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.