there was a slight reminder from one of my parents).  But you can see from these pics that I was duly reverential to the old guy.

Well, until he started licking MY bowl:

I guess in the end, things are back to normal with the exception of the buzz collar being on a little more frequently.   Sam is pretty much as good as you can expect for a 15 year old pup.  I on the other hand, am feeling a need to behave more than I ever have…but don’t let that lull you to sleep – as you may see in a future blog  😉.

The Tempest

Significant Digits: 62-58

Today we went to the vets to get Sammy a “now you’re 15” check up – prior to our impending holiday road trip(s).  As we have learned from our grandparents, it is always good to get a tune up before hitting the road.   During this visit Sammy weighed in at a mere 58 pounds.  His diet is working!  We have been trying to drop him down to help him with all his neuropathies and feebleness.   Of course, I still give him a work out whenever I can to help keep his muscles toned.  I find jumping on his head or bulldozing him from the side is really what he needs to stay fit (and young at heart and mind).

During his examination, they did feel a mass in his armpit that was a little concerning to the vet – not like the b-cup boob he grew on his side a few years ago.  They aspirated out some samples from this subcutaneous amorphous blob to determine if it is really something to be worried about.  Now, many of you may have put “mass” in his armpit with a reduction in his total “mass” (e.g. weight) as a bad sign.  And it could be, but wait until you hear this bit of news.

I now weigh 62 pounds!   Booyah!  I took over the top dog post in our house.  Eat that Sambuca.

In other words, Sammy’s weight loss could just be a result of his diet – which of course I have taken seriously by acting as his “coach” by eating any extra calories that might prevent him from achieving his goals.   As you can see here, I was on pins and needles when they took him out of the room to get weighed:

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We hope that he is just fine – for a 15 year old.

To celebrate my coaching success and my taking over top dog status, we got to stop at Starbucks for a puppy shot!

Unfortunately, we had to wait until we got home to enjoy the treat since I took over the front seat while we were in line at the drive-through.   But to be fair, it was because Sammy was being so lame in the back seat.  Definitely NOT my fault.

Screen shot from the slo-mo video of us sharing the pup shot:

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As you can see, Sammy’s tongue is in fine working order even if his hind leg isn’t always cooperative, and if he does have two broken lower canine teeth.   Luckily, he didn’t have to get the lamp shade like this little fella from The New Yorker or it would have been really hard to share this treat.

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It was also fortunate that I had the forethought to bring my new purse along so I could pay for our treat.  Sammy claimed to have “forgotten” his wallet…again.

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After all my hard work (and what I had to endure), not even the kick from our Starbucks treat was enough to keep me from falling asleep on the couch this afternoon.   But aren’t naps what life – particularly on a winter weekend – is all about?

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Sweat dreams and happy holidays.

The Tempest

 

 

 

Twins

So today Sammy turned 15 years old!  And Dad stayed home with us all day…except when he locked us in the bedroom upstairs and some guys came into our house.  Hard to perform the security detail when you are locked away.  Anyhow, all day it was “Happy Birthday Sammy!”  and “Would you like a treat Sammy?”  Now… you may be thinking to yourself: “when was Tempi’s birthday?”  And: “Seems like that was over a year ago and I don’t recall any blog about her celebration.”  And that would be because -THEY FORGOT!  I feel like Molly Ringwald.  What about ME?

Now, supposedly my birthday is (and was)  October 5, 2015.  They chose this because they have some obsession with palindromic numbers and they were told I was about 1 year old when they adopted me.  But after they celebrated my first birthday I continued to grow…and grow…and not just weight-wise but also I got taller.  Obviously, when choosing my birth date they did not consult ME.

Since they continue to ignore my pleas for justice I decided today is MY birthday too.  Which would make Sam and I twins.  Trust me these things can happen.  If you don’t believe me check this out:

http://rummuser.com/unusual-twins/

These two might come from the same mother but as those kids show that is such a limited definition.

 

Alternatively, I was thinking of setting up a SurveyMonkey poll and have people vote for the day all should celebrate The Tempest.  What do you think of that?

In the meantime, here are some pictures from Sammy’s Birthday.

Some sniffs on our midday walk:

Us looking awesome in the sun and snow:

Although, what is up with that shadow dog next to me?  You call that a tail?

Sammy taking on Samson (he may be 15 but he still has that Sambuca Spirit in him!):

…and if it wasn’t clear from these photos, Samson “Sam” is about twice the size of Sambuca “Sam” – he is one big pooch!

Sammy waiting for Mom to return home:

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…for like hours!

Us waiting for Mom at the back door after the app said she was nearby:

Sammy may have had a senior moment there at the end when he started staring at Dad instead of the door.  I was looking out the front window to see what was taking Mom so long so it may actually have been Sammy trying that mind trick of his where he convinces our parents that we have not yet been fed.   Boy is that awesome when he gets that to work.

In conclusion, I just want to say a big Happy Birthday to my big twin Brother.

The Tempest

So, my parents claim that a book arrived in the mail for my birthday a week or so ago.  First off, it would have been late anyhow.  Secondly, no one took credit for it.  Thirdly, …well…I just don’t see the humor in it at all.

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Episode 9: The Tempest

A short entry for tonight…to match The Scribe’s attention span.   Let it be known that there are plenty of drafts sitting in the unpublished section of my WordPress domain (in fact, Montana even has a few lingering around from years ago).   Maybe over the holidays I can invoke the Ghost of Blogs Past to inspire the lazy old man to finish some of our stories.   In the meantime, I have attached a short clip of my first viewing of the Star Wars franchise.

In case The Scribe stays hibernated until the New Year…Happy Holidays for Sambuca and The Tempest!!!

Tempi