Happy Fourth on the Fifth. …


Sorry I’m late — Happy Fourth on the Fifth.


Happy birthday to all US citizens. That’s for people that really love this 240 year old country. I HOPE WE WILL BE ABLE TO ALL CELEBRATE 250 YEARS. Unless there is real change in the leadership, I don’t think we’ll see it. This is one time I don’t want to see something go to the dogs.

Happy Fourth of July to my human friends in the US.

Happy Fourth of July to my human friends in the US.


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Sometimes humans do horrible things – And Nero fiddles …

Sometimes humans do good things -

At times humans do good things – Sometimes they’re plain horrible!


Unless you are deaf, dumb or blind, you can’t be ignorant of the events of the last 48 hours. Humanities scum, filth, garbage … showed its depravity in Orlando. Unfortunately, the human who perpetrated this event will get the headlines. Sharing those headlines will be pundits and politicos who ask everyone to “be as one.” Aaaaaa … humans, let me enlighten you … you’re already divided. If you don’t make changes, severe ones, World War Three is in the wings. You cannot allow the type evil that is evolving in all areas of the world to grow and prosper. I’d prefer not to have to scavenge your bodies to survive.

I don’t like to talk politics so I won’t say more than this. You humans need change. In thinking. In policy. In honesty. In functionality. Most of all, in leadership. That’s at all levels, in all organizations. Government and the news media should be first, followed closely by what you humans humorously call collegiate education. Barking won’t get it. The only way a mouth saves is CPR. We have had way to much mouth – in fact, fifteen years of it is enough.


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Does it make you sick, too?

Sometimes I want to go hide from the humans and their animosities.

Sometimes I want to go hide from the humans and their animosities.


Does it make you sick? It sure makes me want to puke. Humans are becoming more despicable every day. I’ve always enjoyed riding in the car, but now even more! There is NO TV, and the Geezer refuses to have the radio turned on. Why is that good: I’m not tortured by the hostility and violence that is constantly present on the media and masquerades as humanity. I’m tired of people screaming at each other. I’m tired of every TV and movie drama and sitcom having violence or political propaganda at its center. I’m tired of people professing knowledge of things they know nothing about. I’m really tired of folks who dislike others and can’t explain why. (Other than someone else told them they should.) I’m tired of division, division, division, particularly those who accuse others of dividing then do it themselves. I sick of people carrying “stop hate” signs rioting, destroying other peoples property, and trying to injure those who think differently from them. (They are the bottom of the human trash heap. It has to be their way or the violent way.)

Let me share some canine common sense with you humans. I’ll put in bold, colored font so it’s easy to read.



Sometimes a dog has to say what a dog has to say! I’m usually a glass half full, try to write neutral, kind of canine, but I’m really getting to abhor politics and particularly all the political groups stirring up trouble. Pass this along if you agree.


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Take this Poll … I know it’s early … Animals vs Humans for President in 2016

Geezer & I share a Christmas kiss

By word (or treat) of mouth – my choices to out run the front-runners.

Didn’t we just go through the modern version of the Spanish Inquisition? An election? The ballots haven’t had a chance to mold and the news media is consumed by 2016. Humans should revolt and burn down the TV news networks and newspapers and give us all a rest. The idiots incorrectly labeled “journalists” remind me of Shakespeare’s witches in MacBeth … huddling around the caldron chanting “Double, Double, Toil and Trouble, Parties Burn and Nonsense Bubble.” Instead of the caldron, their instruments of evil are microphones, word-processors, and polls.

Like their Shakespearean counter-parts they’re up to no good, trying to keep the populace angry, divided, and misinformed. Half the population wants to cut the other half’s throats and all are ready to burn Washington. (That might not be a bad idea if all the politicians and bureaucrats are there at the time it’s made into ashes.)

The information these news folks put out sounds as though it was gathered at a sixth grade sleep-over. It sometimes is a series: one side dares the other, the other side double-dares the first, and the first side double-dog-dares the second, and so on. Think … the tongue-froze-to-flagpole scene in the “Christmas Story.” Of course those actors were more mature. But, remember, we’re talking about humans.

Then there are the polls. You know, those things the media says measure your thoughts, but are designed to shape them instead. They try to make one candidate inevitable and one mission impossible. Well, I’ve decided to give my readers a chance to pick animal competitors for the 2016 Presidency against two of the front-running human candidates. Take the poll and encourage others to do so. I’ll send the results to the TV networks.

Why do some people hate puppies?

Back when I was a puppy ......

Back when I was a puppy ……

The Internet and TV are alive with a controversy. Is being a puppy a crime? Does it matter where you come from? It seems that featuring a puppy in a Go-Daddy commercial that doesn’t strictly conform to a portion of the public’s belief system, is causing all kinds of consternation. I can identify with the star of the commercial; I looked a lot like ’em when I was that age. See my picture above? The poor pup’s debut in the Super Bowl ad is cancelled!

The last ten seconds of the ad were … ah … let’s not call it stupid, but I can’t find a better synonym right now. Who is the advertising agency appealing to, the Marquis De Sade? Those humans on Madison Avenue are supposed to be geniuses. Right? I guess if your hat size and IQ are within a few points they qualify.

With that said, how can a commercial get some folks’ panties wadded up so tight? (Glad I’m canine and don’t wear them.) I came from a breeder. They’re not all evil like the tone of much of the doggie poop I see on the I-net would have you believe. My breeder slept on the floor with my brothers, sisters, and mommy to get us used to living with humans, insisted on interviewing prospective families, and helped match our traits to the house we’d soon call our own.

Think of the poor puppy in the commercial. A career that could rival Lassie’s or Rin Tin Tin’s has been sidelined. The dangers that puppy faced: trains, no planes, but automobiles. Neither rain or sore paws could dampen her or his acting effort. Leave it to snarky narrow-viewed humans to louse things up. Oh well, you expect it from the species.

The decision is made

My humans, the Geezer and Mrs. G at their interview … I picked them.




May 27- The space shuttle launch, fixing slow human mental process, and Hush Puppies


I got a rare canine opportunity a week or two ago.  The Geezer put Mrs. G and me in the Ford Sport Trac and took us to see the space shuttle launch.  However, it did take some convincing on my part.  The Geezer and his Mrs. had originally gone to see the Endeavor blast off when the President went to see it, but some kind of gizmo in the fuel system failed and the trip was a bust.  I didn’t get a chance to go on that trip.  I don’t like being left behind.  I decided to drop some gentle hints.
     “Hey, Geezer, are you going back to see the shuttle go up when it’s rescheduled?” I asked.
     “Yes, I believe we are.  You know there’s only one more flight scheduled and then the program ends.”  He gave NO indication he’d take me.
     “That must really be something to see!”  I figured the old boy would pick up on my desire, but the rust in his mental system had the process really gummed up that day.  He said, “Uh-huh.”
     Maybe something a little more indirect would get the synapses firing if I took time to allow them to catch up.  “Gee, Geezer, it must really be enriching for anyone to see such important historical events.”
     The mental gears groaned.  After a few seconds, the old boy answered, “Yes, Sandy, I suppose it is.”
     “What a wonderful opportunity.  Have you seen many of these type events?  In person, I mean?”
     The Geezer went deep into thought.  You know, somethings are painful to watch.  His eyes rolled around like pinballs in a game.  I didn’t see any oil leaks, but I’m sure the strain must have caused some.  I decided to prompt him a little.
     “What about previous launches?”
     “No, that’s why I want to go,” the Geezer mumbled.
     “You know, I haven’t seen one either.”  I figured he’d have to get that one. 
     Humans can be so mentally retarded!  I tried another avenue.  “All those wonderful things you’ve seen—the first super sonic passenger jet, Lindberg’s crossing the Atlantic, the Wright Brothers first…”
     “Whoa, Sandy.  I know you think I’m ancient, but I’m not quite that old.”  He grinned weakly.  “I certainly would have like to have seen them, but…”
     It was my turn to interrupt and lie.  “Oh, I thought maybe you had.  I know how important you think it is for everyone to witness those kind of things.”  I paused.  “Because you only get a few opportunities in a lifetime.”  I paused.  “In person.”  I paused.  “First hand.”  I paused.  “To soak up the atmosphere and ambiance.”
     He answered, “Uh-huh.”  Have you ever looked into your human’s eyes and wondered if there was anything functioning back behind them?  It makes you want to shout, “Hey!  Is anything going on in there!”
     The indirect approach wasn’t working.  I decided something a little more direct might work better.  “Ahhhhhh, Geezer, you might want to think about this.  When you and the Mrs. go away, I don’t get the same kind of love from the pet-sitter that you two give me.  It makes me feel deprived.  When I feel deprived, it makes me depraved.  I want to chew things.  Dig holes in rugs and sofas.  It gives me leaky bladder syndrome and the green apple quick steps.  It makes me want to–”
     “Would you like to go along?” The Geezer asked.  The blind squirrel found another acorn.
     Seeing the shuttle blast off was extraordinary.  We drove to Cape Canaveral the night before and stayed in a motel south of Kennedy Space Center so we could get up early and get a good spot on the beach to watch the launch.  The three of us were seated on the sands in our folding camp chairs before the sun was up.  It was beautiful.  The calm Atlantic licked at the white sands while the sun rose from low clouds on the eastern horizon.  When the time came, the glow of the rocket and its roar were spectacular.  I’ve borrowed some pics from Mrs. Gator to share with you.


     That reminds me… you do meet some of the nicest people at events like that.  Gertie, a long-haired dachshund, Forrest a blue tick hound, and Trooper a shih tzu romped around with me on the sand chasing waves and shore birds until the time came for the event.  We discussed our favorite subject…eating!  And Trooper, this recipe for Hush Puppies is for you.  They’re lighter than the traditional ones you might have eaten before.
     Here’s what you need:
          2  cups of Hush Puppy mix (Autry or Dixie Lily)
          1  cup of self-rising flour
          3/4  cup of diced sweet onion
          1  teaspoon of garlic powder
          2  eggs
          1 1/2  cups of water
     Here’s what you do:
1)  Mix together thoroughly the Hush Puppy mix, flour, and garlic powder in a large mixing bowl
2)  Add the two eggs (For humans using this – take ’em out of the shells!   Daaaa!)
3)  Stir in the eggs.
4)  Add the water and stir thoroughly.
5)  Add the onions and – guess what – stir thoroughly.
6)  Let sit for ten minutes minimum.
7)  Heat fresh cooking oil, 1″ deep, to 375 degrees (or about “6” on an electric stove) in a large pot or skillet.
8)  Use a tablespoon to drop the batter into the hot oil.  They’ll float in a few seconds.  Turn ’em over at least once.  Don’t worry how they look. They aren’t gonna look good once they get inside anyway.
9)  Fish them out with a slotted spoon when they’re a nice light brown.
10)  And Ummmm-ummmm, put some dog slobber on those rascals!  They are good!  Makes about 40.
     Oh, if your humans have been behaving tolerably share some with them.  They’ll love them too.


April 20 – Reincarnation – it explains a lot, from canines to politics

     There was a meeting of the neighborhood Canine Chowder and Ham Bone Marching Society yesterday.  Most of our members were present due to a large yard party for all the “snowbirds” (Human folks that live in Florida in the winter and travel North in the summer.) who were getting ready to depart like a flock of geese.
     Of course, over half our Society’s members accompany their humans on the annual migration.  Sparkle the Irish Setter commented, “Well, I’ll be looking forward to seeing you all, next fall.”
     “It seems as though I’m always moving.  I bet I did it in a previous life,” Lucy the Cocker Spaniel moaned.
     “You guys believe in that shit?”  Peter the Pointer saw the blank stares and added, “Reincarnation.”
     “Oui.  I certainly do.  I can even tell you about at least one of my previous lives.”  Our French Poodle, Fifi, is into all the metaphysical stuff.  “I was a Doberman ten lives ago, serving in the German Army.  I received metals and was a bonified heroine.”
     “Huhh!” Sarge scoffed.  His German shepherd blood was aroused.  “Yeh, Fifi, was your uniform a toto?  What did you have for rations?  Champagne?  Escargo?  Did you have a maid to dress you in the morning?  You couldn’t have learned to be as snobbish as you are now in fifteen previous lives.”
     Peter said, “I’d pay to see you in a hand-to-hand combat drill.”
     There was a chorus of laughs.  Fifi stuck her nose in the air and walked away in a huff.
     “Wait a minute.  Wait a minute.  I remember a previous life, too,” Manny the chihuahua said.  “I was the personal companion to Santa Anna, the great Mexican leader.”
     “Uh-huh.”  Sarge didn’t look convinced.  “Were you his guard dog?”
     “Oh yes, si, certainly.”
     Peter asked, “If somebody tried to attack old Santa Anna, what was your plan?  Bite them on the big toe?”
     Laughter ensued.
     “Oh no.  I was a mastiff in that life.  I was a mucho grande dog.”  Manny tried squaring his shoulders and looking large.  
     Before Peter or Sarge could humiliate the little guy, Opie our Scotty and resident scholar interceded.  “There is a possible scientific explanation for reincarnation.  At least, in the same species.  DNA.  It’s the building block of life.  The potential to hand down memories through parental lineage is certainly a possibility.”
     That made us all think.  Some could rationalize the theory.  Some stared at Manny, visualized a mastiff, and had trouble s-t-r-e-t-c-h-i-n-g the reality.  That would make for a difficult parental “chain.”
     “Sometimes, I do think I remember things– Well, I might have been Rin Tin Tin in a former life,” Sarge said.
     “Yes, I’m believing that.”  Fifi had rejoined our group.  “And I believe elephants can fly and will be jet propelled if they eat enough beans and cabbage and drink enough beer.”
     Sarge growled and Fifi snarled back, so I decided to change the subject to humans, something we could all discuss without ruffling neck hair.  “Well, I can certainly see that possibility in my human.  The Geezer probably descended from Mark Twain.  They’re both writers, have a strong awareness of human behavior, and a good sense of humor.”
     “Oh, and my human probably has Lady Godiva in her blood line.  She loves to go naked.”  Sparkle was doing her best to support me and lead the conversation in another direction.
     “Oh.  Oh.  Oh.  I bet I know who my human’s great, great, great, great, great, grand-mother was.”  Manny was so excited I thought the little guy would pop like a firecracker.  “She has to be descended from Catherine the Great because all she wants to do is fu–”
     “Hmmmmmm!” I interrupted.  “No exposing family secrets here.”  I did another switcheroo.  “Wouldn’t it be fun to guess who famous people are reincarnated from?”
     “I can see General Petraeus being the reincarnation of Alexander the Great,” Opie said.
     “Oh.  Oh.  Oh.  How about Queen Elizabeth the II being the reincarnation of Queen Elizabeth the I?”  Manny was getting it.
     “I bet both Nancy Pelosi and Sarah Palin had a common ancestor,” Lucy quipped.  “Attila the Hun.”
     Everyone laughed except for Heintz, the neighborhood mut.  He said, “Well, that explains a lot.  Both Bush and Obama must have the same ancestry.”
     “How’s that?” I asked through my giggles.  Heintz was serious.
     “That’s easy.  Trace them back through Nero, you know, the guy who fiddled while Rome burned, to that famous Greek leader.  What was his name?”  Heintz scratched his head with his rear paw hoping to stimulate his cerebral cortex.  Or maybe a flea.
     “Plato?” I suggested.
     “No.”  Heintz kept scratching.
     “Socrates?” Sarge asked.
     “No, no, no.”  Suddenly Heintz’s eyes shone and he stopped scratching.  “I remember.  It was the king of the city-state of Bankruptkus, Idious the Imbecile.”
     Not one of us spoke.  First, none of us are Greek scholars.  Second, it was too logical to refute.

(Thanks to Lady Marilyn Kaye, one of my readers for the inspiration)