The Puppy and the Treat

Ungus has definitely lowered the bar for "treats." I believe I have mentioned that braunschwager is my favorite treat, and that I learned all my best tricks when Dad used braunschwager for a treat. But Ungus? He'll do anything for anything! At least on a temporary basis. But he is just as likely to forget what he did to get the treat as he is to forget that he just got a treat. He thinks life is just one big treat-fest. He hasn't quite made the "do a good thing" then "get a treat" connection. I complained to Dad that I thought Ungus was getting more treats than I was. Dad explained that Ungus was "In training". I explained to Dad that I was "In retirement!"

Humans and Dogs and Smelling

I know dogs have better noses than people. Even people admit to that. We can smell stuff about a gazillion times better. But what I don't get is our respective attitude toward some smells. Skunks smell really strong, sometimes, but they don't really smell BAD. Not bad enough to keep a dog from chasing the skunk. And if we get sprayed - its the people that think we smell bad and try to give us a bath in lemonade or tomato juice (now there is some stinky stuff!) Say a skunk comes by. I smell that he is there, but Mom is gagging and slamming all the windows and threatening to pass out, over just a little stink. And the cat just lays there as the skunk goes by - just says "yo." Dead things smell, but not bad enough to forestall a good chewing (and sometime eating - now that will get Mom in a tizzy!) Mom and Dad both like the smell of coffee. They sniff and sniff and say how good it smells, but to me it just smells like burnt wood - nothing appetizing there. But sometimes our noses agree, and I really can't figure out why. Mom and Dad opened up something really, really stinky today. Gus and I thought it was a mutant skunk or a dead giant squirrel or something. The smell was  - well... WHEW!! WOOF!! Gus and I zoomed into the kitchen to see what was going on. Mom and Dad said we just went "poof" at their feet, 'cause we got there so fast. We wanted to know what the incredible stink was!! Dad and Mom had opened - and I quote, here - a. "... forty-year-old round of Cougar Gold Cheddar Cheese." Holy Moley was that stuff stinky! GOOD stinky, and, though I figured Mom would yell AUGH and try to throw it out cause it smelled, so, instead, she and Dad were both sighing and "ahhh"ing and saying how wonderful it was! Now I know cheese. I like all kinds of cheese - even limberburger. But this was way beyond that, and Mom and Dad were loving it. They had crackers out and bits of toast and some fruits and were just living it up eating something I figured they would have tried to bury! Gus and I begged and begged and finally Dad took some crumbles and sprinkled our dry food with it. WOW was that stuff great. Dad said we could only have a little bit, otherwise we, ..."wouldn't poop for a week," whatever that meant. Anyway, I have learned that our noses really can agree on SOME things, that I figure are so smelly that Mom will try to throw it in the garbage. Say, is there any more of that cheese left, Dad?

Sir Barksalot

Our neighbors have five dogs. They aren't very big - none of them are as big as me - but then that's how dogs think. I think I am bigger than the Irish wolfhound down the street, but Mom laughs when I tell her that. I wonder why. Anyhow, the neighbors got a Jack Russell terrier a couple of years ago. He's OK, but barks all the time, 'cause no one taught him that you don't have to bark all the time, cause after about the fiftieth time you barked that you 'had breakfast', no one is listening.

Then they got him a girlfriend. She is bigger than he is. Kind of fluffy with a curly tail and sort of dirty blond colored. She is MEAN! She bit me once and Mom cooled her off. She never has tried to bite me again, though. Maybe she thought it was me. Ha ha! But she barks all the time, too, and believe me, none of it is as interesting as what she might have had for breakfast. And she thinks Ungus would make a good breakfast, so he stays away from her.

Then they had three puppies. They are OK, but now they are all five barking - all the time.  Maybe they just want more attention. Dad tells the joke about a guy whose neighbor's dog barked all the time. Finally he said to his wife he, "couldn't stand it anymore," and ran outside. He came back in a minute later. His wife asked what he had done 'cause she could still hear the dog bark. He answered, "I put the dog in our yard - we'll see how they like it!" Then everyone laughs. I don't get it.

Mom and  Dad teach us, barking is OK - important, even, but it should have a real purpose. Like, if a burglar is "... going after the family heirlooms." I'm not sure what the family heirlooms are, but I am ready to bark at anyone who tries to take them. Ungus still does not know exactly what to bark at, yet, and when he gets really excited his bark gets higher and higher until it is just a squeaky toy sound. It's particularly annoying when something ordinary startles him and he sets off with a round of barking and no one can figure out what he is barking at. I ask him and he says, "It Moved!" I say what moved? He says,"I don't know, but it was moving." Great. "Bark Bark barkbarkbark           BARK BARK BAARK! No, Ungus - the garbage collector is not stealing our stuff.  sigh...

Ungus got his first "big boy" dog biscuit the other day. They are supposed to be too big and hard for puppies, but have you guys ever looked in Ungus' mouth? They could make a new "Jaws" movie with those. Mom was following him around, trying to be inconspicuous, checking to see what Ungus would do with the BIG biscuit. Ungus was watching her out of the corner of his eye. He went in the TV room, then the porch, then the office, with Mom tailing him. Mom called Dad and said, "I think Ungus isn't feeling well. He isn't even trying to eat his new biscuit." They kept on tailing Ungus through the house, him toting the biscuit that was as big as his head. Finally I asked him if he was sick and what would make him feel better? He answered, "I'd feel lots better if they would let me HIDE my biscuit!"

Some doggie toys make a squeaky sound when you bite them SQUEAKSQUEAKSQUEAKSQUEAK. Its fun and really kind of satisfying while you are chewing on them. Mom says , "...they're annoying!" I pretend I don't know what that means. When Ungus gets really excited and tries to bark, he makes a noise like those squeaking toys. We have a toy Mom calls the alligator. I guess 'cause it looks like an alligator, but since I have never seen one, it's hard for me to tell. I had alligator when I was a puppy, I chewed on it some and it does have a great squeeky sound, but there were other toys I liked better, so when Ungus comes along, alligator is still just there in the toy box. Ungus seemed to really like alligator, and the first thing Ungus did was chew off all his toes. Then the end of his tail. then his lower jaw. During all this chewing, alligator is making that great squeaking noise I mentioned - the one that sounds like Ungus when he gets excited. Over the last few weeks Ungus has whittled away at alligator. Feet are gone, most of his head and tail are gone, all chewing accompanied by that great squeak.

Mom, Dad and I were in the office, working - my job is security - and there was a non-musical chorus of squeaking coming from the other room, part from an excited Ungus and part from alligator. Squeak squeak squeak squeak squeak squeak squeak squeak! SQUEAK. Then, strangely, the squeaks were together, sort of, like Ungus and alligator were both squeaking at exactly the same time. Mom looked toward the door as the yodeling squeaks continued.

Just then, Ungus staggers into the office, still squeaking like crazy. He was all foamy around the mouth like Dad looks when he is getting a trim on his chin (I was waiting for someone to yell "RABIES"). Mom made a noise, kind of like, "GLACHG" and rush to Ungus. Ungus thought he was in trouble (gee I wonder why) and tried to evade Mom, but she got him anyway. She pried open his mouth and said, "Oh! Ye cats!" though I don't know what the cat had to do with it, and stuck her fingers in Ungus' mouth. After a short lived battle, Mom won and pulled out alligator's squeaker that had gotten stuck really good on Ungus' teeth. Then he got his mouth washed out and a drink of water and he was as good as new. Alligator and all of his pieces, however, were put into the garbage bin, with much protesting from Ungus, who wanted his chew toy back. Mom said, "No! One close call per day, only" I guess that means she'd rather not have Ungus try and kill himself more than once a day. I did notice that Mom kept alligators squeaker, though. Sometimes, when Ungus is in the other room, she blows on it...    just for fun.

Ungus has a favorite chew-toy. Most people would call it a cat, but not Ungus. He thinks the cat is there just for his amusement and playtime. Now, I really don't know that much about cats. I know they save poop in perfectly good holes that a bone should be hidden in. Don't they know that Dad goes around with a "Pooper-Scooper?" That alone brings into question any other motives they might have. They are good at catching mice - almost as good as me, but then - geeech - eat them. They have strange hygiene procedures - they lick themselves squeaky clean all over, then go roll in the dust. At least I'm not a hypocrite - I just go straight for the dust! I am not sure what constitutes a smart cat, but I am fairly certain that our cat does not rank there. Mom says, "See that smoke coming out of his ears? Those are his two brain cells rubbing together." So, I guess that means our cat isn't too smart. He loves attention, though. He's always rubbing on people, furniture, rugs, ME! - anything to get petted or purr-worthy. I don't think Gus had ever seen a cat before he came here, and we have just the one. There are more around but Mom says they're 'feral" - I guess that means they only sneak food when they think no one is looking. Our cat is used to me. I was here when he wandered in as a scared, scrawny, tiny kitten. I pretty much ignored him unless he got in the way when I was chasing something else. Then I just bowled him over in my hurry, which was sort of fun in its own right. Ungus, on the other hand, took one look at him and figured he belonged in the toy basket! I think, in spite of his mental limitations, the cat has figured out that Ungus can't actually hurt him. So, when Ungus tries something, like chewing on the cat's ears, the cat gets all puffy and makes a rarrowgle sound and bats at Ungus with his paws. I know he isn't serious, though. Dogs have pretty good toe nails. They are designed so we can dig holes to bury things in, or dig up stuff that is already in a hole. Cats have toe nails, too, but they are sharp! Very sharp! And curved. And sharp! Dog toe nails are always in the same place, but cats can make their toe nails stick out. And they are sharp!. Or they can hide their toe nails somewhere inside their paws. It's sort of neat. And they are sharp! The cat always bats at Ungus with his toe nails hidden inside his paws. Otherwise, Ungus would have ribbons for ears and cry a lot - 'cause they are SHARP! Ungus has to be on a long, long leash when he is on the patio. When he comes inside, the leashed gets coiled up near the door. The cat seems to think this coil of leash is a good place for a nap. Ungus has discovered a neat thing. If he is careful when Dad hooks him up, the cat won't move. Then Ungus can take of at a dead run and the cat gets slid along on the coil of leash with his legs waving in the air until the leash all gets unwound. It's pretty funny. Then Ungus runs over to the cat and makes a rush at him. Cat is still dizzy from the leash ride, so he takes off and Ungus gets to chase him. Cat comes back in a couple of minutes, though, and he and Ungus go at it again. Pounce  rarrowgle Pounce  Feint  Slap  rarrowgle  Squeak Rush Bat PUFF Bark!         Sigh.

Ungus got into trouble.         *pause*           *evil chuckle*     "he he he". 

There is a middle school near us. We, and a lot of other Moms and Dads, go there with their doggies to play. It has lots of cool grass and a big fence all around, so even if Ungus get up a good head of steam, he can't go too far without conking into a fence. Sometimes there are even kids there to play with us. Ungus gets really excited when he sees someone, either doggie or human. He wiggles all over and wants to go and greet them. We were walking over at the school yesterday. They have a "track" that humans like to run on. They just run around and around - they aren't even chasing a ball or a squirrel or anything - they just run around in a circle. Go figure. This morning there were three little girls running around in a circle. They saw us and said, "Oh, what a cute little Scotty puppy!" Ungus wiggled his way over to them and they made a big fuss over him. He was in doggie heaven with all their attention. So much so, when Dad called him back to be with us, Ungus didn't come. Oh, the sacrilege! I don't ever remember doing that! Dad tried several times to get Ungus to come back to us, but he wanted to play with the little girls and didn't come. Finally the little girls walked over to us and Ungus trotted happily along with them. They all gave me a nice pet and told me I was a good dog. I didn't get the "Oh, isn't he cute!" greeting. but they told me I was a good dog and a nice doggie, and I'll settle for that. Meanwhile, Dad clips the leash back onto Ungus. The little girls go back to their circle running and when Ungus turned to follow them, he found he was leashed up. He tried to struggle after them for a moment, then realized Dad had him good. He whined and sniveled, but Dad said, "NO! You didn't come when called, so you can't be loose, right now." Ungus hung his head and promised he would never do it again, but it didn't matter. He had to stay on the leash all the way home. I sort of felt sorry for the little guy, hanging his head and dragging his little feet; staying right with Dad by way of apology. This morning we went back to the school. There was a lady running in circles and she stopped to give Ungus attention when he wiggled his way over to her. Dad called him back. He looked at the lady then at Dad, and finally came slowly back over to us. The lady laughed and said that we were, "... good dogs," and ran off. Ungus watched her go, then looked at Dad. Dad bent over and told him he was a good dog to "come" Ungus got all wiggly and flopped over to get scratched, and we walked on with no leashes. Maybe he will learn the "good dog" stuff, OK, after all. And maybe tomorrow, he'll get in trouble again and I'll get to chuckle again.  He he he.

I asked Dad, "Why do we have to go on our morning walk so early?" He said that it is easier to teach Ungus things - read, 'good behavior', here - when he is hungry. His rewards mean more - are more memorable. Ungus' favorite treat is chicken jerky. Not that processed stuff - the real chicken in dehydrated strips. Dad breaks it up in tiny pieces and Ungus will do just about anything for a bit of that chicken. At least temporarily. Ungus is a big eater. He'll eat practically anything - and does. Bits of sticks, leaves and twigs, bark, paper, candles, anything that was once alive and now is dead, bottle caps, zombies (I don't even know what zombies are, but Mom says he'd probably chew on one), towel corners, ethernet cable (boy was Dad mad!), shoes, parts of rugs (usually rugs that used to be whole), little green apples (now that IS funny). He even likes regular dog food. Dry puppy food. From a bag! Mom says I was a picky eater. I didn't eat for three days when I first came to Mom and Dad. Mom panicked and thought I was going to starve! Thats how poached chicken got on the menu (HA!) I don't care much for dog food. I like people food better. For treats, though, where Ungus likes the chicken jerky, I like braunschwager. Whatever human invented that stuff, gets my vote! I love it. I learned all of my coolest tricks on the other end of a bit of braunschwager. I guess Ungus is just easier to please. At least that means that I still get all the braunschwager. What? Wait  WAIT!. No, Dad! NOOOOOOOOOOOO!

I hate water. I hate baths. I hate the sprinklers. I hate the rain. I hate getting wet - even if it is only two drops. Ungus, on the other hand, likes getting wet. He thinks it is fun to run back and forth through the sprinklers. He likes walking in the rain - the same rain that Dad and I try to avoid. He even likes getting a bath - though he does wiggle a lot, and I think he has a contest with himself as to how far he can shake the droplets off of his wet fur. I try to be in the other room when he gets a bath.

This morning the sprinkler was on in the upper garden. Ungus isn't supposed to go up there by himself. But he was all excited, for what ever reason- the wind probably changed or something - and when Dad came to get us from the back yard to go in the house, Ungus took off up the path to the upper garden. Most of the path is stone, but there are parts that are just dirt and when the sprinkler is on, they turn to mud. Ungus goes zooming up the path through the sprinkler and the mud - Dad called him back, and to his credit he did come. But then he went back. Back through the sprinkler and the mud. Back and forth about six times. When Dad finally got him out he was soaked and mud up to his tummy!

We have a big tub outside that we take baths in, in the summer. Dad fills it up with water in the morning, and by the afternoon the sun has it all warm. It wouldn't be so bad, if I didn't hate baths. But this wasn't bath day and Ungus, if he hadn't been black in the first place, sure was now. So in he comes to get a bath (I ran and hid). There were lots of splashing noises and gargling noises and wet slopping noises. Then silence. Then Dad says, "You can come out, now," to me. I come out and Ungus is getting a towel rub! I know it doesn't make any sense, but I love towel rubs, Yeah, I know. You only get them after you've gotten wet, and I don't want to get wet, just to get a towel rub. But I LOVE towel rubs! And Ungus was getting one. Finally he was as dry as he was going to get, so Mom let him go. He zoom-dried around the kitchen about ten times rubbing on everything and rolling and wiggling. I envied him the towel rub. Why can't I have a towel rub WITHOUT the bath? I was good, and didn't get muddy. It must have shown on my face. Mom beckoned me over. It might have been damp from Ungus' bath, but Mom gave me a great towel rub. Without the bath! Mom loves me!

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?

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