One Sweet R-O-S-E

Thank you, Agatha and Archie, for thoughtfully tagging me for the middle name game. (I sure wish we lived close to each other, because I bet we'd be great play buddies. Heck, I know I'd love meeting ALL of my fellow doggie bloggers!)

My middle name is Rose, which is an homage to Galena Rose, who was Mike and Nan's first dog, a beloved WFT. I never knew her and they refer to her as "Grandma" when they tell me stories about her, because she lived to be a crusty old gal. Galena, in turn, was named for a play by the same name - Galena Rose - which was produced by singer-songwriter Jim Post. (He was part of a group called Friend & Lover whose hit, "Out of the Darkness" had that catchy phrase, "I think it's so groovy now, that people are finally getting together..." 'Member that one?) They saw his show, Galena Rose, on their honeymoon in Galena, Illinois and it was such a magical time that when they finally got their first dog, that's what they named her.

Sheesh, what a long-winded intro . . . So here goes my middle name breakdown:

R - Rambunctious
O -Obstinate (but only when it comes to putting my car harness on).
S - Sweet
E - Energetic

Only four letters, but they describe a wondrous little girl, don't you think?!

I'm new to tagging but understand that I now tag others, and the number of tag-ees should be the same as the number of letters in my middle name. So . . . I hereby tag, in no particular order, Fee, Joe Stains, Dean-O and William Tell.

Tah for now!

Sedona R-O-S-E

Is Anyone Out There?

I love sitting atop the corner group in our family room. As you can see, it's in front of a window, and I'm just small enough that I can sort of perch on it while I watch the world go by.

My favorite time to perch is early on a weekend morning. I have a much better chance at that time of seeing other dogs as they walk their owners. I love other dogs, but I'm so sad when they don't stop to say howdy and sit a spell.


Here's my best come hither look . . . "Nan, did you say something?"

Tag, I'm It!

Wheeeeeeeee - I've been food tagged by Agatha and Archie (thanks, kids), and I'm excited because it's my first blog tagging.

From the beginning, I've always been a good eater, I must admit. Mom and Dad (Jezebelle and Jake) were raised in a - shall we say? - thrifty household, where investing in premium food for the family pets was not a high priority. Consequently, when Nan and Mike came to pick me up . . . I smelled. Bad. So my puppy tummy wouldn't be upset by an abrupt change of food, they had to invest in a bag of the awful stuff which, the lady of the household proudly told them, cost only $1.49. Over 10 days or so, M&N switched me over to Wellness, a very good dry food, and in no time I stopped smelling.

So because I've never been a picky eater and have never met something - edible or otherwise - I wouldn't contemplate eating, it's hard to isolate just a few food faves. But below are 5 items I would put at the top of my list:

1) Peanut butter (Is there anything better? I mean, really).
2) Kong cookies (It's a treat AND a game).
3) Nylabone roast beef flavor (Dee-lish).
4) Heartgard Plus Heartworm Preventative (Who knew medicine could be so tasty?! I may only get it once a month, but BOY do I savor the flavor).
5) FF (aka Fallen Food which includes, but is not limited to, blueberries, rice cakes, bean sprouts, raisins, chicken, stawberries, spinach, cheese, cranberries, lettuce, turkey . . . you get the idea).

I've read on some of your blogs about something called "burgers", which I know nothing about. Would you suggest I investigate further?

Sedona

ThrowtheballThrowtheballThrowtheball

So I've told you all how much I adore my squeaky soccer ball. Well this morning, Nan grabbed her camera and decided to get some Action Shots. Here are the results . . .

Sunday mornings seem to be the time when I feel especially kicky. Nan is usually doing laundry, so I have to attack her feet in an attempt to trip her. (It's good fun). Most weeks, Mike is getting ready for a church gig so I deposit my Kong at his feet repeatedly so that he'll fill it before he leaves. And I am just INSANE to play ball!

Can you see my skill? Can you appreciate my athletic form, feel my expert timing? After each lunge - a hearty squeak. Ah . . . no better way to spend Sunday morning.

I don't think I like Nan's comparison of my sweet terrier mouth with that of a nasty alligator. Yes, I'm toothy, but what does she expect? Humans can be well-intentioned, but misguided.




Another Sunday tradition we enjoy is listening to the boffo radio show "Breakfast with the Beatles" which airs over a local radio station. Having been raised with the Fab Four since I was a pup, I was inspired this morning to write my own version of one of their classic tunes:

"Woke up, and took a leak,

Gave my soccer ball a squeak.

Found my way inside and ate a bone,

And looking up I noticed moving feet.

Found my Kong and gabbed its end

That rubber toy I'll never lend

Ate some laundry lint and had a choke

and a doggie barked and I went into a howl"...

Ready, Set, Squeak!

Next to my Ring, my little soccer ball is my favorite toy. I actually have two of them, but the noise maker in one fell inside the ball, so all that one does is rattle. Hardly satisfying. Mike says the soccer ball looks like me, because we're both spotty (though you can't really tell in this picture, since I'm so shaggy)

When the mood strikes, there is nothing I like more than playing some hearty squeaky ball. The best time to do it is when Mike and Nan are watching a sad movie or some serious television program, it's very intense and quiet and they're riveted - boy, that's the time I love to really rip one off. I can catch the ball, too, whether it's tossed directly to me or bounced first.

I was so sad when my ball rolled out of my reach behind the television cabinet one day, but I was determined to get it back, by jigger. When I kept trying to sqeeze myself behind the cabinet, M&N FINALLY got a clue that it was there, so Nan hunched down and, with a mirror and a long wire, rescued my ball for me. Was that ever a happy day!

What are some of YOUR favorite toys?

My Friend Frenchie

The three of us live in the center of a big city - lots o' concrete and blacktop all around. You can therefore understand Nan and Mike's amazement when they discoverd I'm good friends with Frenchie, a little toad who lives in the garden. He just hopped on up to me one evening and introduced himself with a friendly, "Bonsoir, la jeune dame" and we've been pals ever since.

Well, maybe not pals, exactly . . . See, Frenchie doesn't interest me - not REALLY. I mean, he's nice and all but because he doesn't have fur, he just doesn't give off an interesting scent to me. And he's very awkward when he hops. (Quite frankly, he makes me a little nervous). But don't his eyes shine handsomely at night?

Playing Catch . . . Up

First off, a special hello to Jackson, so far across the pond. I truly appreciate your kind introduction and would like to think that someday we WFTs really could take over the world. Also thanks for signing my guest book, Jackson, as well as Asta La Vista, Axel in Philly, Butchy and Snickers and, er, Apples. I'm so happy you've all stopped by!

I wanted to write more before now but had no sooner dipped my paw into the blogging pond than - DISASTER struck! Mike, the large hairy guy who showers me with kisses and plays Ring with the utmost patience, had to go to the ER last weekend. Nan said it's like the place where I had my female bits removed by Doc Weaver. Boy did I feel awful after that!

Last weekend was supposed to be fun and memorable for Mike, especially, because he hit The Big Five Oh (whatever that means). Nan didn't have to leave for her job on Thursday or Friday so the three of us planned to enjoy a wonderful time together. Thursday (Mike's actual BFO day) was nice, as we took a drive in the car and had a sort of picnic.

Come Friday morning, Mike didn't feel so good and Nan was too distracted to help me with my data entry. Friday night came and Mike felt worse instead of better. Like when I ate the bee and threw up in record time. When Saturday dawned, Mike felt simply ghastly, so off they went to the hospital.

I sure was worried when two people left that morning, but only one came home that night.

Nan did something I've never seen her do: she opened a pretty bottle of blue gin - that was intended for show in the spiffy china cabinet - and darn if she didn't down a goodly amount all by herself last Saturday evening! Sunday morning she left and was gone until late, and still she came home by herself. She left for her usual time Monday and came home at her usual time, and STILL NO MIKE. I'll confess I became rather clingy.

But happily, my Mike came back on Tuesday. He had a lot of poke marks on his arm, but he seemed just like his normal self. We kissed and hugged on the bed, then took a nap together. Thank heavens, my world is finally back to normal!