Personality Goes for Gold

And the winner of the overall Olympic gold medal in the winter games goes to:

My guy (my guy). Talkin’ bout my Guy…Kenworthy!

But as he says in the article it isn’t right for us to impose our ideals on other cultures.  And it would be kind of hypocritical of us to berate someone for eating the flesh of animals since although we have met a great number of great and funny cows and pigs we still love our steak and pork…and mutton (but that is a story for another day).  And did you know that pigs are more than just pork?  I recently learned this watching an old episode of The Simpsons.

Sam and I can totally understand where Homer and Bart are coming from:

Just imagine if this stuffed toy was a REAL steak! 🙂

So what I guess I am really trying to say is that us dogs have a little more to offer than these others beasts.  For one, we live in your house.   Secondly, personality goes a long way.  And no one can refute that Sam and I…we got personality.

So take that Arnold from Green Acres!

As long as I don’t go to Korea, I am in the clear, eating pork and steak and kibble.

The Tempest

Dog’s Eye View

Those of you who have been following me for a while know how important my seat on the couch is.  What you may or may not know is that each dog who enters our abode to join our family does so with a “no dog on the couch” ultimatum.  Yep.  True.  This lasts for about the time it takes my Mom to look away.  So, we all end up on the couch at home unless we are too old (like Sammy right now).  The challenge is this: what to do when visiting others?

Well, at Farmor’s it is easy to learn “no Tempi on the couch,” as i) their couches are in boring parts of the house, and ii) their windows are low so easy for dog viewing.  The challenge is in the Mountains.  My Grandparent’s have this amazing pristine leather sofa which has been graced by no dog.  AND, the windows are high enough that the prime viewing of those amazing views are really only from the couch.  Or outside, but come on people.  Seriously?

So, during our last visit one fine morning I thought I would get on the couch.  As I started to climb up (I have long legs) my Mom said ” no dogs on the couch” and brought my bed to the living room.  I stretched to show her that there was no way I could sit on the bed and look out the window, to which she pointed to the open door (it was unseasonably warm) and said lay on the porch if you wish.  I even gave her my big amber eye expression that usually melts her heart…but no, it was my bed or outside.  Those of you who know me know this probably did not sit well.  You also know I am a smart girl who likes to think things through.  So, this is what happened the next morning:

Me – start to climb on couch.

Mom – “no dogs on the couch.”  She went to get our bed, and came back to me standing on the table.  Ha ha ha.  No dogs on the couch?  Take that!

Mom said “dogs don’t stand on the table,” ran to get her camera (that would be a phone – what a misnomer, if you ask me btw) and came back to this:

Ha!  No dogs standing on the table!  And I have a great view of the vast horizon.  Take that.  Mom then said “dogs don’t sit on the table!”  Okay, Mom, happy to oblige:

Still can see the vista lying on the table…except when my eyes are closed.

The Tempest

Locked Out

This weekend my parents were going through a bunch of boxes with books in them which they are planning on donating to our local library or to others who may find them of use…especially since they have been sitting in boxes for years now.  Lots of good stuff but they are mostly trying to go digital to decrease clutter around the house and give us dogs more space to store all our toys, treats, etc.  I guess they finally realized that their dream of a big in-home library complete with mahogany shelves and floor to ceiling ladders is likely unattainable in our current tiny hovel (with ceilings less than 8 ft in height, no less).

However, since there are a number of books they might want to still read OR have some sort of sentimental value (or invoke certain memories), they had to go through all the books before exiling any from our domicile.  At first, Dad unpacked the boxes and set them on our dinning room table, sideboard, and even down the stairs to the basement.  This while Mom went through boxes upstairs.  Boy I love boxes, and they have a lot of them!  Anyway, back to books…

Before they went out yesterday, Dad moved some of these books to the shelf above our crates – thinking this was far enough out of my sight and reach that they’d be safe.  I guess their thinking was that I would be preoccupied by what was happening outside our front window – like the neighborhood dogs walking down the street.   What they forgot is that sometimes the little fuzzy tailed tormentors of Sammy and I (aka – Squirrels) sometimes draw my attention to the back door – which was close to their cache of books.  So it wasn’t a surprise (or it shouldn’t have been) that when they returned from their errands I had pulled out a number to peruse to determine what I will read next.  To be clear, no (significant) damage was done to any of the books but I found one that looked particularly interesting.  This was a meaty tome by some chap with the nom de plume of Stephen King entitled “Cujo.”  But before I could really sink my teeth into the story my parents came home and opened the back door – giving me a chance to show that little tree rat what was what…but alas, he was nowhere to be found.

The books were put back on the counter and Sam and I behaved the rest of the evening and night and even early morning.


Then around midday on Sunday (today), they once again ran some errands – this time they brought back a new white smoke alarm which really makes our living room look much better than the tacky off-white one they used to have!  Really people.  Not sure how a girl survived as long as I did with that mismatched noise to keep us safe.  Anyhow, before they left they locked us out of OUR room!  Sure they put our water bowls in the kitchen where we could get to them but we had no access to the back door or our crates – and so many of my chew toys and bones.  Really, my home!  When they returned they were glad to find all their precious books (which in case you weren’t following along, they were going to GIVE away) unmolested.

However, they did find a couple of small piles of puke – including a bit on Sammy’s bed.

Just goes to show you that they should be focused on us pups and not their material goods.   It stresses us out to have such change, especially those of us who have been in the system.  Just saying.

But then again, upon reflection, I realize I have learned a lot from the books I have read in my first year or so with my new pack.  So these are not just mere materialist goods but also have the potential to be educational…and in many cases are actually real works of art.  And if there is one thing my parents really need it is some real education.  So maybe they should read/re-read those books before they give them away.  I am pretty sure at least one of these missives will teach them that they should be feeding us steaks every night!  If I am not mistaken, I think it is clearly stated in “The Grapes of Wrath”  or is it in “The Crying of Lot 49?”  Oh well, as I said, they really do have quite the literary collection (at least for the time being).

The Tempest

You Can Go Now


You may recall pictures like this which are taken upon my parents return from wherever they go (work, stores, restaurants) without us.  Looking at such images you probably jumped to the conclusion that I am unhappy when they leave us alone and these pictures represent my displeasure.  But in fact, I LOVE it when they leave us, and I think this video will convince you.

Now, sometimes when they are gone a bit too long, for a girl as smart as myself – who does need some mental stimulation/activity – things may not go they way my parents would like.  For instance, when they forget to lock a door, put a belt too close to the edge of the desk, leave books or DVDs or CDs or…within my reach, well you know, I get a certain degree of inspiration which leads to my so called “destructive” behavior.

Of course I don’t mean to be a bad girl and will (on occasion) feel bad about my actions.


But then I just “up my game” and give them even more photo ops 🙂

The Tempest


But this example is obviously Sammy’s work – just look at the photographic evidence!

The Spaghetti Monster Speaks

A few years back a pair of Norwegian brothers (Ylvis) taught us what the fox says, and also shared other videos around such subjects as Massachusetts, Tying Knots, Stardom and of course Stonehenge.  But to date, I don’t believe anyone has determined what a Flying Spaghetti Monster (FSM) says…and to be quite honest, until I got this new toy, I didn’t even know what one of these creatures was – they apparently aren’t indigenous to Illinois.

First off, this is what the FSM toy I got looks like (with me to give you some perspective on size and of course to add some natural beauty):

I am not saying I am a follower of this deity – in fact I think some may believe that having a godly creature in my mouth may constitute a four-legged form of blasphemy.  And I would not want to participate in that.

But before casting me off to the depths of whatever there is for Pastafarians (I don’t really like beer, so stale beer is not a large deterrent – this may be obvious for those who have been following my blog… I’m not really concerned about my behavior, folks), remember what I was playing with is just a cloth representation of the deity packed with cotton stuffing.   AND I was not wearing a strainer so it is clear that I haven’t totally adopted this belief system as MY religion.  Because if I am to be totally honest, I think I should be worshiped as the all powerful and singular idol.  And I should be able to eat what I want when I want without getting ill.

In case you aren’t aware of Pastafarianism, The Pastafarians, or their deity or traditions, here is a link to their Wikipedia entry:

Spaghetti Monster

My toy has a bit more crustacean and less meatball than the above painting but it was clear that this was indeed a FSM toy.  I wish I had meatballs… mmmm…

Which gets us back to my original point, which is what does one sound like?

Now, that is a noise that gets my attention EVERY time…so maybe that deity is something I could support…if everyone doesn’t come to terms with me being the head almighty that is.  And don’t let Sammy’s laughing at me dissuade you from joining The Tempest; we can have steak in our painting!

The Tempest


Pee-Girl Gets the Belt

This weekend we got to go to the vets again…this time for Sammy’s rabies shot.  Turns out they also wanted blood from each of us to test for heartworm – like I would let any of those creepy crawlers into my bloodstream!   Anyhow, they took me into one of the backrooms away from Sammy and my parents.  First they weighed me and apparently because of my voracious appetite and lack of exercise I added a little more to my total pound count (well, oz count).  In my defense, the past few days we have gotten a lot of snow (about a foot total) so it is hard to get in all my running around in the backyard.  And for those naysayers out there who are going to point out that the snow started on Friday and I got weighed on Saturday I will also let you know that it has been bitterly cold lately so our walks have been much shorter too…which may account for the extra poundage Dad has added to his frame.

After getting weighted they took me into another room which I can only describe as a torture chamber.  This is the place where they had taken me during previous visits and attempted to trim my nails.  This time, they got out a needle and took some of my blood right out of my leg.  The vet tech said I cried and peed on the floor.  This is true even if my parents didn’t hear/see it.  My Mom was very upset when she heard this.  I guess I thought she was upset that they tortured me; it appears she is upset that I selected to interpret this love as torture.  Comme si comme ca.

Good news is Sammy checked out fine and got his nails trimmed and is now all up to date on his rabies and whatnot.  He has to go back in a couple of weeks for another couple of shots.  Glad I am not him (tho Mo says I will be in August…)!  Sorry I got no pictures of either of us behaving perfectly at the vets.

In other news, earlier this week, I found this really cool chew toy that Dad often wraps around his waist.  He had left it “out of reach” on the desk.


There is also the Tempi trap gate in between where we roam and the belt.  However, the long arm of The Tempest is not going to be curbed by such obstacles when a genuine leather belt is around.  When they got home – from wherever they went without us – they found that the buckle and the leather strap were no longer joined together.   When my Dad tried wrapping what was left around his mid-section, there was not nearly enough leather to go around – but as I have said, he hasn’t been getting enough exercise lately.  Then at about 4 AM or so the following morning (or was it two days?), I asked to go outside which I sometimes do if things didn’t all get worked out during the day.   In this instance, I got to the bottom of the stairs, took two steps into the living room, and then out of my mouth came all these little squares of leather!  Who knew my belly could make such things?  Dad assured me everything was OK as he was cleaning up the mess and said he was proud of me that I didn’t let that stuff fly all over our bed.  After a quick jaunt around the yard I was encouraged to go back to bed and for some reason slept so much better the rest of the night.

The Tempest

By the way, the Musk book which is now also on the desk (as pictured above), was a great read.  I got through the hardcover with no problem. 🙂


The Super Box

Or, Temp-in-the-Box :).

As you may recall, my parents taunted me with stacks of cardboard boxes the other day.  Today they tortured me in a whole new way with these things.   There is more video to this story that I may share at a later date but suffice it to say I was tricked into getting into this oversized box – see the scribe put a treat in there which was covered with peanut butter (in fact, I think he may have even spread some of that peanuty goodness on the bottom since it took me awhile to clean things up).  What is not shown in this clip is the crank on the side of the box that Sammy was turning with his tail.

That’s all for now…apparently my parents are off to watch some football game or other at a friend of theirs and we are not invited…so I can’t work on editing the longer video of how I got into the box in the first place.

The Tempest