Deputy in the Doghouse

Folks,

Deputy Dougal will be unavailable for his weekly post because he decided to pee all over Mommy's drapes today. I tried to warn him-but you know Westies-stubborn as all get out. See what had happened was Mom had to transport another doggy to her fur ever home today and well, for some reason the Deputy got it into his head he wouldn't get in trouble if he marked inside the house. How would Mom find out he asked? Hehehe oh boy that was a challenge if there ever was one. 

To ensure he would not get away with it I developed a plan while patiently waiting for Mommy to get home. After several hours of her ignoring my attempts to get her upstairs she finally went up to check on something and I immediately went to the curtains and smelled, looked at her, sniffed, looked at her until she got the hint that something was there. 

Now I know some of you may call me a dirty rat because I tattled on my brother but see here-marking in the house is not tolerated and sets a bad example for all us Westies. Yeah, I told on him and I would do it again in a heart beat. 

Anyway, I will be in the dog house if Mom discovers me on the Deputy's blog so Merry Christmas all!

Licks and loves,

Sheriff Padfoot

My Favorite Things

In the spirit of the season, I thought I would post some of my favorite things (you can hum along the music if you like).

1. Heat! One of my absolute favorite things since it has gotten colder is to sit in front of the space heater. Mom and Dad keep one just for us doggies because we tend to catch a chill in the winter. After doing our morning absolutions, the Sheriff and I vie for the seat right in front of it! Ah...warmth

2). Belly Rubs! I cannot emphasis this enough-I want and quite often demand my belly to be rubbed. I may growl in the beginning but I quickly calm right down and flip over to my back so anyone can rub my upper chest or right under my chin. Special credit given to those humans who warm their hands before touching me.

3). Going for walks! Mom and Dad have us on a very strict routine. Everyday before they head to work, we get our walk in around the neighborhood. Then everyday at the same time, it's puppy playdate time where all the neighborhood dogs meet over at the park and we sniff, mark, and run with each other. Just in case Mom and Dad think we forget about our special walks, I remind them but jumping up and down on my two back legs.

4). Watching TV! Can we say Animal Planet? Actually I am not that choosey, all I ask that is whistles not be blown, people do not clap their hands, no running or fast movement of any kind, or loud noises. If whatever Mom and Dad put on TV fits into those categories, I will gladly watch right along with them.

5). Rubber Toys. Huge fan! I love when they slip out of my mouth and I can chase them all across the room. If I'm feeling especially happy, I'll even let Mom and Dad throw the toy every once in a while. Mom captured a picture of me with one of my favorite toys in front of the mantel. 

 

Ho, Ho, Wait...Snow??

Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow...somewhere else!

Mom and Dad wrongly surmised that I would love the snow as much as the Sheriff and bundled us off to the backyard for what they considered playtime. Well, they were in for a big surprise (as was I because I had no idea the snow was that deep when I jumped off the back porch) when after successfully doing my business, I high tailed it back into the house. Apparently the Sheriff, who was never the sharpest pencil in the box (shhh don't tell him I said so) doesn't mind cold, wet, white stuff clinging to his paws and belly, or that he has to hop like a rabbit to get across the yard. We will run around in the stuff all day long, chasing Daddy, flinging snow everywhere, digging holes with his nose, etc. As we all know, I am much too dignified for that (Sheriff Padfoot: "Don't let him fool you, by the evening, Deputy was rolling around in the snow trying to cover every inch of his body. Oh, and what does he mean by comparing me to a pencil? What is a pencil exactly? Hmmmm I'm thinking I may have to do a sneak attack on him later!"

Enjoy the lovely photos Mom insisted on taking:

Sheriff Padfoot enjoying the snow

 

 Me trying to get to the house

 

Seriously Mom, it's cold and wet-can we go inside now?

Speak, Dougal, Speak

Happy Thanksgiving and Hanukkah everyone! Sorry for the delay in posting, but once again, the humans had other priorities and given they supply the food, I try to keep my complaining to a minimum.

That being said, I threw my first Deputy style temper tantrum last night. Unfortunately, Mom didn't get video or even pictures but I'll try my best to describe the story.

Picture it: The Homestead, 2013. Everyday at 4:30pm, pups from the neighborhood convene at the local park for what Mom calls "Puppy playdate." We run, sniff, mark, the works for about a half hour or until it gets too dark to see. Afterwards, all pups race back to their respective houses because we know it's chow time!!

Normally, Mom would give us our food and then she does chores, gets in a workout, cooks, continues working, whatever she needs to do before giving us her undivided attention. Padfoot usually gets impatient and will begin his high pitch barking (see earlier post where we serenaded Mom) and running around the house. Totally confused and little freaked out by all the noise, I will press myself against Mom or Dad until they are able to quiet the Sheriff down. Then last night happened. The Sheriff goes over to our "toy box" which between you and I is really my toy box because the Sheriff never plays with anything other than a bone or stick. Anyway he pulls out one of the tennis balls I brought in from the garage and proceeds to play with it. His play consists of planting the ball in the middle of the room and running around it, laying on his side with his two front paws trying to "kick" it, or playing keep away from the humans. After watching for like a second, I quickly run to Mom, put my paw in the air, and begin "speaking" or demanding that she immediately take the toy away from the Sheriff and give it to me. I am relentless in my pursuit for justice, roah roahing for several minutes and increasing the pitch level as high as I can until the Sheriff comes running over to me-I'm assuming to make sure I haven't turned into a squirrel or rat that can now be chased.

Mom calmly tries to explain to me that the Sheriff pulled out the ball first and that I have literally hundreds of more toys to play with-all for nothing because I want the ball, I want the ball, I want the ball!!! Finally, the Sheriff, having the attention span of a gnat, walks away from the ball to pursue other interests and Mom gives the ball to me. Well, she waited way too long to meet my demands and with tail held high, I walk away in disgust. That will teach her!

Deputy Dougal