I'd like to say a few words about plastic 2 liter soda bottles. What does that have to do with raising a puppy, you ask? Mom accidently dropped one on the way out the the garbage can, and Ungus pounced on it (like he does everything that gets dropped, whether it is his or not). He bit the cap and scooted the bottle all over the place. Mom and Dad though it was funny... "he's so cute" [with the bottle]; so now, there are 2 liter c**a cola bottles every where. Dad puts a couple of rocks in them so they will rattle. They squish the air out of most of them so they can't roll away from the little guy, and he can actually grab, carry and chew them - they crackle and rattle really well. Ok, it is actually funny to watch him carry one - it looks like he has a bottle instead of a head. Sometimes he gets lucky and can "skateboard" on one, and they do occupy him an appreciable amount of the time. But with all the cool doggie toys he has - and he plays with MINE, too! - why soda bottles? And why does he need 18 of them. What is wrong with two. One inside and one outside. There is a big patch of violets in one garden where he and I play "Battleship and Submarine"... more on that later. It has so many soda bottles in it it looks like they grew there. The patio is even worse. You would think a soda truck had wrecked nearby. He can't play with more than two at a time, so, why so many? What's the big deal with them. I'll... *bite bite-rattle rattle rattle - crackle - snap - shake - crunch - bite* hey, this IS fun...uh, don't tell anyone OK?

If Ungus hadn't been born in April, I would swear he was a scorpio. He can disappear faster than a bullet. He's there one second and gone the next, and that we have some black carpets doesn't help. He is small enough to use them as camouflage. Mom and Dad have both stepped on him 'cause he blends in with the rug. I don't know why Mom and Dad don't use their noses to find him. Its a lot easier than all the name calling and whistling. 

The bad part is that when he goes to sleep, he really goes to sleep - conks out cold, so when we look for him, he might not wake up! After all the looking and whistling, I sniff him out in the hall closet or the rose garden or somewhere similar and he gives me the, "What was all the fuss about?" woof. 

Sometimes he gets back to where he was supposed to be without anyone seeing him. Dad says it's a "glitch in the Matrix" when he does that, 'cause no one sees him move. I told Mom we should get one of those little tinkle bells like the cat wears (to scare the birds) for him. Dad says it is undignified for a Scot to "tinkle," so no bell. Ungus would probably figure out how to ninja around so it wouldn't ring, anyway, and I would get blamed if he got in  trouble, 'cause I hadn't been, "Looking out for baby brother." Sneaky - thy name is Ungus. Wait! Sheesh - where did he get off to, now?!

Ungus gets to wear a long leash when we are on the patio 'cause he still doesn't know not to wander away, yet. Will he ever learn not to wander away? He calls it, "Exploratory sniffing." I call it, "Go fetch Ungus time." We have a nice bar-b-cue pot that Dad cooks on a lot, even in the winter. Though it smells wonderful, it is HOT! I didn't ever actually get to touch the bar-b-cue when I was a pup; when I didn't know better, thank goodness. The 150 decibel screech from Mom, who thought I had burned myself, was enough make me swear off bar-b-cue forever.

Ungus gets short shanked when the bar-b-cue is getting used, so he can't reach it. His revenge for that is to wind his leash around everything that touches the ground (including me, Mom and Dad, the cat, all the furniture, the occasional briquette bag and a plant or two. Mom gives the "come back" command, which means you are supposed to retrace your steps - I am really good at it - but Ungus hasn't got that bit yet, so he adds a few more things to the tangle before Dad gives up and unties both ends so we can play a game of unravel, which Ungus loves - he tries to keep things from getting untied. Wait - does he do it all on purpose? If I find out he is...

This morning started with a lot of excitement at about 4:30 a.m. (sheesh - I need my sleep!) Ungus woke up choking and coughing. Dad was out of bed like he had been spring loaded and rushed to Ungus' bed, but the pill had stopped coughing and figured Dad was just there to take him outside to pee. I didn't have the heart to tell Dad that Ungus probably just ate one of his good shoe laces.

Actually  he has been pretty good about sleeping all night, little bladder and all, but if anything does wake him up, he thinks that's a sign, and wants to go out and see if there is anything interesting in the back yard - like a skunk, maybe. Then I get to listen to Dad stubbing his toes on furniture and wandering around half asleep taking Ungus outside. Then after five minutes, Mom thinks they have gotten lost, so she sends me after them. I usually find them on the stairs on their way back to bed, but I couldn't tell Mom that, if I had waited 30 more seconds, they would have been back. She worries. Ungus even got an extra g'night cookie so he would fall back to sleep. Me? No cookie - they just expect me to go to sleep after all the excitement. I guess I'll just pace around the room, like I need to go outside, too. OK, in a minute - I'll just lay down for a second, then I'll pace around... I'll pace in a second... pace... zzzzzz.

Every day is a day to remember - and remember - and remember...

I love my new little brother - I really do, but he is a constant attention getter. Mom says I was like that when I was puppy, but I really don't remember being such a pest! Ungus is either sound asleep or getting into everything, all at once (he is really fast!). Nothing in between.

I can't just talk to him without him jitterbugging all around me, trying to get me to play. Which, don't get me wrong, is fun, but he nips a lot and he has little needle teeth that are really sharp!  Dad has little needle marks all over his hands 'cause Ungus hasn't learned yet that you only get to chomp while playing if there are gloves on.

I hope, sharing this blog, to ease some of my exasperations with being a good big brother, and not getting any credit for it. Whoops - Ungus just broke something! If I had done that, I would have been scolded. Mom just said, "It was an accident." If it was an accident, why are there tooth-marks on it? Well, I get to help clean up. He is sort of cute - in the right light - when he is clean - and asleep