It's a Dog's Life

My name is Blue. I'm a Blue Heeler by birth, a crusader and observer by trade. This blog is my observation on life, politics, and of course, the daily trials of a dog's life.

Location: Texas, United States

I'm a four year old Blue Heeler. I'm ferociously protective of Mom, but sometimes I get carried away and snarl at her, which lands me in the dog house. I'm pretty observant, too. Try to sneak into my yard or house at night, and you'll find out just how observant I am.

Friday, October 29, 2004

From Bad to Worse

Wow. Mom is really down. First her car quit running on Monday, then Dad's quit today. Doesn't look like either one of them is going to be fixable either. Which leaves her with a dilemma, since we're six miles from the nearest's she gonna buy my dog food? She says she'll walk to the store, but no way is she going to be able to haul a 50 pound bag of food back with her. I'm afraid she's going to start feeding me rice like she's been feeding Dad.

And speaking of bad to worse, there are two guys here running for Congress. They're both incumbents, stuck in the same race because of redistricting. They run tons of commercials, and we're all sick of them. Both of the guys sound like scuzbuckets, but one of them we KNOW is a scuzbucket because he was hitting on a couple of my female Kid's friends during a political discussion. He even put his hand on one of the girl's knees and told her to come sit by "Uncle ___" When the other girl asked a question, he told her not to worry her pretty little head about it.

First time I've ever heard Mom growl, when she heard about it.

That terrorist guy is making threats again. Says if we vote for Bush he'll wipe us out. Hey, we wouldn't vote for him if anyone would offer us a better choice. But who wants John Kerry in the White House? I mean, come on, get real here. Where's the Willie Nelson/Toby Keith ticket?

Mom says she's only going to vote on the local stuff. Got to get our Tax Assessor out of office, and the county commissioner and the sheriff. Bunch of thieves and jerks in office right now. They need to be replaced with new thieves and jerks. Our property taxes now are a full ten percent every single year of what it cost us to build this house. We moved out here in the god-forsaken back of beyond to try to get by, and now we can't even pay the taxes on the property we own outright. Wonder what George Washington would think about this state of affairs? He's probably rolling over in his grave. Mom says if we can't pay the taxes this year, by next year we'll be living in a tent. I've never lived in a tent before. Wonder if I'll like it?

Wednesday, October 27, 2004

State of the World

Did I tell you I was in a book? Yep, my Mom wrote me into one of her novels. She said I was a hero. I didn't feel much like a hero for a while, but life sure seemed to look up after the incident happened.

Here's the story. Mom had to go to town one morning (we live in the country) and my Kids were asleep upstairs. They're teenagers, and Mom figured they'd be okay for an hour, but she left me in the house to watch over them, just in case. I take my job very seriously, so when this guy in brown pants and shirt came up onto my porch, I thought he was going to try to break in. He knocked on my door, and I kind of freaked out since Mom and Dad weren't there. I hit the dining room window, trying to get outside to stop this guy. Of course, no one told me if I hit the window like that it would break and a piece of glass would slice an artery between my toes.

Man, there was so much blood, and it hurt really bad. I limped all over the house looking for Mom. She came home a little while later and freaked out. She thought the kids had been murdered because there were big puddles of blood everywhere, in every room. Even on her brand new rug. Then she saw the window. When I came slinking out of her bedroom, she realized I was the one who was hurt. She rushed me to the vet, they put me to sleep and stitched my paw, then wrapped it up tight in a black bandage.

That sucker hurt forever. Even now if someone messes with my paw, I'll probably growl.

But Mom said I was a hero. Maybe, maybe not. But I have to tell you, that guy in the brown uniform was quite a sight, tearing hell bent for leather for that big, brown truck. :)

Funny, he never comes up on the porch anymore.

Tuesday, October 26, 2004

It's a Dog's Life

My name is Blue, and I have to tell you, my life is tough. My owners expect me to guard the place day and night, stay away from Daisy (not easy, when she's such a sweet little thing), and follow them around everywhere. I have to sit by their feet while they watch those idiots on TV snipe at each other over this election thing. I'm supposed to keep critters out of the yard, but not get myself hurt.

Tell me something. Who invented those nasty skunks? Twice now I've chased one that got into my yard, and the blasted thing sprayed me in the face with this junk that burns like hell and smells worse. My owner had the nerve to get upset with ME for getting sprayed. Hey, I was just doing my job, you know? To make matters worse, my sweet thing Daisy was the one who got us in trouble in the first place. She took off after the thing and took a hit right in the mouth. I just got it on my muzzle and in my eyes--man, does that sting! Guess who gets all the attention? You got it. Daisy. Mom rinsed her mouth out with this vile smelling vinegar stuff. I guess it worked, because Daisy did stop foaming at the mouth. But did she put any in my eyes? No!

Now Mom won't let us outside at night, or even during the day if she catches a whiff of eau de skunke. Bummer that. How's a dog supposed to mark his territory if he can't even go outside?

Oh, about those idiots on TV. There's this one guy, Kerry, who looks like a real geek. Weird dude there, man. I get this skin crawly thing going on when he comes on the screen. The other one, Bush, looks better but I think he's got deep, dark secrets. Mom and Dad don't want to vote for either one. They don't feel like they got a choice in this election. So Dad says he's just not going to vote. Mom says she's writing in Willie Nelson for President and Toby Keith for Vice President. I could dig that. (Dig it--get it? Nothing more I like better than digging.) Mom says she could see Willie sending planes to Iraq and spraying happy weed smoke over the whole country. Everybody mellows out, war's over, our boys come home. Sounds good to me.


I'm in the dog house now. Well, not literally. But I scared Mom by growling and snapping at her, and now she won't pet me or have anything to do with me. It was an accident, honest. I was sniffing something on the porch and she told me to come inside, but I wasn't ready. She yanked my chain (no, not literally. She just tugged on it.) and I lost it. Forgot who was there for a minute.

Sheesh, you'd think the world had come to an end, the way she was carrying on. It was just a little tooth mark, for pete's sake.

Speaking of the world coming to an end, what's with all the movies and books coming out lately? And most of them have the whole scenario messed up. Don't they even read Revelations before they write or shoot or whatever? I've listened to Dad when he read it, and it's not that hard to understand. Guess everybody's got to push us toward their agenda.

Mom was really upset by something she read the other day. Seems a multi-published author had her home invaded before dawn because of websites she visited while doing research and books she checked out of the library. Six armed agents from the postal service, FBI, and "Federal Police" kicked her door in, threatened to shoot her dogs, then took her stuff. Computer, disks, books, rejection letters, contracts--all gone. They finally gave the computer back months later--bugged. They added a spyware thing to it that her tech guy can't get rid of. She got her disks back too--destroyed. All her manuscripts, etc. Toast.

Better watch out. Big Brother is probably watching you, too.