clarification post

If you received my last post as an email, you missed the exciting poll at the end. So hopefully, you are now getting this as another email and can go to the actual blog and participate in the exciting poll.

Misunderstood

My bark is something that sounds simple but encompasses a complexity that you may miss upon first witnessing. I am talking to you. Yes, you.

I don't know how I can more clearly express what is so obvious.

People are always stopping to ask about what kind of dog I am. I answer them and they pay no attention to me. I literally lie down in front of people and tell them to pet me, but they don't get it. I've noticed that humans are disabled in their sense of smell. Perhaps you are also hard of hearing?

I guess if humans understood telepathy I wouldn't have to bark. I look at you, I think my thoughts, you misunderstand, and so I bark.

So I think this video is a perfect example of the clarity of my vocalizations. But you, my fan, can decide for yourself.

(If you are receiving this via email, you need to go to the real blog for the poll.)

poll by twiigs.com

See? Someone Has Been A Computer Hog

You've all been begging for more posts, and believe me, I have lots to say these days. But, SOMEONE thinks she should be the one on the computer. She has a facebook page. She twitters. She IM's with her sister Anthea. She's proficient with language like ROFL, LOL, IDK and of course, IABTW ("I'm a Bergamasco, That's Why"). I think she even has a My Space page but I haven't been able to find it. It's teen angst for sure. I know Mom sees the problem as she took away Ayla's computer time today for stealing my bully stick and burrying it in the couch.

Sure, we play, we tug, we chase, but she crossed a line the other night. That's right, everyone's favorite girl puppy is not as cute as she once was thought to be.

It was a quiet and rainy evening. Suppers were finished. The sun had set. People were on computers. I had just enjoyed a lovely chew session with a bully stick. Ayla was on the couch with Mom, and there was just the right size bit of room left on the couch for a flocky dog like myself. As I put two paws up on the couch, The Kid attacked me with full on teeth and growling. I had no idea she was guarding a bully stick on the couch.

I didn't go up on the couch for two days. I guess I can forgive her but it's, well, it's my couch.

I don't know if I chose the most manly dogly response here. I guess Mom intervened a little. What would you do? Thoughts?

Once By The Ocean

If instead of a dog, I were but a pebble on the sand,
I'd be cleansed in the bath of the ocean's gentle hand
The days would pass in my quiet contemplation,
I would lose myself in rhythmic meditation

The ocean would wake me with whisper and song
And tell me the stories of when her waters were strong

I would be just a pebble but a part of much more
A stone on the sand, a guardian of the shore

A life in the sand, in the sun, with a job but still free

A flockless existence as a shepherd of the sea

I would be understood, this yearning of my soul

I would be just a pebble, free to roll, free to roll

Can You Believe This Guy?

Um. Excuse me? Pindaro? Um. That's my couch. And my Mom. And by the way, that's my couch. And, in case you think you are a Bergamasco who can ignore the rules and order that give our lives meaning, dogs are only allowed on the other side of the couch where the towels are. I know Mom is just being polite, helping you to feel welcome, but come on buddy. We've all noticed you slowly moving in. You came to visit when you were just a tiny squirt , and I excused your antics because you were a puppy and everything. And now, well, technically, you are still a puppy, and maybe I should be lenient, and those sad puppy eyes are killing me. I mean, do you really have to look at everyone like that? Like this:

I do get it. A dog in these times has got to work whatever charms he has to impress the ladies, but could you maybe do your snuggle fest sad eyes routine back in CT?

The Kid, The Snow, and The Coat

Ayla has taken to things such as these: coats, snow storms, puddles.... What can I do? I tell her, "Run! They are getting out the rain coats! We are not Morton Salt Dogs! We are Bergamascos! We have no need for such things! We do not go out of doors in inclement weather!" But, alas, she is infinitely sweet. Her reply is more like, "Oh, what? I have my very own coat? How lovely! I like my coat. Oh, it's snowing? How nice! I like snow. Oh, we're walking through puddles and mud today? How wonderful! I like puddles." Watch out fellow Bergs, she's blowing our cover. Our control is slipping away in the paws of a youngling. Soon, our people will think we should submit to baths, to being dried with a towel, to going to bathroom in inclement weather, to getting out of the car when we are very comfortable, and *gasp* going anywhere we don't really want to go on a leash of all things. Ugh, kids today.

A Running Mate With Her Nose Pressed Against the Glass Ceiling

My friends, it is with great excitement and respect that I announce my running mate, your next vice president, Ayla Del Albera. She is a young woman but in her short life, she has seen much and understands the struggles facing Americans today.

Unlike her opponents, Ayla is very Pro-Cat and has consistently voted for resolutions supporting a Cat's right to dominate a household. In fact, when considering accepting the opportunity to run for VP, she consulted her senior cat, Misty, for her approval. Misty admittedly could not be bothered with such trivialities but consented that she would not really approve of anyone else in that position anyway. Anna was unavailable for comment as she was in silent meditation in a brown paper bag.

Like myself, Ayla is ready to work hard to win the support of Americans and be a strong representation of The Herding Party values. Ayla is aware of the growing threat of the Squirrel problem. In fact, she can see them from her house.

I know you are wondering if she really has the executive experience required to be my vice or to be the president if required. My friends, Ayla has been around the block. She knows which streets have the meanest dogs. She can judge the proverbial weather. And, she, like myself, knows well enough that when the rain comes, stay inside. Stay inside.

I invite you to get to know Ayla over these next weeks. I think you will see that together we are the sheepdogs to bring the change this country desperately desires, like a bag of treats on the dining room table.

An Unexpected Candidate Throws His Flock in the Ring

"He was born in a small town in Pennsylvania, the son of single mother who fell in love with an Italian man when she was visiting extended family in Italy. She struggled to raise two strong sons, supported by her family. His mother instilled in him a clear work ethic, a loving character, and a desire for leadership.

"After he left home, he spent time in rural NY, developing an appreciation for the struggle of farmers and an understanding of small town values. From there, he lived in NM where he gathered insight into the Native American plight and witnessed the effects of dwindling resources such as fresh water.

"His journey took him back to New England for greater learning and growing. It was here that his intellectual pursuits blossomed and he began to study politics, with the hope of one day affecting greater change in his world.

"He became a strong force for the Herding Party, leading rallies and peaceful demonstrations. He became the clear voice for sheepdog principles. He became someone to herd us into times of peace. He will herd us into a good shady spot and protects us all there.

"Is he change you can support? Yes. Does he put his herd first? Yes, of course. Does he believe in equal rights for shitzus and newfoundlands alike? Yes. He supports nationalizing veterinary care, increased support for shelters, the elimination of kill shelters, and the protection of more free running nature space. He supports all dog's right to choose: kibble, canned, or homecooked.

"In the next few weeks, this blog will document this exciting campaign. I encourage you to watch our candidate choose his running mate, meet with the people, and speak out against injustice. He's not just anyone running for office, he's Orso, our Orso. Orso, the next President of the United States of America, a sheepdog for all of us."

--------A biography of Orso provided by The Herding Party

My name is Orso and I approve this message.

A Romp With the New Kid In The Extendo Family

There's a new squirt around these days but thankfully not in our house.

Our friends, Jeanine and Calem (where Ayla came from), got a new puppy named Pindaro. It's summer and the adventures are many these days as Dad is home everyday. Oh that reminds me...

To put to rest the age old question: "Orso, aren't you hot in the summer with all that hair?" It's 92 degrees, do you want to run around and play in the sun at 2 in the afternoon? Every dog, cat, human, and critter alike is hot in the summer. We're mammals! It's summer! It's New England! Yes, dammit, I am hot in the summer but so are you! It's not the hair, it's summer. I keep trying to convince Mom to move us further north but alas... At least we will vacation in Nova Scotia where there is a fine front porch and a cool river breeze.

Ok, I'm done now. Had to get that out.

So anyway, Pindaro was just a tiny squirt - we met up with them at some cool woods in CT called Old Furnace. I did not see an old or new furnace anywhere but the parking lot appears to be a random meet-up spot for all things shady in western CT. But the woods were nice and shady in a good way. Pindaro was totally overwhelmed at first, just sitting and watching, afraid of Mom, Dad, Ayla and me. Then he got his confidence up and really enjoyed himself. I think he knew I was in charge. It was pretty clear that I was the only adult dog as Ayla dug herself a great big hole in the side of creek and flopped down in the muddy water. These are things only a puppy would do. She and her sister Anthea seemed to really enjoy each other and enjoy being muddy and wet.

I'm sort of getting the hang of being the wise older Berg, guiding the young and flockless. Someday, they will have both the hair and manner of true Bergamasco. For now, I am learning to appreciate the fluff balls and even tug a stick or two with them.