A Very Guinness Christmas

There's this "tree" that mommy dragged in from the garage and propped up on a little stand. Then she threw a bunch of sparkly stuff on it and it made her happy. Daddy told me that there would be days like this.

Of course, after some minor investigation (sniffing (just to be sure) and a little nibble when she wasn't looking), I knew Mommy had been taken! That's not a real tree, but an imposter! For her sake, I just act really cool around this plastic tree-wannabe, but I know.

Then it appeared. On the floor in front of the plastic tree-thingy and it's all wrapped up...for ME! Wow! I sniff and back away for observation. Then I circle it and consider the possiblities.

Hmmm....smells yummy, then I pounce and bark at it. (The fact that it's in paper and I'm not allowed to chew up paper, sends the super puppy powers in to overdrive-alert mode.) It's a trap! I'm sure of it!

Finally, with a little help from daddy, I discover it's a bag of Beggin Strips from my Auntie Marcia and Uncle Bob (they are so totally cool)! Then I get another gift - it's in a Superman bag! My godparents know about my super powers and have brought me chewing supplies! AWESOME!

But it's not over, yet! Next, it's a Dingo Bone...but not your average, every day, chew-them-down-to-a-nub Dingo Bone. Uh-uh. This is the ultimate. A Dingo Cane! That's right, a Dingo Bone in the shape of the biggest Candy Cane ever! Santa Paws really does know how to reward a good puppy!


Me with Yummy Dingo-Cane

As I write this, I have one paw on my Dingo Cane and am gnawing my way in to happy puppy world. But I wanted to let you know that in my house, it was a very Guinness Christmas! God bless you all!

Giving Thanks Puppy Style!

A curious event happened in my world. One night mommy and daddy took me to my Uncle Greg's house for something they call Thanksgiving. Do you know, there were so many people there, obviously just to see me. In fact, I spent quite awhile just greeting everyone individually. And if all those people weren't enough, they had tables laden with delicious treats for me, too. The odd part was everyone was eating all this yummy stuff except for me.

So there I was. Mingling and chatting up the guests. Being the consummate gentlepup and all the while, no yummy treats that I could get my paws on... at least, not yet. Enter my Uncle Greg. Now here's a guy who understands a puppy should not live on kibble alone. (mommy and daddy - that's a hint!)


Me with my Uncle Greg

Back to me. Above the din, I hear my name. I round the corner and there he is. My Uncle Greg and he's waving the biggest piece of turkey I've ever seen right in front of my cold, wet nose. (OK, this is the first piece of turkey I've ever seen this close!). Needless to say, he had my full attention. Daddy protests about my diet (diet? what's that?), but my Uncle Greg prevails and I gobble up the morsel in delight. This happened more than once that night...shhhhhhhh!

I truly love my Uncle Greg. And Thanksgiving.

How Early is Too Early?

First, I would like to make it clear that I am NOT a morning pup. I prefer to sleep in and have my water brought in to me to sip at my leisure in bed. Oh, yes. When my adopted parents wake up so early in the morning, they interfere with my essential RPMs (rapid paw movements) and force me out of my puppy slumber. Not very considerate, if you ask me.


Sleep deprivation...why?

Then Mommy wants me to take her out for her morning walk. Is it even considered morning if it is still dark outside? I digress. Many are the times I must valiantly protect Mommy at that early hour from the evil trash cans that mysteriously appear on our street overnight! A powerpuppy must be prepared to face danger 24/7!

In the course of her walk, what Mommy does not seem to understand is that I cannot just poo in any old place in the grass. Sniffing for that perfect spot takes time! If Mommies pooed, they would certainly understand! It's a precise decision and cannot be rushed. So I continue patiently with my efforts to train Mommy.

And this is what I am forced out of my comfy bed for so early in the morning?

Rawhide Heaven

Right now, I am as close to puppy nervana as one can get. It's new! It's rawhide. Where have you been all my puppy life?


I love my rawhide treats!

Oh sure, when mommy first brought this home, I wasn't sure if it was a toy or a treat. (Sometimes it's just hard to tell the difference.) So, when she asked if I wanted it, of course, I said 'yes'. Rule #1 for ALL puppies: never, ever turn down something new. It may be super yummy and if it isn't, just sniff it and walk away.

Back to me. So, I tell mom that I would be most pleased to accept her offer and then proceed to do the piddly stuff that makes her happy (sit, down and roll over, etc.), then she happily gives me rawhide and I'm on my own to figure it out. First I sniffed it. Interesting. So, then I tossed this foreign object in the air. Ker-plunk! I just stared at it.

Nothing.

Then I ran around with it and taunted daddy because I know he really wants it for himself. He chased me all over the house until I wore him out. Finally, I decided to just chew on it. BINGO!

Who would have known that something so tough could be so wonderful?

Where's My Treat?

I have this fun toy that gives me yummy treats as I nose it around on the floor. It's a round, lime green orb with moonlike craters so I can pick it up and transport it directly to the spot I want.

Me and my orb of treats!

Here's the problem. As I'm romping through the house with the treat orb at my nose and scarfing up the yummies as soon as they pop out, there are times I bump it in to the sofa and one of the little treats gets lost underneath. Not good. I have little paws that can't quite reach under the sofa and as soon as I start digging the floor to tunnel my way to rescue lost treat, my adopted parents will stop me and expect that I'll be cool about leaving lost treat under sofa and just go on my merry way.

I may act cool, but inside I'm thinking about it all the time. All those missing treats. What happens to them? Who gets them? It's enough to keep me up at night.

Then one day, I watched in horror as mommy pulled out the sofa and there were all of my M.I.A. treats! And what does she do? VACUUMS THEM UP!! How could she?

So now, I'm more careful. And I try to sneak in when she's vacuuming to snatch up my treats before she can get to them.

Because puppy treats are good, but eating them is better.

My Nemesis

Oh, woe is me. I just managed to survive a most harrowing experience. It's happened several times in the past and always without warning. Although, I am in serious doubt whether I can survive another event like this.

Today, when mommy and daddy got home from work, I carefully positioned myself as the super watchdog, peering first from a corner through the gate to be sure it's friend and not foe! Then I jumped up with my front paws and gave them my usual greeting which consists of wiggling my whole body (especially my nub tail), and generally acting giddy and mildly out of control. You should see how excited they get.

Anyway, back to my horrifying experience. So here I am, busy being Superdog and chasing the bad guys like the trash can and mom's huge purse. Then, when I least expect it, my whole furbod is lifted up and perched atop the bathroom sink as mommy treats my super sensory ears, then (and this is the scary part!), she actually puts me in the TUB!


How embarrassing!

Next thing I know, the water comes on and I'm it's target! The rest of the experience is a mix of suds and water. All I can say is I try to protect myself from this treacherous event by vigorously protesting, but it never works. As often as it has happened in my short life, you'd think I'd be used to this unwarranted activity.

Well, I'm not. Mommy and daddy call it a bath. I call it unnecessary trauma.

Guinness the Superhero

I am Super Pemby! With powers even I do not fully understand. And I can fly, too! At least between the sofa and the loveseat! That may not seem like much, but in that brief moment, a red cape unfurls from my shoulders, I feel the wind in my ears and I know I am invincible.

Of course, with these super pemby powers comes an important responsibility. I am the defender of my home from all bad guys. Like the other day, I discovered this plastic mult-colored, semi-opaque placemat. Now, you may think it was harmless and mommy sure acted like it was supposed to be something useful. But with my penetrating optical super powers, I alone could detect this was an alien lifeforce that must be conquered.


The Pounce Maneuver!

At once, I barked. And loudly, too. This was a first warning. When it would not leave, I then pounced repeatedly on the miscreant. Oh, it put up a fight, all right. Sliding all over the place, the wimp. But I was relentless in my pursuit and eventually apprehended placemat.

It's still here, but it now exists under my control. Super Pemby Power saves the day. Again.

Couch Potato Pemby

Oh man am I good, or what? Even as my ambidextrous peds are flying over the keyboard, I have to say I'm rather impressed with myself. Since adopting my parents, they have taunted me with calling me up to the sofa with them, knowing full well my short puppy pemby legs were no match for the height.


C'mon, Give me a Boost!

I would hop on my back legs, pulling furiously at the top of the sofa seat with my front paws, trying to maneuver my long puppy frame to where mommy and daddy were. They, of course would help me up, but only after laughing at me first. Oh sure, they would say stuff like, 'Oh, isn't that cute', and 'look how hard he's trying with those short little legs'. Insensitive is what I call it. Definitely NOT funny.

Anyway, the other day, I saw daddy holding another puppy friend, "Frisco". I was cool with it and all until he started really pouring on the affection. Well, that was pushing it. So, I decided to let daddy know that I was now available for his attention and also to inform Frisco that I was the alpha-dog in this house - so he'd better watch himself. So, I just hopped up on the sofa.

Look Mom! No paws!

My goodness! You'd think I just won the olympic gold medal for all dogs! Daddy's been getting me to repeat this feat over and over now, acting all proud and stuff.

Really, dad. Didn't they tell you I was born with super puppy powers?

The Holding Pattern

Have you ever been gnawing contentedly on your favorite bacon nylabone, thoroughly enjoying the moment, savoring the texture and flavor of a finely crafted dog bone, when you suddenly find yourself being airlifted? No warning. No chance to run and hide.

These giant arms materialize and lock under your furbod and you are quickly separated from your bacon bone, the floor, the savoring and gnawing...this is not a pleasant situation. Mom, especially is guilty of this irrational behaviour. For shame.

Next thing I know, I'm sitting on her lap, leaning back and trying my best to give her that annoyed look that I just can't seem to perfect. She oohs and ahhs and wants to cuddle. UGH! I throw my head back and willfully look in the opposite direction. Why does she pick on me?

I've found the only bargaining chip that has any sway with her is to give her kisses on the face. This little appeasement is the surest way to find freedom from her clutches and return to my previous state of enjoyment.

She just loves it. Crazy woman.

My Own FairyDOGmother?

You know how you can be trotting along through life, when all of a sudden it happens. The unthinkable, never in a million dog years could it happen, happens. Well, maybe not a MILLION dog years, but you get the idea. A bounty has been placed on my head, or more specifically, my teeth! Unimaginable, right?

I'm a puppy and I'm losing my teeth. This cannot be good! And now, without warning, Mom has morphed in to this crazed fairydogmother...snatching up any stray tooth that goes flying while I'm thrashing one of my stuffed toys about. She triumphantly pulls out this ziplock bag and proudly drops her prize in with the rest.

Oh, and she's gotten worse! I'll just be minding my own business, blowing a coat here, scarfing up a treat there...and then SHE appears - from nowhere! Hoping to get lucky and snag another puppy tooth. I mean it Mom, STOP!

What will she do when I run out of teeth?

A Gross Misconception

When I was taking mommy for her evening walk tonight, I took advantage of an opportune moment to slurp up some murky gutter water from the last few days of rain. What a find!

Mommy's immediate reaction was something less than thrilled. In fact, she acted like she was disgusted! I know it's hard to believe, but there she was giving my collar a firm pull and saying "ICKY!" (code word for "that may be yummy to you, but you can't have it.") This also seems to apply to bird poop, my poop, worms and bugs (dead or alive), and to any stray item or interesting smelling gooey mass to which I may encounter and want to stake claim.

As we resumed our walk, she continued her maternal opinion of my tastes by saying, "you just can't enjoy a walk unless you try to eat or drink something gross, can you?".

Mom, I am a puppy and a boy. Gross comes with the package.

Sorry Charley

My adopted parents kept talking about Charley and that he was on his way to our place. I wondered who this Charley was...and why they didn't seem too happy about his expected visit.

Then some friends came with a little boy named, Justin and a Beagle puppy named, Frisco. Still no Charley. Well, everybody was watching the TV and being so serious, so Frisco and I wrestled until we dropped! Actually, Frisco is the wimp, here. I was wanting to keep playing, but Frisco had to take a nap. Must be the super-kibble mommy fed me for breakfast.

So after we both re-charged our puppy powerpacks, we went at it again and again. Charley never did show up and everyone seemed very happy.

A note from my adopted parents: We are thankful to say Hurricane Charley missed the Tampa Bay area, however our prayers and support go out to all the families who experienced the ravages of this devastating storm.

Outsmarting Daddy

OK. So I like to play with Frisbee. And I'm trying to get daddy to jump up and taunt me with Frisbee until I bark at him, then he THROWS it and I have to chase madly around to retrieve it for him. First of all, I don't know why he is always throwing the thing because he always seems so happy to get it back. (I suppose mommy had to get his Frisbee for him before me). Secondly, well, there is no second, but it did sound like I was building a case, didn't it? Whatever. So I just humor him and act all excited to run about and bring the thing back to him.

Well, as if my attempts at keeping my adopted daddy amused are not enough, he started to step ON Frisbee when I brought it back to him - just to watch me yank and pull with dramatic effort - even growling in low tones to emphasize my incredible resistance.

After surmising the situation, my puppy brain went in to fast forward and I knew what I had to do to free Frisbee. The next time he stepped on Frisbee, I gave him my little show of protest, then I stopped and decided to lightly bite daddy on his little toe. WOW! He instantly lifted his foot and I quickly grabbed my frisbee and took off for the dining room.

Ah. Never underestimate the resourcefulness of a Corgi-powerpup.

Guinness is in de house!

ARF! I am Guinness, a Pembroke Welsh Corgi. Three months ago today, I adopted my set of parents who are so thankful I rescued them. I have large, triangular ears, short legs, a nub tail and big brown eyes. If you don't believe me, check me out at: www.guinnessthedog.com and see for yourself.

I was pondering life this morning as I chewed on my bacon bone and had an epiphany (whatever that is). That trip to Dr. Barrie's on Friday morning was not just to see Aunt Marylou...seems to me something's also gone missing. I may only be 5 months old, but I still notice that my bark is a bit higher pitched than before...wait a minute...surely not! No wonder mommy looked so guilty when she dropped me off - Ein warned me about this at puppy playtime a few weeks back.

Well, I still don't know what it all means, but I'm working on the "sad eyes look" as we speak...and there goes mommy to the treat jar...HA! Works every time.