Fergus Photo Contest

Gratuitous pic of Fergus. What do you suppose he was thinking at that moment?

Young Fergus and I have been going to Obedience School for the past five weeks. Next week is graduation, so we have some practicing to do. The main thing I’m learning about how to train my puppy is grasping how he thinks and what motivates him. Short answer: treats, treats and more treats. Especially ham. He soaks up praise, too — Cavalier King Charles Spaniels are famous for wanting to please their humans — but, at this stage, it’s really all about the treats.

Even before Fergus was a gleam in my eye, I have been waiting anxiously for the release of this film:

I can’t wait to see if there is a Roomba featured anywhere in this hilarity/reality. Certainly the one in my home inspires fits of barking and anxiety. It’s why I have it programmed to run at 1 a.m.

Few things entertain us more than imagining what our pets are thinking, or what they would say, if they could. I love this joke that’s been around about four years:


The “transcript”…

The Cat’s Diary

Day 983 of My Captivity

My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength.

The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet. Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates my capabilities. However, they merely made condescending comments about what a “good little hunter” I am. Bastards!

There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event. However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of “allergies.” I must learn what this means, and how to use it to my advantage.

Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow, but at the top of the stairs.

I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches. The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released, and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously retarded. The bird must be an informant. I observe him communicate with the guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move. My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so he is safe. For now …

Best Day Ever

The Dog’s Diary

8:00 am – Dog food! My favorite thing!
9:30 am – A car ride! My favorite thing!
9:40 am – A walk in the park! My favorite thing!
10:30 am – Got rubbed and petted! My favorite thing!
12:00 pm – Milk bones! My favorite thing!
1:00 pm – Played in the yard! My favorite thing!
3:00 pm – Wagged my tail! My favorite thing!
5:00 pm – Dinner! My favorite thing!
7:00 pm – Got to play ball! My favorite thing!
8:00 pm – Wow! Watched TV with the people! My favorite thing!
11:00 pm – Sleeping on the bed! My favorite thing!

*sigh* Blogging is hard work.

The struggle is real.

The struggle is real, folks.