Thursday, May 27, 2010

Meet The Love Of My Life: Liza

Hi. I'm Oliver. And this foxy little doggie is the doggie of my dreams.

Her name is Liza and she's one of the best things ever. I would spend every minute I could with Liza if Liza and her mom didn't move to Arizona. But since Liza moved to Arizona, we have one of those long distance relationships.

It's not ideal, but it's the best we can do for now. We can still sniff other dogs butts and stuff, but my heart will always be with Liza. (She's ten times as hot as the hot wheaten down the street. And she's not a snooty stuck-up prude. Liza's the bomb, seriously.)

Liza's mom is good friends with my mom. That's how we met. One day my mom's friend came over with Liza and the first thing Liza did was pee on the floor. It took a little while for Liza to warm up to me, but when she did it was one of my best days ever.

We ran and ran and ran around the yard--sniffing and jumping and another word that rhymes with jumping. Then Liza took the biggest dook ever. She was on a special diet of boiled chicken and pinto beans, and that caused her to take huge turds. I was super impressed, but kind of intimidated. I mean, it's a little emasculating when your girlfriend takes bigger dooks than you do. But I could run faster so I didn't feel like too much of a wussy. Still, those were seriously impressive dooks. And those dooks made me love her even more.

The sad part of my story is that Liza and her mom were attacked by another dog last week. Liza's mom is okay, but Liza suffered some pretty bad injuries. That's why she has to wear that stupid blue cone around her neck. I would've kicked that dog's ass myself, but that stupid dog has already been taken away by animal control. i don't know how anyone could hurt a sweet girl like Liza, but just the thought of it makes me want to shit in the shoes of that dog's owner. I'm not saying it's the owner's fault, just that when dogs do stuff like that it's usually because they've been abused or mistreated by their owners.

But I digress. I want this to be about Liza. Not about the stupid dog that hurt Liza. Even though that dog is a stupid dog. But it's not necessarily that dog's fault. Like I said, that dog could've come from an abusive situation. That's what many people don't understand. A dog attacks someone and is then euthanized (cool big word--yay me!), but the owner isn't investigated at all. And that owner can get another dog and be mean to that dog.

Damn it. I digressed again. Back to Liza.

Liza, Liza, Liza. I get a tickle in my tummy just thinking about her. I would do anything for Liza, it's just that she's in Arizona and there's not a lot I can do right now. Man that pisses me off. But sometimes anger is good. It inspires good ideas. Like what if you commented on my blog...wishing Liza and her mom a speedy recovery, or to have a nice day, or something nice like that? Then I'll have my mom forward the link to Liza's mom so Liza's mom can read all the "get well" messages to Liza. And Liza's mom will feel better and Liza will be back to taking super huge dooks in no time.

I don't have a lot of followers so if you want to put two comments so it looks like Liza and her mom have lots of people caring about them, that would be even better. But you put as many comments as you're comfortable with. I don't want to guilt you into too many comments.

Yay me! Yay Liza! And yay for the day I get reunited with the hot pooch of my dreams.

The end.


Sunday, May 23, 2010

The Only Good Thing About My Haircut

Hi. I'm Oliver. And the only good thing about me getting all my hair cut off is that it makes my wang look bigger.

Normally I have so much hair you can't even see my wang--unless you're really looking for it. But now that all my hair is gone, it totally stands out. But that's the only good part about me getting all my hair cut off.

When I have all my hair, I look thick, bulky and tough. Now I look like a spindly, little weenie dog (with a big wang). Even Bruce looks tougher and hairier than me. And no one's a bigger weenie than Bruce. (Bruce is my fox toy in the background.) My legs are long and skinny. My body is thin and petite. How am I going to impress the hot wheaten down the street when I look like a weenie-ass little runt?

I suppose I could strut down to Eunice's house and see if she still thinks I'm hot. Eunice is the old beagle down the street and my mom thinks I have a crush on Eunice. That's totally stupid. No one has a crush on Eunice. But my mom thinks I do. She even tells Eunice's mom that I have a crush on Eunice. But I don't.

If anything, Eunice has a crush me me.

Anyway, there's nothing like getting a little ego boost before I try and hit on the hot wheaten. It's like hitting on the pizza-faced chick at the bar so you can work on your pick-up lines before going over to the hot chick. Eunice isn't ugly, she's just old. And she always has goobers in her eyes.

I guess it's kind of mean to use Eunice like that, but with my stupid haircut, I need all the confidence I can get. And as long as Eunice lets me sniff her butt and doesn't run away or play hard-to-get, I'll be in pretty good shape.

There is another good thing about my haircut. It keeps me cool in the hot weather. It's hard to run when you're wearing a big hair coat. I get really hot and start panting really fast when I have to run with all that hair on. Now I'm super light and aerodynamic so I can run super super fast. Yay me!

Maybe my super fast running abilities will help me impress the hot wheaten down the street. That would be awesome. I love impressing the hot wheaten. I like impressing all the foxy bitches. Then again, I can't really do a lot of butt sniffing if I'm running all over the place.


I think I'll beat up Bruce for a while and then take a nap and figure out my game plan. Stupid haircut. It's so stupid. Except for the big wang part. Not many dogs are known for having big wangs.

The end.


Wednesday, May 19, 2010

Squirrels Make Me Not Listen To My Mom

Hi. I'm Oliver. This morning I went on a nice run with my mom. First we ran down our street. Then another street. Then along a path. And then into a park. I like the park. No one's usually in the park at 6 in the morning. So my mom takes off my leash and lets me run all by myself. I mean, I stay close to my mom. But if I want to veer off the path and sniff some stuff, I can. And then I just run my head off and catch up with her.

We run through the park a lot. Running through the park with my mom is one of the best things ever. Especially when I see squirrels in the park. When I see a squirrel in the park I chase the crap out of that squirrel. Sometimes I get confused and chase birds instead of squirrels, but as soon as I see they're birds, I stop chasing them.

Today there were a lot of squirrels in the park. I ran from tree to tree chasing squirrels. I was so tired and out of breath, but I still kept chasing the squirrels. Even when my mom told me to "Come here!" I kept chasing the squirrels. We were at that place in the park where she puts my leash back on and we head home. But I didn't want to go home. So I kept chasing the squirrels and pretended that I didn't hear her when she yelled, "Ollie! Come here!" even though I did.

I know I was being a "Bad Ollie," but I don't think my mom understands what happens when I see a fox or a squirrel. Years and years of evolution have trained me to wig out at foxes (and squirrels because they look like little foxes). I can't just stop what I'm doing when I'm in the middle of chasing a squirrel--or after I get done chasing a squirrel and my instincts are still flowing. That time is "Ollie Time" and I blame evolution and the squirrels for whatever happens during "Ollie Time."

Then again, I probably should've gone back to my mom when the squirrels disappeared into the trees instead of just sitting around sniffing stuff. But I didn't. Instead I acted like the stuff I was sniffing was super important so I could buy more time until another squirrel came along and I could chase it.

"Ollie! Here! Now!"

Those words snapped me out of it. You've probably never heard my mom when she means business, but when she gets to that point...all you want to do is make things better. She doesn't fly off the handle or turn into a wingnut, it's like she's had enough and is disappointed in me. And I hate it when she's disappointed in me. So I trotted back trying to look cute so she couldn't stay mad at me for too long.

I'm lucky I'm so cute. I get away with all kinds of stuff because I'm so cute. Including what happened this morning. I had to work at it, though. Once we got home I followed my mom everywhere. I even stayed in the bathroom while she cleaned herself in the shower. I usually look at squirrels when she's cleaning herself in the shower, but I had some wrongs to make right. So I stayed with my mom until she left. Then I just took my treat and didn't bark at the door like I usually do. I was a really good boy. I usually am. Unless there are squirrels involved.

Squirrels turn "Good Ollie" into "Bad Ollie."

The end.


Friday, May 14, 2010

The Mailman Thinks My Name Is Otis

Hi. I'm Oliver. My name has been Oliver my whole life.

But my mailman calls me Otis. Otis is pretty close to Oliver. And they both start with the letter "O" so I don't mind too much. Especially since my mailman is a really nice mailman. He always says "Hi Otis!" when he sees me barking at him through the window.

I bark at him Monday through Saturday and he doesn't even flinch. He just says "Hi Otis" even though my name's Ollie and I'm barking my head off. I don't know why I do that, but I do. Maybe it's just my tough-dog instincts protecting my territory. Not that my mailman is a threat. He's a really nice mailman.

The only thing I don't like about my mailman is that he told my mom about the barking. She didn't get mad at me or anything--but what I do to protect my territory when she's not around is none of her business. If I want to bark my head off at the mailman every time I see him, she doesn't need to know about it. Just like she doesn't need to know that I wait until the very last minute to take a dook every morning so she stays home longer.

I know. Manipulative. But if I took a dook first thing, she could leave without worrying about whether or not I took a dook. My mom hates the thought of me having to hold my dook in all day, or worse, me letting my dook out on the living room floor. So she waits until I take a dook to leave in peace. And the longer I wait, the longer she has to wait.

Mom + Waiting = More Mom-Time For Ollie.

My mom also doesn't need to know that I'm scared of bulldogs. If we're out running and we go past a bulldog, I pretend like I want to sniff the bulldog, but I'm really planning my escape. I start bouncing all around to make it seem like I'm a cute, playful, spunky dog when I'm actually saying, "Let's go! Let's go! Let's go!" My mom doesn't speak dog so she doesn't know what I'm really saying. And that's a good thing. She doesn't need to know that bulldogs freak me out. She needs to think that I'm strong and tough and mean.

Ollie + Bulldog = Freaked Out Ollie.

There are other things my mom doesn't need to know about, but the sun is shining. Which means the squirrels are out. And I love to bark at squirrels. And the mailman. My mailman's a nice mailman. Even though he calls me Otis.

The end.


Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Sometimes You Just Want Your Mom

Hi. I'm Oliver.

I'm a really tough guy. I'm so tough that if I was a human, I'd have super big muscles, a bad-ass goatee, and an anchor tattoo on my forearm that I gave myself with a knife and a jar of ink. That's the kind of tough guy I am.

But even a tough guy like me can miss his mom.

My mom's a really nice lady. And while she ALWAYS embarrasses me in front of Eunice (the old beagle down the street) by telling Eunice's mom that I have a crush on Eunice when I don't--she's still a cool mom. And today--I really missed her.

It's hard for a tough guy like me when she has to go away all day. I have all this toughness and no one to show it off to. I could bark meaner than ever at the postman and my mom wouldn't have any idea about how my toughness guarded the house. It's hard to reward toughness when you don't see or hear it. Which means no extra treats or "good boy"s for me.

Missing your mom does not mean you're a wussy. I'm people-person dog and I'm much happier when people are around. It's not a wussy thing. It's tough-guy thing. Because only super tough guys like me can admit their feelings. It's the wussies that hold back their feelings, and then one day they end up at a no-kill shelter with a bio that says, "suffers from separation anxiety and pees on the carpet." No dog wants that kind of reputation. Describe a dog as a "pees-in-the-house" kind of dog and he's ruined. And humiliated. Even more humiliated than when your mom tells Eunice's mom that you like Eunice when you don't. Being a "pee dog" is way worse than that.

That won't happen to me though. I'm a bad-ass Oliver who misses his mom when she goes away and I'm not afraid to admit it because I'm super tough. I can run really fast too. That's one of my tougher qualities. Having Bruce, my new fox toy, helps too. I always feel like a bad-ass after chewing the crap out of Bruce for a while. That's why I'll never end up at a shelter.

Nope. No wussy here. Just a tough guy. Who sometimes misses his mom.

The end.


Friday, May 7, 2010

Yay My New Fox Toy!

Hi. I'm Oliver.

Yay my new fox toy! Yay my new fox toy! I'm super fired up about my new fox toy. I'm so fired up I even gave him a name.


I named him Bruce because I think it's a dumb name. I'm sure there are many cool dudes named Bruce, but to me Bruce is a dumb name. Especially for a fox. Thor would be a good name for a fox because it sounds mean. But Bruce, that just sounds like a stupid computer-nerd fox. And nothing makes me want to rip apart a fox like nerdy-ass fox. So that's why I named him Bruce. Gets me all fired up and in my terrier mode. Yay me.

Other things I've been doing with Bruce are getting him to squeak and flinging him off the couch. Bruce has a little squeaky thing in his neck so I focus on that area a lot and get him to make noise. I'm glad it's just a squeak sound because if it was a real fox crying sound, well, that would freak me out. Remember, I'm a domesticated dog. And while I don't take my dooks in a toilet, I'm not into killing stuff. Or the sounds of killing stuff. I just like squeaky sounds so that's why I focus on the squeaky part of the fox.

I also like to fling Bruce off the couch. Then I sit and look at him for a while. Then I jump down and chew on him some more. And then I jump back on the couch and do it all over again. It's fun little game for a fox terrier like me. I don't have much to do during the day (other than bark at the postman) so the stuff I do with Bruce is pretty entertaining. And before I know it, my mom comes home.

I get all excited and forget about Bruce when my mom comes home because I really like it when my mom comes home. I run around and jump up and down and act like she hasn't been home for days. I do it to boost her self esteem, and because I really do like when she comes home. It's one of the best things ever when my mom comes home.

Except when I have an accident in the house. (Accident being the key word here.) It doesn't happen very often. And I always do my emergency business in the basement, but I still feel like an butt-munch when it happens. Especially when I have to face my mom afterwards. Sometimes I even hide in the hallway until she says, "It's okay, Oliver. I should've let you out again before I left." The truth is, I should've done my business when I had the chance instead of chasing squirrels all around. But she doesn't need to know that. It's a lot better when she blames herself for stuff.

My mom's a nice lady. She gave me a new fox toy just like she promised. My mom and Bruce. Two of the best things ever.

The end.


Wednesday, May 5, 2010

All Cleaned Up And Ready To Get My Squirrel Toy

Hi. I'm Oliver. And I did it!

I raised the most money for ACES!

I raised the most money for ACES!

I raised the most money for ACES!

$660! Yay me!

And yay you for all your generous donations! I couldn't have done it without your kindness. Or my goofy wit. Together we make a pretty good team.

The only thing that's missing is my new squirrel toy. That's what I'm waiting for in this picture. Any minute my mom is going to walk through that gate door and give me my new squirrel toy. Well, not a new squirrel toy exactly. I decided to get a new fox toy. I'm a fox terrier not a squirrel terrier. And as much as I'd like to shake the shizzle out of those stupid squirrels in my yard, I'm going back to my roots and getting a fox toy. Yay me!

After I found out I got to pick out a new squirrel toy, I went online to see what was available. And that's when I saw it. An 18 inch (including the tail) sqeaky fox toy. It was like heaven and instinct hitting me all at once. My heart started beating, my tail started wagging and I started drooling all over the keyboard (but don't tell my mom about that). It was so obvious, I didn't even need to tell my mom what I wanted. She knew just by looking at me. So together we clicked "buy now," put the fox toy in my "shopping cart" and as she typed in her credit card information, I got the zoomies and ran around the house.

Fox toy! Fox toy! Fox toy!

The only problem is, I have to wait for it. Buying things online is not like going to PetSmart and picking out a new toy. My new fox toy is going to come in the mail in 3-5 business days. And if you know anything about dogs, fox terriers especially, it's really hard to wait. Patience is not one of my strong points. So let's not talk about my new fox toy anymore or I'll get too excited and chew on stuff again. (My mom doesn't like it when I chew on stuff.)

Instead, I'll take this time to thank all the people who donated to ACES. Just think of all the kids that are getting a better chance in life because of you. That's pretty cool. And it works out nicely for me too since they're the future dog owners of America. And when kids are happy they don't kick you in the head as much.

So thanks to all those who donated. Thanks to all those who grew mustaches and missed out on hot opportunities with chicks because they looked like a douce. And thanks to all the people at ACES for all you do to make the world a better place for kids and dogs like me.

Yay you!

Yay me!

Yay new fox toy!

Oh! And yay to the guy who raised almost as much as me. He raised $640. Yay him.

The end.