See Ya Later, Gator

So, my Grandpa got himself a new (and awesome) toy last week: a Gator ATV! I, of course, have joined him in the ATV as much as possible since arriving in Wisconsin.

 

Looking good, if I do say so myself. I could do without the blaze orange vest.

Sometimes, I ride in the back. Usually, Sarah shuts that tailgate, but I kind of like having it down. Makes it feel more dangerous. And you know me, Danger is my middle name (unless said danger involves going out in the dark. Or rain. Or woods).

And now, things are right in the world. I finally am in the driver's seat. And I got out of my blaze orange vest. Score!

Sadly, I will soon be going home to Indiana, where there is no fun ATV. And I am stuck with Sarah.

Blaze Orange Is So Not My Color

So, Sarah and I are back in Wisconsin again. Super cool (well, the part about being in Wisconsin. The part where Sarah is here, not so much). I am especially happy that part of the reason we are back is Thanksgiving. Really, any holiday dedicated to eating is the kind of holiday that I can get behind (though it could use more bacon. And fewer vegetables). Plus, I'm pretty sure my cousin Izzy is coming up, too, and I have lots of bad habits to teach her over the long weekend. I'm pretty excited about that.

Unfortunately for yours truly, it is hunting season in Wisconsin. My grandparents live out in the country, and there are lots of people out hunting right now. Now, last year, I was in Wisconsin for Thanksgiving, and Sarah let me do whatever I wanted outside, no problem. Somehow, however, in those intervening twelve months, something happened. Now, she's all worried I am going to go into the woods and get shot (I know - I'm as shocked that she worries about me as you are), so she had my Grandpa go out and buy me a hunting vest.

 

It's not pink, I will grant you that. However, still not my best color.

Now, first of all, I'm not very happy at all that my grandpa agreed to go out and but me clothes (although, come to think of it, perhaps Sarah isn't the one who cares about my safety, but Grandpa and Grandma...I will have to consider this. On initial thought, it makes a lot of sense). However, I am going to say that, as far as my clothes go, this is about the best of the lot. After all, it's to keep me from getting shot. And I would rather not get shot. That said, though, I have to say that I'm a dog, not a crossing guard. And based on this outfit, I'm not sure how one tells the difference.

Anyway, I should probably get back to my adventures here. My grandpa got a new Gator ATV thing that is AWESOME. I have been riding all over in it, and even though I have to wear the vest in it (like a tool), I still look pretty darn good riding in the thing. I will have pics for your later this week.

Ho, ho, ho! Merry - Wait a Minute...

I have to say, I love Christmas. Trip to my grandparents' house, lots of food, presents - it's pretty awesome. Unfortunately, I also have to deal with Sarah's crap. Last year, it involved a reindeer costume. With a light up nose. Needless to say, that part of Christmas is horrible. And I really don't want to remind Sarah about that outfit, because she didn't take many pictures of me in it. I would rather that such pictures never find their way out of her possession.

Unfortunately for me, Sarah decided that she would get in the Christmas spirit extra early this year, so she purchased me a Christmas dress.

This picture does not do justice to the sheer amount of sparkle this dress involves. That's not supposed to be a compliment. This isn't Toddlers & Tiaras, people.

Really, Sarah? A Christmas dress? Do you think I need a dress? It's not like I'm even allowed to go to church, and that's the only place I could think I would be wearing this. Note: This complaint is in addition to the general complaint that dogs don't need clothes.

Anyway, having put me in the Christmas dress, Sarah would not leave the whole Christmas thing alone. So, off she went to fetch something else.

A Santa hat. I should have guessed this one was coming.

Anyway, as Christmas approaches, I'm pretty sure that things are only going to get worse. I'll keep you posted.

Bah Humbug.

A Halloween Horror Show

Warning: This post contains horrific images of a dog forced to dress up for Halloween (especially the last two pictures). For your own good, I suggest you find another website to look at.

Well, now that you have been warned, it's time to get to the substance of this post: namely, the horror that Sarah has forced me to endure for my second Halloween on this earth. Not one, not two, but THREE new costumes (plus this shark one from a couple months ago). Seriously, Sarah, there are children in the world who don't have this many costumes over the course of their entire childhoods.

First up, a football costume.

A football, in costume form. Because Sarah was evidently not content with my multiple football-related clothing items.

Next, Sarah broke out the headless horseman:

It's the headless horseman. Actually, it should probably be renamed the headless dogman, as I am not a horse.

But, Sarah saved something horrible - just horrible - for my final outfit. Now, I had thought that the worse costume she could possibly put me in was a cat costume. That would have been humiliating. I should have known Sarah was more dastardly than that.

Turns out, there are squirrel costumes available.

There is nothing good about this costume.

This is not the face of a happy dog.

I hate squirrels. But not as much as I hate squirrel costumes. Or Sarah.

This Butt's For You

Now, with Halloween coming up this weekend, I expect Sarah will come up with at least one (probably more) costumes for me. At this point, I have sort of resigned myself to the fact that I cannot get out of this humiliation, and should just get through it as quickly as possible.

What I didn't expect was that she would find a non-costume way to humiliate me this week.

Now, I was a little suspicious this morning when Sarah started taking pictures of me from behind.

Not my best angle.

However, I didn't at all expect what was coming next.

Yes, it's a flower. Yes, it is to hide my butt hole.

The flower thing on my butt? It's called "Rear Gear." The website calls them "butt covers." I call them unnecessary. Entirely unnecessary. And yet another in a long line of reasons Sarah should not be allowed on the internet.

A close-up, courtesy Sarah's camera. I'm sorry you had to see this. But not as sorry as I am that I had to endure it.

Sarah Went to Disneyland...

So, Sarah went out to California for work last week. This was pretty cool, as I got to go to my kennel/doggy day care while she was away (it's pretty much dog heaven over there - "pretty much" because they have horses that I would like to chase (or at least sniff), but I'm not allowed. Everything else is fair game, though, including like 20 cats. Awesome!). Unfortunately, all good things must end, and Sarah got back yesterday.

Now, Sarah was pretty cool and brought me back a present! At least, I thought it would be pretty cool. I mean, I could think of at least 100 things I would like that involve the word "bacon" alone! But, this being Sarah, there was no bacon involved.

Yes. It's Mickey Mouse ears.

Instead of food, or even a toy (or heck, even nothing!), Sarah brought me back Mickey Mouse ears. Now, wearing a hat like this is already a humiliating experience. We've been over this one before. Dogs don't need clothing, and that includes hats.

Yes, she even paid extra to have my name embroidered on the back. You people think I exaggerate the humility I must endure on a daily basis? Look no further for proof that, if anything, I down play it.

But the mouse ears add a level of humiliation that is just wrong. You know what chases mice? Cats. In my world, cats are meant to be chased. These mouse ears create some sort of strange world where, instead of me chasing cats, the cats might chase me. The mere idea of this will probably give me horrible nightmares.

Yeah, the look on my face here pretty much says it all.

Unfortunately, this means that I can no longer fully enjoy times when Sarah is out-of-town. Who knows what she will come up with to bring home next time she is away.

Socks? I Don't Need No Stinkin' Socks

Sarah should really not be allowed to go to the store without me. I mean, I am a great shopping companion. I head straight for important things (dog toys and treats), and ignore things that we don't need around the house (yet more clothing for me). Unfortunately, I'm not allowed in certain stores. And so, Sarah goes to these stores, and comes home with things that we definitely don't need (like dog clothes).

A great example of this occurred a couple days ago.

Socks? Really? What about it being nice, pleasant fall weather suggested I needed socks?

Sarah came home with socks for me. Now, if I was a sled dog, little booties would be important, so I didn't hurt my feet. But you know what I do with my life? Stare at Sarah and hope that she leaves for a few minutes so I can get some peace/sleep on the good couch (of course, I hope she goes somewhere with no clothing that might fit me when she leaves the house). Plus, the house is mostly carpeted, so it's like I already have socks on wherever I go. The last thing I need is socks.

Unfortunately, this being Sarah, she didn't stop at the socks.

A hat? Really? What about it being nice, pleasant fall weather suggested I needed...oh, wait, we just went through this with the socks.

I have no idea what has possessed Sarah to be on a hat kick lately, but seriously, it needs to stop. Soon.

Good News & Bad News

So, sometimes life throws me a bone. A few weeks ago, I got thrown a BIG one. You see, Sarah quit her job to go work for her dad - a.k.a., my grandpa! I cannot tell you how stoked I was about this, because my grandparents are up in Wisconsin, which is a place that I love. I immediately began thinking about all of the fun things I was going to do when we moved up there (OK, mostly I was thinking about how I could run away from Sarah all the time and sneak over to my grandparents' house).

But then, Sarah destroyed all of these dreams. You see, instead of moving to Wisconsin, we're staying here in Indiana. I like Indiana just fine, but it's a long way from my grandparents.

However, the worst part of this? Now Sarah is working from home, which means I NEVER get any time away from her. All day long, she is here, hogging the computer, and just generally making me mad with her very presence.

Sarah put me in her new printer's box. Your guess as to the reason why is as good as mine.

Even worse, she can hear every time I get on the good couch or look on the counters, and she yells at me. So not only am I stuck with her, I have to follow all of her rules, all day long. It sucks. Big time.

About the only good thing about this is that I can now go outside during the day as much as I want. The other day, I spent like two hours out in the backyard, just pretending I was on vacation and far, far away from Sarah. That was great. At least, it was great until Sarah interrupted my blissful imaginings. Typical.

Anyway, I have to figure out a way to get her out of the house more often. So far, I've got nothing.

Helpin' a Doggie Out

So, as you probably know by now, I am not a fancy-schmancy purebred dog. Nope, I'm a pound puppy. Straight outta the Terre Haute Humane Society. As such, I'm pretty keen on the whole idea of getting a dog from the shelter. I mean, seriously, I could be dead right now if Sarah hadn't picked out my cute little butt and taken me home (and as much as I hate Sarah, I would rather put up with her crap forever than be dead. Of course, what I really would have liked is to have been adopted by someone who doesn't make it her life's work to humiliate me).

This picture has nothing to do with this post. However, who wouldn't love a face like mine? Even when it's half covered by shades and a scarf.

Now, I pretty rarely do something like promote stuff, but I figured I would today, because all I have to do is write a blog post, and Pedigree will donate a bag of dog food to a shelter! Now, as a dog who both (a) has a blog, and (b) came from a shelter, that seems like a pretty good deal. Heck, if Sarah is going to humiliate me, I might as well help out a dog at the pound who still has a chance to go somewhere better than I ended up, where clothing is something only humans wear.

So, to whatever dog eats the bag of food that got donated because of Yours Truly, good luck finding a better home than I did.

Tailgating and Me: Not a Love Story

So, a couple weeks ago, Sarah took me tailgating. While I was initially a bit apprehensive about this (despite the presence of "tail" in the name of the activity), I was assured that there would be food and fun while tailgating. Turns out, even though I got plenty of food while tailgating, I was not a fan.

First, there was not a lot of privacy to do my business. Now, I may be a dog, but I normally have a nice, fenced-in backyard where I can do my thing without other dogs or people watching. But while tailgating, I was not so lucky. I had a little performance anxiety about my peeing, so Sarah eventually had to walk me like a mile so I would go. While I enjoyed the walk, I would rather just be able to go whenever and wherever I please.

Second, there were a LOT of people. While this is usually OK, most of them were drunk. And not the good kind of drunk where they surreptitiously sneak me tasty treats, but the kind where they demand my affection. Seriously, not cool. I give my love only to those who deserve it. Not to Sarah's drunk friends who fail to properly reward my love (with treats, obviously).

Third, of course Sarah dressed me up:

Do I look miserable? Because I was.

Fourth, of course Sarah would not be content dressing me up in one outfit, so I had to wear a second outfit.

No, I don't want to bring you a beer. My owner is just a tool and makes me wear a beer-fetching outfit that she saw on a beer commercial.

Anyway, Sarah did not take me with her this last weekend when she went up there, but rumor has it I may be going back in a month or so. I hope not. However, I will make plans to get out of it, just in case this rumor is true. I see bad behavior in my future...

Sarah Goes to Vegas = Humiliation for Me

So, Sarah is heading to Las Vegas on Friday. As someone who wears a fur coat 365 days a year, I'm pretty cool with having to stay at home (this is in addition to the obvious reason I am happy to stay home - Sarah won't be here).

Unfortunately, Sarah decided I should wear some Las Vegas themed hats in honor of her trip. Well, they really aren't "Las Vegas themed" so much as "Sarah has come up with the flimsiest of flimsy reasons they are related to Vegas in order to subject me to great humiliation."

Obviously, not cool. You can judge for yourself:

This? I think this is Sarah's idea of something Snoop Dogg, the rapper formerly known as Snoop Doggy Dog, would wear. While I applaud the man's choice in names, I do not applaud Sarah's decision to allow him to influence her in dressing me up. Oh, and if you're asking how come Sarah thinks of Las Vegas and Snoop Dogg together, let me quote you the song 2 of Americaz Most Wanted: "My dream is to own a fly casino - like Bugsy Siegel - but do it all legal." Do you know how I know these lyrics? Because Sarah sang them to me the whole time I was dressed up in this hat. She has a terrible voice. I cannot stress how unpleasant this whole experience was for me.

I call this the prostitute hat. Now, because Sarah watches COPS on a far-too-regular basis, I am well aware that your typical prostitute, even in Las Vegas, wears pretty regular clothing. However, this is more along the lines of Hollywood's idea of a prostitute. On a related note, Sarah has actually worn this hat in public. And sometimes you people wonder why I question her sanity...

My grandpa brought this hat home from Oktoberfest for Sarah, long before I was born. I'm sure he never intended for her to use it in such a cruel and humiliating manner. I initially wondered what slim link there could be between Las Vegas and Munich, but then I remembered that alcohol is free if you're gambling, and thus the connection with the beer halls of Munich became clear. What scares me about this is that I can understand Sarah so easily. I really hope I'm not getting to be more like her.

Halloween Isn't For Two Months

So, Sarah, being a jerk, went to the pet store this morning without me. I love the pet store - I get treats from the employees, get to see other dogs, and even when I have to get my nails clipped there, it's still pretty cool.

Unfortunately for me, the pet store already had its Halloween costume selection out. Yes, over two months before Halloween. And, because Sarah didn't take me there this morning, I didn't even have a chance to prevent her from purchasing an outfit for me.

Here's what she came home with:

A shark? Really? I don't even like to swim. And it's not even a great white, it's some random blue shark. And no, I'm not grateful it's not pink. It's still a costume.

Now, I am almost positive this isn't the only costume I will be forced to endure before Halloween. I mean, I've already discussed my pumpkin and chicken costumes that Sarah got last year, and which I am sure she will break out at some point. There are still months for Sarah to come up with more humiliating costumes.

This is so wrong.

Tweet This, Sarah

So, the other night Sarah got a package. I could tell right away that it was something for me, because (a) It was pink, and (b) Sarah kept telling me I was really going to get excited about this. I could tell it wasn't clothes, but I had no idea what it was.

Turns out, it might be worse than clothes.

You see, a few months ago, Sarah discovered this contraption online that hooks to a dog collar, sort of like my camera. Except, instead of a camera, it's some sort of contraption that sends messages to the computer, which then puts them on Twitter. It's called Puppy Tweets. I have a picture:

Pink. And stupid. Sarah loves it.

Now, this would be all fine and dandy if the tweets were things that I'm actually doing or saying. But they're not, they're just random crap that has nothing to do with what I am actually thinking. And they're stupid to boot! For example, here are some of the things it has said today:

Puppy Tweets rules! Finally I can express my thoughts and feelings to the world! One question: does it matter if I get slobber on it?

In typical fashion, the cat down the street is registered as an Independent. They can't ever commit to anything.

L'il help! Nose stuck in bird feeder!

Obviously, this is not cool. Sarah, of course, thinks it is awesome, and has hooked it up to her Twitter account. You can go there and see more stupid things this contraption attributes to me, but I recommend against it.

Also, a note to all inventors out there: Please stop inventing stupid things for dogs. Sarah buys them, when she could be buying me treats or something I actually want. Thanks.

Dogs Don't Need Life Jackets

So, Sarah and I were once again in Wisconsin this weekend. The reason? Sarah's friend was having a bachelorette party. Now, as part of this party, Sarah was going on a boat. Of course, Sarah decided this was a good reason to dress me up in a boating outfit, even though I was not invited on the boat, and have never even been on boat in my life.

The least Sarah could have done was put me in a life jacket made in the last twenty years. This is less "cool and retro" than "I'm pretty sure this is so old that it has lost its floating ability and would NOT save me in the event that I fell in the lake and was drowning."

Now, here's my major complaint about this. I'm a dog. I can swim just fine without flotation devices. We've already discussed this, but Sarah seems unable to get it through her thick skull, even though she has seen me swim before, and even though I have no intention of swimming ever again (not a big fan). I guess I should just be grateful that this isn't pink, but still. Not happy about this life jacket thing.

There Is No Point to This Outfit

You know, I remember a time when Sarah required some excuse to dress me up. That time is no longer. You see, today, she went to the store to get some food, and instead of coming home with some hot dogs or other dog treats for me, this is what I got:

The hat really seals the deal on this being a stupid thing to do to a dog.

Really Sarah? Is this what you thought I wanted from the store? You know, for the $8.50 this outfit cost, I could have been knee deep in hot dogs or milk bones.

And don't think I didn't see that the tank top was part of a two-pack...I'm sure that will be broken out soon as well. Unless, of course, I manage to get to it first.