Raccoons ate our food

A few weeks ago, the staff got the bright idea to get new containers for our canine cuisine. The stackable bins would sit on the back porch, and they'd be convenient each morning and night for the staff to get our dinner to us faster. And, they'd be out of the house and away from Ernie's prying paws.

Then the staff noticed odd things moved each morning on the porch, and our brunch munch started disappearing. And, our water dishes were nasty each morning. Two days ago, the staff used bungee cords to hold the lids shut on the food bins. The next morning, dog food was everywhere on the porch.

This could only mean one thing: The raccoon family had returned. Apparently, they've been coming in each night, grabbing a free Science Diet dinner and washing it in our water bowls.

So now the cool food bins are sitting in the middle of the house, and Staffer Mom's trying to make the latch on the back porch work again. That's not going to help. We're pretty sure the masked bandits are coming in and leaving through Ernie's cat door.

Should we tell them, or let Ernie take the fall? Tough call.

NOT BILLY MAYS!

(Sorry for the screaming headline, but we thought it might be appropriate.)

Just yesterday we were yelling at the kitten to get away from the TV while the Billy Mays ESPN commercial was on.
We liked Billy -- he improved our quality of life when he convinced Staffer Mom to buy OxiClean. She was able to clean up after us faster and better and that kept us from getting in trouble so much. We tested his pitch about stains from spilled wine, and it works. However, Staffer Mom's never letting us get near a full wine glass again.
RIP, Billy.

Kittens and tennis don't mix

We've discovered we have common ground with the kitten -- he apparently likes tennis. Too much so, if you ask us. He won't get out of the way. Because everyone lets him play with everything, he thinks he can play at Wimbledon, too. He's also developed an affinity for Andy Roddick.



Today was our first full day of watching Wimbledon this year. Staffer Mom was good enough to leave the TV on for us while the staff was doing other things.
Now we've got to figure out how to keep the kitten away from the TV. Bandit thinks we should just be patient. When kitten starts that crap when "Law&Order" is on, the staff will take care of the whole problem.

'Bye Michael

You may not realize it, but we are real music lovers. And we can sing -- we'll make a video for you some time.

Bandit's a real fan of Michael Jackson, because one time Michael came to Pensacola for several weeks while Bandit was young and he remembers the craziness. Michael ate flowers and went shopping a lot at an antique mall where Staffer Mom found a lot of dachshund stuff.

Maggie's too young to remember the good performances, but Staffer Mom made her watch "Thriller" one night on the 25th anniversary of it -- the whole thing. Long version. She does appreciate it all more, but thinks the whole moonwalk thing is stupid.

Neither of us really understood the nose job thing. We love our snouts and think everyone should. We can't understand why he wasn't happy with his own snout.
All that said, we hope he's happy now and dancing a lot.

We may be dogs, but.....

...we're not as stupid as the South Carolina governor.
And that's a fact.

Old friend J-Jo!

Staffer Mom was happy tonight because she talked to our old friend J-Jo. We remember J-Jo because she would play with us and she could beat Staffer Dad at Trivial Pursuit. One time she buried a cat in our yard. She also dressed up like a crazy lady and put snakes in her hair for Halloween. We admired that.
(The staff found a lot of little plastic snakes in the yard for a year or better....we liked that, too.)

Anyway, she tells us she'd like postcards from us and from all our friends from where we live.
You can mail them to:
J-Jo
c/o the ME
300 Massachusetts Ave.
Boston, Mass. 02115.
She's got a new boss, so be kind in what you write....this time.

Wimbledon time!

As careful readers will know, we love tennis. And Wimbledon is here.
It's our custom to watch early rounds at home, and then watch the rest at the beach with Aunt Jenn and Uncle Brad. (Aunt Jenn always brings champagne.)

We can sit in front of the TV and watch the tennis ball go back and forth for hours. Roger Federer and the Williams sisters are our faves, but we do wish we'd see something out of Andy Roddick and Maria Sharapova.

While we do love Staffer Mom's Wii tennis matches, we prefer ones on TV -- they are quieter and the language flying around can't be as bad as what we're exposed to here. We're not even sure what some of the words mean, but it can't be good. You'd never hear that coming from Maria. (Staffer Mom says the only difference is Maria says it in Russian, but we prefer not to believe that.)

Roasted wieners

OK. It's gotten awfully hot outside. Today it was near 100 and it's supposed to be that way for a couple more days. We thought we should offer some tips for those of you who may not be used to this:
- When you're as close to the ground as we are, you need to stay in grassy areas under trees. Heat radiating off a patio or sidewalk is dangerous. You can stay sprawled in the grass for a while and be ok.
- Dig a hole. If you dig deep enough, the cool dirt will feel good.
- Don't crawl under a car or other vehicle. You never know when the staff will head for the mall to stay cool, and you don't want to be near something that moves.
- Drink lots of water. If your dish is empty and panting's not getting the attention it deserves, pee on something your staff is using or will need very shortly. Garden gloves or the door mat come to mind.
- As much as we hate to say it, if you're destined to get a bath anyway, bring it on sooner by rolling in something nasty and smelly. Baths feel good on hot days.
- Act lame and try to stay inside. You can even fake a limp if you have to. It can magically disappear as soon as the sun goes down.

We'd love to know your advice about dealing with the heat. Please share!

It sleeps. It screams. It has a temper.

So, we figure you're tired of hearing about the kitten and we're sorry about that. It really is a bizarre animal.

It bounces off walls, literally, and then just drops off. You can't wake it up. You can shake it, toss it and move it around. We know that's true because we've seen the staff try. Did they bring home a narcoleptic hairball?

If by some miracle you do wake it up, it screams at you. It also screams if it's out of food or wants a head rub. We heard the staff say it's birth owner named it Screamer, and we know why.



Ernie says you won't believe us, so we conned Staffer Mom into helping us prove it.
Think it's cute now?
(Humans are suckers. You probably do.)

Our post and compost

Gardening must be harder than it looks. Staffer Mom is taking it very seriously, and the intensity doesn't seem to work. A few tomato plants died after the monsoon a few weeks ago so now she won't let us play in the garden at all. We think they just drowned. Either way, Staffer Mom is not amused.

Yesterday, she decreed we can't go near the new hydrangeas either because we made a mess. That's too far. She's cutting into our yard territory, and it's not fair. We didn't hurt the plants. We might have performed a bit of core aeration around them to allow more compost and minerals to flow deep into the soil -- she says that's important to a healthy yard and plant roots. But accusing us of trampling the stalks seems wrong.

It's probably no accident she found a little extra fertilizer this evening in the rows between the new tomato plants and the squash. Hope she gets it off her shoes before she comes in the house. Now that would be a mess.

Out of balance

It's been a normal Sunday around here -- outside time, eat, nap time, outside time....you know the drill.
Except the staff left for a while and came back sad. Apparently, a friend of theirs died when they didn't expect it. Same thing happened a week or 2 ago to another friend of theirs.
We know how it is when you kinda expect it -- we saw that with our old friend Hattie, scrappiest dog ever, and Mr. Tibbs, the cat who was Bandit's best friend. They were tired and just wanted to sleep.

But when you don't expect it, like with our old fat friend Ozzie, it's weird. You keep looking for them, expecting them to nudge you out of the food bowl and wondering how they are doing even when you can't see them. Things are just out of kilter for a while and for no good reason.

It's still cute

The kitten is still cute. It's been 9 weeks, and it's still cute. Surely it will wear off soon. Maggie's used to being the adorable one, so this is really driving her nuts. She's just not dealing with it well.

On another front, the staffers are watching "I'm a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here."
We're good dogs. Get us out of here.

P.S. Happy Birthday Uncle Brad. Your present from us is that we've decided not to post the annual embarrassing photo. We're saving up for next year.

We're home

The spa was great, and we're tired. Too much play.

While we were gone, the kitten and Ernie made friends. Now they want to play all the time. We have to endure them as they run around and smack each other.

And another thing: Their toys are all over the house. Looks like we'll have to dispose of a few of them. They apparently forgot about the stuffed fabric and feather thing we destroyed last week. You'd think they'd remember the hot pink feathers we left all over the bedroom as a warning.

Just wait until the staff leaves us alone. Those new fuzzy round things that rattle are going to disappear.

Much-needed time out

We're posting sporadically this weekend since we're at the spa.
The staffers were good enough to recognize we needed a few days away from the manic kitten and took us to the spa for some R&R. (Why do they insist on calling it "the vet"?)

We figure the staff must be planning to take advantage of our absence to take a trip away, because they had a suitcase out and were talking about something called "primo pool time." At this point, we don't care. We're getting great attention, toy time, special treats, a mani-pedi and hot-tub time.

We really hope the staff comes back smelling as nice as we do.

It chases its own tail, and ours, too

The new kitten is getting an unwarranted amount of attention. The staffers have given it toys, and its favorite toy is its own tail. And ours. And Ernie's.

And they've finally named it. Skeeter. What the hell's a Skeeter?

Anyway, we're fine. They are still serving us well, and so far they haven't missed a beat with us. But, we really don't understand the consternation about a kitten. It'll grow up to be a cat and lose all its cuteness. Granted, we love Ernie. He's our buddy, and he's special. This one, though, he can't even get past his own tail. Or ours.