Dillon, day 146 of my life in DC!

Saturday, 4 March 2017

Ah, the weekend. I love weekends as much as any human who goes to work every weekday. It’s not because I need a break from the daily grind, but because both of my people are here most of the day and we get to do fun stuff. Today, I helped Dad get ready for spring.
The first order of business was to smooth out the front yard to make it ready for replanting. The lawn kind of got hosed when they replaced the water main last December. (See what I did there?) Anyway, there were a bunch of big rocks and a lump that looked ominously like a body was buried in the front yard. That’s silly though. Who would bury a body in the front yard? Everyone knows you bury them out in the forest behind the house.
While Dad was working on getting rid of the lumps, Micky and I sunbathed a bit. This was great! All the little humans from the neighborhood stopped by to say hello. One of the little female humans is extra cute. When she first met Micky, she was asked to always scratch the underside of her chin, instead of the top of her head. So now, every time she stops by, she reminds her friends to stay away from the top of her head. So cute!
After the little humans moved along, the fat beagle up the street strolled by. Micky and I always make a fuss about him. As soon as we saw him, we started barking and howling. We have a thing about fat dogs. We think it’s just a shame that their owners let them overeat. Do they not know how damaging it is to their joints and longevity?!? We four-leggers don’t live long enough to begin with. Ugh!
Once the body was well-hidden in the front, we moved out back to start filling all the bird feeders. Micky and I don’t really get much out of that, so we decided to nap. There are lots of sunny spots to snooze in the yard, but Micky and I decided the planter barrels were the choice spots today, which Dad thought was funny. I’m guessing once the flowers start growing, Mom won’t be amused.
Dad was also doing something Micky and I thought was totally ridiculous. He was filling in the low spots around the fence. Does he really think we’re dumb enough to try to run away? We love it here!
And why do we love it here? Because we get treats just for the hell of it. Today was the perfect example. When Mom got home from her errands, she gave us a deer antler. I had never seen such a thing, but I knew instantly that I was gonna love it! The best part was that it was split open so we could get at the good stuff inside. It’s things like this that make me ask why would anyone ever want to run away?

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Dillon, day 145 of my life in DC!

Friday, 3 March 2017

As Charlie Daniels said, “This is the end! But where I come from we don’t give up without a fight.” Let me back up a bit though. It all started with this “Jam” thing they keep talking about. Apparently, we’ve got just about a month and a half left before we go. I guess I’ve already been there, but I don’t really remember it. Mom says it was one of the stops on my way up from Georgia, when I was rescued.
Anyway, these two have high hopes for me at this “Jam.” I’m not so sure about all this nonsense. Micky says it’s exhausting. I guess she “over-jammed” on her first trip and was wiped out after the first day. Dad says it’s an absolute hoot, but I have to tell you, I’m a little nervous about all this.
So, getting back to this afternoon. Everything was going along fine. Micky and I even got to show off our guard dog moves when a strange man started wandering around the house next door. When we heard him, Micky and I immediately started running up and down the fence, voicing our displeasure. Turns out it was all for nothing. The guy was fixing their Internet and we didn’t get the memo.
Chasing that guy was great fun, but everything took a turn for the worse as we came back inside. Mom grabbed up my magic toy basked and just dumped it. Seriously, she just made a big heap of my toys in the middle of the floor. She didn’t even try to lay them out nicely. How rude! Absolutely no concern for my feelings or respect for my things. To say that I was confused by this would be an understatement. I just stood there looking at her for some sort of explanation.
I got no explanation. What I got was a trip to the basement for “some learnin.” I guess Mom has this wild idea that I’m going to
learn to put my own toys away. She got this idea when she saw me pull the ball I had just been playing with out of the basket. So, she figured I could learn to put all my toys away. Now, I get to practice this little “behavior” until I can do it on command.
Is this the end of my carefree life? Am I gonna have to work for my dinner? What the hell? I don’t think so. That’s not gonna happen. I’m not giving up without a fight. Down in the basement thunder dome, I just played dumb. I even managed to pull off not knowing how to sit. I feel like I won this round, but I also think this isn’t the end of the game.

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Dillon, day 144 of my life in DC!

Thursday, 2 March 2017

Oops, I did it again! Yeah, Yeah, I know that’s some tooty fruity, teeny bopper song, but that’s what happened. I puked on Dad’s foot… again! In my defense though, it’s wasn’t my fault. I’m blaming Mom and her silly little heart worm pills, gotta be.
I really don’t have a sensitive stomach. I’ve been training with Micky, the best. As Dad says, she’s a garbage disposal with legs. She eats anything and everything. So, I follow her lead and munch on a little of everything. None of it ever seems to bother me, but yesterday, something was off. Every time I turned around, I was gacking up stuff.
When Dad got home yesterday, he somehow managed to get here before Mom. As soon as we went outside, my stomach started rumbling. So, I repainted the deck with a lovely shade of puke. Dad felt bad for me, but figured that was the end of it. He was wrong!
All night long, I was coughing up something. They made me sit on a blanket on the couch, in case I got sick, but I managed to miss the blanket almost every time. Mom said it’s a good thing we don’t have a cloth couch, but also added that “we’re gettin’ a new couch this summer.” Mom’s a hoot. When I puked on Dad’s leg, yeah, I got that too, Dad was gonna go change. Instead, Mom said, “was it a lot of puke?” Like it’s okay that he had a little puke on his pant leg. I guess you really know you’re a dog owner when you determine whether to change your clothes by the amount of puke on your leg.
So, getting back to bedtime last night. By the time we went to bed, Mom had pretty much figured out that the heart worm pills were the only thing that was different in my diet. Time to find a different medication. Anyway, I had basically stopped having issues by the time I went to bed, so I got to sleep in the bed. And by in the bed, I mean way under the blankets by Dad’s feet. This is where the problems started. Literally, as soon as Dad turned out the light and settled in, my stomach got upset. You can guess what happened next. I puked, then the lights came on, and the blankets got thrown back. So much for sleeping in the bed…
I spent the rest of the night cooped up in my bedroom crate. (We have lots of crates.) In the morning, Dad checked on me, but still didn’t let me out. I don’t really blame him. If he had let me out when he left for work and I puked on Mom, we’d all be in solitary confinement. Nope, don’t blame him at all. Fortunately, my “bug” seems to have subsided and I’m back to normal now. Thank goodness!

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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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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