Gonna Party Like it's My Birthday

BECAUSE IT IS

It's been a crazy year for me, especially with my crappy spleen issues, but happy to say that today I am 9!

Love,

Bogart

Grab the World by the Stick

You spin me right round, baby right round... 

In your quest to make me move along during the morning walkie, you have foolishly fallen into my trap of CUTENESS.

Nice try mama, but you are out of your league here.

I will turn up my charm to 11 if necessary.

Are you sure that your heart can take all of this?

Yeah, I know.  It's not fair.  But I won't hurt ya mama.  Just turn it up enough to get my way.

Mission Accomplished.

Love,

Bogart

Heartbroken

Today I found out that my girlfriend, Miss Sunshade, has passed away.  I am heartbroken.

Her mama posted this video today, which tells her story better than I ever could.  Yes, you should get your tissues ready.

Give your dogs (and cats) a big hug.

We will always love you Sunshade,

Lulu & Bogart

Starting Off a Saturday...

No better way to start the day than a full roll in the wet grass, a fine pine cone, and a belly scratch.

Roll, roll, roll, roll...

Roll on your back, roll on your belly, roll over your pine cone...

Am I right?

Love,
Bogart

Stay Stick-y, My Friends

Sticks are life. And life is all about sticks.

I'm busy livin', which is why I haven't been doing much updatin'. That's going to change. Gonna get mama to do more regular posting for my friends all over the world. But in the meantime...

There are sticks. Lots of 'em. With our current weather here in Philadelphia (stormy and windy) I am here to take full advantage of the stick-storm. I like to find 'em, grab 'em, carry 'em, and yes, sometimes eat 'em.

The beauty of this advanced stickwork (don't try this at home, puppies, this is a DOG'S work) is how BADASS you look walking down the street. 3 sticks in your mouth, carried at a jaunty angle, almost like a cats whiskers. It says, Look out world, HERE I AM.

It also says, HERE I COME - which implies GET OUT OF MY WAY.

Not in a bad way, you understand, just letting folks know that a VIP is coming down the street and they need to make way. Most people are smart and quick enough to understand. Sometimes I have to bust out the cute expressions.

I know that the human heart isn't really prepared to handle the levels of cuteness that I can bring with just a look and a stick. I do have compassion for you. I will just lay here and give you a moment to calm down. You know, for your health and safety.

Oh and don't get me started on if I'm wearing a sweater and carrying sticks. HEARTS EXPLODE

Love,
Bogart

I Feel Good... YEAH

ATTENTION RITTENHOUSE SQUARE PARK VISITORS (and everyone else within a 2-block radius): I'm feeling GOOD!

Not letting a little thing like major surgery get me down, I'm having more "up" days than "down" ones, and damnit, a boy needs his walkies. Hey, Rittenhouse, HAVE YA MISSED ME?

(I missed you)

Love,
Bogart

NO CANCER!

Shout it from the rooftops, yodel from the mountains, BOGART DOES NOT HAVE CANCER!!!

Love,

Bogart

Gotta Go, Gotta Go, Gotta Go Right N

Cats pee indoors.  Dogs do their business outside.  Mama was being nice and thought that she would get some peepee pads for me so that I didn't have to go down the stairs and outside to pee.  To which I say, AW HELL NO

A gentleman always pees outside.  Like a racehorse when necessary (like today - I am a badass but I'm not stupid).  End of story.

Love,

Bogart

Surgery, Damnit

 On Thursday, something felt wrong.  Very, very wrong.  I had gone for my first "senior visit" at my local vet last Saturday where they found a large mass in my abdomen.  That wasn't fun, but we had scheduled an ultrasound and biopsy thinking that surgery was a very real possibility.

Well yes, yes it was.

Just a lot sooner than expected when my belly decided early on Thursday morning to start trouble.  So mama packed me off to Penn Veterinary Hospital's emergency clinic.  I've been here before when I had that super-hard poop, and they were nice to me then (except for those fingers up my butt, I won't ever forgive you guys for that) so I kissed mama and went off to get my treatment.

Surgery is always scary.  Emergency surgery requires that you are in the most skilled hands, and we have the utmost confidence in the doctors and nurses at Penn.  Mama spent the day crying and worrying about me, I spent the day looped out of my mind on painkillers and anaesthesia.  At the end of the day I had a tremendous tumor removed along with my spleen and I was ready to sleep.

When I woke up the next day, I wanted out.  Not that I wasn't appreciative, but I wanted to be home.  The fine folks at Penn had made only one mistake - trying to feed me something called "dog food".  If it comes out of a can, it doesn't go into this man, cause I only eat mama's home cooking.  So the doctor called mama and told them about my plight and she rushed over with some chicken soup and treats.  I was just so glad to see her I didn't eat much, but licked a little broth to let her know that I meant business about getting the hell outa Dodge.

It worked.  On Saturday she came with my pal Astro's mama, Deb to spring me from the joint.  Oh how happy I was to see her, even happier once I realized that we were heading home!!  There is nothing in the world like your own bed, nothing.  Even with my skimpy new hairdo I managed to move the pillows around to my liking and head off to dreamland.

THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE HOME

Love,

Bogart

Man of Adventure

Nothing can stop me when there are pine cones around. NOTHING.

THROW ME A CONE!

Um, thanks.

CONE CONE CONE CONE CONE CONE CONE CONE

Look.  I let you clean my toes.  I wore the potentially-humiliating Flashdance-style sweatshirt.  I'm wearing the damn booties.  GIVE ME MY CONE

I do love this snow.  Even though there has been way too much of it this year.  Yes, it's cold.  Yes, it's inconvenient.  Yes, it means I have to wear the dreaded booties.  But it's quite lovely, especially early in the morning once the sun has come up but most of Philadelphia is still asleep.  Oh, and thanks for the cone!

Love,

Bogart