Dillon, day 137 of my life in DC!

Thursday, 23 February 2017

This weather is really spoiling me. I can’t believe how nice it has been lately. It was way up in the 70s today. How awesome is that? I get to spend most of my day just running around loose. I love it.
Warm weather means open doors around here. When we got up, Mom just slid the door open and that’s the way it stayed most of the day. I got to play ball all morning. So much so, that I was just plain exhausted. I was really getting a workout.
Mom, on the other hand was just phoning it in. Because I’m so good about bringing the ball back after I chase it down, she just sat on the couch, inside, and winged my ball out the door and off the deck. That has got to be the laziest ball chucking routine I have ever seen. I’m not saying you have to run up and down the stairs with me, but would it kill you to come outside and watch my acrobatics as I snag the ball out of the air? About the only time she put any effort into my ball chasing was when she took a picture of my dirty nose. It happens when you really drive for the ball. No guts, no glory and sometimes that means you go face first into the ground…
Today was Mom’s shopping day, so Micky and I got a little break from our outdoor activities. It’s a good thing. I needed to recharge, whew! I love it when Mom goes shopping. We usually get treats when she gets home, and today was no different. Mom brought me a brand new squeaky ball! YAY! I love stuff that squeaks. As soon as Dad handed it to me, I started squeaking and didn’t stop until I killed it. Now, it makes a rather pathetic squishing noise most of the time. Dad said he was fine with that. I don’t think he really appreciates the jaw workout I get from making a tennis ball squeak!
Well, I better go, NASCAR is on again, FINALLY! Daytona, baby!

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Dillon, day 135 of my life in DC!

Tuesday, 21 February 2017

Today was full of new and strange things. I think people forget or just take for granted that everyone just knows what to do with every day things. Everyone knows that I’m not quite a year old yet and there are still a lot of things I’m learning about. Well, today, I encountered my first carrot. Most people would automatically assume that I would know what to do with a carrot. You’d be wrong though.
When Mom got back from the store, she had this little bag of orange things. I figured they had to be some sort of food and Micky certainly got excited, but when she handed me one, it definitely wasn’t what I was expecting. I immediately spit it out to investigate it a little more. I sniffed it a bit, but it had no smell. I nudged it with my nose and it didn’t try to bite me or anything, so that’s a good thing.
Micky seemed to know exactly what to do with the thing. I looked over at her and she was munching away, happily. There were lots of yummy crunching sounds, so I figured I should give the little orange thing another go. Tentatively, I picked it up and gave it a small crunch. It wasn’t very hard and it came apart easily in my mouth. That’s when I tasted it. It was delicious! How strange that it had no real scent I could detect.
The other strange thing that happened was with Micky. I was doing my usual pestering to see if she would play with me, and she started nudging me whenever I quit. After chewing on her a bit with no reaction, I quit. Well, when I moved away from her, she scooted over a little closer and leaned on me. Once I started up again, she rolled over on her back and stretched out so I could get at her more easily. She never did fight back, but she certainly didn’t want me to stop.
This went on for several rounds and long enough for Mom to get some video. She thought it was cute that we were playing so nicely together. I guess it was sort of nice, but once I was sitting on the couch, watching the video, I figured out what was going on. That little stinker was using me to get a massage! She let me chew on her and poke at her because it felt good. It was supposed to be a game, not a spa treatment! I definitely need to work on my tactics. This routine definitely didn’t work!

Dillon, day 130 of my life in DC!

Tuesday, 16 February 2017

The abuse continues, I think. I’m not really sure what Dad called me tonight was an insult. One thing I’m sure of is that he didn’t mean it as a compliment. He called me Jack Junior. What’s that supposed to mean? After constantly having Mom say “Jack and Tommy blah, blah, blah, perfect…,” I’m just fine being compared to Jack.
Here’s what happened. Mom was coming up from the basement with a couple of plastic bags full of Bucket Dogz treats and she shook them as she walked. The noise was not something I recognized so I quickly got out of the way. When Mom set them on the floor, I
definitely got out of the way. As soon as they hit the floor, I hopped up on Dad’s lap. That was when he called me Jack Jr.
I guess Mr. Jack Shortpants was somewhat picky and VERY careful about new things. Mom says he would never have gotten close to those treat bags, even though they were full of the best treats on earth. At least I came over to investigate after a minute. That got me a couple snacks out of the deal! Yay
Oh, last night, I learned something new. When Micky sits on Dad’s back after we climb in bed and turn the lights out, it means she needs to poop. Sure enough, we’re all getting settled in and here comes Micky. She just wouldn’t settle in. She climbed up on dad’s back and just sat there. Dad tried to moosh her into her spot and cover her up, but Micky wasn’t having it. As soon as Dad moved his hand, Micky was up on his back again.
Most of the time I think Dad is pretty clueless, but he was on his game last night! He figured out right away what was going on. So, off they went, into the freezing-ass cold with Dad in his Jam Jams, to walk the neighborhood for a poo. Clearly, this was what she needed. They were out and back in a flash. Sure enough, Micky settled right in when they got back and went to sleep. Maybe Dad’s not so lost. Good, I was ready for bed!

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Bucket Dogz Homemade Treats's photo.

Dillon, day 129 of my life in DC!

Tuesday, 15 February 2017

So, Dad’s pissed at me. Well, maybe that’s a bit too strong, but he’s been calling me a Momma’s boy all day. Why’s he gotta be like that? Just cause I stick close to Mom, it doesn’t mean I don’t like him too. He’s fun and all, but Mom’s the one who takes care of me. More importantly, she’s also the one who feeds me.
I suppose if Dad fed me, I might be more devoted to him. So, of course, I’m a Momma’s boy. That doesn’t mean that Dad should pick on me because I cry and mope when Mom leaves. Mom tried to tell him it was just because of the change in routine, but I don’t think he bought it. She tried to tell him it was because she was always around when Dad was home and it confused me when Mom left. The truth is, I just don’t like mom leaving.
He was also picking on me about my efforts to help. I always try to help if I can. Take today for instance, Mom was laying on the floor doing her physical therapy for her back and I just knew she needed support. So, I brought her my orange ball.
When Dad heard about this he told me that the orange ball is not the solution for everything. Are you kidding me? The orange ball IS the solution for everything! I’m always in a good mood when I have my orange ball. It just makes me feel better. I figured it would do the same for Mom.
Here’s a good example of how my orange ball makes people feel better. When I’m playing on the floor, shooting my ball under the ottoman, it gets stuck under there sometimes. (We went over this the other day.) When someone has to get up and help me, they’re always smiling and they speak to me. Stress relieved, problem solved. So, if making people happy and hanging out with the food lady makes me a Momma’s boy, sign me up!

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Mark Michels
Mark Michels Mama’s boy lol
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Ash Macfarlane Political language. . . is designed to make lies sound truthful and murder respectable, and to give an appearance of solidity to pure wind.
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Dillon, day 128 of my life in DC!

Tuesday, 14 February 2017

Happy Valentine’s Day everyone! As you celebrate together with your loved ones, remember this — I still don’t have an official birthday! Yesterday, there was a lot of discussion on the topic, but I’m not sure a final decision was made. Mom’s vote is probably the one that’s going to count, since she’s the one who keeps track of stuff. She said we should compromise and make it March 1st. Works for me!
Now, on a more serious note, Valentine’s Day is a good time to think of the ones you love. In that theme, I decided I would try to share my ball with Micky. So, while she was sitting on the couch tonight, I brought her my little blue ball. (Yeah, it wasn’t the orange one or my big boy ball. I love her, but let’s not get carried away.)
She was happy enough to chew on it for a minute or two, but she still doesn’t really understand the pure joy you get from having a bouncy little ball. I swear she thinks if she could just get it popped open, there would be treats inside or something. Believe me, I’ve tried. I’ve squashed, chewed, squeezed, and otherwise tried to destroy the thing, but it just won’t open up. So, I just take it for what it is, a bouncy little treasure.
Anyway, when she was chewing on it, it fell on the floor. Being in a giving mood, I jumped down to get it for her. When she finally finished trying to pop it open, she left it sitting there.
Silly me, I thought she wouldn’t mind if I leaned in to get it. Silly me, I would be wrong about that. She was not thrilled when I snatched it up. What she tried to do to my nose certainly wasn’t very charitable. And on Valentine’s Day of all days!
Finally, you get to see what I mean about those teeth. Fortunately, Dad was holding his camera through the whole thing. Now, I have proof! I’m finally vindicated! Those teeth are real and there’s a lot of em. Oh well, I tried. Happy Valentine’s Day indeed!

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Dillon, day 127 of my life in DC!

Monday, 13 February 2017

Ah, the day before Valentine’s Day. I gotta be getting close to a birthday soon. That’s the only bummer about starting life out on the road and getting scooped up by the Po-po. There’s no record of my birthday. Mom and Dad say I’m about a year old now and Dad was campaigning for Valentine’s Day to be my “birthday.”
I’m not wild about that being my birthday. Sure, I’m a lover and all, but I preferred his second choice, St. Patrick’s Day. I love a good party and with a name like Dillon, it seems a perfect fit. Besides, I like green too.
Today threw me off a bit. Mom usually does her shopping and stuff in the middle of the week, but this morning, she was buzzing around with a purpose. Next thing I know, Micky and I are getting chucked into our crates and she was off. Wonder where she went.
The next thing I know, I’m waking up from a nice cozy nap to the sound of the door opening. Cool, I got a great nap and then Mom came home. Except it wasn’t Mom, it was Dad. What the heck? How long was I out and where was Mom? I tried to take a look around the house to see if Mom was hiding, but Dad wasn’t having it. I guess someone clued him in on the rules. Rule number one, “Dillon goes outside to pee as soon as he comes out of his crate.” Yeah, yeah, whatever. I can’t wait until I’m off the watchlist.
Anyway, once I did get to run around the house, I couldn’t find Mom. Where was she? This was very strange. Dogs live by routines and this was not part of the routine. Write this down. Dad goes to work in the morning and Mom may or may not go somewhere during the day, but Mom always comes home before Dad. Always!
Oh well, I guess I can get over this little infraction of the routine as long as they have a big party on my “birthday” with all my friends.

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Dillon, day 126 of my life in DC!

Sunday, 12 February 2017

After a great Saturday at the park, I needed a down day to recuperate. Thankfully, nobody is in any hurry to do anything exciting. Sundays are usually pretty easy around here. We hang out in the yard, chuck the ball, and relax. With the weather being as nice as it was, Micky and I got to spend a lot of time out there.
I took my orange big boy ball out a couple times, but I decided it was more fun to play with my little orange ball. I can wing that one around and watch it bounce down the stairs without worrying about getting conked on the head with it. Plus, Mom and Dad chuck it harder because they’re not worried about hitting me with it.
Sunday is also a good day for naps. I got a good one today too! I was upstairs in the big bed, all covered up in the blankets. I must have been up there for three hours and nobody bothered me once. No potty breaks, nobody bugging me at all. It was great! When I finally dragged myself out, it was all the way to the couch, where Dad was reading some big-ass book. I have no idea what it was about, but he seemed into it. Oh well, I was happy enough to plop down next to him and go right back to sleep. I love Sundays.

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Dillon, day 124 of my life in DC!

Dillon, day 124 of my life in DC!
Not only is it crappy and cold outside, Mom says I’m now on the Disabled, Injured Reserve list. I don’t know what that means, exactly, but I’m not allowed to play ball like a crazy man for a while.
Mom says that she spotted me favoring by back, left leg, but I think she’s imagining things. I’m a little boy, I bump into stuff and sometimes it hurts for a little while. That’s no reason to put me on the bench. I’m still ready to play, coach! Besides, the weather is supposed to be much better tomorrow and I wanna go to the park.
I think maybe it’s because Mom isn’t feeling too swell today. There’s a crud running around and lots of people are sick. Hopefully, Mom manages to fight it off. Micky and I need her to be at the top of her game. I don’t know how well we’d do if Dad was in charge for a few days. I love the guy, but he’s lucky to get up and dress himself some days. Will he remember to give us our chewy treats and feed us? Micky has a way of reminding people she’s hungry, but he’s got to be paying attention for it to work. C’mon Mom, you can do it! You can beat it! We’re counting on you!

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Dillon, day 122 of my life in DC!

I’m not really behaving, I’m exhausted. With all the time I’ve spent in the sun over the past few days, I’m running on fumes. It has been beautiful outside and I think Mom has a touch of cabin fever too. So, we spend a lot of time out there each day.
First thing this morning, Mom sat out back and chucked my ball while drinking her coffee. What a great way to start the day. I can’t believe it was over 70 degrees again today.
Inside, we tried to do some work in the sweatshop, but the sun was calling. Besides, Mom had me working on Micky’s project; I’m not really into it yet. So, off we went, walking around the neighborhood. Mom latched up Micky and me for a nice stroll.
I guess all my friends had the same idea. While we were out there, we saw all kinds of people. The best part of the walk was when we ran into my buddy Kona. He’s awesome and is almost always up for a little “wrasslin’,” except today. He was tired too. I guess he’s been playing out in the sun too.
When we got home, I seriously needed a nap. Mom tried to make me go back to work in the sweatshop, but I couldn’t do it. Instead, I flopped down in my bed for a snooze. Turns out, it was just what I needed. I felt much better after a few winks. I even had enough energy to play a little more ball.
Inside the house, I usually have to come up with my own games. Tonight I played one of my favorites. I sit on the floor next to the ottoman and shoot it under with my nose. Then, I run around to the other side to catch it when it rolls out. This usually keeps me busy for quite a while. That is, until the ball gets stuck under there.
I swear it doesn’t happen very often, but Mom likes to tell me that it happens all the time. I guess we’ll just have to agree to disagree on this point. As long as she still gets up and helps me get it unstuck, she can say what she wants. I think mostly, she feels sorry for me because I get so frustrated when I can’t get it out of there. I’m even okay with her taking pictures of me trying to unstick it.

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Dillon, day 120 of my life in DC!

Did you watch the Super Bowl? We had it on for the commercials and stuff, but I don’t know that anyone cared who won. We had a whole bunch of people over for snacks, drinks, and the game. Yesterday morning, Mom got up and get busy cooking stuff right away. It smelled heavenly in the house all day. Mmm… I love food, especially when there’s a variety of it.

This cooking and tidying up went on for an hour or two and I thought this was what we were doing today. Nope, it was just round one. Even on Sundays, Mom drags us up to the sweatshop to work on her crafts. This time, she has me working on a caricature of Micky Lu! It’s just like the one of me I showed you the other day, but of course, it looks like Micky. Her face is a little harder than mine. She has brown all over her face and two little eyebrows. This means WAY more cutting and sewing.
When we finally got done with this, people started showing up for the game. Oh good, time for snacks! I ran around from person to person, looking hopeful, but I didn’t get a single Smokey Joe Pretzel Bite. They looked delicious and smelled incredible and these guys wouldn’t share even a bite. Ugh!
The only saving grace was my little Apricot Honey, Shannon, came over with Kathy. As usual, she played hard to get and acted like she was going to bite my nose when I got too close. Ooh, I love when she does that. It gets me all amped up. When we went upstairs to show of my work in the sweatshop, Shannon acted all bitchy, which drove me nuts. I went on a crazy run all over the upstairs. Dad said it sounded like a herd of elephants were running around up there, but that’s just silly. How would the elephants get up the stairs? They’re way too narrow for their fat butts!
I didn’t really pay attention to the game, but tried to watch the commercials. Dad said the commercials were the best part, but I didn’t see any I thought were spectacular. The Kia commercial was pretty funny and any time a Hollywood actor gets the crap knocked out of them, I think it’s funny. Other than that, the whole event was a let down. Maybe next year the Cowboys will be in the game and I’ll have a reason to care.