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.

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.


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