Sleeping with the Enemy

Sherman-01_profileHello, this is The General. My sister Carol is so busy keeping tabs on the comings and goings here that she’s neglected her blog. She claims she has her paws full with keeping us in order with our moms traveling more frequently, but that’s a bunch of cockamamie. If one of my troops failed to report for duty for months on end, I’d give them the boot!

While Carol frets over keeping tabs on that these limp noodles here, I’m dealing with a mutiny. Apparently some of my soldiers think Eggnog – Eggnog! – is a better leader than yours truly. What nonsense!

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Is this the face of a Leader?

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Now that’s more like it!

Before you accuse me of being a male chauvinist dog, hear me out. I’m tired of that little fluffball getting everyone’s sympathy! Eggnog’s the ONLY one in this house that sleeps in the bed with our moms, Eggnog’s the ONLY one that isn’t crated when our humans aren’t home, and Eggnog’s the ONLY one our moms take with them when they visit Grandpa (while the rest of us stay home with a “pet” sitter – the humiliation!).

Eggnog has all of these suckers feeling sorry for her while she lives in high cotton! But not me. I see through her machinations.

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See how terribly she suffers. Give me a break!

You might hear all of this and say Eggnog sounds like a brilliant leader. Maybe she is – if you think politicians make great leaders with all of their scheming and backroom deals. I, however, prefer to honor leaders with excellent moral character. Great men like General Sherman and Ronald Reagan.

It’s all very troubling. Every morning I come downstairs to find another of my soldiers has defected and joined Eggnog’s camp. First it was Lieutenant Dan – but given his history of hard living, I wasn’t too troubled by losing him.

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Look at Eggnog’s face. Caught red-pawed!

Next came Private Rick, a young lad who I knew was easily influenced. So I shrugged off that one, too.

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But then came the sock in the gut – Colonel Sanders, my trusted advisor that I called friend had turned coat.

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How could he? And to think I called him friend.

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The Colonel and me during better times.

That’s when I knew I had a problem on my paws. Swift action was required.

My first course of order was to submit a formal request to the Joint Chiefs of Staff requesting re-relocation of my troop basket.

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You need not remind me that the prior request resulted in the basket being moved to its current sub-par location. Frankly, given my current situation, I would submit to the troop basket being returned to its original spot.

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While terribly inconvenient for a canine of size like myself, at least in its prior location the troops are shielded and do not have a direct line to the enemy’s camp.

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Second, I recruited my brother, Walter, to conduct an investigation into the matter. I know, I know. Walter’s afraid of his own shadow, yet I’m sending him across enemy lines. But I’m a General and I know how to motivate – I promised Walter that if he completes his task successfully, I’ll stop calling him a ninny. As much.

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Ninny.

And, finally, I instituted a propaganda campaign in an attempt to stem the tide.

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It’s too soon to tell if my efforts will be fruitful, but I’m optimistic.

Calgon, take me away. (But NOT to a bath!)

Hello, my friends. In case you’ve forgotten me (I hope you haven’t!), my name is Carol and this is my blog. I take my responsibility to share my observations with you very seriously, and I’ve been woefully negligent. For that I apologize.

It’s just that life on Creekview Drive has been more hectic than usual. Believe me, I’ve been making observations – I’ve just failed on the sharing part. Continue reading

Killing us softly [with our food]

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Our moms read a lot and usually one of the furry beasts beats me to their laps so I don’t pay them too much mind. Yesterday, however, I couldn’t help but notice the book Little Mom was reading: Food Pets Die For.

This caught my attention because Ethel’s been telling me for months that she’s pretty sure our moms are either trying to starve us Continue reading

Notes for a brand-new view

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You can almost HEAR Ethel through this picture. Someday I’ll get a recording for you!

Our moms came home [with the furry beasts, unfortunately] and so far they haven’t taken us to The Pound. I probably should have listened to Violet and not let Ethel get me so worked up. It’s just that Violet’s so quiet and Ethel is, well, so LOUD. (Even louder than my Loud Mom… by several decibels!)

Anyway, Violet suggested I try to get “centered” and find my “inner peace” so that I don’t get so caught up in Ethel’s negativity. [Walter’s therapist suggested he meditate to find his inner peace. Continue reading

Fool me — can’t get fooled again.

It happened again. They left us. And this time I think it’s for good: They took the furry beasts with them.

I almost feel sorry for Walter.

I almost feel sorry for Walter.

According to Violet, our moms and our person who is in college took the dogs with them to celebrate Christmas  – whatever that is – and will be home soon. I know Violet was right last time about them coming home, but Ethel is very insistent that they left for good this time. She told me to stop being so naïve. Ethel even said that, at this point, we should hope that they don’t come home, because Continue reading

Walter’s Lost His Marbles (and I think I can find them)

My brother Walter just got back from “analysis.” I want to know what he does there! Around the house, Walter’s always a nervous wreck. It totally gets on my nerves. Gets on EVERYONE’s nerves…except maybe Ethel, who is too busy hating Steve to be bothered by Walter.

I think Walter’s nerves scare even Walter himself. When it’s time to go outside or even for a walk, he cowers like someone’s going to give him a swift kick. Steve calls him pathetic. (As if he has room to talk.) What furry beast doesn’t like Continue reading