Tuesday's Motivational Poster

Love,

Bogart

Go Steelers Go

 

As we live in Pittsburgh now, it seems that we have become a part of Steelers Nation.  Mama and I don't watch much sports, nor get involved in any of the hoo-ha surrounding it, preferring to do our own sports of urban-park-hiking and stickwork (with some tennis ball action thrown in).  Yet today after 1.5 hours of hard park walking, we came across this fine piece of stirring public art and felt the need to stop and pose.

While I don't understand a thing that is happening on a football field during one of your games, I do understand your need to chase a ball when it flies by you.  I do that too.

So Steeler Nation, this is for you.

Love,

Bogart

Something Naughty, Someone Nice

Well, the naughty bit could never be me - that's not really my style.  I mean, others may describe my behavior as naughty, but really, what do they know?  I can bring the full-on naughty if and when I desire, and I choose not to.  I am that good.  So see?  Back to good, all the way round from naughty.

I want to wish everyone happy holidays and the hope that you got all of the sticks and tennis balls you asked for (and to remind you to step away from my stash).

Love,

Bogart

The Bed is MINE

… unless you wanna cuddle. Then the bed can be ours (well, mostly mine, I am gonna stretch out and make myself comfy, but you can have a small spot too).

Love,

Bogart

Exploring Lake Carnegie

Hey, there's water over there! Unexpectedly, in the middle of Highland Park! Are we lost? Probably. But not entirely this time.

We found Lake Carnegie, a small body of water in the midst of Highland Park alright. It's a little small, kind of stinky, and apparently full of carp (with signs all over saying do not fish, the carp are needed to keep the water clean, which were completely ignored by the 2 people we saw with fishing poles).

And you know what else I saw? GEESE. Lots and lots of geese.

That dammit I couldn't reach, no matter which end of the lake I tried. Rolling in their poop would have been acceptable, except mama put a stop to that. Killjoy. Until next time, my feathered friends, when YOU SHALL BE MINE

Love,

Bogart

Best in the World

Yep.  That's me.  And that's my newest park treasure.  The incredibly annoying part is that I cannot bite a basketball.  I try, and I try, and I try, but still it resists the sweet bursting that a soccer ball so readily submits to.  Very satisfying.  But a basketball is just too big to get my mighty jaws around and sink my teeth into.  So mama just has to keep kicking it out from under me, and I chase it, capture it in my manly paws, shove it back through my muscle-y haunches, and then the fun starts all over again.

Love,

Bogart

Spring Cleaning

Grrr.  That dreaded time that rolls around every year when the weather starts to get warmer, and the grass starts to get greener.  HAIRECUT TIME.

For many years I was handstripped by mama and dad – always retaining a bit of my signature scruff, but less, and shorter fuzz.  In the last few years both mama and I ain’t got no time for that, so first comes just a bit o’ rippin’, then it’s mostly a scissor cut.  Because I hate the damn expensive fancy clippers that she bought.  Too damn loud.  And scary.  And EVIL.  So in order to give me a good, old groom she has to bust out the safety scissors (so I don’t get poked!) and snip away.

Yes, this takes a long time.  Yes, she has the grooves in her thumbs to prove that she does it.  But if it’s the only way, then damnit we will do it.

Except that I’m not a fan of the long, full groom.  You have to ease me into it by doing one area of my body at a time (occasionally two, but lets not get crazy).  Sometimes we start at the head, other times we start at the butt (so that the world won’t easily notice that I only have a partial hairedo, or think that I look a little nutso).  This years festivities began at the head because apparently I had a few beard-dreadlocks that needed attention.  So be it.

I figured I’d give her around 10 minutes or so to clip away furiously until I got really annoyed.  Which generally means that one side gets a little more attention than the other.  Mama says that now I don’t have so much of the mad-scientist look that I was working hard all winter.  Only she would notice that one side isn’t quite as chopped as the other, and that my ears always look a little funky, but still the end result is still pretty handsome so I approve.

Next up will be my ruff – that full scruff of fuzz extending from my head to my shoulders which makes me look like I don’t have a neck.

Love,

Bogart

Chillin on a Chilly Saturday

Damn, it's cold outside. Not too cold for a fine, refreshing, LONG walkie this morning, but even I noticed that it was a bit chilly by the time I dragged mama back home. Time for some fine reclining, Airedale-style.

Love,
Bogart

Auld Lang Sticks

Out with the old, in with the new (sticks, that is).

I've spent the last few months collecting all of these tasty sticks, and alas with no fireplace or other repository for them I found myself collecting them in a big pile just outside of my door.  Which must go.

Ah well, cleaning out 2014 (which was a pretty tough year) to make way for 2015 (which had better be a fantastic year).

Happy 2015, all!

Love,

Bogart

Throwback Thursday

 Ah, so many years ago, when I was a wee lad, mama bundled me up and took me to Petco to have my photo taken with Santa. This was my first year of life, I was only a few months old, and yet the promise of treats was too great a temptation to resist. And so we arrived at Petco with several other doggies and their owners, waiting for the grand arrival of Petco Santa. Would he arrive in a sleigh with eight mighty reindeer? This was LA, he could have arrived in a stretch limo with an entourage. We all waited, and waited, and waited. No Santa (there was a rumor that he was drunk - at 10AM on Sunday when he was supposed to be Santa-ing). The poor employees watched us waiting, many dogs in their Xmas finery, for our chance to tell Santa what we wanted for Xmas while simultaneously trying not to puke in his lap or scratch his eyes out. I'd like to think that they took pity on us, but the truth was probably more like their manager picking on the employee with the least seniority (otherwise known as "the new guy"), handing him a full Santa outfit-in-a-bag, and anointing him Santa. Out he strode, from the employee-only back room, the cheap polyester chafing his crotch and scratching his face (I know this because he kept saying it over and over). There would be only one shot, one chance to catch the gravity of the moment, and all the finery of the holiday season.

And BAM.  Nailed it.  SUPERMODEL.

Love,

Bogart

Baking for Bogie (Woo-Hoo, RECIPES!)

Sometimes mama gets it SO DAMN RIGHT.

Normally I wouldn't let her anywhere near the stove, she's just not terribly domestically-inclined, and has a bad habit of setting off smoke alarms with her, ahem, "cooking".  Apparently, she bought "ingredients" to make some cookies for me awhile ago, and they have been taunting her ever since.  Now "ingredients" to her are usually a mishmash of things that make no sense together, don't taste good together, and get thrown away in disgust after sitting for an inordinate amount of time in the refrigerator taking up valuable real estate that could be filled with normal, good-tasting food that someone else made.  BUT TODAY WAS DIFFERENT, today she decided that SHE HAD HAD ENOUGH.

And so 'a baking she went.  Brought out all of her "ingredients" and hoped for the best.  Today's cookies brought to you mostly by the fine ingredients courtesy of Trader Joe's, with a quick run to the ShopRite as well.  Your mission, should you choose to accept it (and make these delicious cookies) is:  Bob's Red Mill Oat Flour (approx 1 cup), TJ's quick-cook oatmeal (approx. .5 cup), TJ's flaxseed with blueberry (approx. 1 heaping tablespoon), 1 jar of Gerber Chicken baby food, and enough rice milk to make a thick dough.  Don't sweat the exact ratios, if mama can do it, ANYONE CAN.  Roll it out thinly (it should be tough but sticky), cut into amusing shapes.  Heat the oven to 325, cook 'em for about 10-15 minutes, then let 'em sit in the oven as it cools down.  Then you should put on any and all protective gear that you own, especially for your hands and arms, because this is what you will see coming at you:

Yes, mama made one Airedale-shaped one for me.  She just happens to have an Airedale-shaped cookie cutter (she just happens to have Airedale-shaped everything, oh and cat-shaped everything too).  Don't judge us.

Once the initial excitement is over (and you have counted all of your fingers to be sure that you still have 10 - or however many you had when this all started), then the little hearts can come out.

I watched mama the entire time - these were EASY to make.  Yes, she did set off the smoke alarm twice (but that's normal around here whenever she is near the stove so I wouldn't hold it against her).  But they are DELICIOUS and have no crap in them.  It wasn't easy for either of us to stop feeding them to me.  I am a picky gourmand, and usually would sniff at a new treat before showing it the tail.  BUT NOT THESE.  Did I get a few too many?  Yup.  Did mama cry a little knowing that she had actually made my cookies and that I loved 'em?  Sure.  Did we remember to put them into a glass container with a top so that they will stay fresh until I get a chance to eat them all?  You betcha.

Love,

Bogart

I'm a Maniac

THIS is what happens when you take one mama with some knitting skills and too much time on her hands, and one Airedale with shaved legs from the vet.

Yep, I know that I look a little "Flashdance". What can I say. At least she didn't knit me a headband to match.

Love,
Bogart

Poodle Legs

Having to go to the hospital stinks. Especially when something out of the ordinary happens.

Tuesday night, mama came home to see me unable to walk.  I tried to run to see her at the door, but couldn't really stand.  It was really scary for both of us!!!  So immediately we went off to see the fine folks at Penn Veterinary Hospital's emergency clinic to see what was up.

Right now they think I may have had a seizure or a vascular event.  We're waiting to find out more, but luckily since then I haven't had any issues.

Except for one.  I DIDN'T SIGN ON FOR THIS NEW HAIRE-DO.

Now, no disrespect to poodles everywhere, but damn I'm an Airedale Terrier and a proud one at that.  We're just not supposed to have breaks in the manly fuzz like this.

It's OK.  You don't have to pretend.  I know it looks silly.

I mean, you don't have to spare my feelings or anything, give it to me straight.

Yep.  It just ain't right.  Now mama has been thinking of ways to do a little creative cover-up until I have some time to grow some of it back.

So far she's thought about cutting up some old socks...

And someone else suggested those stretchy, 70s-era wrist sweatbands (of course I would need a matching headband).

I'm not really a fan of any of these, but then again, I don't want to freeze my tootsies off either, especially during those chilly morning walkies.  We shall see.

OK, all of you back there in the peanut gallery, let he who has never had a bad haircut or funky perm throw the first stone...

Oh, I'm so not a fan.

 

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

Go Real Slow

The Big City. The Concrete Jungle. Philadelphia is a lot of things. And one of them is that we have a really crumbling infrastructure, especially our roads. Seriously. Drive around Philly for any length of time, and you will be left with a marbled undercarriage, stubbly tires, and a reason to visit the chiropractor.

But we are also an ingenious people, folks who care about each others safety. So we come up with things like this on a regular basis:

That's right, when our overlords cannot get out with the repair trucks, we do stuff like this.

And it's actually kind of cool - a small reminder of our humanity.

As a dog, I enjoy a good car ride. Especially with my head hanging out of the window in triumph. Breathing in all of that kind-of-nasty city air. Not so easy to do when you're bouncing around like you're in a boat.

So I can appreciate the work that went into this. Someone got themselves some cardboard and a fine marker and decided to DO SOMETHING.

I'm sure that watching scores of people go way too fast down the street (like normal) as well as swearing at the top of their lungs when they crossed this street ravine (also normal) was just too much for one good samaritan.

Today that person made things a tiny bit better here on the mean streets of Philadelphia. I did my part and barked at the sign (which I'm sure did something to help). AND WHAT DID YOU DO?

So you to, Good Samaritan, I say, NICE WORK. We need more of your kind here in Philly, and elsewhere.

Love,
Bogart

Workin' For a Livin'

Tonight mama and I had to go to work. She had to drop something off at her office, and well, I had to help.

 

Once I arrived, I got right to work.

Mama worked above desk, I worked below.

Within mere minutes, I had found what I was looking for.  Fully in the interest of helping mama, I found a delicious tennis ball that she keeps under her desk.

Oh mama, I FOUND IT.  We can head to the park now.

Assistant Bogart - at your service!

 

Love,

Bogart