Tags: Books, dogs, Humor, life, New Years, Politics, publishing, Reading, Writing
My human, the Geezer, has given up on New Year’s resolutions and has substituted “hopes” in their place. That sounds like one of his rare good ideas so I’ve decided to subscribe to it. Here are some doggie wishes for my canine friends and me for 2013.
1. Fleas and ticks will genetically evolve and no longer have a taste for dog’s blood. Instead, they will develop a craving for selective types of human plasma. I have some suggestions. How about tax collectors, some lawyers, and most particularly, all politicians. They’ve sucked blood from everybody else for so long that only seems fair.
2. The winners of the Westminster Dog Show get to make their owners, trainers and handlers put leashes around their necks and are they’re forced to run around the ring like idiots while we hold the ropes.
3. The FHA adds dog houses to the growing list of entitlements the Federal Government is distributing. It’s only fair all dogs are given free dog houses. After all, we all breathe, don’t we? That seems to be the standard these days. Let’s see…I want two swimming pools, a four car garage, a vibrating bed, and a vault for my food stamps.
4. The price of dog food doesn’t sky-rocket like the cost of everything else will because of the human fools that are running the country. I think I’ll have to classify that in the vain hope category.
5. All dogs will be given a place at the human meal table so we get a fair share. Either that or all humans can get down and all fours and eat the dog food they feed us. That’s probably more likely…human’s are driving their cars in reverse now days.
6. Any human that abuses or abandons a canine will develop painful boils on 95% of their bodies for which there is no cure. Oh, and their hair falls out. Oh, oh, and they have to watch and listen to the Ed Show and the O’Reilly Factor played continuously on a split screen 75″ TV with the sound turned up to 250 decibels, until they start gouging their own ears and eyes out. Oh, oh, oh, and they fall off a boat in shark and crocodile infested waters. I’ll share that hope with cats, horses, hamsters, or any other type pet that humans abuse.
7. That all the fireplugs are replaced with replicas of the White House and Capitol Building so we can do to them what they’ve been doing to our humans.
8. That there is a prohibition placed on importing Chinese cookbooks. I enjoy eating dinner, not being it.
9. My human drops my dinner dish and breaks it. And…he can only buy one that’s at least twice as large.
10. That we canines have the good sense to remain our doggie selves and don’t try to become more like (shudder) humans. I think that’s a very safe hope. After all, only humans are stupid and vain enough to want to be what they’re not!
Have A Happy Canine New Year!
Tags: Books, dogs, Humor, life, New Years, publishing, Reading, Reviews, Writing
My buddy Trooper and I were discussing all the joyous celebrating going on around us. It was New Year’s Eve and cock-eyed optimism had descended upon our humans in full force.
“Look at that, Sandy! Can you believe what you’re seeing?” Trooper is a true friend and a wise little senior canine. I’ve learned his observations are normally inciteful, if just a tad cynical. I listened closely as he continued, “You’d think that the simple act of the clock ticking for one more second is actually going to change their lives in that instant.”
“It does sound far-fetched,” I had to agree.
“That’s being very kind, Sandy.” Trooper pointed a paw at Mrs…let’s call her Mrs. X. I’ll use all aliases when discussing humans. “Take her. She’s been spouting off all evening about how her New Year’s resolution is to lose thirty pounds. All you have to do is watch her…performing the best imitation I’ve ever seen of a human impersonating a vacuum cleaner, sucking up two bowls of potato chips, annihilating a plate of chocolates, and devouring sugar cookies so fast the futures market for cane went up ten points in the last three hours…to realize that’s bogus. Change? Change her forty-year-old double-wide butt! No way!”
“That’s a little harsh…But…Well…She sure is a groceries disposal device,” I said.
“And, look at Albert the Alchy. He’s about a third of the way to another ‘four puker,’ a night sleeping on the floor, and a hangover featuring a pounding headache that will register 6.6 on the Richter Scale. Seems to me I heard him tell everyone last year at the Geezer’s New Year’s Day football bowl watching party that he’d never get that tanked again.”
I nodded. That year poor Albert had been so potted he forgot where he was, had stripped to his undershorts, and curled up for a nap on the bathroom floor, after carefully avoiding his fresh deposit of used deviled eggs, sweet pickles, BBQ’d smoked sausage, and rum and Coke. “You’re right, but, at least, the Geezer stole his car keys early tonight so they didn’t have to argue about Albert’s trying to drive.”
“The Geezer did do everyone a service. Too bad he couldn’t remove Mildred’s vocal chords. It’s like replay on TV or a sticking record, over and over, the same tales about everything from her gall bladder to her hair follicles.” I knew Trooper had heard enough of the hypochondriac’s annual rant. The poor woman claimed to be afflicted with every malady know to western man, the orient intellectuals, and the aliens who visit Earth from the planet Bullishitius. Her dissertation was particularly ill-chosen this year, for as she sat at the snack table, Mildred’s description of yeast infections, her visit to the proctologist, and the results of her many digestive disorders were particularly revolting. Well, if someone must find a positive in the situation, it did help some people maintain their diet.
“Watch them at midnight. You’d think their watching a big glass ball on TV, that’s all lit with light bulbs, slowly descend from high to low, is going to really change something. Delusional, Sandy. Humans are utterly and totally delusional!” Trooper shook his head. “I know we should have compassion for God’s inferior species, but really Sandy, can you provide one reason for them to be celebrating so?”
I thought for several seconds. “Trooper, if you think that they believe change will come simply as a result of the new year, you’d be right. I choose to believe that my human has high hopes that good changes may occur in the coming year and has the determination and resolve to see they do.”
Trooper nodded his head slowly before saying, “I suppose that’s how they survive…Sometimes, Sandy, you’re wise beyond your years.”
Tags: animal tales, Books, dogs, Entertainment, Fox & Friends, funny stories, holidays, Humor, life, Media, New Years, publishing, Reading, Writing
Well, old 2009 will be leaving us soon. My canine friends and I consider it an alright year. No new houses were erected on the street so our romping areas remained in tact. Bones still taste the same. The Chinese didn’t put bad stuff in our food this year. The politicians haven’t passed a dog turd or farting tax — yet. Rabies is down, neighborhood dog population is up. All is right with the canine world or at least its nuetral.
My human is glad to see old 2009 leave. The Geezer said, “It started bad, but everyone hoped for lemonade. All they got were lemons.” He looked wise and said, “Promptly at midnight I’m going to the toilet and flush it. Hopefully, anything hanging around from 2009 will head down the drain.”
Since 2009 wasn’t the best for my human friends and just so-so for my canine buddies I decided to make some wishes for 2010.
For Manny the chihuahua – Longer legs or more shorter women in the ‘hood.
For Mrs. Zoomers – Shades that automatically go down on her windows when she undresses.
For Gertrude the dachshund – Longer legs or less steps to climb and a bell on Manny’s collar to warn her when he’s coming.
For the man who lives next door – A beer truck of his very own.
For Giselle the greyhound – A rabbit that’s runs slow enough for her to catch.
For Mrs. Gator – A TV remote that only works for her.
For Heintz the mongrel – For the pizza delivery boy’s pepper spray can to always be empty when he delivers.
For the Geezer’s friend Harry – That the next woman he marry’s divorce lawyer to be incompetent.
For Barbie and Lucy our twin cocker spaniels – Matching boyfriends to match their matching food dishes, their matching rhinestone collars, and their matching neurosis.
For Sparkles human – A really big one! I’m not sure what the big one she’s looking for is, but I sure hope she get’s it so she stops talking about it.
For Sparkles the Irish setter – A bottle of whiskey, alka-seltzer, and a gag for her human.
For Melissa Mrs. Gator’s friend – To be sure to read the labels on restroom doors before she enters
For Fifi the poodle – A groomer with less of a warped sense of humor.
For Dick the post man – A rear view mirror that doesn’t black out the mail boxes.
For Sarge the German Shepherd – For his human to leave him with us for a weekend. WOOF! WOOF!
For the Geezer – Either a TV that only broadcasts good news or less things to throw at it.
For all dogs – Loving humans for them to own, lots of roadkill, a bones stimulus-bailout program, and flea eradication.
For all humans – Smooth seas if you sail, clear skies if you fly, level roads if you walk, and honest politicians if you vote. I at least had to put in one impossibility.
To all HAPPY NEW YEAR !!!
Tags: animal tales, Books, dogs, Entertainment, Fox & Friends, Fox News, holidays, Humor, Media, New Years, O'Reilly, publishing, Reading, Writing
I thought it would be good to comment on the Geezer’s New Years Resolution progress. Another way of describing this would be “Missions Impossible.” I’m sure Tom Cruise could make a movie from my human’s struggles. “Mission Impossible #16” – sounds good! It couldn’t be any worse than some of the waste of celluloid I’ve seen on TV.
Back to the subject. The Geezer’s effort to keep up with those not yet a week old edicts, I’d grade as C-. I hope that designation doesn’t offend those of you who are part of the “Society for the Universal Culmination of Kindergarten through School – of the Elimination of Grading.” That’s SUCKS – EG, for short. It’s hard to say anything in this ridiculously political correct environment without a storm of protest coming from some group of certifiables. If you don’t like the C- “indictment statement,” tough.
Okay, the old boy made 5 of those dedications to delusions, his words not mine. One is already in “Flush Town.” So much for giving a supreme effort to self-discipline.
I knew the first one was doomed from the second he uttered the words… “I pledge to share control of the TV remote time equally with Mrs. Gator.” There are somethings each of us aren’t capable of doing. Physically. Psychologically. The stuff just isn’t there. I don’t know if the Geezer was lying to himself or just plain lying. Certainly, the football bowl games and all the related hoopla expedited its demise. That resolution didn’t make it through New Years morning. The Geezer hid the “clicker” when Mrs. Gator wanted to watch the Rose Parade instead of a replay of a game from the previous evening. Mrs. Gator gave him “the eye,” waved the white flag without a struggle, and he removed the “power” from under the sofa cushion. Scratch one edict. I knew that one had as much chance of survival as a cat dropped into a pit-bull kennel with 10 residents that hadn’t been fed for two days.
The two that are in jeopardy are his resolutions to, “manage my anger better,” and “clean up under the house and get rid of the junk.”
The Geezer has one of those strange tempers that boils over at the littlest things, yet he manages to control himself when faced with some crisiss you would think should send him into orbit. If he drops the soap while in the shower, a daily occurrence, it likely will trigger a stream of four letter wonders, connected in various combinations, shouted at the villainous bar of Dove. However, he placed an order for Mrs. Gator’s major Christmas present on-line. The store has botched it twice, but he has retained his composure and control when he speaks with them, remaining focused on getting the problem solved. He dropped the soap this AM and there was no shouting, just an inaudible murmur. I give this one 4 or 5 weeks.
The “clean up under the house” decree is as secure as a drop of water on a stone in the desert at noon on a summer’s day. It’ll evaporate, the only thing in question is the time involved. The problem is Mrs. G. She capitalizes the PACK in pack rat. For every box the Geezer cleans out, Mrs. Gator will find at least one to replace it. After a while he’ll realize it’s as futile as trying to keep the tide from rising, and he’ll capitulate. He will work at this promise for two or three months until inevitability overcomes hope.
His “lose weight” resolution is likely to be kept for four reasons. First, the extra 50 pounds he’s toting around negatively impacts things he wants to do so there’s a big incentive there. Second, he’s done this successfully before. He has a diet that works. Third, he knows the extra weight’s health impact on his ol’ codger bod’ ain’t good. And fourth, when the needle on the scale gets anywhere close to having a three as the first number, he panics. He’s throwing out the potato chips, Reese’s cups, buying diet sodas, and has the measuring cup and scale out. I’m betting he’ll make this one.
Last, and the one I thought would be the first to go, was his, “to watch less TV news and not to get angry at the idiots on these shows,” resolve. Surprisingly, he’s doing this. I didn’t believe he’d give up watching Fox and Friends for two hours every morning because he really likes the three humans who host that show, even the one he calls “Brainless in Long Island.” He’s sworn off Bill O’Reillycompletely. It’s surprising how positively its impacted his humor…it’s now generally good, not bad! I asked him about the ease with which he’s abandoned that habit. He grinned and replied, “You know how NBC has the peacock as its symbol? Well, Fox is adopting an Ostrich as their’s. That makes it easier. I’d rather watch programs that stand for something, not nothing.” I have no idea what he means. I wish somebody would clue me in. It probably has something to do with putting your head where the sun doesn’t shine and somebody named Beck, but that’s just a guess because it was mentioned at the same time.
That’s the Geezer New Years Resolution Progress Report. Two are on-line, two are struggling to hang-on, and the third is already in septic tank city.
Tags: animal tales, Books, dogs, Entertainment, Fox News, holidays, Humor, illegal immigration, New Years, O'Reilly, Reading, Writing
“The weather is great this morning Geezer.” The last week in Southwest Florida has been perfect if you like the low 80’s, gentle breezes, and bright sunny days. We sat on the dock watching a pair to Osprey hover around their nest, the female spending most of her time perched on her eggs. “It would be nice if it stayed this way all year,” I added.
“I don’t know, Sandy. I think it would get boring after a while.” The Geezer rubbed his mustache and grinned at me. “You’ve see warm, warmer, and hot, but never cold. Maybe I should add that to my list of New Year’s Resolutions….Get Sandy into some cold winter weather.”
“What’s a New Years Resolution, Geezer?” That was something I hadn’t heard about before.
The Geezer laughed. “New Years’ Resolutions are what we humans do to delude our conscience into believing we will make changes in our lives we have no intention of completing.” He hesitated, blinked his eyes, and got one of those ‘I’d better come clean’ looks on his mug. “That’s overstating a little, Sandy. There are a few of us that really will follow through and keep them.”
“Let me be sure I understand, Geezer. People realize there’s something they need to do, they say they’re going to do it, but really know they’re not?” That really sounded stupid, but then we are talking about humans here. I couldn’t help mumbling under my breath, “Dumb.”
“You’re right, Sandy.”
“Are you making any New Years Resolutions?” I asked. “Of course, I KNOW you’ll keep yours.” I can’t help it…I was born with a sarcastic tongue.
The Geezer leaned forward and watched one of the Ospreys leave the nest. He remarked, “Look, Sandy, Mama Ospreys going to find breakfast.”
He should know I’m not that easy to distract. “No, no, no, Geezer. You’re not getting off that easy.” I rose up on all fours and stared into his eyes. “Are…you…making…any…resolutions?”
The old boy gave me a guilty glance mixed with embarrassment. “Okay, you got me. I’ll tell you what resolutions I should make. Want to hear them?”
He shook his head and sighed before he began. After he’d put off starting as long as he could he said, “To lose weight.”
“That’s a good one.” The Geezer’s shape was approaching that of one of the blimps televising the football bowl games. Though filled with gas, he certainly wasn’t lighter than air.
“Do a better job of anger management.” His guilt glance made me laugh.
“Go on,” I said.
“Watch less TV and don’t get so upset by the idiots on the tube.” The guilt remained.
“I can see what you mean about delusions. Geezer, since we’re talking fantasy here, why don’t you make up some wacky resolutions for some famous people? That would be interesting.” The smile on the Geezer’s face swished away his anguished features. I really think the old boy should reimburse me for psychological services. Sirloin steak would do nicely.
The Geezer thought for a few seconds. “Hmmm. I’d start with having that Illinois Governor resolve to enroll in a criminology course on wiretapping.”
“Good one Geezer!” I knew that would juice him up.
“How about having Jerry Jones resolve to make Terrell Owens the Dallas headcoach and install Jessica Simpson as the new starting center for the Cowboys?”
I laughed, “Well, they wouldn’t be much worse than they were against the Eagles.”
“Romo would be happy.” The Geezer’s eyes lighted up. “I have a good one; have John McCain resolve to suspend his campaign to coach the Cardinals in their first playoff game.”
“Hey, the election is over! Besides, does he know anything about football?”
“So are the Cardinals chances of winning the playoff. And, McCain can’t know less about coaching football than he did about running his campaign. That gets me thinking. How about having Bill O’Reilly resolve to not mention his Harvard education on TV for one year? Or having Paris Hilton resolve to install cameras in her bathroom so everything she does can be covered by the press. Maybe we could get a resolution from Ann Coulter and Barbara Pelosi to resolve their differences in one of those steel cage wrestling matches. The loser would resolve to have their vocal cords removed. I bet Tiger Woods could be convinced to resolve to never drive another Buick. Or we could get Michael Moore to resolve to make a movie on the humanistic side of Josef Stalin? Why not have Paulson resolve to stand on the Mexican border and give bailout checks to the illegals as they cross. Or get Kieth Obermann to resolve to get a brain transplant? How about having the people that give out the movie Oscars resolve to select the best performances instead of passing out the statues to those who have an agenda with which they agree.”
“Now you are truly talking delusions. They have to make that kind of movie first.”