Happy Mother's Day, Bitches!

That's not me. But that's what I looked like
after trying to pick flowers for my mom.

Hi. I'm Oliver. And I want to wish all the nice mommies I know a Happy Mother's Day. I know lots of mommies so this could take a while.

(I should also remind you that I don't mean anything negative or derogatory by the term bitches. For me, it's just another word for females. Okay, back to my Mother's Day wishes.)

Happy Mother's Day to my birth mom, Oakley. (In case you didn't know, I'm adopted.) She was my momma for 6 weeks before my human family picked me up and gave me a new home. I was sad to leave her, but she said that humans need dogs to make them happy. And I would make my human family really happy. I don't know if that's a big crock-o-crap, but I like that story so I'm going to believe it.

Happy Mother's Day to my real mom. She's the human lady I make happy every day. Sometimes she gets mad at me (like when I pick flowers for her that don't belong to me), but most of the time she loves me a lot. Like a real lot. Yay me!

She gets an extra paragraph in my blog because I want her to know all the things she does that I'm grateful for. My allergy medicine. My belly and chin scratches. The way she puts cheese on my food sometimes. When she takes me for walks and runs. All the toys she gets me. All the treats she gives me. And all the times she lets me under the covers to sleep. Yay under the covers!

Happy Mother's Day to my Grammie. She's my mom's mom and she's a nice lady. I get to stay with her when my mom has to go out of town. She's really nice to me. And she takes lots of naps. I'm always good and rested when I come home from Grammie's.

Happy Mother's Day to Claudia. She the mom of my new dad, Jim. She's a nice lady and I see her a lot in the summer when we all go to the cabin. I like the cabin. It's in front of the biggest water dish ever. (Claudia calls that big water dish a lake.)

Happy Mother's Day to Ann. She's Jim's sister and she has three kids. I like them and make them really happy at the cabin. Especially when I get the zoomies after jumping in and taking a drink from my "lake." (It's so funny that they call my water dish a lake.)

Happy Mother's Day to Stephanie. She's Jim's other sister and she has three kids. Stephanie is the lady I hide behind when I can't find my mom and there are fireworks going off at the cabin. That makes her kids laugh.

Happy Mother's Day to Katie. She's Jim's other other sister and she has two kids. Delilah and Penelope are my best friends at the cabin. They used to be afraid of me, but I worked really hard and got them to be my best friends. Katie is also a dog mom. She has two weener dogs, Roger and Noonan. I peed on Roger's head once, but it was an accident.

Okay, those are the moms I'm closest to. But I also want to say Happy Mother's Day to all the moms out there. Moms are the best thing ever, whether you're biologically related or adopted. Yay moms!

The end.

Ollie

Look How Cute I Am

Hi. I'm Oliver. And I just got my hair cut. Normally I hate it when I get my hair cut. But this time, I'm getting so much attention from the ladies, I don't mind it so much. Yay me!

If you remember from previous posts, you know I don't like getting haircuts. In just a matter of hours I go from looking like a bad-ass teddy bear dog to a wimpy little weenie-ass dog. I mean, look at my skinny legs. It's hard to impress the bitches with skinny little legs like mine. Oh, and that stupid polk-a-dotted kerchief doesn't help either. I swear my stylist thinks I'm a girl. 

It doesn't really matter though. Because all the attention I'm getting from the human ladies is making it all worth it. Young human ladies, old human ladies, even funny-smelling human ladies go nuts over my new haircut. They're all like (and I'm quoting here), "OMG he's so cute. I love him! I want to take him home with me!" Then I get a bunch of belly scratches, chin scratches, head scratches and under-my-collar scratches. 

By the way, I don't know what an OMG is. And if it's a bad word or a swear, I wasn't really saying it, just repeating it. (My mom says it's not nice to swear even though she does it a lot. Especially when she gets stuck in traffic.) 

Anyway, I just wanted to make sure I'm not saying stuff I shouldn't be saying. Human language isn't nearly as clear or distinct as dog. I mean, how anyone couldn't understand what I mean by "WOOF!" is beyond me.

I should also say that I just thought of another good thing about my haircut. (Aside from the fact that it makes my wang look bigger, as I mentioned a few posts ago.) My skinny body makes my head look huge, and that makes my brain look huge and me look extra smart. 

Big brained and big-wanged Ollie, that's me! 

The end.

Ollie

Up Yours, Mother Nature

My snowy 7th birthday. Booo.

Hi. I'm Oliver. And today I'm a little pissed. First of all it's snowing. Again. On May 3rd. Not only does that suck because it's MAY 3RD, it's also my birthday. And now my mom's crabby on my birthday.

I should be jumping all around in my birthday picture, but I'm not. I'm just sitting on the nice couch, being all mellow. 

My mom did tell me to "sit" and "stay" for my birthday picture, so maybe my mellowness is a little misleading. But it still sucks that it's snowing on my birthday.

One good thing about my birthday is that I get to go with my mom to her work today. I even get to use her laptop while she works on her big work computer.

Another good thing about my birthday is that I always get canned dog food for my birthday dinner. I really like that soft stuff and I can eat it really fast. Like in three gulps I'm done. I do need to be careful though. Sometimes when I eat too fast it makes my tummy feel funny and weird stuff happens to my poop.

Another fun thing I get to do on my birthday is go to the Minnehaha Falls park and sniff all around. I usually see lots of other doggies there, but with all the stupid weather, maybe there won't be any. Still, I don't need to worry about that. I'm a doggie and I'm only able to live in the moment and focus on right now. Doggies don't worry about what might happen in the future. Planning ahead is not how we roll.

(There's a squirrel! There's a squirrel, there's a squirrel, there's a squirrel!) See?

The one not fun thing I'm doing on my birthday is getting my haircut. I'm heading to the doggie salon soon and I know it's going to suck asphalt. I mean, look at the afro I'm sporting. It's bad enough when I have regular long hair. But trimming all this madness is going to take forever. I even heard my mom say she wants my stylist to trim my ear hairs. Yep, my ear hairs. Now that's some serious grooming.

Well, it's my birthday so I'm going to use that as an excuse to stop writing. If you want to get me some presents, I do like treats. All kinds of treats. 

Yay treats!

The end. 

Ollie

My New Year’s Resolutions

Resolutions created 12/31/12

Hi. I'm Oliver. And this is my update on the resolutions I made for  2013. I'll start with the actual resolutions I made for 2013 since I never posted them and you probably can't read my mind.

(You can't read my mind, can you? Sometimes I think my mom can. Like when she tells me "no" before I even stick my head in the garbage...how does she already know I want to get in there and start sniffing all the crazy things she throws away? It's weird.) 

Anyway, if you look to the left, those are my resolutions for 2013. Make that Resolutions with a capital "R" because these Resolutions are some major big deals.

1. Spend less time looking for the perfect place to poop. I'm doing pretty good on this one. I used to sniff around and around and around in search of the best spot to launch my logs. Lots of dogs do it because we want our poops to cover any sign of other animals. But now I only check out 2 or 3 places before I pull the chute. If I can't find any good smells to cover up I don't worry about it. I just work my butt magic and back in the house I go.

2. Blog more. Fail. Complete and utter fail. I haven't blogged since January of 2012. To make matters worse, I don't even have a good excuse. No major paw injury, no distracting life changes. Just pure laziness. At least I'm doing it now. And I am pretty proud that I used the word "utter" correctly. I first wrote "udder" which is actually a cow boob. Thankfully I caught it before I pressed "publish."

3. Stop Smoking. Major success on this one. In part because I never smoked in the first place. I just wanted one of my Resolutions to be easy so I could get some extra belly scratches from my mom. The only downside is that I did gain some weight (just like the people who really do quit smoking), but I can deal with that Resolution in 2014.  

4. Learn how to relax when people leave. I put this one on my list of Resolutions to please my mom, but it's never going to happen. Seriously. No amount of cheese, turkey, hand claps, choke collar pulls or "Ollie!" yells will get me to stop. I tried, I can't control myself, and that's that. So if you want to come over, hang out and then go back out into that big crazy world on my watch, that's your business. But I won't be happy about it. And I won't stop letting you know it until you walk away and I can't see you from the front window anymore. In other words, deal with it.

5. Stop scratching myself so much. Two words: YAY ME! I don't hardly scratch myself at all now. All my chest hair has grown back, no more infections on my skin and I'm feeling so much better. I can't take all the credit though. My mom took me to a doggie dermatologist and she did this special skin test on me. Turns out, I'm allergic humans. Yep. I'm allergic to humans and that's why I was itching so much. So I'm taking a really cool medicine that works really well and tastes really good because my mom gives it to me hidden in a treat. Just so you know, I really like treats. Especially chewy chicken pill pocket treats. The medicine is very expensive, but my mom said I'm worth it. Again, YAY ME! Eventually I have to go on some allergy shots which will totally suck. For now, though, I'm a happy boy. 

The end.

Ollie

Treats Trump

Hi. I'm Oliver. And no matter what I'm doing, I will stop doing it for a treat. Even really fun things I will stop doing for a treat. Like when my mom was getting out her Christmas decorations, I got to play with an old Weeble Wobble™ Santa Claus. I was super curious about it, especially because it made a noise every time I kicked it. I loved playing with that little Santa toy. But as soon as I heard the word treat, that Santa toy was history. 


That being said, I didn't actually hear the word treat. I just heard what I thought was the sound of my treat bag opening. So I had to see if a treat was coming out. It wasn't, but even the potential of a treat trumps all the other stuff I do. Even if I'm already eating a treat, a new treat trumps the old treat. Of course, that may sound dumb to you humans, but that's just the way dogs are. They're totally ADHD. More specifically, unmedicated ADHD.  


Anyway, back to my story about me ditching the Weeble Wobble™ Santa toy for the chance to get a treat.


If you need a visual aide to help you understand what I'm talking about, I have one. It's that video at the beginning of my blog. Just hit the arrow button and my video will play in my blog. Speaking of my blog, I'm blogging again. Two blog posts in one month. Yay me! That's pretty good. Although if someone came in and offered me a treat, I'd totally stop blogging and go eat my treat. But since my mom's at work, I doubt anyone is going to walk in and give me a treat. 


If that did happen, that would be creepy. Because no one should be walking in and giving me a treat when my mom's at work. I won't eat any stupid, breaking-and-entering guy's treat. You never know where that treat came from. Sure, I eat a lot of dirty crap off the floor. Sometimes I even eat crap. But treats involving strangers and creepy situations is where I draw the line. 


Yep. That's the only thing that trumps a treat--me being too freaked out to enjoy the treat. I might eat that treat a little later, like once I had a chance to warm up to the treat and get comfortable in my surroundings. But not until I do that safety stuff. 


That's right. One little sign of creepiness and it's no treat for this guy. Not even a lick or a sniff of the treat if I'm not comfortable. But most of the time I'm comfortable with my treats. And the most important thing to remember is that I really like treats. So if you've got any to spare, send 'em on over. Not in person (or I might not eat them), but in a little plastic Ziploc™ bag with a note to my mom. I'll let her examine the treats and make sure they're safe so all I have to do is eat them.


I like treats. I should go sniff the garbage basket in the bathroom. What's that guy doing walking his dog down the street? Weird-o.


See what I mean? Doggie ADHD.


I like treats.


The end. 


Ollie 

Happy New Year! (4 days late)

Hi. I'm Oliver. And like I always seem to say...man it's been a long time since I've written in my blog. Yeah. I'm a turd face when it comes to writing in my blog. However, that's all about to change. (For reals this time.) Because writing in my blog more often is one of my New Year's resolutions. (So is not getting all pissed when someone leaves my house, but that's a whole other blog.) Regardless, I will honestly try to write in my blog more often. 


So much has happened since I last wrote in my blog. My foot is all better. I've chased like a million squirrels. I went swimming for the first time (and it totally freaked me out). I've sniffed a lot of new ass (met a lot of cool people). I've visited my Grammy a lot. I've barked at the mail woman every day–well, every Monday through Saturday. And I didn't poop in the house once because you can't count the cling-ons that stick to my butt fur. Yay me!


I've done a lot more stuff than that, but it's too much to write down in one blog. This is a good start, though. One thing I will write about is that picture of me. It was taken at mom's boyfriend's cabin over in Wisco (that's short for Wisconsin). It's a fun cabin and I get to sniff and run around and do all kinds of fun dog stuff. That's where I went swimming too. The cabin is on this big lake. I mean the lake is right in the back yard of the cabin. Anyway, it was really hot one day up at the cabin and my mom, who was worrying about me again, plopped me into the water to cool me off.


At first I was super pissed about being in the water and tried to jump right out of the water. But then I realized how good and cool it felt to be in the water. And how that lake was like a giant water bowl that I could stand in and drink out of on a hot day. I still won't go in the water over my head because not being able to touch the ground totally freaks me out. But that's pretty good for a dog who hates the water. So that's where I'm at for now. Yay me!


(Just so you know, I can swim. I just prefer not to swim. Unless I have to. Like if some mean human throws me off the dock and makes me swim to the shore. But that's a whole other blog.)


Summer and swimming and lake water are a long, long way from right now. But writing about it is a good start to me writing again. And hopefully I can keep it up. If I do keep it up I'm going to ask my mom for a really nice treat. Not like a regular dried chicken treat, but something really cool and special like super big, all-natural, not made in china dried chicken treat. Or even a new squirrel toy or fox toy (yeah, Bruce is pretty chewed). I'll see what I can swing and keep you posted. 


The end.


Ollie

Stupid Piece of Ass-phalt

Hi. I'm Oliver. And I got a stupid piece of asphalt stuck in my foot. That's why I spelled "ass-phalt" with an "ass." That little piece of asphalt was a big meanie for getting stuck in my foot. So I called it an "ass." (NOTE: The above photo is a re-enactment of the ass-phalt that was in my foot. My mom left the real ass-fault at the vet doctor's office so I don't have it any more. But it looked a lot like the little dot in that photo.)


It all happened a few weeks ago. I would've written about it sooner, but I needed to let my foot heal before I could type again. There's still a little mark on my pad, but my foot doesn't hurt anymore. And I can jump around and run really fast, just like I used to.


Anyway, I was out running with my mom and I stepped on something sharp. I didn't know what it was so I kept running. By the time we got home, it was hurting more so I started licking my foot and all of a sudden it started bleeding all over the place. All over the floor, all over the couch and all over my mom's new bed spread from Anthropologie.


My mom saw the blood and got really sad. She didn't even yell at me for getting my blood all over her new bed spread. (And I know she really likes that bed spread. It's got pretty flowers on it and everything) Right away she sat me on the couch and looked at my foot. It didn't even look like a cut at the time, but the blood proved that there was a cut there. So my mom washed off my foot and wrapped it up in some gauze and weird purple sport tape. Then she covered up the gauze and purple sport tape with a pink baby sock and more purple sport tape.


Pink and purple bandages? All I can say is I looked like a total weenie even though the bandages made my foot feel better. (See below.)

That pink sock is pretty embarrassing, but all the blood makes me look like a tough guy so I guess it evens out. And just to prove I'm not a weenie, I chewed the heck out of my fox toy, Bruce. You can't see it in the picture, but right after that picture was taken I chewed him, shook him and tore that shit up. That's me. "Mean And Tough" Ollie.


Anyway. Back to my story.


My foot felt better initially, but the next day I could hardly walk on it. My mom kept looking at my foot and couldn't see anything wrong with it. But she knew something was wrong with it by the way I was limping around. Then my mom got really scared. It's super cute when she gets scared about me. Her eyes get super big, she hugs me a lot and I get a lot of treats. She knows that treats won't make my a foot any better, but I like them and she needs to appease her feelings of guilt and helplessness.


I could've been really pathetic-looking and got even more treats, but those treats make me gassy and I didn't want stinky dog farts to keep her from wanting to hug and spoil me. I'm smart. I know how to work the treat system. The hug-giving system too.


After a few days of me limping around without any signs of a real owie, my mom took me to the vet doctor. Even the vet doctor couldn't see anything wrong with my foot except for a tiny, little mark that seemed harmless. Next thing I know I'm off to the x-ray machine and on doggie sedatives. Ahh. Doggie sedatives. I don't like being in the back room at the vet doctor, but it's a lot better with doggie sedatives.


When the vet doctor showed my x-rays, we found the problem. There, in the middle of my foot, was a little piece of something. It turned out to be that ass-phalt, but we didn't know what it was at the time. The vet doctor gave my mom different treatment options and my mom decided the doctor should perform a little doggie operation and remove that thing in my foot. She didn't like that idea, but it seemed like the best way for me to get my foot better. (At the time, I didn't give a crap what my mom decided to do. I was having a blast spacing out on all those doggie sedatives.)


The next morning, I was back at the vet doctor. (And early too. Sheesh.) The vet doctor liked me so much that she prolonged her vacation and came in to do the doggie operation on my foot. (Now that shows dedication. Not many vet doctors have dedication like that. My vet doctor is a really nice lady.) After my operation, I was pretty doped up on doggie sedatives again. I pretty much just chilled out and slept until I was ready to go home. My foot hurt a little, but my vet doctor put a nice bandage on it so it was really soft and easy to walk on. I think I love my vet doctor.


I was pissed at my mom, though. She made me wear a satellite on my head. Then she even posted this picture on her Facebook. How embarrassing.

Today, I'm as good as new. My bandages are off. My energy is up. And I get a piece of cheese with every antibiotic I have to take. Yay me. I love cheese. I get chicken treats too because I have to take my antibiotics with food and sometimes I don't eat the dry stuff.


This whole foot owie thing, I'm totally working it to get all kinds of treats and attention. Don't tell my mom because I don't want her to stop spoiling me. I know this won't last forever–my foot will get better, I won't need any more antibiotics–but I might as well take advantage of this opportunity. To prove my point, I'll wrap things up with a picture. A picture of me in bed, totally happy and spoiled.


The end.


Ollie