Monday, March 2, 2009
Cheese
I have been eating cheese for 12 years. I do not understand why I can't eat cheese just because Little Dog is sick. I will just look you in the eyes and wag my tail to show that I am a happy dog and deserve cheese. That should do it.
Cheese
I like cheese. The Big Guy started giving me cheese for treats, and Mommy copied him. Whenever the cheese comes out of the fridge, Duncan and I go over to the counter and wait patiently for the cheese ritual. First we get one piece, then another. Just two. We are so happy.
But now, the emergency vet said that my tests show that I might have kidney stones, and that I would have to have a special diet. On the way home from the vet, the Big Guy asked Mommy what might cause kidney stones in dogs. She said, "I don't know, but an overabundance of calcium causes them in humans."
Then they Googled "calcium kidney stone dog." Indeed, foods high in calcium are discouraged for dogs who have had kidney stones. There is now an anti-cheese for dogs policy at our house.
Knowledge is a dangerous thing. That is why I, Poppy, am against it.
But now, the emergency vet said that my tests show that I might have kidney stones, and that I would have to have a special diet. On the way home from the vet, the Big Guy asked Mommy what might cause kidney stones in dogs. She said, "I don't know, but an overabundance of calcium causes them in humans."
Then they Googled "calcium kidney stone dog." Indeed, foods high in calcium are discouraged for dogs who have had kidney stones. There is now an anti-cheese for dogs policy at our house.
Knowledge is a dangerous thing. That is why I, Poppy, am against it.
Style
Governor Jindal gave me a very nice compliment last week. His speech to the country entitled, "Americans Can Do Anything" was written in my style. It had simple words, was easy to understand, found no room for abstraction, and came off as naive.
He also delivered the speech in my style -- sort of in the sound you might use when reading a children's story to a kindergarten class.
The Governor probably borrowed my style because in politics, a human wants exactly what a pug wants -- to be liked. Pugs know what politicians know -- that if you wag your tail, smile, pander, and beg -- just a little -- you can get what you want.
He also delivered the speech in my style -- sort of in the sound you might use when reading a children's story to a kindergarten class.
The Governor probably borrowed my style because in politics, a human wants exactly what a pug wants -- to be liked. Pugs know what politicians know -- that if you wag your tail, smile, pander, and beg -- just a little -- you can get what you want.
Sick
Last night I got to go for a ride in the car with Mommy and the Big Guy. Duncan had to stay at home. I am a Very Good Girl when I ride in the car. I lie on the back seat and fall asleep.
When we got out of the car, we went to a place that smelled a lot like dogs and cats and animals of all kinds. At places like that I like to sniff all of the corners.
There was a cat there. I know to steer clear of cats.
A lady took us to a small room, where she talked to Mommy and put me up on the table. I only like being on tables when there is food on them, like the dining table. I like it because I can jump up on the table on my own when nobody is looking. But when somebody puts me on a table, I want to jump off because I know I'm going to get poked and prodded. Mommy held me while the lady poked and prodded me. The lady was nice, but she did some not nice things to me.
The lady left us alone in the room. I sniffed around some more and listened to what was going on outside the door. I barked, just to let everybody know I was there. Mommy and the Big Guy were focused on their phones. I don't get phones. When we used to have a land line and it rang, I would bark to tell Mommy that the phone was ringing. Now phones play music, which is a medium that I don't understand.
While Mommy and the Big Guy were looking at their phones, I went potty. Usually I go potty outside, which is another reason why I am a Very Good Girl. However, yesterday I couldn't help myself. All day I needed to go all the time, and I couldn't wait for somebody to let me out. Apparently, my accidents are why we went for a ride in the car to the place that smells like dogs and cats.
A while later a man came in.* I was very friendly with him. I went over and cautiously sniffed him, my tail down and parallel to my body. He picked me up and put me on the table. I turned to Mommy and the Big Guy and gave them a look that said, "How is it that you are letting this happen to me again?" The man looked in my eyes and ears, then felt my ribs and tummy. Then he looked in some other places that are not so nice to look.
When he was finished, he said a few words to Mommy and the Big Guy, and then took me to another room, without Mommy and the Big Guy. I got poked and prodded some more.
After a while, the lady brought me back to Mommy and the Big Guy. I was very happy to go to them. I was pulling on my leash. When I got to the room, I scolded Mommy with a bark that said, "What do you think you were doing letting me go in there? I was very unhappy." But then we got to go back to the car. This time I was very excited to be in the car, because it was going home. When I'm near home, I like to stand with my forepaws on the center console and look out the front window. I am really too short to see anything, but I feel like I'm part of the action, and, with little excited whines and barks, can encourage the driver to get home more quickly.
When we got home, Mommy stuck a pill down my throat and told me that I'd feel better in the morning.
It's true. It's like I don't even remember being sick.
*Please see my earlier posts on male veterinarians. I am all for them. They need to be supported.
When we got out of the car, we went to a place that smelled a lot like dogs and cats and animals of all kinds. At places like that I like to sniff all of the corners.
There was a cat there. I know to steer clear of cats.
A lady took us to a small room, where she talked to Mommy and put me up on the table. I only like being on tables when there is food on them, like the dining table. I like it because I can jump up on the table on my own when nobody is looking. But when somebody puts me on a table, I want to jump off because I know I'm going to get poked and prodded. Mommy held me while the lady poked and prodded me. The lady was nice, but she did some not nice things to me.
The lady left us alone in the room. I sniffed around some more and listened to what was going on outside the door. I barked, just to let everybody know I was there. Mommy and the Big Guy were focused on their phones. I don't get phones. When we used to have a land line and it rang, I would bark to tell Mommy that the phone was ringing. Now phones play music, which is a medium that I don't understand.
While Mommy and the Big Guy were looking at their phones, I went potty. Usually I go potty outside, which is another reason why I am a Very Good Girl. However, yesterday I couldn't help myself. All day I needed to go all the time, and I couldn't wait for somebody to let me out. Apparently, my accidents are why we went for a ride in the car to the place that smells like dogs and cats.
A while later a man came in.* I was very friendly with him. I went over and cautiously sniffed him, my tail down and parallel to my body. He picked me up and put me on the table. I turned to Mommy and the Big Guy and gave them a look that said, "How is it that you are letting this happen to me again?" The man looked in my eyes and ears, then felt my ribs and tummy. Then he looked in some other places that are not so nice to look.
When he was finished, he said a few words to Mommy and the Big Guy, and then took me to another room, without Mommy and the Big Guy. I got poked and prodded some more.
After a while, the lady brought me back to Mommy and the Big Guy. I was very happy to go to them. I was pulling on my leash. When I got to the room, I scolded Mommy with a bark that said, "What do you think you were doing letting me go in there? I was very unhappy." But then we got to go back to the car. This time I was very excited to be in the car, because it was going home. When I'm near home, I like to stand with my forepaws on the center console and look out the front window. I am really too short to see anything, but I feel like I'm part of the action, and, with little excited whines and barks, can encourage the driver to get home more quickly.
When we got home, Mommy stuck a pill down my throat and told me that I'd feel better in the morning.
It's true. It's like I don't even remember being sick.
*Please see my earlier posts on male veterinarians. I am all for them. They need to be supported.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Superior Intellect
I, Poppy, recently achieved my personal best in the annual guess the Oscar winners context that I do every year. I beat both my mommy and the Big Guy. They were irritated during the show because they were losing. I, on the other hand, was playing it cool. I pretended like my superior performance didn't mean as much to me as, say, angling for the best place on the couch.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Political Instincts
I, Poppy, do not like the junior senator from Illinois. I saw him on T.V. last night and I barked at him. I barked at him and didn't stop barking until he disappeared from the screen.
Monday, February 2, 2009
Pug Dog Day
Happy February 2 to all my fans! Remember, February 2 is the day when the pug emerges from her crate, checks the temperature at the doggie door, and decides whether to go outside or to stay in. If she stays in, that means that it is a cold day. If she goes out, that means that it is over 40 degrees.
I understand that groundhogs have taken over this day. I noticed that the groundhog on Long Island bit Mayor Bloomberg, drawing blood. All Mayor Bloomberg was doing was feeding Chuck, the groundhog. I, Poppy, would never bite Mayor Bloomberg -- especially if he were offering me a treat. I would eat the treat and then ask for more.
I understand that groundhogs have taken over this day. I noticed that the groundhog on Long Island bit Mayor Bloomberg, drawing blood. All Mayor Bloomberg was doing was feeding Chuck, the groundhog. I, Poppy, would never bite Mayor Bloomberg -- especially if he were offering me a treat. I would eat the treat and then ask for more.
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