Its Been A While

RRRRRUUUUUFFF! Harro, my peeps and tweets!  Finally!  I’ve been bugging the lady to let me have a go at the blog for a few weeks now.  As my new friend, Mr. Taylor, says, we canines have a need to blog–just gotta get some stuff off our chests once in a while.

Anyways, as you all know, I do a superb job of guarding the house and the yard.  Why, just the other night I alerted the lady to a marauding raccoon on the back porch.  She was ever so grateful to be saved from such a dangerous predator.  (Editor’s note:  must get raccoon-proof containers for the dog food.)

But you know, for a skilled guardian like me, there’s only so much guarding that needs to be done.  Lately, I’ve had a lot of extra time on my paws.  And I’ve taken up a new hobby that I’d like to share with you all–LANDSCAPING!  RRRRUUUUUFFF!!!

In this shot you can see some of my skilled use of waste plastic and drip irrigation hose.  I think the hose looks much better over here than where it was originally.  Also, I love the placement of a large cushion in the middle of the yard instead of inside the doggie room.  Gotta think outside the box, you know?

At this time of year, sticks are at a premium.  Still, I have managed to find a number of different types of sticks to use in my landscaping efforts.

Ah yes, plastic milk jugs.  One of my favorite toys.  Great to add some interest to the garden after I have demolished them.

The old man shows off a particularly interesting stick display.  An artful arrangement of young branches, old twigs, and bamboo stakes.

I think the old geezer approves of my work!

Surveying his kingdom:

(editor’s note:  hope all y’all had a great holiday Monday.  I watched the movie Shine with Geoffrey Rush (from The King’s Speech.)  Such an inspirational and true story.  Here’s a link to the real pianist that Rush portrays.

Back to work tomorrow.  Countdown:  33 shifts left!!

Noah Speaks

RRRRRRUUUUFFFFF!!!! Harro everbody!  So great to get this chance to talk to you.  I’ve got so much to tell you. RRRUUUFFF!!!  RRRUUUFFF!!!

Ooh, I love to bark!

Ruff! Ruff! Ruff! Ruff!

Loud and long and clear!

I love to Bark!

Ruff! Ruff!  Ruff! Ruff!

So everbody can hear!   (editor’s note:  sung to the tune of ‘I Love to Laugh’ from the movie Mary Poppins)

You all know me as Noah.  The lady named me that because  she thought it sounded noble and dignified and all that.  She didn’t know that my birth name was ‘Barko the Magnificent!’ Yes indeedy!  My birth momma knew what she was doing when she christened me with that name.

Okay, enough about the barking. RRRRUUUUFFF!! So.  Things around here, they have been a’changing.  First of all, I managed to clear the entire mile and a half road of all sticks.  Its slim pickings out there right now.  I guess I got it done just in time, because the lady decided to send me to BOOT CAMP.    Yikes-a-daisies.  That was an experience and a half.  You’ve heard the expression ‘walks softly and carries a big stick?’  Well, that pretty much describes the colonel (editor’s note:  dog trainer Margaret.) Only she didn’t need a big stick (more for me–haha!)  She is so quiet, but somehow I was mysteriously drawn to pay attention to her.  And now I know lots of new tricks that seem to make the lady very happy when I do them.   Of course, once in a while I don’t do them on purpose, just to let her know that “Great Pyrenees are highly intelligent.  They can think and make decisions independent of human direction.”  (editor’s note:  Noah is quoting an article from the magazine, Dog Fancy.)

I know how to sit.

Most of the time  I look away so I can pretend I don’t see that STUPID stupid hand signal that  the colonel told the lady that I knew.  Yes, I know that hand signal means down, but HELLO–“They can think and make decisions independent of human direction.”  I think I’m capable of deciding when and where its a good idea to lay down.

And yes. I can do a ‘down stay.’  Whatever.

The recall:

I think the lady feels sorry for me and tries to find sticks for me.  I appreciate her efforts, but honestly, they are just pitiful.  I don’t think she understands stick technology.  (editor’s note:  Noah likes big heavy sticks with a little branch sticking out for a ‘handle.’)

Sometimes on our evening walks I lag behind and act like I am so tired I can hardly take another step. RRRRRUUUUFFFFF!!!!  MUST.  CONSERVE.  ENERGY. There are marauders out there to guard against.  LIke those two pesky dogs up the way.  Or those other two neighbor dogs who take a walk at 7am. RRRRRUUUUUJFFFFF!!!! Who do they think they are, disturbing the morning peace like that?

But you know, folks.  Life is good here.  And even though I keep up this tough facade, I RRRUUUUVVV my mommy!

(editor’s note:  and even though I complain a lot about Noah’s barking, I love him too.  I was SOOOO proud of him today at dog training.  He was friendly with dogs and people, and he was one of the most accurate, most well-behaved dogs in the class.  Then we went to town and he was well -behaved and friendly again.  Tonight he worked on his beloved ‘toothpick’ [small nylabone that he can only chew on when I am with him] the whole time I was transcribing this post.  That is a new record for being able to work uninterrupted with Noah in the house.)


Noah Takes Blog World by Storm!

Its quite obvious to me that Noah has become more of a ‘big-time blogger’ than I could ever hope to be.  So I am letting him ‘guest post’ on my blog today.

Humble Beginnings.

I was born on a farm.  My most favorite toy was the blankets that we were raised on.  It was so fun to drag them around.  I don’t know why the lady gets upset when I grab her blankets [editor’s note:  quilts] and drag them around.  It is comforting to me and brings back great memories of my humble beginnings.

One day the lady drove up in the mud.  I heard later that she almost left before she got out of the car because it was so muddy.  What did she expect?  It was a farm, for goodness’ sake.  Next thing I knew, she stuffed me in a box [editor’s note:  crate] and we left the farm and my bio mom and dad and sisters.  Now I liked the wet weather and the rain.  But I could hardly believe it when she got me wet ON PURPOSE and then put this stinky white stuff [editor’s note:  shampoo] all over me.  And then the indignity of having a noisy air thingie [editor’s note: hairdryer] blowing at me.  Somehow this made the lady happy.

Note the stick.

Time went on and the lady (she likes to call herself mom–who is she kidding) liked to hold me up and take pictures of me in that stupid white square [editor’s note:  computer] that she is always staring at.

The Joy of Sticks.

Then one day I discovered the joy of  sticks.’ Oh what fun!  The lady gives me these little miniature nylabones made for the two little house monsters*.  Those bones are like a toothpick to me.  Whatever.  Doesn’t she know I am a he-man?  Really, she has lived in an ‘all girl house’ for too long [editor’s note:  for a long time I only had female pets.] Here’s a picture of today’s triumphs.  The lady told me I should take a ‘rest day’ and tried to encourage this mini-stick.

I humored her for a minute or two before moving on to a man-sized stick, worthy of my superior strength and skills [editor’s note:  typical man, even if he is neutered.]

Actually, the lady and I are getting along very well now.  She still doesn’t appreciate my superior guardian skills [editor’s note:  non-stop barking] when I try to warn her about the deer and the turkeys and the trucks and the goldfinches and that ant crawling across the floor… But today we had a great day.  I am very good about getting in and out of the new car.  And today we went to the dump, and I managed to resist chewing the garbage bags as long as the lady kept feeding me cookies to distract me.  We went for a walk in a new place.  NO STICKS there.  Hmmmmmph.

And then when it was raining, the lady kept me in the house and tried to get me to get on her lap and stare at that stupid white square again.  Talk about mixed messages.  Every other time she is yelling at me ‘no jump’ ‘get off.’  Yikes.  We have a bit of a communication problem still.  But I see mom (I call her that sometimes to humor her) reading books on how to communicate with me, so there is still hope.  [Editor’s note:  Culture Clash, The Latchkey Dog.]

*the house monsters:

Oh can’t you just see the evil lurking in their eyes?  Especially that skinny-faced bitch. [Editor’s note:  doggie talk does not count as swearing.] She steals my toothpicks and then hides under the chair and comes after me like a snapping turtle.  And that snuffly-faced one.  Well, he doesn’t even know how to be a dog.  Doesn’t believe in the whole ‘let’s get acquainted.  I’ll sniff your butt and then you sniff mine.’  Whatever.  House monsters are evil and must be avoided at all costs.  [editor’s note:  hey, that’s my mantra.  Insert ‘doctors’ in place of house monsters.]

All in all, I have fond memories of the farm, but this is a pretty nice place to live.   Here’s a view of the road where mom and I walk.  (Notice how I have cleared it of all sticks.)

The end.  Mom says ‘habanada.’  Whatever.