Story time

This is my cousin Sophie, a human, reading me a story behind the couch.

Another year, already!

I simply have no good way of explaining my silence here--time just sneaks past me while I'm sleeping, eating, moseying about. Perhaps, you say, it is because I'm a dog, and it must be hard for a dog to maintain a digital literary journal such as this. In truth, it's not. It's maintaining the focus, really, when there are so many other demands on my

Oh I do so love a belly rub after a big meal.

2010? A fine year, or seven, I can't keep track. Murph went away. Really went. One minute he was here trying to eat my kibble and steal my bed, next he just wasn't. And he wasn't at his place either. I don't really understand it. Sometimes my people say "Murphy!" to me, just to see if I twist my head up at them, which of course I do. I know what Murphy means.

There was May, when my people went away and I stayed with Grandma and ate the most incredible delicious thing! I can't tell you what it was. Ha! Later I got incredibly ill for no reason whatsoever and ran up a massive vet bill, aged Grandma by at least an extra year, and almost went to join Murphy, wherever he went. I like to scare my people from time to time--keep the love pathological. I'm sure if I could get my chops on that tasty secret again, I'd live forever.

It's winter now--I love winter. It pup-ifies me. I run and I run on the mountain. It is my mountain.

I have killed all three squeakers in my Christmas hedgehog. Took me two days. I'm proud of that.

That should satisfy all you folks clamoring to hear me barking into the void.

Such a busy-busy year. So much time spent lying about, philosophizing, sniffing about, leaping up on the bed, down off the bed, up on the bed, and down. The years tick by in increments of bed-sleeps, special snacks, good swims.

January already and my people have been hither and tither. They left me with grandma when they went to Italy, then they left me with her again when they went to New Zealand. Me, I like it with grandma. I love my cousin Murphy, and grandma is so conscientious about walks every day, treats each time I come back inside after doing my business under all the soggy red leaves.

This week mum and dad took me running downtown: I didn't want to go, but they've got some crazy plan to do something called a marry-thon, and this means they either don't run me at all, or they expect me to sprint along like some kind of panicked rabbit. I don't want to run that fast any more. But mum dragged me downtown, running along the lake, no time for sniffs. And right when we were getting downtown, a massive wolf leapt out of a truck and bit me on the leg. Mum and dad did nothing! I had every intention of protecting them, of course, but it all happened so fast. Like they didn't realize the wolf was going to eat us all, starting with me. Then woo-woo-wooo-woooooo. So sore on my elbow!

Mum and dad chased that bad wolf away, then his person came over and kind of half apologized. Later they stuck this guy with the vet bill and he paid. So that's something. Still! A wolf biting my elbow in a downtown alley. That's the stuff you want to tell your friends about, playing it all cool and brave.

Grandpa's been here this weekend. He smells so different from every other grandpa I know. Like oil and metal and beer and Landrover parts. He likes Landrovers. He brought a bird with him here. I thought it was for me! A present! But this bird talked human--I have no idea what he was saying but basically I wasn't allowed to eat him. For some reason this bird came on a walk with us, on Grandpa's shoulder. I just couldn't take my eyes off the bird. Finally he fell off Grandpa's shoulder and I pounced! But Grandpa took the bird out of my mouth and I was just spitting feathers. Then I got in trouble.

That bird is okay. And I don't mean okay-tasting. I mean he could still climb up on his dumb stick and eat cashews. Only, I notice he stopped speaking human. Very, very quiet that bird was, and I didn't get a chance to see him up close again. Had to stay in my bed. Not fair. Between the wolf, then the talking bird that was in my house, that wasn't for me, it's been a weird week.

My people go into the deep

Sometimes these days mum and dad go into the water, then they don't come up. They just make the water go blub-blub-blub, then quiet. I wait and wait, then give them up for dead, roam up the ramp of the dock and poo somewhere they don't want me to poo. Ha. That's what you get for leaving me above the surface. Then later, when I'm starting to miss them, they pop up through the waves again, start peeling off all sorts of heavy and stinky things, shoo-shooing me out of the way.
Mum seems to be enjoying these watery excursions considerably less than Dad. She has a faint pong of panic about her.
They went out in the boat this weekend and did something called a Wreck Dive. First, Dad went with his friends, then just this past weekend he dragged mum. Mum feels obliged because she's always cajoling Dad into doing lovely fun arduous things on land. This is his get-even.
They went here (although this is someone else's video--I didn't film this. I wasn't invited.) 
Who cares what you can see under the surface. As far as I'm concerned, it can't be anything very important. I personally have lost at least two tennis balls in the bay and I have yet to see one of those resurface.
I know what a Wreck Dive is. That's getting on the couch when no one is around, then pouncing on things and breaking them.

The lonely sea and the sky

Ah, back at the sea after a muggy week spent at home in the Interior. Happily my nan and my cousin Murphy came up to visit so the days passed comfortably--many pats, the occasional furtively attempted-and-aborted hump of Murph, some tasty drinks from that massive dog-bowl connected to the beach. The dog-bowl here on the coast tastes so different! So delicious fish-salty! On an unrelated matter, I barf really a lot down here by the sea. Kooky, no?

A couple pics from the week before this last week. These were old friends of mum and dad's supposedly: they smell roughly the same age, and seem very nice. They brought lots of little people. Love the little people. The rub my belly, marvel at my soft fur as if its spun gold (only brown); wobble around shedding crumbs and snacks. Mobile vending machines, only for free.

Some of my loved ones