So my master leaves me alone for 9 hours while he’s gone at this place that he commonly and affectionately refers to as “the rock quarry”, “BARK”, or “work”…. and while he’s gone I am left to entertain myself.  No problem, I have my blankie, my food bowl, my rubber steak, and my rubber newspaper… I use to have a stuffed duck, may he rest in pieces. 

So on 9/10/07, I take it upon myself to see how many pieces I can shred my squeaky toys into (and let me tell you, it’s somewhere around 86 pieces)… well that game was fun, but I know I’d better have this cleaned up before Thomas gets home or he will rant on and on to no end about how he was at work all day and while he was bringing home the bacon (which for some reason I NEVER see) all I did was manage to destroy stuff. 

So I tried stuffing some of the pieces down the air vent.  No dice, didn’t work.  You can only sweep so many of them under the blankie, and that just makes blankie all lumpy.  So I proceeded to eat these pieces.  Hey, if you weren’t suppose to eat it why make it look like (and in the shape of) a steak!

Well, Thomas gets home and I’m not feeling so hot.  Apparently rubber steak doesn’t agree with my stomach as well as the real thing.  Oh how i crave a good steak right now.

So I got to go visit the vet at 9:00 pm on Sept. 10th… and I got to spend the night!!!  Luckily they didn’t have to operate, and unfortunately I wasn’t able to get the x-rays to scan so I can’t post the cool pictures of my insides on the website.  But here are a couple pictures of me taken on 9/11/07 a few hours after I came home.  Notice they shaved my left arm to put the IV in me.  Definitely a reminder not to eat rubber squeaky toys ever again… although for some reason Thomas doesn’t give me those anymore… hmph.  What a wimp. 

By the way, I’m pretty sure it’s this face right here, and only this face that I’m making in this picture, that kept me from being shipped off to the pound or even worse, encouraging Thomas to have my kabobs cut off while we were already at the vet.  This defeated look is probably the only thing that saved me from punishment after Thomas got the $340 vet bill!

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I recall… the last time I can remember seeing Ariane, the blonde human who drove the dented and mangled Toyota (a.k.a. Kitty Freightliner), was back in August when she put me in a wooden bucket out behind the house.  That bucket is now filled with dead flowers that were scorched by the summer heat.  Had it not been for my all knowing, caring, and compassionate master who pulled me from that bucket, that could’ve been me laying there dead in the bucket and not those flowers that are there for me to pee on now!  It gives a little added meaning to pushing up daisies, huh.  Oh where oh where could this Ariane chick have run off to?! 

I recall… some good times with her.  She was the one holding me up at Fountain Square, where I got to play statue in front of the fountain.  She needs to come back down here and take me to the Woods.  Until she does so, she should consider herself in the doghouse, hence you will note I have filed this entry under I recall and Doghouse.

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Well, as you may have noticed, it has been nearly a month since I last wrote an entry on my blog… a lot has happened in that past month!  For instance, over Labor Day weekend I managed to break free from the shackles that normally confine me to my yard and I managed to tour my entire neighborhood while Master roamed the streets looking for me.  I also proceeded to get several pieces of rubber (from a squeaky toy) lodged in my stomach and got to spend the night in the hospital.  Hey, if you’re not suppose to eat it, don’t make it look like steak.  sheesh.

 But earlier this week I “inadvertently” chewed my USB cable that connects my laptop to my broadband modem in half.  Once again, if it wasn’t meant to be eaten…. don’t put it on the floor!  So I now have a new cable and I’m back to my blogging.  I apologize for the time away.  I will try to only chew on Master’s tv, phone, fridge, and cell phone charger cords from now on.  That way I won’t interrupt the connection to those of you out there in cyberland.  Yes, I’m in the doghouse as the category of this post indicates.

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I had never heard of this Michael Vick guy until just yesterday, but already I don’t like him.  Apparently he has a pretty RUFFed up sense of fun and entertainment.  What kind of sick ARFggot goes around making dogs fight each other till one of them dies, only to then kill the winner if he or she is too wounded to fight another day?!  This sick BARKhole, that’s who.

So what’s this guy’s deal anyway!?!  I mean, I read that he likes to go around and give the ladies the human version of the worms under the alias Ron Mexico.  He likes to take water bottles full of wacky tobbacky smellin’ water onto planes, too.  He will even give his own hometown fans the finger while walking down the sideline… hey, I don’t even have fingers and I still know that’s rude!  I hear this guy’s little brother Marcus isn’t much brighter, either.  Ya know, I guess it just goes to show you there are some real bad apples out there.  I would even go so far as to call this guy a mutt if he were a dog.

Perhaps his punishment should be to fight a Lion or Tiger, or a room full of boxers or pit bulls… if he’s actually guilty… remember, PEOPLE are innocent till proven guilty… on the other hand, we PUPPIES are innocent even if guilty   But regardless whether he’s innocent or guilty, my fellow canines were tortured and killed on his property.  If he didn’t have a hand in it, he should have kept a closer eye on his land so my relatives wouldn’t have died.  Because of that, he’s still in my doghouse. 

Rub my belly *I need it after hearing about this story*… leave me some comments!

By the way, the picture above came from this really cool website called The Onion.  I can’t take any credit or claim ownership of it… but it’s a great photo of this loser!

Sorry for all the swearing in this one… I got pretty upset about the story and my censor had to replace some key words with RUFF, ARF, and BARK.  This is still a family-oriented website and I hope you understand why I’m emotional about this topic!

Well, it’s been a busy weekend.  My master’s family was in town to see me on Saturday and then today I got to go visit Gordon and Jitterbug, two couch ornaments (or “cats” as you humans call them) that live in downtown Cincinnati.  They have a cool master, Ariane, who gives me lots of toys, treats, and even incorporates me into her workout routine.

But those evil bags of tuna-eating, leg-rubbing felons somehow managed to give me worms while I was there.  I don’t know how… but I think it was in the food they gave me.  These cats were acting nice (once I put them in their place).  They showed me where they keep the sandbox, or “zen garden” as Gordon referred to it.  I got to eat all of the wonderful buried treats that I could possibly find in this little box and I loved every minute of it.  Now my tummy hurts and I know those cats had something to do with it.

I heard Ariane telling my master I have worms.  At first I was excited by this.  We never get to go fishing when we visit Winton Woods.  I thought now that I have the worms perhaps my master would take me.  Then my tummy started hurting again and suddenly I wasn’t so excited by this news.  I got some tasty concoction when we got home, and my master thinks a few more drinks of this stuff and I will be feeling better.

In the meantime, you can send get well wishes via email to my master.  Or in lieu of sending cards or flowers you may send your check made payable to Garbanzo, c/o Master Thomas Goodwin, 1440 S. Breiel Blvd, Middletown, Ohio 45044.  I fully trust him to use the money to buy me lots of treats once I am feeling better.  Or perhaps that new Miami University collar that I’ve had my eye on when we go to PetsMart.

Hope you all had a nice weekend… except for your cats (Bryan… Ariane… I’m talking to you).  Leave me some luvin… post a comment.

I have never met this Bob Barker fellow, but you would think with a last name like Barker he would be more friendly toward man’s best friend.  Apparently our friendship wasn’t enough for ‘ol Bob.  He has been trying to get millions of people to cut off our puppy parts for numerous years now.  Why, Bob?!  Why!?! 

One can only imagine what kind of tragic event he must’ve went through as a child to turn him against harmless little puppies.  Or perhaps Bob never had a puppy.  If Bob had his way with my mom, she would’ve never had me and my siblings.  In fact, he considers all my sisters and me nothing but litter… garbage, he thinks we’re garbage… waste strewn along the highway. 

I know he’s retired now but I can’t help but think he might be working behind the scenes and trying to come after more of my helpless, defenseless friends.  This is to put you on notice, Bob.  You’re officially in my Doghouse.  And until you call off the senseless destruction of my puppy parts, I will not so much as wag my tail at you nor your beauties.

Let it go Bob.  It’s time to let the healing begin.  The cats… now that’s where we could use some additional control.  Perhaps you could push for them to all be de-clawed?  Think about it Bob.  What hurts more, a basket full of puppies?  Or an evil cat scratching away at your soft, butter-like skin.  De-claw the cats Bob.  De-claw the cats.

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