Evening Rest

The humans are reclining on the sofa. The Big Guy is working, and Mommy is reading. Duncan is sleeping in his favorite spot.

I would like to be on the sofa next to the Big Guy and Mommy. Since I have no concept of other beings having feeling in their bodies, I jump straight on to the Big Guy's tummy. He cries out. I ignore him. I step on him for a while, doing a little turn to get the layout of the land, and the leap onto the back of the sofa, from which I walk, catlike, to the arm next to Mommy. I lie down for a minute.

I have an itch. I get up with a snort, and start scratching my ear. My tags jangle. I climb on top of Mommy and, with really no purpose or reason, begin licking her face. She pushes me away, so I start licking her hand. I don't miss a beat. She holds me still. "That's enough," she says. But when have I, Poppy, ever been satisfied with "enough"? I start licking her hand again. She holds me still.

My toes are itchy, so I sit down on Mommy and begin several minutes of manic toe-biting. I sound like a scavenger gnawing on a carcass.

No longer itchy, I start to sneeze. The sneezing fit goes on for about thirty seconds. Everybody is looking at me because when I sneeze I sound like I'm on a ventilator about to go kaput. The sneezing fit over, I climb back over the Big Guy to sit on the pillows behind him.

For a minute, there is peace.

I am looking out the window. I see a dog, or a child, or a jogger pass by the house. Such a challenge to the integrity of our territory cannot go unanswered! I leap from the pillows, and run to the window to scare away the already out of sight intruder.

Then it starts all over again.

Garage Door Guy

The Garage Door Guy came over today. We were so excited to see him that we ran outside and down the stairs. In our excitement we forgot that we were free and ran back after him into the house.

Everybody went outside and to the back of the house. Then we got to go in the garage. I love the garage. Sometimes I find things in there to eat or play with. I have to be very discreet about it, because Mommy and the Big Guy are very territorial. They always make me give back the treasures I find there.

We went back inside, Garage Door Guy, Mommy, Duncan, and me. I went to go sit on my perch by the door. I sat for a while, listening to the noises in the neighborhood. I forgot that Garage Door Guy was there.

There was a noise, and as I came back from my reverie, the Garage Door Guy was leaving. I wondered, "How could he be leaving if he hasn't even come into the house yet?" Then I realized, he couldn't. Not one to dwell on complexities in times of crisis, I sounded the alarm immediately. I looked back and forth between Mommy and Garage Door Guy, who shouldn't have been there. "There's a stranger in the house! There's a stranger in the house! He's leaving through the front door!"

Safe once more.

Neighbor

I am in the back yard. The neighbor dog is in his back yard. He barks to tell me that he is on his side of the fence. I bark back to tell him that I am on my side of the fence. This exchange continues for a few minutes and is quite lively.

Water

It is a hot day. The water bowl is empty. I am thirsty. Mommy and the Big Guy are watching Battlestar Galactica. They are engrossed. I agitate for water. I stand in front of Mommy and look at her. I send her psychic messages communicating my thirst. She pats the sofa to invite me up.

But I am thirsty, and Mommy is silly. Doesn't she know that if I wanted to be on the sofa I'd get up there without asking permission? Frustrated, I go away.

I am still thirsty. Mommy has not heard my psychic message, so I bark at her. She pats the sofa again. Why is she doing this? I can get on the sofa anytime, but I'm too short to work the faucet. I bark again.

If I were an introspective pug, I would be frustrated by my canine inability to alter my bark to indicate the nuances of my needs. I am not an introspective pug, so I am frustrated that you don't know what I want when I want it. I bark and humans say, "What do you want, Poppy? Is Timmy down a well?" Well, shmell. I'd like a well, a whole well full of water.

Breaking News: The Obamas Have a Dog

Finally, the president has appointed a new White House Dog. I am happy that canines will be represented in the president's shadow cabinet. I am also happy that the president has achieved this goal within the first 100 days of his administration. Not to have appointed a dog by then would have sent a message to all Canine-Americans that we are not the priority that we think we are. I, Poppy, had better be a priority or I will scold you. I did not want to have to scold the president.

This new dog is a Portuguese Water Dog, a gift from Senator Kennedy, who himself is a lover of Portuguese Water Dogs. Portuguese Water Dogs are retrievers and are best known for retrieving baseballs that are hit out of Candlestick Park and into McCovey Cove. They are manly dogs, and not "yippy," as the president had feared a hypo-allergenic dog might be.

Super Bark

Bolt is my new hero. I have been watching him all this afternoon. I have watched him travel cross country with his friends the cat and the small creature in what looks like a food ball. I have been engrossed. Sometimes when Bolt was doing something particularly exciting, I went up to the t.v. and barked up at it. But the most exciting part was when Bolt rescued Penny at the climax of the movie. I sat on the ottoman, my eyes glued to the action, and barked my little voice out. It was so exciting.

Vampire Dog

I am doing very well, thank you. My morphine patch fell off and now I am back to myself. I did not become addicted, thank goodness. Mommy said that she was happy that I didn't, because she didn't want to have to score the stuff for me, or have me trying to get it on the street. Of course, I don't know that I could see pink squirrels whenever I wanted, or that there is even a reality from which I might want to escape. And Mommy's point about me resorting to the street for pink squirrel stuff was just silly. Everybody knows that pugs can't hold cash in their paws. Saved from a life of crime by the absence of thumbs and a frontal lobe! And you humans think you're superior.

Today it was Duncan's turn to go to the emergency vet. This morning when we all got out of bed, we noticed that Duncan's elbow was bleeding. Duncan has very dry elbows, and they bleed occasionally, but usually not very badly. I like it when Duncan's elbows bleed because I like to lick the blood off the floor. I think blood is yummy.

However, today Duncan wouldn't stop bleeding. His blood made a very big puddle on the carpet. The Big Guy and Mommy tried to staunch the blood with some of Mommy's t-shirts from work. Mommy said she was happy that the work t-shirts were the only clean fabric in the vicinity, because she was looking for an excuse to throw them away.

The Big Guy brought out the leash, so I thought I would be able to go, too. I started jumping up and down because I was happy. But Mommy betrayed me. She put me outside. I didn't get to go with them.

When Mommy, the Big Guy, and Duncan got back, Duncan was wearing a big bandage on one of his forelegs. I got to come back into the house. There was still blood on the carpet. I cleaned it up. That made the Big Guy squeamish. But I have no problem with minor cannibalism.