The Precious

It's a time to be thankful. For turkey. It's a time of giving. Turkey. It's a time for gathering with family. And eating turkey. It's a time to celebrate the harvest. And ignore all vegetables in favor of turkey.

I remember my first turkey like it was yesterday. I was a young pup, new to my family. All day I smelled it slowly cooking for me. It was the smell of heaven, of home, of the hunt. When it was out of the oven, I stayed very close to it all day, worshiping it for its glorious deliciousness. I slept there on the floor beside the counter upon which it rested, paying it the homage it deserved.

I am thankful this year for my family. I am not some jumpy, needy beast begging at the table for scraps. Instead, I rest easy on holidays, knowing my share is coming.

What about the kid you ask? Well, Ayla's stomach does not do well with the precious. She is allowed a tiny bite but most of the meat is given to me. Only to me. All for me. I am not usually this sort of dog who brags, hoards, savors. But you must understand, it's different with turkey.

I wish you all a Happy Turkey Day! Remember, it is a day of sharing.

P.S. Send all leftovers to me, care of Mom.

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?