"Cry 'Havoc,' and let slip the dogs of war...."
-- Julius Caesar

"Life...is a tale...full of sound and fury...."
-- Macbeth

"No woman can be too rich or too thin."
-- Wallis Simpson

"Let them eat cake."
-- Somebody, but not Marie Antoinette

Monday, August 31, 2009


For several months, a large part of my territory has been cut off from me. For the entire hot season I have been forced to stand outside the garden fence and watch while the Lady Who Dotes spreads delicious-smelling, decaying grass clippings on the garden. I have been a good boy and just stood by while Little Dog, who gets away with murder, sneaked though the open gate and sniffed around in the mulch.

But this Saturday I had enough.

When the Man Who Feeds me and the Lady Who Dotes were gone, I pushed the fence back over the strawberries so I could graze in the delicious-smelling, decaying grass clippings. Little Dog was impressed. We had a feast.

Later, the humans replaced the fence. But they could restrain me no more! The next day, I pushed over the fence. It is now in pieces and part of it is hanging on the broccoli. Half of a zucchini plant is missing. I will never tell what happened to it. I have reclaimed what is rightfully mine.

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

No Dog's Land

I noticed that the First Dog, Bo, did not get to go to Yellowstone or the Grand Canyon with the President and his family. I cannot help but to think that Bo's absence was a result of the draconian policy of not allowing dogs in national parks. I, Poppy, am against this policy.

That is not to say that I myself would really want to go to a national park. I am a city dog. I went hiking twice when I was a puppy. The first time I was too little to walk the whole way, so Mommy carried me for part of it. The second time I found a patch of wildflowers and would not move from that spot. I very much resembled Ferdinand the Bull -- same shape, same posture, although much smaller.

I am against this no dogs on federal land policy because it separates dogs from their people. Poor Bo had to stay at home in the White House (how fun could that be?), far from his family. I am a Family Values Pug (not affiliated with the Blue Dog Democrats), and I think that this policy undermines the sanctity of the dog-family relationship. It is just wrong.

Monday, August 17, 2009


Mommy has left the tomatoes on the porch while she waters the garden. Neither Duncan nor I have ever been close to a tomato. They usually travel and rest well above our heads. But here they are now.

There is a tomato in front of me. I lie on my tummy and sniff it. It looks like a ball. I push it with my nose. Next to me, Duncan is pawing another tomato. Mommy tells us to move away from the tomato.

Then she turns her head.

When she turns around, I have the biggest and juiciest tomato of the bunch. I have torn open the side and am lapping up the juice. Mommy tells me no, that tomatoes are not for dogs. But she is too late. I have tasted the forbidden fruit.

I move away from the tomato. I sit at a distance of three feet from it, and gaze at it, guiltily. I am a good girl and want to please Mommy.

Mommy turns back to her watering.

Duncan has been in the house, and does not know that eating the tomato will displease Mommy. When Mommy turns around again, he is finishing up the last of the tomato. He has even licked up the seeds.

Sunday, August 2, 2009

Little Dog Has a Chewie

Little Dog has a chewie. She is chewing it in front of me. She is tempting me. I come closer, but she growls, and runs and sits next to the Lady Who Dotes, who will protect her right to the chewie.

I really want that chewie. I had a chewie, but I ate it all. That was five minutes ago. I do not remember that. I see that Little Dog has a chewie. Since I am a bigger dog, I should be able to take it. I cast my eyes up to the Lady Who Dotes to see if she has come over to my side. She says, "That's not yours." I lay my head down, disappointed.

Little Dog drops the chewie and goes to get a drink of water. I look at the chewie longingly, though I dare not take it. The Lady Who Dotes says, "You can have it now. She abandoned it." I look at the Lady Who Dotes, then I look at the chewie. I feel guilty. I do not touch the chewie.

Little Dog returns to the chewie, but she just lies down on top of it. I lay my head down and consider lost opportunities.

Saturday, August 1, 2009


Mommy is making hamburger patties. I lie on the kitchen floor like a sphinx and watch her. My eyes are glistening, my mouth slightly open. I see nothing by Mommy's hands shaping the hamburger. If she would give me some, I would be the happiest dog in the world.