Friday Post #2

I'm back again today for my second post. I got spanked and threatened with losing my pork ears if I did not give proper thanks to Grandma Jo who sent me 4 dozen pork ears on Thursday. I apologize Grandma Jo. Thank you very much from the bottom of my stomach for the pork ears.

How can you stay mad at a face like this one??

Friday Thoughts

I've been in a reflective state lately, thinking a lot about my goals and dreams.

I firmly believe, we all aspire to do great things.

I’ll even include Lulu, my sister, in on that action. Sure her great goal is just to annoy me on a daily basis, but at least she strives to be something better. Even the Old Man has a goal of completing the Disney Marathon in January (however, if I were you I'd put my odds on Mickey kicking his #%$).

For me I’ve always wanted to do good things in law enforcement. I want to head up my own K-9 team to clean up the streets. That’s figuratively speaking, not literally, because let’s face it, no one but a human will pick up dog poop from the street.

I know I’d have achieved my dream already if only it wasn't for that damn K-9 cop entrance exam. The whole thing is in German!

Someday…someday.

Whiny Wednesday

If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a thousand times, “Some days you’re the dog and some days you’re the hydrant.”

Today happens to be one where I feel like a steel fixture painted red.

This morning my kibble was served dry, my water was warm and the grass I peed on was already wet. That, my friends, is a crap sandwich for a basset like me. And not the good kind of crap sandwich (kitty snickers on pumpernickel) I enjoy.

I guess it beats the night my mother had, though. She had to clean up my sister Lulu's throw up twice last night. Yeah, twice. The old man? He just slept through it…at a golf resort in Marble Falls.

FLASH

Flash Tuesday

In case you needed a little handsome to brighten up your Tuesday...

Free Food

So here I sit in the good old US of A enjoying another day.

Even though my life is great, I always feel there’s someplace better to be. Sometimes it’s as close as the other side of the fence, other times it’s as far away as Europe.

In practical terms, this means wanting to whiz on the stop sign on the corner of my street or letting loose a red, white, and blue stream of Flash20 on the Eiffel Tower.

It all really depends on how ambitious I feel that day.

After reading this article this morning, I think I want to move to the UK. No really, I do.

A pub chain is reaching out to four-legged punters from today by offering a free doggy menu behind two of its bars.

The Five Alls pub near Lechlade in Gloucestershire and the Catherine Wheel in Goring-on-Thames, Berkshire, aim to have their canine visitors howling with delight at their Dog’s Dinner menu, which provides a choice between dishes such as the delectable sounding Liver & Garden Veg chunks in gravy or Chicken & Beef chunks in jelly.

Owners wanting to give their pets a treat can pick from the Special Fayre menu, where Omega-3 packed salmon chunks will apparently see doggy diners leaving the pub with a “healthy coat and skin”.

The doggy menus will be on display outside the pub and behind the bar, with the idea that dog walkers will treat their pets at the same time as ordering their own pub meal. “Now dog owners can sit down to lunch happy in the knowledge their dog is enjoying their meal as much as they are,” said Caroline Coombs at Butcher’s Pet Care, the company providing the doggy meals.

If the free trial at the two Brakspear pubs is successful, the menus could be rolled out across the chain’s other dog friendly pubs, said Brakspear’s Tom Davies. “Many of our pubs are located near popular walking routes and attract customers out to enjoy the countryside with their four-legged companions,” he said.

Howard Leatherdale’s dog Chyb is – along with his owner – a regular at the Five Alls. “Chyb’s verdict? More tins please,” said Leatherdale. “It didn’t stop him staring forlornly at his empty bowl when I got him home though.”

It wouldn’t stop me from staring forlornly at my empty bowl either, but hey, what do you expect from a fat ass?

FLASH

Flash Friday

Many people look at me today and don't realize the trauma of my youth. What trauma? The trauma of having an oversized cranium.

Check out this pic of me when I was young. Now you know why my neck muscles are so strong.

FLASH

Neighborhood Encounter

Let’s face it folks, we’re all criminals.

In this day and age where everything from rabies shots to dog park access to where you can poop is legislated by unscrupulous humans it’s hard not to fall on the wrong side of the law at least a few times.

For instance, yesterday I was caught waddling along at 1 mph in the left lane of our local walking park. Regulations say this lane is reserved for those cruising by at least twice that pace.

Sure I was breaking the law but shouldn’t there be one for the inappropriateness of others barking, “Move over Fatty” at you?

Then there was the time I peed on a neighbor’s mailbox, and some of their newly planted pansies. It was an appropriate response to a Maltese’s scathing message to the pups in the neighborhood. Well, the next thing you know, the owner comes flying out of the house like I was in the process of stealing her last pig’s ear. Did I break the law? Technically yes, but this woman didn’t realize the life giving goodness of my home made lemonade. Today, those pansies stand 5 foot high.

My most recent encounter was this morning on a neighborhood walk. After being cooped up inside all evening, our morning walks are more like neighborhood sprints. We take out of the gate at a blaring speed - hey, I have to burn off those pork ears somehow. This morning a wolf-like husky happened to be passing through as we were exiting the front door. Lu and I took off after the husky, dragging Mom along helplessly. Really we just wanted to do a little sniffing, but the wolf's owner did not like that. She accused us of scaring her dog and yelled at Mom for not controlling us. We weren't even barking. What an SOB.

Now that I think of it, I think this wolf kicked dirt in my face once at the dog park, stealing the cute border collie I was chatting up away from me. Stupid bully.

FLASH

A little Johnny Cash for your Wednesday

Happy Wednesday morning Flash fans. It's another scorcher here in Texas, so I'm just lying on the couch listening to the Ipod and trying to drown out the Old Man's snores from the other room.

“I hear the train a comin’. It’s rollin ’round the bend. And I ain’t seen the sunshine since, I don’t know when.”

Fans of the Johnny Cash will recognize those words from the classic tune, Folsom Prison Blues.

No, I’m not in prison, although I have fantasized about shooting a man in Reno, just to watch him die.

I guess that’s not 100% true. I’ve fantasized about shooting a man, not in Reno, but right here in Austin, and that man is my father.

Not surprisingly this repeated fantasy occurs every time that SOB makes me sit before he will give me my kibble.

Speaking of the Old Man, here he comes , so I better put his Ipod away...

FLASH

The Hero Within

Hero worship. I know it well.

Not because I look up to many dogs, cats or humans, but because of being looked up to. Yeah, that’s right, there are other living creatures who look up to the old Flash man.

Granted, I’m a big dog in a little park, but even so, every house ("jail") break is now met with adoring looks (and quiet applause) from every chipmunk and possum especially when my escapades bring me to other neighborhoods.

Lest you think it’s because I’m a famous author, it’s not. No, my forest dwelling friends can’t even read, let alone afford the paltry cost it takes to get a computer and my life story into their hands.

No, it’s really because of the way I smell.

You see, the Old Man's been washing me with this oatmeal smelling shampoo that, for whatever reason, the local vermin just love. So much so that they don’t even wait for the house break anymore and just invade the yard I live in. It’s so frequent now, I don’t even chase them anymore. I’d rather just sit back and lick myself. What can I say, I like oatmeal.

Frankly, I don’t even know where I’m going with this story...Eh, that’s all I got folks.

FLASH

Grub

I’m a hearty eater.

If I had input into my daily rations it would look something like this:

Breakfast: bacon and eggs- hold the eggs and give me extra bacon- preferably crispy
Lunch: bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich- hold the lettuce and tomato. Oh, and substitute the bread for some bacon.
Dinner: A pig. Yeah the whole damn thing. It’s dinner time for crying out loud. You want me to starve?

As much as I pray for such a varied selection of food, I know it’s not forthcoming. Unless of course you substitute the words dry kibble with bacon. Then I’m getting more than enough of it.

I wish Grandma Jo would send me some pork ears....

All I wanted was some dessert....

I am in trouble again. All I wanted was some dessert post-kibble, and Mom wouldn't give with any more milkbones.

So, I took matters into my own hands and ate a bird. And got in trouble for it. Probably because it was still half-alive when I choked it down into my belly. Well, it was alive, but its spirit was gone. Word in the trees was that it was a late sleeper and just never got that early worm. Its spirit crushed, I caught it. Good news is, it's no longer alive.

I tried to be conspicuous about it and have my dessert once everyone else was asleep. But, Lulu, being the tattletale that she is, barked about it and woke up the Old Man. The Old Man must have wanted some dessert for himself, because he tried to take the bird away from me, but I wouldn't give. Mom was a little freaked out about the bird cries coming from my throat, so I tried to soothe her by just choking down Tweetie whole.

I think Tweetie would have especially been tasty with a side of mashed potatoes. Just sayin'.

FLASH

Let's talk about gas. Otherwise known as farts.

The President does it. Your owner does it. My Old Man certainly does it. And you do it too. If you deny it, I’m going to say that you are the one that supplied it. Have you figured out what I’m talking about?

That’s right, I’m talking about air poopies or, what many of you know it better as, farts.

“Flash, why must you bring this up in a family oriented blog?” my readers will ask.

To which I must respond, “Because farts make me laugh.”

So check out this article on global warming, cows and capturing intestinal gas in a plastic jug, all for the betterment of living creatures on this great earth.

Experts said the slow digestive system of cows makes them a key producer of methane, a potent greenhouse gas that gets far less public attention than carbon dioxide.

In a bid to understand the impact of the wind produced by cows on global warming, scientists collected gas from their stomachs in plastic tanks attached to their backs.

The Argentine researchers discovered methane from cows accounts for more than 30 per cent of the country’s total greenhouse emissions.

On a side note, I remember going to Lubbock, Texas with my Old Man as if it were only yesterday. As we got off the plane, I turned to the old man and said, “Is it me or does it smell like cow crap here?” To which my father said, “Flash, surprisingly it’s not you this time.”

Methane, which is also released from landfills, coal mines and leaking gas pipes, is 23 times more effective at trapping heat in the atmosphere than carbon dioxide.

Scientists are now carrying out trials of new diets designed to improve cows’s digestion and hopefully reduce global warming. Silvia Valtorta, of the National Council of Scientific and Technical Investigations, said that by feeding cows clover and alfalfa instead of grain “you can reduce methane emissions by 25 percent”.

Hopefully this will get everybody off my back for leaving the air conditioner on all the time in my dog house. Hey, if Al Gore gets a pass, I don’t see why I shouldn’t get the same.

FLASH

Wordless Wednesday

The basset pictured below [Layla] is available for adoption at the Helping Hands Basset Rescue in Austin.Layla looks like she's had one too many milk bones. In other words, she a heifer.

MIA

Sorry for the lack of consistent posts recently, but I haven't had much access to the computer. The Old Man has been out of town "recruiting" (read: golfing), and he took his computer with him; god forbid he not be able to check the score of his beloved Rangers.

Mom's been busy too. Working and training and all of that crazy stuff she does. While the Old Man spent the week at the golf course taking in the sun, and Mom's at work, I have been relegated to neighborhood activities where I did my best to steer clear of getting a doggie shiv to the intestines from Bruiser the Pit Bull. For what it’s worth, once I gave him my Milkbone money, the threat was notably reduced.

It still puzzles me why I’m not invited to go along with Old Man. Is it that you need to be a damaged pup like Lulu to get special one on one time? If that’s the case, I’ve had seventeen years of damage.

Of course it was caused by the same lunatic I hope to vacation with, but that’s beside the point.

I'll be back with more later this week.

FLASH

Another example that proves dogs are smarter than humans...

Damn it’s been hot down here in Texas lately. I hear from my grandparents that the whole east coast hasn’t fared much better.

Thank goodness for air conditioning. Whatever you do, don’t listen to those nutbags that want us to stop using it.

There are times when we do need to leave the comfy confines of our homes, and as dogs we can only hope our owners are careful to monitor our heat index when out and about in the family car. I probably shouldn’t bark this, but if it’s too hot out our owners may want to reconsider taking us. Unless they take us into the pet supermarket, the butcher’s shop or the liquor store, is there a point in even going?

Look at what happened to one poor dog when his owners forgot about him.

UPPER MACUNGIE TWP., Pa. — As we deal with these dog days of summer, pet parents are urged to take precautions.

But one local Labrador helped himself get out of a scorching situation by taking matters into his own “paws.”

Eleven-year-old Max is not just a dog. He’s like another member of Donna Gardner’s family.

Donna ran an errand and took Max with her.

When she came home a short time later, she went inside the house, forgetting Max was still in the car.

I came in and started cleaning and about an hour later I heard a horn blow, said Donna.

She went outside, but didn’t see anybody.

So, I came back in the house and I started cleaning again and the horn blew again, said Donna.

This time, Donna saw Max sitting in her driver’s seat.

I rushed over and got him out real fast and he was panting like crazy, said Donna. I brought him in the house and he just dropped to the floor.

Donna gave him water and cooled him down with cold, wet rags.

Her daughter called the vet, who tells us Max was a little weak, a little slow but otherwise okay.

I don’t know whatever made me forget he was with me, said Donna.

Max is a smart one. His owner, not so much.

A Letter to My Younger Self

I met a nice young dog the other day at the dog park. He was adorable, a good listener and eager to please.

When he told me his parents had made a special appointment for him next week, I knew what was in store for this admirable young dog. I didn’t have the heart to tell him then, so I wrote him a letter and stuffed it under his collar before I left.

I don’t know whether the letter was for him or really to my younger self.

Anyway, here it is in its full form.

Hello rookie. I hear it’s time for a special visit to the veterinarian’s office. It’s not as bad as some make it out. It’s worse.

I’m not here to scare you, but just give you the straight facts of what to expect. An informed dog is a prepared dog.

The day will start like any other, except that you’ll not have received food or water for the past twelve hours. Go ahead, check your food bowl repeatedly and whine all you want but nothing will be forthcoming from your owners. Hopefully you’ve thought ahead and have a spare bran muffin stuffed in your fur suit.

It won’t be long before you’re owners offer up a ‘ride’. Yes, you’ll jump for joy in hopes of heading to the dog park. What you’ll get instead is a trip to your favorite doctor’s office.

You’ll arrive, jump out of the car and walk towards the office. It will smell better than a French bakery at 8:00am in Paris. Some say it’s as if a mail truck spilled its contents of letters and packages on the lawn, but in reality these are just the messages left by dogs prior to your arrival. Smell them and they tell tales, things like, “I’m so dry I’m running out of ink,” and “I’m dizzy. I need food,” and “Cat’s suck.”

If you’re up to it, leave your own mark here. Don’t worry, a number two is allowed too. Yeah, leave it right there in front of the big window. Nice.

Pull your owner inside and you’ll be greeted warmly by the staff. They’ll call you by your first name and tell you how cute you are. They have free biscuits at the counter meaning you won’t have to do a trick to get one. If you’re lucky there will be a cage of kittens you can taunt. If there’s a parrot, leave him alone. He’s smarter than you.

It will appear like a big party and you’ll wonder what the big fuss is all about, but that’s exactly what they want you to think. Before you know it you’re whisked away through the swinging doors and into the back.

They’ll shave an arm.
They’ll put a hole in your skin.
They’ll put a tube into it.
They’ll ask you to start counting squirrels in your head.
“One..two…thr..”

Then…nothingness.

“…hey buddy…hey buddy…how you doing? “

You’ll wake from a groggy sleep.

Ice chips will be offered to your dry, chapped lips while you slowly get your wits about you. It will feel like hours pass you by as you lay there, mainly because that’s how long it takes to recover. At some point you’ll smell your owners’ presence. Your name will be called, but before you’re reunited, a most devious device will be wrapped around your neck. Yes, the cone of shame.

Released to your owners’ control you will be driven home. Once there, you’ll find your favorite spot, plop down and start to think about the day you just had.

Did all this transpire? Was it a bad dream? Did someone steal your soul?

No, my friend, your soul is still intact, but they did take something from you. Quite simply, they took your reason for living; your balls were just sent to their forever home.

I hope you have visitation rights.

I should have been so lucky as to have read this letter when I was young. Who knows, I could be packing heat today if I did.

Wordless Wednesday

Only a face a mother could love...

Another use for toilet paper

I love a practical joke. Particularly when it is at the expense of the Old Man. Back in the days when I was roaming the streets, my fellow strays and I used love the Fourth of July. Since we didn't have any money to buy fireworks (and couldn't reach the counter anyway), we would go toilet papering. What fun it was to grab a roll of toilet paper by the mouth and run with it flying behind us, wrapping it around all crevices of the local front yards. Sometimes we even toilet papered the local tomcat.

Which brought me to a great idea of a practical joke to play on the Old Man on the Fourth of July: to toilet paper the living room. I devised the plan. I knew we would need some access to several rolls of toilet paper. The Old Man frequently uses the guest bathroom, which is also where the extra rolls of toilet paper lie. We needed him toleave the door open. Our plan was to wait until Mom went to bed, then slip something into the Old Man's drink that would make him woozy and forgetful and make him leave the bathroom door open [mom always yells at him to "shut the damn bathroom door!"]

My brilliant planning worked, because when Mom got up the next morning, she awoke to this:

Mom must have known that the surprise was actually for the Old Man, because she made him clean the entire mess up. The best part was that the toilet paper was too thick for the vacuum to pick up, so he had to pick everything up by hand. Mission accomplished.

FLASH

Bad Dog

One of my favorite sayings is “Some days you’re the dog, some days you’re the hydrant.”

Let’s face it, some days are better than others.

Take for example the day I was born. What a day! One moment I’m in total darkness, the next I’m breathing fresh air, have all the leg room I want and got more milk than a nipple should be allowed to give.

Other days, like yesterday, just suck.

You see, I was being punished for acting out. I was a bit disappointed that I did not get a walk yesterday afternoon. I chewed on permanent marker, got ink on the carpet and ripped apart some post-it notes in frustration. For these small errors in judgement I was sentenced to my room for the rest of the evening to ‘think’ about it.

All I thought about was what life would be like with a real family.

FLASH

Spare Me the Details

Bowling has never been my thing. I get that from my mom.

It’s not because I have difficulty jamming my paws into those tiny holes. No, it’s because I don’t like wearing those ugly shoes they have at the alley. Seriously, who likes to walk around in ridiculous looking loafers with other dogs’ paw sweat in them?

Unless you’re a reformed germ freak, you have to pull out a bottle of Purrell and spray your digits before you can lick those precious paw pads again.

So color me unaffected by the following story about a family, a chicken and a bowling pin.

An animal lover has found her chickens are game for anything after one laid an egg resembling a tenpin bowling pin.

Natalie Wiltshire said the bizarre creation was laid by one of her 20 chickens and reckons it is one of a kind.

‘I’ve done a bit of research and there’s nothing to suggest you should ever get eggs in this shape,’ said the 43-year-old.

The mother of three found it last week and was initially tempted to sell it on eBay.

‘I don’t know how much it would fetch but I remember a cornflake shaped like Jesus that sold for quite a lot of money so you never know,’ added the yoga teacher from Willoughby, Northamptonshire.

But the odd egg has proved such a hit with children Oliver, 13, Edward, ten, and six-year-old Benedict that she has been persuaded to hang on to it.

‘It really is quite an extraordinary shape. All I need now is another nine pins and a round one for a bowling ball and we have the complete set,’ she joked.

What’s next…an ostrich laying a lawn dart?