The Heeler

Back on the Radar

2009-12-05T09:17:00.008-07:00

OK, so it's been a while. I'll start off by saying that everyone in the Household of the Great Oppressors is just fine... I am still in the prime of health after knee surgery two years ago. Check out my hotness.

Rocky is also well. He's not quite right in the head, but he's well.

Here he is in a rare moment of stillness.

As for the Great Oppressors, I blame them for this nearly two-year blogging hiatus. I won't bore you with the details, but let's just say they were a little stressed out there for a while. B got a new job. The nonprofit where J worked ran into a few minor funding glitches and fell apart from about April 2008-October 2008, at which point J got laid off. Do you remember the scene in the Blues Brothers where Jake and Elwood lead the cops on a high-speed chase through Chicago and then their car falls apart when they make it to the Cook County courthouse? It was kind of like that. Since this job stress corresponded with some other pleasant but completely unexpected news, I just haven't been able to think about my virtual presence much. You see, I've been too busy keeping an eye on things around here... Meet Wee-Man.

So far, he is pretty neat. Rocky and I both appreciate the fact that he has started on solid food since there's more detritus for us. I'm looking forward to keeping you appraised of how I keep B and J from screwing up parenthood too badly in addition to my usual reflections and ruminations. It feels good to be back.

Sid and Rocky's Day

2008-04-13T20:50:00.003-06:00

Well today was a Sunday. I don't really go by days much as B and J's schedules don't ever seem to make sense at all. However the day was off to a nice start, a lazy morning on the deck in the sun. B sleepy and groggy, J strangely motivated to tidy the house. The day seemed to me to be what a Sunday is supposed to be like. Unfortunately it didn't last. B and J got dressed up for a wedding and left. So lame. This left Rocky and I without much to do around the house.

I thought I'd use this post to share how we spent our afternoon and evening. Rocky got busy on his oral fixation:

He made short work of a "dog proof" stuffed toy, several bones and somehow got the insole out of one of J's sneakers.

On the other hand, I stayed on the couch and exercised my intellect with the computer. Oh yes that's right I spent the afternoon plumbing the depths of youtube. I found two clips to share that I think are kind of funny. B really likes old punk rock like the Misfits and even likes their completely lame former singer Danzig. Personally I think the man should be named Stanley because ever since he left the Misfits he has been a tool!

That clip pretty much sums it up.

The other one is kind of about how silly I think humans are. They always want to do things the hard way. This one uses the Lord of the Rings to tell the tale.

Yep, I am all about doing things the easy way...

This is Sid's House

2008-04-09T22:39:00.003-06:00

So I welcome the poor little orphan Rocky into my home. I show him every courtesy, share my food with him, walks, B and J's attention. I don't snap at him when he bites my ankles or steps on me (he is a little clumsy). How does the little cretin repay me? He acts like he owns the place, tries to monopolize B and J, and then he has the audacity to steal my password and take over my blog. Sure I don't post very often these days, but quality takes time.

So I decided it was time to put my foot down and command a little respect...

The kennel might by Rocky's, but it is in my house!!!

Living in America

2008-04-07T21:37:00.006-06:00

Hello there. Rocky here. Sid has not been pulling her weight blog-wise so I decided to take a stab at it. This entry is about things I like. The first thing I like is living in America. Just like the movie where my namesake fights the Russian guy.

I really like my chair.
I like to eat the fertilizer B put on the lawn today.
I like that B and J take me on walks twice a day no matter what.

I really like the pig J got me.
I like the trash almost as much as Sid

I really like my kennel. Inside and on top.

I like Sid's ankles. They taste good.
I also like B and J's shoes, socks, underwear, and J's shirts and jackets.

I really like it here. I am still really nervous and high strung, but it is cool. That is just how I am.

40 Degrees of Separation

2008-03-04T16:36:00.007-07:00

Yo.

After gifting us with the delicious squid jerky, B had to hit the road again for work. While they don't have squid jerky in Idaho, my native state, hopefully B will be able to bring us something back other than Idaho Spud bars. Even if I could eat chocolate, I wouldn't consume one of these. The cheerleaders used to throw these out at basketball games at B and J's alma mater, and the students would usually throw them back. A truly foul sweet... If only the cheerleaders would switch to squid jerky. Now that would be something.

At any rate, spring paid us a brief visit on Saturday. Here we are sunning ourselves on the deck in the 70 degree weather. J wore shorts and her legs looked kind of like my coat, but not in a good way. I mean, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery and all that, but one hyphenated word springs to mind: SELF-TANNER.

The balmy day was followed by a 40 degree drop in temperature, howling winds, and some snow. J even put on the crinkly pants to go snowboarding and called it off when the roads got too nasty. This meant she could take care of more important matters, like attending to us.

I may be old, but I can still hold my own in the classic frolic event.

Thanks to the shift in weather and the radiant heat from the ground, the snow was ultra-sloppy. This resulted in the unfortunate effect pictured here.

And now we await Ben's return sometime next week. I may sleep until then.

Squid Jerky

2008-03-01T18:09:00.006-07:00

Hello again. Sorry that I have been away from the blog for a while but I have been very busy being old. I just experienced a new treat that I just have to share with you all out there. You see B just returned from a trip to Korea and Japan. While I have tried to keep B and J's identities relatively secret if any of you are playing guessing games I assure that B is not a member of the NY Philharmonic. Far from it.

Anyhow B has been over there before which made this trip even less interesting than usual for me except that this time he brought me back a snack. You see the Japanese seem to define food as being whatever ends up in the fishing net. It could be seaweed, tuna, weird things with eyes, or squid. That's right squid. B was nice enough to bring me back some squid jerky from Japan. I'm glad he didn't buy me any jerky in Korea who knows what could be in that!

He tells me that you buy it in highway rest stops just like here in the states. Sort of like Jack Links only Tentacle Links.

Mmm Tasty!

Rocky the idiot savant likes it.

It is a bit chewy though. It was nice of B to bring me a treat from far away. To bad he and J can't bring me treats from nearby very often!!!

Welcome to the Heelerdome

2008-02-10T19:06:00.000-07:00

Why, hello.

How lovely to see you. I am sorry Comrade Sid has neglected her duties as our designated scribe but things have been positively bustling around here at the Heelerdome. The Great Oppressors seem to have been taken in by my "poor little rescue dog found in a cornfield in Kansas" cover story and I've established myself in the family unit quite nicely. With the help of Comrade Sid, who has been residing here in deep cover for 11 years, I've been spending my time here getting to know the weaknesses, routines, and established patterns of this particular pair of Great Oppressors. While of course I will not rest until we dogs can overthrow all Great Oppressors, I'm pleased to report that I'm getting treated pretty well while I'm here devising clever schemes. Although the Oppressors are holding steady on certain ground rules, I'm quite certain it's only a matter of time before I can turn the situation completely to my advantage. Until then, I am seeing just how well my facade of abandoned Kansas cornfield urchin can disguise my attempts at subterfuge.

My first act of sabotage was to destroy some dangerous human propaganda before B and J had the chance to really absorb its teachings.

Ha! Take that, foul hypnotist! Your mind control schemes are no match for my intellect!

My second act was to gain access to J's place of employment, where I could study other Great Oppressors in their natural environment. I discovered that there is an unlimited supply of dog treats called "Z Filets" and other high-quality meat products at J's office, so I am devising a plan to redistribute some wealth soon, if you catch my drift.

Third act is ongoing... TURN ON THE CHARM!!!!!!! This is war, and I intend to bend them to my will. Don't we look sweet in this picture? I would wager that anyone who licks their computer screen right now will be greeted with a taste reminiscent of honey on a summer's morn.

That's right, the heelers will control the means of production! Don't let Sid's comatose demeanor fool you. We are a force to be reckoned with. Take us to your pack leader when the signs point to revolution, and we shall lead you to a new dawn!

The Return of B

2008-01-22T07:37:00.000-07:00

Well, it's been another long week here at the Heelersphere. B returned from his long trip to Europe and a stretch of 58 hours with only 5 hours of sleep only to find a new dog who was less than tolerant of his presence. Rocky greeted his new Great Oppressor with a combination of growls and barks, calming down only when B retreated to the bedroom and slept for 15 hours straight.

When he emerged from hibernation, I rather enjoyed some time spent with B on the couch doing some light reading. Normally I would replace B's visage with the head of George Clooney to protect his anonymity and give me something dreamy to look at, but J no longer has Photoshop on her computer so I'm breaking protocol here.

Since Friday, we have been slowly cracking Rocky's shell of fear. When J leaves, Rocky no longer barks at B for long stretches of time. Rocky allows B to lead him on walks, will take food from B's hand, and even allows the odd pet before he forgets that he is terrified of him. He still growls when Ben emerges from the basement, but hey, who doesn't?

B also went on a cleaning spree, which was much appreciated by all other Heelersphere residents. It is nice to see his jet lag dissipate along with Rocky's fear. Otherwise, not much to report here. Nothing to see here, people. Nothing to see...

Vive le Weekend

2008-01-14T20:40:00.000-07:00

Well, still a little tired from this weekend of milestones. Not only was it a busy weekend for the world of the Great Oppressors (Golden Globes press conference! Dread Dallas Cowboys defeated! Cowboy approach to foreign policy on the part of another Texan continues!), but we were busy here in the Heelersphere as well. Observe...

J, Rocky, and I went to the dog park just outside of Golden for some socialization time. There were some nice dogs here, and we all enjoyed chasing Rocky around the compound. J met some nice fellow Great Oppressors as well, although she could have done without the snooty woman who bred Jack Russells and said something to the effect of "well, he [Rocky] seems like a good dog for a rescue dog." You know, I'm a bitch but that doesn't mean I appreciate listening to the two-legged ones, particularly when they're elitists.

At any rate, Rocky is slowly getting used to the idea of two-legged males. He sat next to this guy for a couple of minutes, although he still wasn't entirely sure if this was a good idea or not.

It was a busy weekend for J as well. Some of her friends came over on Sunday to train for some event called "Geek Bowl," a local trivia event with a cash prize. It was really just an excuse to inflict two indignities on Rocky and me.
1. Squawkers McCaw.

Squawkers, pictured here, is an animatronic parrot that speaks, blinks its eyes, snores, flaps its wings, etc. Utterly creepy. It is trainable, so the Great Oppressors have trained it to speak Samuel L. Jackson sound clips from the Internet. Sometimes I wonder why we dogs have chosen to hitch our wagon to their star.

2. Deep Blue Sea. There was a viewing of this "film" in our basement shortly after the geek study period ended. I won't try to explain how bad it is for the benefit of those who have thus far avoided it. I'll just include the pivotal moment in the film here to illustrate my point.

A shark ate me!

Readers (or reader...), I fear what J has in store for next weekend. B needs to come home soon!

Strange Things Are Afoot

2008-01-11T19:35:00.000-07:00

Relationships are a great deal of work. What with all the demands on our time and energies, it's a wonder anyone bothers at all. Take Rocky and myself, for instance. J has stepped up our exercise routine considerably, and we've been getting two hours of walking in each day. This is great and all, but I'll admit that I seem to tire a bit more easily than I used to. I was so exhausted from the walks that I didn't even notice this boot underneath my head until several embarrassing shots were taken. In fact, I'm so tired that I can't really think of much to write about. However, I would like to post some more photos of Rocky for the benefit of my relatives so I'll just have to put these up without much commentary.

Some face time on the couch... What would Freud say?

Come to think of it, what would Freud say about the crossed legs? Rocky does this all the time. I think it makes him look distinguished.

He looks so peaceful... Little does Rocky know that B will return soon. I hope we can get him used to human males before that, since I imagine it would be hard for J to convince Ben to sleep in the treehouse since it's been so snowy and cold in Colorado.

Love Shack

2008-01-07T20:40:00.000-07:00

It's been a busy couple of days here at Chez Heeler. I have been busy breaking in my new gentleman caller, Rocky, and instructing him in the ways of the world. He has much to learn, but we have been enjoying each other's company. That salt and pepper coat... Those brown eyes... That intelligence... Dare I make a comparison here?

Aren't they both lovely? Despite all that is wrong with the world, one has only to look at either face to see that there is hope left for dog and humankind. It does seem like Rocky is becoming more hopeful and less anxious about life, although J and I discovered on Sunday that Rocky fears men and growls at them. Most of the literature points to a lack of socialization and not abuse at the hands of a male, but J suspects that he was forced to watch Huckabee campaign ads or sees the face of Scalia, Thomas, Roberts, and/or Alito superimposed on the heads of the human men he encounters. If only it were the face of his human doppelganger, George Clooney! Then Rocky would surely be more trusting... Since B is in Europe for two more weeks I hope to help J in her quest to show him that not all men are bad or misguided or strict constructionists. He's not aggressive, just a bit fearful so we are hopeful things will turn around. Paws crossed, because we think he's great.

Some shots from the weekend...

In order to please me, he must learn to please himself...

Isn't he photogenic in this next one? I can never smile for pictures, myself. Maybe he's just pleased about his accomplishments in the previous photo.

Mrs. Robinson

2008-01-03T20:17:00.001-07:00

Well, the holidays kind of slipped away from me again. Here it is, 2008 already! This is my 11th year of brightening up the world with my awesomeness, and I have to say it's off to an excellent start thus far. Now that B and J have finally seen the light and purchased a yard and home befitting my lifestyle, it has been possible for me to finally entertain some gentleman callers. Yes, it's time for me to settle down with one man. Enough of this carefree bachelorette lifestyle for me... Yes... 11... It's time.

So, B and J hooked me up with this great dating service called New Hope Cattle Dogs. They're pretty much the bomb, I have to say. The New Hope people, that is. These guys even deliver and shuttle the dates to my house! Most of the dogs come from pretty bad situations, but I find that an intricate past deepens a man and makes him more fascinating. Observe...

This is my first date, Rusty. Rusty and I got along really well when his foster parents were around. Rusty came from Utah and was apparently kicked in the head by a cow. Chicks dig scars, I told him... The people in Utah not only failed to claim Rusty when he was found with a large gash in his head, but they'd already docked his tail! Barbarians!

Rusty and I hit it off, although he has gotten really attached to his foster parents and got pretty upset when they left for a while to pick up a puppy. I'll admit that the sexual tension in the air deflated a bit at this point in the date... He did a lot of pacing and waiting by the window.

While Rusty was very nice (and funny, too. He peed on J's leg! I love a man with a sense of humor), Rusty's foster parents took him home at the end of the date and suggested that I try out some younger men. You see, though I am 11 and just had ACL surgery in October, I am not showing many signs of slowing down thus far. The knowledge that Rusty will still be well taken care of even if he doesn't come to reside here comforted us, so we all agreed to "play the field," so to speak. Today, enter Rocky...

Stunning, isn't he? I mean, I knew there were some nice-looking dogs on the website but I wasn't expecting man candy for this old cougar! He's only 1 year old! Isn't that absolutely SCANDALOUS!!! Tee hee... It was a pretty awesome first date. Rocky's very nice foster mom took him to our house and we hung out for a little while and exchanged pleasantries. Then I found out that he gets to sleep over for a while! J took us for a walk later on and that went well. Then things really started heating up later on.

The new man of the house reclining in his new chair... Looks a little like me in black and white in this shot...

Koo-koo-ka-choo, Mrs. Robinson. Now we have a 3-week trial period to see if this is the right fit, after which Rocky may just stay with us forever. I love Internet dating!

Fanfare for My Leg

2007-12-01T19:24:00.000-07:00

On Thanksgiving, J tripped on the power cord to her computer and couldn't charge up the iBook for over a week. This put a total damper on my blogging, but it's been a good week other than that. My leg continues to knit quickly and my spirits are high. I'm even back to peeing standing up! Yes, I'm a bitch but I'm all about breaking gender stereotypes.

Anyway, I'm feeling so good that I decided to put together a little film showcasing my recovery for all of my relatives back east and for anyone out there who enjoys cinema. The resolution on YouTube isn't as good as I'd like, but it will have to do for now. The creek pictured here is none other than Clear Creek, which feeds the mighty Coors Brewery here in Golden. As you will see, the shores of Clear Creek are lined with statues of children and animals. Fascinating!

Weekends Are Nice

2007-11-18T16:09:00.000-07:00

Weekends don't usually mean very much when you are a dog. Even when you are a "working" dog. They mean especially little when you work for B and J who have jobs that involve work on the weekends, travel, random days off, and frequently working from home. This weekend was different and I must say that I enjoyed the change. Both of the Oppressors had the weekend off and they spent it at home doing home stuff.

The weather was really nice so they worked on preparing the garden area for the spring. This was a lot of work because the creeper ground cover that B tried to kill with an herbicide didn't die and was hard to remove. B and J got it out of there and transplanted it to the bank in the backyard. They took the sod from the garden areas and put it on my favorite dead spot.

I hope the squirrels who bury their nuts and sunflower seeds from the local bird feeders don't let the new grass stop them. There is a really fat one I've been seeing around who will make a nice trophy for me when my leg is better...

B and J also did other stuff around the house and took me for some walks. All in all it has been a good weekend. You may be wondering what I was doing other than going on those walks. You can probably guess, but in case you can't.

My Sweet Spots

2007-11-15T22:17:00.000-07:00

In spite of B and J's best efforts I continue to be in good spirits. My spots have returned to my leg and I have returned to my favorite spots like the sofa downstairs. I really want to be snotty and irritated with the Oppressors, but for whatever reason I can't be. It isn't that they have been treating me any differently, just that I am feeling good. My appetite is back in full effect and my leg feels normal. I hope that the X-rays in a few weeks show that my leg is as good as it feels.

B and J went to see Michael Clayton without me and while I should be rather annoyed with them about it I have been dozing on the couch imagining that J's hand petting me is actually Mr Clooney's. All in all it is probably better to daydream about George than to see a stupid movie about stressed out lawyers.

The Chipmunk Movie is Doomed

2007-11-11T08:54:00.000-07:00

So, my recovery is going well. The shaved turkey drumstick leg is once again covered in luscious heeler spots, I am once again able to trot a little bit on my daily walks, and I have vowed to savor every last chunk of kibble dusted in this magical ligament repair powder supplement that B and J procured for me. Things are looking up...

However, the thought that the following picture was created by an ostensibly rational human being is just about enough to make me relapse into a shuddering, weak mess who barely has the strength to get up on my favorite couch.

Not only does this mean that there is a totally unnecessary Alvin and the Chipmunks movie coming out, but I haven't been this uncomfortable since I watched the YouTube video featuring Karl Rove rapping at the White House Press Corps Association dinner.

Rocky Mountain Water

2007-11-08T20:10:00.000-07:00

Things have been going well lately. I got the staples out of my leg and it is working better and better. B and J are still being nice to me even though they are busy. I'm a little annoyed that J hasn't been taking me to work as much this week, but the weather has been nice and I have been able to enjoy the sun.

I really like the dead patch of grass in my backyard. Due to my injury I have been spending more time back there and have regularly been taking care of my "business" back there. I usually prefer to do this in other people's yards so B or J have to pick it up. Making them pick up my poo and carry it around is sweet revenge for all the things they do that annoy me and it got me thinking about ways I can take revenge on B and J in spite of my injury.

It all came together for me when I heard the phrase "poo rolls down hill." Our new house is on a hill and at the bottom of that hill next to a stream that runs near our house is a factory. The factory makes beer that boasts that it comes from fresh rocky mountain water. B and J enjoy their beer with some regularity. So here I am basking on the dead grass with a view of the factory hoping that my poo rolls down hill far enough...

Queen of Carthage

2007-11-01T20:54:00.000-06:00

I have just heard some sad news. A feline companion of mine has passed away. I certainly won't miss her, but it makes me sad nevertheless. Dido was a cat who commanded respect, and while I certainly didn't like her I did respect her (she didn't give me a choice). Her loss will also make my close friend Cathy very sad which in turn makes me sad. Dido was a survivor and despite the best efforts of the cretins who dumped her in a rural field as a kitten and the foxes who lived near that field she lived to be pretty old. She apparently charmed B's family and inserted herself into their lives. She could have hidden and starved, but instead she went out and found herself a home. She was all black and so was named after the Queen of Carthage who battled the Romans and who may or may not have also had black hair.

In other news my leg is doing better. I am allowed to go on 10 minute walks and have been spending a lot of time at J's office which I like a lot. B took me to physical therapy yesterday and learned how to stretch my leg which isn't very much fun at all. I have also been able to resist licking my incisions so I don't have to wear the martini glass cone on my head anymore. Overall my life is pretty good. I get my stitches out next week.

Forecast: Lame

2007-10-25T19:37:00.000-06:00

I would like to commence my healing process with a series of impressions.
1.Check me out! I'm a bike with a kickstand!

Actually, B and J were able to remove my bandage today, replacing my peg leg from yesterday with a hairless, stapled, sore leg that resembles a turkey drumstick.

2. Oh, take your pick. I'm an easy target right now. Cement mixer, modernist lampshade, satellite dish, whatever... At least I get good reception. I can't even get this picture to flip over but I'm leaving it this way so that you, dear reader, can have just a little taste of how much I just don't care right now.

This whole surgery thing has really messed with my joie de vivre. The Great Oppressors will never get away with this. Seriously, they had better not $%^& with me.

Step off, people...

Why me???

2007-10-24T20:05:00.000-06:00

Sorry it has been so long since my last post. The last month has really sucked and the extended forecast is not looking that great. My slightly gimpy leg turned out to be messed up! Apparently I blew out my knee. What gives? I don't even ski. I hate skiing! So I will do my best to look on the bright side and keep a positive mental attitude. This is why I am in a bad mood.

I got home from knee surgery today. B and J took me to the hospital two days ago and I was poked, prodded, x-rayed, knocked out, shaved, cut open, had my tibia sawn in half, got bolted back together, and woke up in the loving arms of Atom. Since I am trying to focus on the bright side of this all I will think of Atom. He is dreamy. He looks like he belongs on the cover of a romance novel. His job at the hospital is to stay with patients as they wake up from surgery. His rippling arms, glorious cheekbones, and chiseled features definitely helped me take my mind off my plight.

Here are some other reasons for me to look on the bright side. I learned that Heelers are some of the longest living dogs in the world. A cousin of mine in Australia lived to be 29! Also my leg might work right again. Also I get my bandage off tomorrow. I can't think of too much else right now. I'll try to keep any readers that might still be out there posted.

Guess Who's Back?

2007-09-13T19:02:00.000-06:00

So, let me explain.

While I am loathe to admit that the movements of my Great Oppressors had such a dramatic effect on my literary output, I fear it is time to admit just that. It has been crazy around here, folks. Nuts. First J got her new job, which certainly cut into the free time on her computer. Then B left for Oregon and I got to drive with my Grandogma out to upstate New York for the summer. It's like the Fresh Air Fund for Dogs... It was a good summer. I caught some woodchucks, rolled in some poop, and ate lots of corn on the cob. There was the wedding of Ben's brother in Vermont, which B and J flew out for. I found this to be somewhat confusing, but the wedding was great fun and I'm glad B and J could make it for the festivities.

On a bit of a down note, my hip is giving me trouble and I've been limping around some. However, I am determined to not tripod around for the rest of my days. If Stallone can be Rocky Balboa, I can recover the use of my hind leg enough to boss everyone around at the dog park.

And on the last up note, we are currently driving back out to Colorado to reunite me with the Great Oppressors. Although their activities have cramped my blogging style, I'll admit that I have missed them somewhat. It will be good to be home!

I, Slacker

2007-04-15T20:34:00.000-06:00

Hey All,
I know it's been a while. What can I say? The hectic travel schedule and other commitments of the Great Oppressors have kept me from the computer. B and J visited Europe, New York, Vermont, and Montana while I hung out with my new chubby buddies Buster and Blue. I pretty much owned that place. Let's just say they didn't put up much of a fight when I defended my kibble. Their Great Oppressor was kind enough to share the bed with me, so it beat dog camp hands down. I'm awesome.

So, the main reason I'm writing is because someone was crazy enough to hire J for a real job with real benefits, not the least of which is working for nice people in her chosen field. I'm not quite sure how I feel about this since it means that I will have to spend more time alone in the house, but I looked at the going price of hamburger these days and by my calculations, J will be able to purchase around 10,000 pounds of premium hamburger with her annual salary. Now, that might not be much in the grand scheme of Great Oppressor wage scales, but I see that as great news for yours truly since this is steady work that pays quite well for a nonprofit. I'm sure that the only reason the Great Os have been feeding me kibble for all these years is tied to J's meager-paying jobs, but no more! I can't wait for the meat to start rolling in. This is very exciting news! Laisser le bon temps roulez!!!!!

Conspiracy Nuts

2007-03-11T08:42:00.000-06:00

There is a disturbance in the Force. Meet "Twiggy," the famous Water Skiing Squirrel.

Twiggy never goes in the water without her little squirrel-sized lifejacket and is an advocate for water safety, traveling to boat shows around the country in her custom RV and spreading the good word about tips like entering the water feet first while jumping in. This is either another example of exploitation on the part of the Great Oppressors or the squirrel is planning something. I just don't trust her. Look at the beady little eyes. According to the site, Twiggy's "parents" have also trained two miniature horses, two French poodles, a black cat, an armadillo and a toad frog to water ski. I'm willing to guess the animals haven't been allowed to form any sort of worker's union.

Water safety is very important, don't get me wrong. J had some acquaintances who went to Lake Havasu every year in college who brought back tales of near-drownings coupled with fraternity/sororiety debauchery. It sounded awful, an entire reservoir filled with watercraft containing college students making bad decisions. When I saw Twiggy's website, I had visions of "Twiggy Goes to Lake Havasu." She'd spend the entire spring break riding behind her little motorized speedboat, making laps around rented watercraft filled with drunken frat boys playing quarters and beer pong in the hot sun, all the while Twiggy's "mom" Lou Ann shouting at the college kids through a megaphone trying to get them to wear PFDs and wait at least an hour after taking another Jaeger shot to get back in the water.

The streaming video available at Twiggy's official site is really the best way of getting a full sense of Twiggy's glory, but here is a small taste of Twiggy on YouTube. Enjoy!

ASSpen and Flail

2007-03-04T13:00:00.000-07:00

Well my body's immune system finally woke from its slumber and slayed the beast that was making me ill. In celebration I went on a mini road trip with B and J to the mountains of Colorado. We visited some friends and B and J went skiing at Aspen and Vail. That's right "I'm talking about Aspen, where the water flows like wine." I spent some time in the car parked in downtown Aspen while B and J met up with some friends after skiing. I'm a natural people watcher and there were definitely some interesting people to watch walking past the car early on Friday night. My favorite was the chubby guy who is obviously some corporate lawyer type from NY dressed like a cowboy. Didn't he see Dumb and Dumber??? I mean really.

I also had an idea for a t-shirt that hopefully will be arriving at J's Cafe Press site soon. It will read something like the following "How many animals had to die just so you could look stupid???" I felt like I was at some nightmare version of the dogpark with all the fur that was walking past the car.

I had a good trip though. It was nice to get out of the house for a few days.

Sick Of It All

2007-02-27T20:49:00.000-07:00

Well I'm sick. It sucks. My eyes are all gooey and I don't have much energy. I've got some sort of flu bug and it has been winning so far. I wish B and J would give me some saltines and triscuits like they eat when they get sick.

Since B and J don't have any television I've had to do my best to entertain myself with the internet. The web really does fill the same niche as the VH1 shows I'd be watching and getting annoyed with if the Great O's had the tele. For example:

I mean really does it get any more VH1 than that??? It has been nice catching up on old videos from my favorite Austrian popstar. Hopefully I'll be feeling better soon.

Grizzly Homicides

2007-02-25T21:10:00.000-07:00

Well, this is it. I have designated Sunday as Sid Day. My day of rest. My designated blogging day ( I might be able to ramp up production again once the Great Oppressors stop freaking me out with the demands of Great Oppressor existence, but for now that's all I can commit to). My day to sink my weary head into my favorite pillow and wonder if anything of interest will happen around here. Unlikely.

Here is what J has been up to lately. People keep asking her what she is up to and she really can't think of much to say other than "working on the thesis." Here is a quote to shed some light on her project.

"This emphasis on local collaboration is viewed by Weber (2000) as a practical approach in an age where population increases and demands for recreational opportunities make it apparent that humans are not living separately from nature nor are viewing it purely as a resource for exploitation. Analyses of U.S. Census Bureau data from 1970, 1980, 1990, and 2000 compiled with data from the U.S. Geological Survey revealed that the majority of counties that contain federal lands experienced population growth larger than in counties without these types of lands regardless of metropolitan status or region (Frentz, Farmer, Guldin, & Smith, 2004)." - Great Oppressor J's Crappy Thesis Project that Will Never Be Finished. Blah blah blah blah blah blah.

I mean, honestly? SO BORING, and this is what she takes the computer up with ALL DAY when she isn't obsessively looking for jobs and watching promotional videos for a bidet. It's no wonder I haven't been able to keep up on the DogBlogoSphere. At least J still gets to grade student papers and find typos like this one...

"The film follows the police investigation of a grizzly homicide in 1950's Hollywood."

I need to go back to graduate school. Why does J get to have all the fun?

Catwalkin' Baby

2007-02-12T22:28:00.000-07:00

I'm confused. Was a plate of noodles animated by a bolt of lightning and allowed to enter the Westminster Dog Show? I've always had a fondness for the Mighty Kormondor or Commodore or Komodo dragon or whatever this thing is, but this one looks like Chinese food. I bet this guy doesn't get to go to the dog park.

I Am Still Here

2007-02-03T21:00:00.000-07:00

Sorry I haven't posted in a while, but my tenth birthday has given me some reasons for pause. What is my purpose in life? Does it really matter that I'm ten years old and yet haven't achieved milestones such as a monogamous relationship or perhaps ownership of some well-performing stocks? I like to think that it doesn't matter. My life is reasonably fulfilling. Yet I find that at times like this, it's important to take stock of life's treasures and of life's inherent challenges. This hasn't been easy of late considering B's busy work schedule and J's stresses about the thesis in combination with job interviews. Yet despite the difficulties posed by the Great Oppressors' insistence upon dwelling on life's roadbumps, I have spent many hours on the blue couch deciding what my next move will be. Considering that Joe Biden's recent attempt at simultaneously entering and exiting the presidential race may have left an opening, I am seriously considering a run for the highest office in the land. Let me think upon this...

A Decade of Accomplishment

2006-12-26T16:07:00.000-07:00

There is a small billboard near our home which reads "A life is measured by experiences" or something new-agey like that. The funny thing is that the slogan is an ad for Miller Genuine Draft Beer. I'm pretty sure that most MGD drinkers would rather if their lives weren't measured by their MGD experiences. I think that B and J would vouch for that.

I have reached a point where it is time for me to lay back and ponder my life. You see, I just turned 10 years old. It will be 10 years in January when J went to the Nampa, Idaho Animal Shelter and rescued me. I prefer to look at it more as if I rescued myself as I quickly sized up J as a good person as far as people go. With this assessment in mind I made eye contact with her and watched her pace the kennels which showed her that I am smart because she read somewhere that dogs who track well visually are usually smart or something like that. Anyhow due mainly to my intelligence and eye contact (and not barking like the other poor dogs in the shelter) I started my journey...

So here I am 10 years later. What have I accomplished? You see I am a working dog so accomplishment is important. I can show you something I haven't accomplished:

This chubby little squirrel has the nuts to walk around on my fence!!! If only he knew what I am capable of. You see in my life of accomplishment one of the things I am proudest of is that I am something of a hunter. This may seem morbid to some of you out there in blogland but it is who I am. I am a killer...

I have decided to dedicate my next few entries to some of the highlights of the last 10 years.

Christmas Classics from YouTube

2006-12-23T18:05:00.000-07:00

This is the time of year that the Great Oppressors dread going to the grocery store for a number of reasons. Of course, I'd be happy to go to the grocery store for them but they have thus far ignored my entreaties to do so. Yet more proof that life is brutally unfair. Apparently, the grocery store near our house plays Christmas songs at a louder volume than their usual, non-holiday musical selections. Add this to the prerecorded sound of a thunderstorm that goes off before they mist water on the produce, a parking lot that is now a complete free-for-all with the recent heavy snow, and the creepy female Hal-esque voice on the self-checkout aisle (Would you like any coupons? Thank you for shopping at KING SOOPER'S!!!) and you have a recipe for stress. I haven't heard much Christmas music since there is a house gag rule on it, but it seems to me like Christmas music is not a genre that should be played incessantly on loudspeakers while the Great Oppressors desperately try to escape the store with their sanity intact. Not that it's all bad. I think my Great Oppressors would be much happier if they played the following song as they shopped. Here's a classic song of yuletide cheer from Run DMC to drive that version of Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree out of your head.

Snow Day

2006-12-21T12:38:00.000-07:00

So, the Great Oppressors and I are hunkered down here in lovely Denver, where a fun-filled state of emergency was declared due to the gigormous snowstorm that pummeled Colorado. J managed to get out early yesterday morning to grab the requisite supplies of food, movies, several episodes of Big Love, and booze. B did a nice job clearing our walk with only an avalanche shovel. We could use a real snowshovel for Festivus. At first, I thought that B and J might stage a reenactment of the Shining (that's odd... The blood usually gets off at the second floor...) but now they seem to be enjoying being cooped up in the house together lounging around guilt-free. As you can see by the following sets of pictures, there is a lot of snow here (somewhere around two feet).

Our back yard.

J's car in the front of the house.

B with his long black molester coat shoveling the front walk. I'm doing my best impression of a government supervisor.

J took me for a walk in the street.

The neighborhood Christmas decorations have seen better days. Not to be an alarmist, but I do have to point out the unfortunate resemblance to a meeting of a certain Southern fraternal organization.

Here I am, relaxing at my rightful place on the couch. All is well here. It's a Festivus miracle!

Blahgging

2006-12-12T07:56:00.000-07:00

I'll admit that my heart just hasn't been in it lately. Blogging used to give me such pleasure, and now I'll admit to having a creative slump. I've been thinking about something to write about for days, but haven't been able to bang anything out. Perhaps it is because J has been hogging the computer again. But this is just an excuse... I need to get back on the blogging horse. So, I thought I would start off with some easy targets. Here are some pictures of dog clothes that I found.

You know, so many things come to mind. I'll just, um, yeah...

Yar!!!! Ahoy all ye pirates! In case ye are allergic to parrots ye can carry around a wee dog in a Louis Vuitton bag! Yar!!!

And for a trick, this dog's Great Oppressor makes him pick up trash on the side of the highway.

The caption for this outfit reads "Bubble Gum scented and glows in the dark! Available in girls only. Care: Machine wash gentle in cool water and tumble dry on low heat. Your pets' body heat will re-energize the scent to enjoy for quite some time." I can think of worse things than smelling like bubble gum and then subsequently recharging the foul stench of bubble gum when I exert myself. Or at least I will think of worse things. Just let me think about this for a while. I'll get back to you.

On the bright side, I suppose that humans do sometimes like to dress up like us as well. What goes around comes around!

Shocking

2006-12-03T08:41:00.000-07:00

So, I was perusing Petfinder to find heeler mixes willing to join my revolution and discovered indications of an unsettling juxtaposition of good and evil. Prepare to be shocked, nay, terrified by the following picture. According to Petfinder, "Mary" is supposedly an Australian Cattle Dog/Blue Heeler mix. Size - medium. Age - baby.

Now, I don't know what find of place this "Animal Adoption Center" in Jackson, Wyoming is, but I fear it is run by halfwits. Does someone honestly believe that "Mary" here is an Australian Cattle Dog or was this an honest mistake? I say it matters not! Either way, this is an abomination!!! I am calling the Australian Cattle Dog Anti-Defamation League immediately.

Now, I tried to find out more about "Mary," but the good folks at the "Animal Adoption Center" only left the following note...'Notes: For more info on this pet, as well as who we are and our adoption process, please go to our website animaladoptioncenter.org We welcome out-of-area adopters, but please be aware we do require prospective adopters to come to our facility and meet the animal in person, as well as foster for a minimum of one night in the area.'

Oh, it all sounds SO innocent doesn't it? I'm not ruling out some kind of conspiracy here. Maybe "Mary" is the real brains behind the outfit here, hoping to snag some unsuspecting Great Oppressors looking to adopt a heeler. Do prospective owners show up at the "shelter" only to find this gray cat with a handwritten note attached to its collar, scrawled out in barely legible kitty-scratches "I AM AN AUSSTRAYLIAN CAT TELL DAWG. PLEAZ TAYK MEE HOME!!!" Does this creature honestly expect to fool people? What it is plotting? Ladies and gentlement, a true Petfinder mystery. Solve it... IF YOU DARE!

The Story of Sid

2006-12-01T13:12:00.000-07:00

Hey there. Sorry I've been out of touch for a week now but I've been trying to figure out how to upload photos from Great Oppressor J's phone. I mean, it's hard to figure out the buttons on the phone without opposable thumbs. But I've puzzled out this uploading thing and now I can FINALLY post these pictures of a love interest of mine from this summer. I'm thinking of including these shots with my manuscript of erotic dog stories that I hope to see published soon. Good erotica is hard to write, and I really think that erotic dog stories have a lot of potential as a market. I mean, have YOU ever been able to find high-quality dog erotica at your local bookstore? Didn't think so. Anyway, I think these pictures really capture the heat of the moment. Meet Freddy.

Here is Freddy as he attempts to woo me.

Oh yes... YES!!!!! YES!!!! No one has ever made me feel like this!!!

Anyone got a cigarette?

Thanks! Giving!

2006-11-22T22:48:00.000-07:00

Apparently, I have been selected as Dogmark's Site of the Day. A great honor... I am humbled beyond measure. This also means that I am in the running for Cool Dog Site of the Month. If you would like to vote for me (the polls for the November site open in December), head to Dogmark and cast that vote.

Since today is the cruelest holiday of the year, Thanksgiving, I thought I would celebrate with some poetry to showcase my way with words. Thanksgiving is the cruelest holiday because of the copious amounts of glorious foodstuffs that should trickle down to me yet never seem to materialize in the house of these Great Oppressors. I bet Cathy, my granddogma, would give me some food if she were here. The above picture is from a recent October snowstorm. J took me to the park. I thought it looked poetic enough to accompany my meditation on Thanksgiving.

Thanks! Giving!
by Sid the Dog

My kibble gives me life,
but the Oppressors know it's dry,
and for their need to feed me it
I trust they all will fry.

Thanksgiving time is here,
and with it lots of food,
and if the humans eat it all
I will just have to brood.

It's patently unfair, you know,
to keep me from the bird.
They bag MY poop and scratch MY head
yet have the final word.

They'd best give thanks for what I do
and send some scraps my way,
or I swear that I will hatch a plot
to have them sent away.

Happy Thanksgiving to all you dogs!

Miracle

2006-11-21T22:52:00.000-07:00

At certain times, we must look for miracles. We may see a miracle in the everyday things, like a liver treat handed to us by the hands of the Great Oppressors who have access to such things while we dogs are powerless. We may see a miracle in the eyes of a child. Or we may see miracles in our own kind. We may see a miracle written on the backsides of the unwilling instruments of God. This is such a miracle. Go to Angus if ye must be saved.

Enjoy Every Sandwich

2006-11-17T22:13:00.000-07:00

So, Great Oppressor B's younger brother T, pictured here (a shiny penny to the astute reader who can name the celebrity whose head has been grafted onto T's), is visiting our fair city of Denver for a conference and I am so happy with the situation right now. I mean, J and B have both sucked so badly lately and my life has been so boring. T and I go way back, almost 10 years and here he is appearing just in time to save me from this ennui. I haven't seen him in almost two years and here he is with a wonderful, warm lap. T is the one who taught me to heel and that the words "get busy" mean that I should relieve myself. It is so nice to have him here, anything to distract me from J's grad school stress and B's job stress keeping them from paying attention to the most important thing out there, ME!!!

So for a moment all is well in my world...

Landscaping with Glaciers and Rain

2006-11-12T19:56:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite places to go hiking in Oregon is by the White River in Oregon. It is a short drive from Government Camp where I sometimes live in the summer and has beautiful scenery, lots of chipmunks, and early in the summer there is lots of snow for me to roll in. Apparently things have changed at the White River lately...

...You see the White River starts as a glacier high on Mt Hood and apparently during the massive rainstorms that swept the great Northwest something gave way up there. The first picture is of the parking lot where B would park and take me on hikes, the second is of the bridge on Highway 35 that is right next to the turnout for the parking lot. I'm pretty stunned looking at the changes. Hopefully the chipmunks survived so I can chase them next summer... ...I think that now would be a good time for the USA to sign the Kyoto Protocols.

NOT FOR DOGS

2006-11-09T19:34:00.000-07:00

This post is about the three words I hate the most. NOT FOR DOGS. This is a phrase B and J use when I want something that they don't want to give to me. They learned it years ago from the Oppressor of a Corgie-Dachshund mix named Mister Turtle who was pretty much the coolest dog ever (I wish you could have met him Wally).

Anyhow, the idea is that the phrase denies me from the tasty morsel without me feeling like I'm being punished. What a crock. B and J ordered a pizza for dinner which smelled really good. The last time I was around pizza was with a friend of J's who gave me A LOT of it. So naturally I assumed that tonight's dinner would be a repeat. No such luck. I was greeted with "NOT FOR DOGS SIDNEY." Those jerks.

I put the picture of Wiener Schnitzel up because I have no doubt that if the prince of foods ever graces B and J's table I'll hear those three terrible words.

Blue State Heeler

2006-11-08T02:34:00.000-07:00

It's late... Two-thirty Denver time. J has just slunk off to bed at last. The computer is mine. And even though I am exhausted myself, I just had to post this.

Sanctimonious slimeball Rick Santorum is..... Well... How do I put this? GONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
GONE AT LAST!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Phew. That felt good. I usually hate exclamation points, but for once that little period capped with the straight line just seems to do my mood justice. Now, like a bad penny, the cat from Pet Sematary, or ( ahem, for you Dan Savage fans out there) a piece o' santorum, I'm sure Rick Santorum will turn up again. But let's enjoy it for now, shall we?

I've Got It Good

2006-11-05T16:59:00.000-07:00

Hey all,
Sorry it's been so long since I rapped at you guys, but the Grad School Miasma of Suckitude continues to hang over our house like a cloud of Bush-era coal plant emissions (invisible, yet deadly like a greenhouse gas) and J continues to hog the computer. Ugh. It's not like she's writing a screenplay or something. At least that would pay off in some serious cha-ching instead of languishing in some academic journal. I'm seriously thinking about buying my own crappy Dell or something. It probably wouldn't last more than a month but at least I would get to express myself again. Then maybe I'll write a Hollywood screenplay and get myself out of here. After all, my life is definitely filled with film-worthy moments. Observe...

I think I will entitle my film "Why? Because I Can!"

Another Quiet Halloween at Home

2006-10-31T17:41:00.000-07:00

Great Oppressor J has another paper due tomorrow, so in lieu of answering the door at Halloween this year she decided to cut out the middle man and let them all have at the candy before they even hit the door.

You might actually be able to read it if you click on the picture.

In the true spirit of Halloween, here is a picture of me with the scariest multi-headed furry bobble-head kitty EVER.

I've seen that Pet Sematary movie, and this thing is way scarier.

Hell Hound

2006-10-24T23:54:00.000-06:00

Okay, is it just me or does this dog look she's been Photoshopped to meet some predetermined standards of beauty? Her eyes are suspiciously large and she looks distressingly similar to a Disney ingenue. I surprised they didn't give her breasts. What kind of message does this project to our puppies? Does it say that all bitches should desire to be sexual objects? Does this tell them that all bitches are meant to be pretty and vacant, good only for their looks? What about female dogs dressed like doctors or lawyers? Or what about a good old-fashioned witch or demon costume? Why do the children of the Great Oppressors get to run around dressed up like demons while those of us dogs who want to dress up like hellhounds and things that go bump in the night are subjected to these sorts of humiliations? If I were to partake in some sort of Halloween ritual, the following costumes fall more in line with my worldview. Bitches, I say we all demand a costume that defies stereotyped gendered roles. Observe...

Master of Nothing

2006-10-22T23:57:00.000-06:00

I apologize for my lack of posts lately, but SOMEBODY has been HOGGING THE COMPUTER because of her stupid master's thesis proposal and B is in AUSTRIA so I am not getting ANYTHING DONE. Master? HA!!! Master of nothing! We certainly know who the real master around here is. C'est moi. I've said it once and I'll say it again, graduate students are boring boring boring boring boring boring boring and they HOG THE COMPUTER!!! Seriously unfair. Why does my social life have to suffer just for the sake of yet another pointless brick in the edifice of public relations theory or gaseous emissions theory or chocolate chip cookie theory or whatever pointless thing the Great Oppressors choose to study? How about liver treat theory or the theory of keeping your dog intellectually engaged with something other than the couch or the spot of sunlight on the rug? I can't wait until B gets home.

Back Off Man, I'm a Scientist

2006-10-17T08:06:00.000-06:00

The esteemed winners of last year's Ig Nobel prize...

I like to think of myself as a scientist. Sure, my research budget may be limited, but my experiments in how old a particular item in the trash needs to be before it is no longer fit for consumption have resulted in some valuable data. Three-day old chicken carcass? Edible without reprecussions such as gastrointestinal distress. Five-day old rice and beans? Not so much.

Sadly, my own experiments have come to an end since B and J have made efforts to seal up the trash once they realized that my scientific nature and passion for intellectual, yet tasty discovery made it impossible for me to resist. However, the Great Oppressors of the world sometimes come up with some fascinating scientific discoveries and I have found some comfort in this year's Ig Nobel Prize award winners.The Ig Nobels are awarded each year for scientific discoveries that "first make people laugh, then make people think." According to the official Ig Nobel site, the winner of the 2006 Ig Nobel Peace Prize is "Howard Stapleton of Merthyr Tydfil, Wales, for inventing an electromechanical teenager repellant -- a device that makes annoying noise designed to be audible to teenagers but not to adults; and for later using that same technology to make telephone ringtones that are audible to teenagers but not to their teachers." This product is known as "the Mosquito," and according to the official website, is beloved by policemen in the U.K who are stumped by the hordes of antisocial youth who are ripping at the delicate social fabric by loitering. Huzzah for the Brits!

Evil Clowns

2006-10-15T14:13:00.000-06:00

So, it hasn't been a great weekend. As a result, I feel like taking myself too seriously today. My young male playmate down the street even tried to hump me this morning, something he's never done before, and I can't help but think of it as a sign that the world is going downhill. I'm beginning to expect that my blogging experiment may have run its course. After all, surely there are better outlets for my creativity? Something more respectable, like the visual arts... For instance, I have always wanted to go back to school and try my hand at painting again. Here is a clown painting I made in my youth.

It's not much to look at, I know. But come on, I'm a dog. At least I can sign my name. It's decidedly non-edgy, which might be what you'd expect from an animal who gets regular walks, affection, a spot on the couch, the occasional table scrap, good access to medical care, and enough free time to do extravagant things like blogging about myself. There's not much ambiguity here. Non-threatening clowns? Cool. It's hard to get worked up about clown paintings in gilt frames any way you slice it. Cute. Great. Good dog, Sid. Nice painting.

But I'm not really feeling like the clowns in my painting are really representative of my inner feelings right now. Besides, the eyes are completely out of proportion. My mood being what it is right now, I feel somewhere in between Pennywise the Clown from Stephen King's "It...."

...and the evil clown doll who attacks Robbie in "Poltergeist."

I'm going to get abstract and pensive here since I don't feel like being witty today. I feel like being serious and dark and arty. Mysterious. J once made a point of turning in piece after piece of "evil clown art" after her junior high school art teacher informed the class that "all art should be beautiful." J's ouevre included a devil clown sculpture, a devil clown mosaic, and numerous drawings of clowns with sharp teeth. Junior high was not a particularly good time for J (from what I can gather, it isn't a particularly fun time for most young teens), but releasing the evil clowns and putting them down where everyone could see them felt good even if she got the impression that nobody knew quite what to say.

Personally, I am feeling like I could use a good piece of evil clown art today. Something with horns and teeth. Not to get all philosophical or anything, but I think we all need to acknowledge that we all have the capacity to be evil clowns in whatever we do. We all need to acknowledge our evil clown and ask ourselves how we choose to deal with it. Do we let the evil clown do whatever it likes? Do we file down the teeth? Do we keep ourselves and our evil clown locked in the basement, out of sight? Perhaps we chain the clown up like the Gimp in Pulp Fiction and bring him out for parties and special events when we need a little evil clown to keep us sharp. But upon reflection, I do not think that the clown can be eliminated from our lives or sent on a predetermined path like a wind-up doll. He sits there in the corner of the room with his pointy yellow teeth and eyes until he rises up and pushes us from behind into a wall. This lets us know that he is still there with us. Our inner evil clown.

Shameless Self-Promotion

2006-10-14T09:50:00.000-06:00

You like me! You really, really like me! Opy the Original Gruffpuppy has just informed me that I have been nominated for Awesome Blog of the Month over at the Bone Zone. A shout out to those who nominated me for this great honor. I haven't had much luck with campaigning before, as my attempts to become the new spokesdog for Old Navy (scroll down to the bottom of May's archive and read up to get the full scoop on my failed efforts) were met with indifference from the panel of celebrity judges. To which I say, damn you Betty White and Kristen Chenoweth!!! Anyway, I'm not bitter about my past losses. I'm moving on... I've got more political lives than Bill Clinton! And to even be nominated for such an honor is, well, an honor. So thanks! And don't forget to go to the polls and vote for Sid!

House Party

2006-10-12T19:02:00.000-06:00

So, I noticed that my last several entries have been text heavy and short on me. And I like me. So here are some pictures of me from my August trip to Montana that I meant to post but never did. I hope you enjoy me.
I'll start with a picture from May 2004 to give the following pictures some context. This is me with Great Oppressor J in front of our old house in Bozeman. I meant to graft Angelina Jolie's head on to where Great Oppressor J's head is supposed to be, but I'm feeling lazy today. Anyway, it's hard to get a really good sense of the house's lines, but as you can see, it's a house with a nice yard.

During our visit to Montana in August of this year, B and J thought it would be nice to drive by and see the old homestead for one last time. Here is the gaping hole that was once my glorious yard. We found the house across the street....

...over here, all packed up and ready to go. I guess our little house, which is actually a log cabin under the siding, just decided it couldn't take all of the yuppies moving to Bozeman and decided to set off for where it might be appreciated. Good luck, little house!

A Breed Apart

2006-10-09T14:39:00.000-06:00

I just returned from a trip to Idaho. It was a good trip overall. I visited J's family, my alma mater, and hung out in Boise which I always enjoy. The downside was two 13 hour car rides across Wyoming. I'm pretty sure that I wouldn't like I-80 in Wyoming even if it was paved in bacon instead of concrete and asphalt.

I spent most of the trip home thinking about the many breeds that compose old Canis Familiaris and the strange ways the Homo Sapiens relate to them. My opinion is that the best breed out there is no breed at all. This isn't meant as a slight to my purebred friends out there in cyberspace. This is more of a general comment about those sorts of Great Oppressors who go beyond basic affection for a particular breed and insist on the superiority of one type of dog over the other, effectively reducing the rest of us dogs to some sort of inferior class. I'm proud of my mostly Austrailian heritage, but I don't like how some Homo Sapiens fetishize dog breeds. For example, B and J were walking with me in Boise on Saturday and a guy came up to J and wanted to know what breed I am. He was quite insistent, and while I was flattered, I got the distinct impression that he wanted to find out so that he could procure a dog just like me. In fact, he seemed a bit disappointed when J informed him that I was a shelter dog. This has happened to me before and to be honest, it was a little creepy.

I spent most of the rest of the trip dreaming up names for nonexistent breeds for the next time this happens to me. That way when some creepy person asks B or J what breed I am they can say "Oh she's an Austrian Schnitzel Hound" and when that person starts looking for an Austrian Schnitzel Hound hopefully they will see the folly of their ways or at least feel silly.

So here are some fake breeds that I might be:
*Iraqi Marsh Hound
*Tierra Del Fuegan Penguin Retriever
*Arabian Water Spaniel
*Canadian Touque Retriever
*Indochina Curry Hound
*Lindbergh Terrier
*Mexican Staring Dog

So, my dog friends... help me out with some more fake dog breeds.

Song of Simon

2006-10-03T07:43:00.000-06:00

So, my friend Simonhas submitted his draft of the very first dog-authored Gospel of the Bacon Bridge. For those who didn't catch it in the comments section of a prevous post, I reproduce it here in its entirety, although Simon mentioned this was a first draft so I don't know if he meant to add on later...

The Gospel of Simon
by Simon, the Deaf, Half-Blind Beagle with Acid Reflux

"If you shall smell a butt, so let your butt be smelled.
Hound, heeler, lab or mutt, we are all but one; Dog.
Bark, if thy bark, but bark bark only through bark's bark.
In dog's name we bark. Word be to bark."

Sheer poetry! The Gospel of Simon speaks the truth. I have some gospel verse of my own, and I fully encourage any dog out there to contribute their own gospel. I think Simon is on to something here.

Gospel of Sid
by Sid the Dog

"Whosoever passes into the Land of Bacon will smell the glory.
The righteous dog, and we are all righteous by virtue of our kind,
Shall be rewarded with a multitude of bacon strips, fish heads, and soft serve.
Ask not what the Bacon Bridge can do for you, for it does everything.
Buttdraggin, biscuits, bones, ceaseless balls thrown strictly for our pleasure.
I heart the Bacon Bridge."

Oh, I was also thinking that we need a human to sort of explain things to the humans when they arrive at the Bacon Bridge, since this probably won't be what they're expecting. I nominate Sir Francis Bacon, philosopher and popularizer of inductive reasoning.

Sir Francis Bacon

Bad Day

2006-10-02T16:33:00.000-06:00

So, whilst walking with J this morning, I was viciously attacked by a wasp. This made the walk home a little painful and slow, and has put me in a bit of a foul mood. The attack was completely unprovoked, and senseless acts of violence tend to make me extremely irritable, particularly when they are committed against me. Anyway, so then I spent the morning on the couch, feeling a little better at this point, and then J came back from her morning stint as a teaching assistant a little irritated with herself for not exactly hitting a home run with her morning lecture. Then J had to call a former employer of hers to interview him for a project, and she got really irritated with herself upon completing the interview because she really hates doing that sort of thing over the phone and felt like it didn't go very well. I mention this only because I could sense the tension and irritability, and that tends to upset me because I am one sensitive bitch. It's also a little gray and muggy today.

But, despite being a dog, I hate whining. Call whine-one-one, it's the waahmbulance! I believe in taking action in the face of ennui. So, I thought about what would make me feel better. After some deep reflection, I decided that posting this picture of myself would help exorcise the demons.

Who says you have to go to heaven to find God?

Thank God for Bacon

2006-09-29T11:10:00.000-06:00

So, I've been thinking that all of the big religions have music to go along with their respective theologies. Contemporary Islam has devotional music called nasheed, and more traditional Muslims usually accept a cappella singing as halal (permissible) although the use of instruments is a subject of some debate. In addition to its well-known throat singing and chanting, Buddhism is associated with pieces of music known as honkyoku, which are part of a musical tradition surrounding enlightenment and alms dating back to the 13th century. Christianity has chorale music, Gregorian chants, "Stairway to Heaven," and "I've Got that Joy, Joy, Joy, Down in My Heart." (the passwords for the previous link are "1" and "1"). Clearly, music is an essential part of the religious experience.

The Rainbow Bridge does not have a song to go with it, although I'm sure that it's only a matter of time before someone turns the original composition into verse, breaks out their synthesizer, and turns the ethnocentric vision of the pet afterlife into a wretched MP3 that will make the rounds on the Internet. I don't think that our dog-centered theology needs to create a song just yet, but I'm going to get the jump on the Rainbow Bridge proponents by suggesting that we adopt the following bacon-themed tune as our theme song for the Bacon Bridge. Of course, howling and such will be the primary form of our musical tradition, but I think this particular song will fit in nicely in terms of our recruitment efforts since bacon for everyone is one of the primary tenets of the Bacon Bridge. Thoughts?

Appreciation

2006-09-27T21:30:00.000-06:00

I need to take a moment to do something a little unusual. I'm going to actually show my appreciation for my Great Oppressors B and J. I had a moment in the park with B today which made me realize how good I've got it. There we were walking along and this cute boxer looking dog walks up with his bland looking young urban G.O.'s. The boxer wasn't really my style but we took a moment to sniff and as we are sniffing B said something like "he is a little cutie." Instead of saying thanks or complimenting me one of them says to B "he's neurotic is what he is." Then they walked away. WTF????? This is when I had my little epiphany that B and J are okay. When someone compliments me as people often do B and J say "thanks" or "your dog is really nice too." They NEVER, EVER say things like "yeah but you should smell her farts" or "she got in the trash last night." It was a little like the moment in the movie Singles where Matt Dillon says "Bless you" in the elevator when Bridget Fonda sneezes. That was my epiphany.

And then completely out of the blue they brought me this.

That's right, a canine ice cream sandwich. Ahhhhh.

I Heart the Government

2006-09-26T10:07:00.000-06:00

This post comes from a nameless contact within the confines of a nameless state government. The following is an actual internal memo. I post it here to serve as a reminder that we dogs could certainly teach these Great Oppressors a thing or two.

"Hi Everyone -

Some concerns were raised that the new carpet in 112 was made partially of animal fur based on some box labeling. For those of you asking the question in our meeting the other day – I’m sorry I didn’t follow up on this right after our meeting. W---- got this information for me. I knew it but forgot it. Fortunately - this is a misunderstanding based on jumping to conclusions.

The good news is that the boxes of carpet tiles were labeled with the name of the carpet model and color - not the materials content.

The carpet model is 'house pet' and the color is hamster, however that is as close to animal as it gets. This product is made of polyester and nylon. And we chose the color because it matches spilled coffee, tea, and soda – not to mention field dirt - so well! Here is a link that takes you to the manufacturer’s site. If you have additional questions – let me know and I will check with PPAD – who graciously tracked down this product as a 'pollution prevention' approach to new carpeting."

Phew! I had heard of wool carpets, sweaters being knit out of the fur shed by beloved pets, and other forms of exploitive practices, but never anything like this. Needless to say, I was relieved to discover that no one out there is actually making carpet out of hamsters. I was also relieved to discover that in the world of human government, no subject is too laughable to be ruled out as a memo topic.

Saint Peter, Doggie Style

2006-09-25T07:54:00.000-06:00

So, I was thinking about the question of sin. Do all dogs get to go to our dog-centered afterlife, or are some dogs genuinely bad dogs? I've been thinking about it, and think that there is probably a dog at the Bacon Bridge who weighs the earthly record of any dog who approaches. Think Saint Peter, only with buttsniffing, which as we know is the true measure of anyone's character. Now, I'd like to let everyone run free at the Bacon Bridge, but I just can't see letting in dogs who attack other dogs or people without provocation. However, I think any dog who is denied entrance due to general assholery gets sent back to Earth to try again if they fail to make it past the Buttsniffer. This combo afterlife/reincarnation thing will provide for the concept of sin but give everyone a chance for a "do-over." Thoughts?

Thanks for the Camera!

2006-09-22T16:17:00.000-06:00

This is my new film, "Bitch Got the Blues," starring me, directed by me, and edited by me. Cinematography is by Great Oppressor B, music by J. As you can see, I am very musical. J is pretty bad on the harmonica, so I'm looking for a new accompanist. Perhaps I will sing my way to freedom! Hmmm... I think I need to rent an inpirational movie about a singer fighting the oppressive confines of modern society. I wonder if B and J will notice if I add "Sid and Nancy" to their Netflix queue?

Faith Heeler

2006-09-20T21:03:00.000-06:00

Right on, my canine brothers and sisters! There have been some great comments re: our proposed dogeology, which will hopefully result in an alternative cosmology to the picture I've included in this post. I found this print advertised on a ferret rescue site. Note the preponderance of ferrets in this rendering. I don't know if that's tied to the fact that the authors chose to translate the ethnocentric Rainbow Bridge myth into verse, but I'm guessing it is. J dated a ferret owner once, and given her views on the subject of ferret owners I want to ask where the unkempt fellow wearing Birkenstocks and playing with rhythm sticks in the park is located. But I know that not all ferret owners fit this category so I will refrain. Anyway, are ferrets allowed? Personally, I'm a bit anti-ferret. Thoughts on ferrets, anyone?

Anyway, let's focus on the good things that have been suggested for our alternative to a heaven overrun with ferrets. Dare we dream of an afterlife designed exclusively for dogs? Swimming pools, white sandy beaches, bacon, soft serve, chewies, and the list goes on and on... Thanks for those suggestions and let's keep this ball rolling, I say! Now, we must not forget to ask the larger questions as we construct our faith. For instance, what is the nature of sin? Does it originate with the dog, or is sin the fault of the humans? Is there such a thing as a bad dog? Should transgressions against our own kind weigh larger than the ones committed upon goddam cats, hamsters, exotic reptiles, etc.? And again, is this exclusively a dog heaven or are other species included? Personally, I'm not so sure. As this Flash animation created by a human suggests, the Rainbow Bridge is also populated by cats, snuggly bunnies, and other cute animals. I notice that few humans seem to be suggesting that pet snakes will be found across the Rainbow Bridge. Thoughts on snakes?

Secular Dogma

2006-09-19T20:00:00.000-06:00

Okay, this one has been burning a hole in my brain for some time now, but I'll admit that I shied away from bringing up this sensitive topic due to the potential firestorm that could be unleashed due to my remarks. I mean, it's not like there isn't enough tension swirling around religion these days. Still, I simply cannot remain silent on this one. My problem, dear readers, is with the Rainbow Bridge.

Now, I'm sure that most of you dogs out there have heard of the Rainbow Bridge, but for those of you who may have been shielded from this theological construct, here is the "poem" (several sites list it as being a poem, but it looks suspiciously like prose to me...) posted on not one, but a legion of sites contructed by humans that reference the Rainbow Bridge. Now, don't get me wrong, I think it is very touching that humans have dedicated sites to their animals. I simply think that there should be an alternative since this was obviously written by a human.
Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.
When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.

All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor. Those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.
They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent. His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.

You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.

Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together....

Okay, so fundamentally I can understand this sentiment and I fully support the right of every American human and dog to persist in the belief that the Rainbow Bridge exists. After all, it's a wonderful thing that this country allows the free expression of faith. What bothers me is that this is the ONLY faith option for dogs that I could find on the Internet. I mean, you can't tell me that with all of the dogs out there we couldn't think of some sort of alternative. I mean, I'm all for hurt and maimed dogs becoming whole again, but does that mean I get my uterus back? Do the testicles of neutered dogs float back to them? And what of those dogs who do not have special people to wait for? Do they just have to wait around forever, or do they pass into oblivion? And what's up with the whole waiting around for our Great Oppressors? I mean, all those countless hours of waiting for them on Earth and here we are, back in eternity, WAITING FOR THEM AGAIN!!! If this isn't an ethnocentric view of the afterlife, I don't know what is.

Anyway, I would like to propose an alternative afterlife, created for and by dogs. I haven't quite hammered this out yet, but I'll be posting my fully formed theology, complete with rules, contradictory messages, etc. very shortly. All I can say is that it will contain all of the sorts of things that we dogs would truly seek in an afterlife. This will include copious amounts of the finest foodstuffs imaginable (fresh steaks, ice cream, roasted turkey, etc.), carcasses to roll in, unlimited buttdragging free of the judgmental eyes of the Great Oppressors, endless cat chasing (and this time, we'll get them), litter boxes containing only the finest cat poop, rodents to hunt, stuff to pee on, and no-strings attached buttsniffing. It's going to be great. Send those suggestions my way!

For the Love of the Game

2006-09-17T01:53:00.000-06:00

I love games.

I have been tagged by Lulu, the most literary Amstaff lady in cyberspace. The rules of tag are as follows. The player of this game starts by listing “5 weird things/habits” about him/herself, then tags five friends and lists their names. Those who get “tagged” need to write on their blogs about their “5 weird “things/habits,” as well as state this rule clearly, then “tag” 5 more victims.

Note: Don’t forget to leave your victim a comment that says “you’re tagged!” in their comments and tell them to read your blog.

MY FIVE WEIRDEST HABITS by Sid the Dog

1. Whenever my Great Oppressors have some sort of disagreement or one of them gets the smallest amount of tension in their voice, I must step in by coming up to one of them and putting my paw on one of their legs, licking them, and wagging my tail. This has earned me the name "Marriage Counselor." I'm thinking of going into business for myself. I prefer to think of myself as an opportunistic social parasite who is looking after her food source. Who will feed me if they break up?

2. I ask to be let in, but never to be let out, even in times of grave gastrointestinal distress. Great Oppressor J still hasn't quite forgiven me about the Persian rug, and B is still a bit perturbed about his workshop being decimated. They usually seem to know when to let me out, so I think it is their fault for not noticing me sitting silently by the front door at three in the morning.

3. I hate dogs in pickup trucks. Hate them. I am usually calm and collected, but if I am out walking with B or J and observe a pickup truck with a dog in it I have to be physically restrained. I find this somewhat ironic since my breed is probably one of the top breeds found in pickup trucks located in the Western U.S. Yet I just can't help myself...

4. Whenever B and J, um, fulfill their marital obligations, I simply have to be in the same room. I find a nice quiet spot out of the way while they, um, you know, read in bed... Yeah, read... That's it...

5. I eat corn on the cob. I eat other vegetables too, but I eat corn on the cob like a maniac.

And now, the most difficult part of the game for me since I'm pretty sure that most of the dogs I know out here have already been tagged. What if I tag someone who has already been tagged? I think people are my only option at this point. I looked for Corbin Bernsen's blog to see if I could tag him, and then I looked to see if I could leave comments for Al Franken. Then I realized that posting something like this on a famous person's blog could get a dog in trouble. So, my victims are...

1. Connie of the Red Basement
2. Kathy of the Red Basement
3. Selma and/or Miles (these guys need their own blog, but make guest comments from time to time)
4. Dr. Pennypacker @ the Home of Crap
5. The Echidna
So, I know that means that I'm cheating since Connie, Kathy, Selma, and Miles are all based out of the same space, but what's a girl to do? It's not easy being tagged at the end of a cycle of tagging. I do think Selma and Miles should start their own blog from whence to launch the Labrador Revolution, but that's just me...

Rescue Me

2006-09-12T10:35:00.000-06:00

My friend Wally's blog has recently featured an array of noble corgadors looking for good homes. Of course, I am fully dedicated to eventual dog independence, but as a rescue dog myself, I can fully attest that shelters are not places from which we can launch the revolution. Wally's blog got me thinking about corgi mixes. My own Great Oppressors have fond memories of Mr. Turtle, a corgi/chihuahua mix with three and a half functional legs (fused hip that gave him trouble when he ran) who belonged to a professor of theirs. B lived with Mr. T for nearly a year whilst said professor was on sabbatical and has fond memories of the little guy.
So, intrigued, I got on Petfinder to see if there were any heeler/corgi crosses. I wasn't going to post any since this was Wally's idea, but I was just too moved by the following pictures to avoid it. So, for one day only, I present some Heelcorg and other miscellaneous crossbred brethren who need a pull up on the old bootstraps.
1. Meet Jacqueline.

Jacqueline and her daughter were found in an abandoned garage with 7 puppies (cue violin music here). The puppies were Jacqueline's grandkids, but her daughter rejected them and Jacqueline nursed them instead (turn the volume up on those violins). Everyone in the little family has been adopted except for Jacqueline (this just isn't fair!!!), and she sounds like a sweet little lady by the sounds of her foster parents' description. Free Jacqueline!

2. Meet Wazzie.

There isn't much information on Wazzie, who is actually an Australian Shepherd/Corgi cross who lives in Utah. But just look at him!!! The merle coat! The eyes! He's fabulous!!!
3. Meet Goliath.

Okay, so Goliath is obviously not a corgi cross, but a Great Pyrenees/Heeler cross. I think the description on Petfinder says it best...
"Goliath was owner surrendered with his brother "Brother" after they flunked out of sheep herding school for playing. He is housebroke. He is playful and good with cats. He never runs off. He did get a chance at a new home but, was returned when the new boyfriend thought he was ugly. He really deserves another chance at a forever home. * Note: This shelter is ran out of my home so please call for an appointment before coming to the shelter. Thank you."
"...the boyfriend thought he was ugly." Yeah, and I'm sure the boyfriend is a real prize. I think Goliath is very handsome. The worst part of it all? Goliath lives in (cue dark, scary, music) ROCK SPRINGS, WYOMING, the foulest, most windswept, depressing, awful, did I mention "depressing," craphole of a town in the Western U.S. My Great Oppressors and I are united in our hatred of this town. Please help get Goliath OUT OF THERE!

Seriously F***ed Up. Seriously.

2006-09-10T18:52:00.000-06:00

Okay, so I'm a liberated kind of dog. I have had several lovers, I have been known to hump a dog or two, and I certainly enjoy the occasional personal "play" session (because I can, that's why!). I even enjoy reading the Great Oppressor Dan Savage's sex advice column just to keep an open mind (and I like his politics. He seems like such a nice young man). Anyway, despite my efforts to keep an open mind about the following website I just can't. I discovered the following site for an animal "Bed and Bath" establishment accidentally while diving the dumpster of the Internet. The name of the business is "Miss Kitty's Bed and Bath." At the risk of litigation and to spare you the trouble of visiting the site yourself, I offer you the company logo! Sorry it's so tiny, but if you click on it you should be able to see the graphic clearly.

Given Miss Kitty's unfortunate "outfit," I would have to say that whoever dressed her in that has more issues than a magazine rack. The following pictures were taken from the Miss Kitty site and capture a deep underbelly of the American South, an underbelly dedicated to exploiting dogs and using them to fulfill unusual human fantasies. Prepare for my shocking expose... Observe!

This is right before the stripper pops out of that little cake and gives those two dachschunds a happy ending. And what is that one on the far left wearing? I suppose he is German...

His owner had to have done his shopping here, in the gift shop. Kinky, isn't it? Looks like a German leatherfest if you ask me! I can see the Great Oppressor now, carefully selecting the next Outfit of Shame for his unwilling animal slave.

The hand of the Great Oppressor clenched around the throat, the inappropriate groping of the tail, the haircut (s)... Well, I mostly just included this one because of the glasses.

Further evidence of exploitation!!! Have we learned NOTHING from the JonBenet Ramsey case?

I'm Number One!

2006-09-09T08:49:00.000-06:00

This is an exciting day at the Heeler, folks. I was mulling over altering the pseudonyms for the Great Oppressors since I recently discovered that a comic strip already employs this nickname for the humans. You can imagine my embarrassment... I am not a plagiarist! Anyway, I tried Googling "Great Oppressors" to see if I could find an example of the comic strip's use of the term and was excited/ecstatic/overjoyed to discover that Googling "Great Oppressors" puts this blog as the top two results! Granted, Googling "Great Oppressors" also yields a wide variety of strange things, and Googling "Great Oppressor Heeler" turns up a web page that introduces Apocalyptic passages from the Bible and somehow integrates them with the image of a Blue Heeler sniffing out the truth (I'm not even going to paste a link there, but it's as weird as it sounds). Still, the dominance of the Heeler atop the Great Oppressor Google results has made me rethink my initial impulse to rename B and J. I'll have to mull this over... Anyway, the important lesson here is that my quest for liberation is one Google result away from fruition! Viva la Sid!!! Speaking of which, Googling "Sid the Dog" gives my Blogger profile as the number one result. Oh yes... Yes...
While I would like to take credit for the lovely poster art celebrating the dominance of Australian Cattle Dogs, I cannot. But I do feel like it captures the spirit of my movement. I am also trying to figure out how to get the following item on either B or J's car without either of them noticing.

I feel a hot wind on my shoulder. The revolution is nigh!

Let Me Stand Next to Your Fire

2006-09-06T12:09:00.000-06:00

A large amount of press is being dedicated to the Derby Fire in Montana, a blaze which just happened to flare up in Great Oppressor J's part of the forest. What hasn't made the papers is how I helped extinguish a different backcountry blaze that could have easily flared up into something much larger. Here is the fire when we found it... The best part is that somebody started this 5' by 4' by 2' smoker by lighting their toilet paper on fire instead of packing it out. People are animals.

Here is the fire after George Clooney and I put it out.

Well, really, I guess that B technically put it out. But I like to imagine George Clooney and myself running back and forth from the stream, desperately throwing water on the smoking earth before tragedy strikes and the fire flares up, giving the evil minions in the current political administration a reason to allow Haliburton to come in and perform salvage logging operations in the wilderness. And then George would mop the sweat from his brow, take off his t-shirt, rub his two-day old stubble thoughtfully, and look into the distance as the James Horner soundtrack swells and the camera cuts to a closeup of me looking pensive. And then there will be a shot of an Indian with tears in his eyes. What an exciting backpacking trip!!!

I Heart Backpacking

2006-09-05T06:50:00.000-06:00

Hey there! I'm back in Denver after spending a week in the woods with B and J. This is a picture of me on the hike up to Rainbow Lake last week. I decided to jump on this boulder just to see what was up. I don't know what B and J would do without my vigilant eye. Speaking of vigilance, you may notice that B's head looks a little funny here. Since the Great Oppressors can partake in fantasy football, I think that we subjugated legions of pets should be able to engage in fantasy owners. So viva La Photoshop!

More Unfairness...

2006-08-23T07:51:00.000-06:00

George Lucas enjoys suing people who dare to sully the Star Wars brand with fan fiction, image manipulation, or those who so much as dare to try to take a small piece of the 20 billion dollars in merchandise revenue that has been generated by the beloved franchise since 1977. My question is, who is going to sue Lucas for the following "coincidence?"

Battle Droid from one of the crappy Star Wars prequels.

My cousin Eddie.

Back to the Hotel

2006-08-23T07:15:00.000-06:00

These are the salad days...My Great Oppressors and I are kicking it in a hotel for a couple of days enjoying the wonders of air conditioning and Stephen Colbert. This is me watching Stephen Colbert in the hotel.

No, seriously. That's me under there.

Into the Woods

2006-08-21T07:50:00.000-06:00

After spending nearly a week with Great Oppressor J's family in Idaho when Great Oppressor B went to see his family in New York, I have been rewarded for my week of sitting around waiting for one of my Great Oppressors to return with... the reuniting of the Great Oppressors in Montana. That's a lot of Great Oppression to cram into one sentence! The wireless access at the hotel is certainly an added bonus, since I was going insane there in Oregon with such limited opportunities to jack in. Great Oppressor B is worn out from a long day of traveling and may not stir for another day or so, but J seems to be a bit livelier despite her 16-mile hike yesterday. She was hiking in from here...

Great Oppressor B and I will be joining Great Oppressor J next week for her last stint in the woods, and then we will all be together again in semi-lovely Denver, where my life will again adopt some consistency. This traveling around really wears a girl out, so I am superpsyched to get some time in the woods and then return to my couch. Hopefully J won't have to spend too much time in the woods cleaning up things like this...

This seat and the accompanying unburied poop was four miles from the trailhead, left for Great Oppressor J to clean up and pack out. I've said it before and I'll say it again, people are animals.

Jag: Not the Crappy TV Show

2006-08-09T10:24:00.000-06:00

This summer has meant a long time living with Great Oppressor B while Great Oppressor J is spending most of her time in Montana where I used to live. Soon we will all be reunited and I will have better access to the Internet, at which point I will be able to resume a steady flurry of blog entries. To my loyal readers disappointed by my recent output, I offer a face that could melt a thousand hearts.

Awww....

And in similar news of unbearable cuteness, here is an article about one of my new favorite public figures, Jag the Political Animal. Jag's Great Oppressor is the esteemed Montana Governor Brian Schweitzer, who wears bolo ties, jeans, and takes Jag to work even though a small minority of the unenlightened consider Schweitzer's choice of dress and animal-friendly policy "unprofessional." Honestly, is it any surprise that Schweitzer dresses in jeans and boots? Cleaning up the muck and manure left by the foul Worst Governor Ever Judy Martz requires practical clothing. Anyway, Great Oppressor J visited the Montana Governor's House last night for a Democratic fundraiser and watched the Gov throw around the frisbee for young Jag, whose appearance on 60 Minutes generated a flurry of phone calls requesting his stud services. Is this a sign that dogs are taking this country back? Perhaps Schweitzer brings Jag to work because of his advisory skills. Four legs good, two legs bad.

I Hate Spam

2006-07-11T07:41:00.000-06:00

So I finally manage to escape the confines of my summer home and get online without any suspicious Great Oppressors taking note of my activities, only to find that the last "person" to leave a comment was actually a spammer pimping out his oppressed Alaskan Malamutes. So you don't have to scroll down and read said comment, it reads "Darksky Alaskan Malamutes said...
Yes that sure is true. BTW did you see my new pup from Darksky Alaskan Malamutes? He's a real spunk.
Have a great one
George"

Listen, George. This is NOT eHarmony! I don't need your help in getting a date. Besides, who raises purebred Alaskan Malamutes IN AUSTRALIA?Seriously. As a descendent of a noble line of working dogs who hails from Queensland, I seriously question the morality of raising dogs originally bred for Arctic conditions and forcing them to live in a country that is desert on the inside and all poisonous jellyfish and sharks on the outside. Don't get me wrong... I am proud of my native land but breeding Alaskan Malamutes in Queensland makes about as much sense as breeding snakes in Anchorage and training them to run the Ididarod. Just look at poor Arnoo, one of George's dogs.

Note the hand of the Great Oppressor in the act of oppression, holding poor Arnoo whilst this noble animal swelters in the heat and dreams of running across the frozen wastes of the American north. I cannot stand idly by! Today I am launching a new campaign. Send contributions to:
FREE ARNOO FOUNDATION
Attn: Sid the Dog
Oregon
Sorry I don't have any more specific address information for you, but the mailman knows who I am. Oh yes.

Good Sleeping Weather

2006-06-16T17:30:00.000-06:00

Hey guys. It has been a while since I've been on here. I've been catching up on my beauty sleep. There is a lot for me not to like about Oregon and Mt Hood, but I've decided to be positive for this entry. At the moment the most positive thing I have to say about the past few weeks is that it has been great sleeping weather. Cold, wet, dark and grey weather make for excellent naps and sleeping in. I guess that I have a certain fondness for sleeping in bright direct sunlight also, but like I said I'm keeping it positive right now.

In other "positive" news Dazy (that's right with the letter z) and I have come to something of an underdstanding. Dazy and I have a lot in common really, we are both bitches. She has even started to try to play with me, but I've been ignoring her which is pretty fun. There are other good things about Oregon, but I won't bore you with the details. I'll try to have Great Opressor B put some pictures up soon. Until then, I remain, Sid the Dog.

Sigh

2006-06-04T00:11:00.000-06:00

Well, it's raining at Mount Hood again. Su-prise, su-prise. Don't get me wrong, Oregon is cool but it's a little depressing this week what with my family, uh, I mean Great Oppressors, facing the long separation of the summer. The rain just makes things seem a bit glum. So, in order to show my displeasure, I rolled in some stinky poo whilst on a walk with B. He couldn't find a hose to give me a good rinse, so he did the best he could to wash me off with the limited resources at his disposal and I reveled in my rare act of civil disobedience. Normally I don't advocate childish things like rolling in poop, but if you really want to make a statement, nothing says "screw you Great Oppressors" quite like it. Maybe I'm going to miss Great Oppressor J after all. I was looking forward to having B all to myself but I suppose things tend to be better when we're all together.

I'm Out

2006-05-29T17:36:00.000-06:00

Tomorrow begins my road trip with Great Oppressor B. I can hardly wait to roll down the endless wasteland that is the Great I-80. At least B got an iPod this spring so we don't have to deal with the CD player skipping. Hopefully he won't ask me to drive all that much, since I really hate dealing with all of the truckers traveling across Wyoming. Why does Wyoming have to suck so bad? I mean, really, I'd rather go back to the pound rather than spend one night in either Rock Springs or Rawlins and I'm a dog. Usually any place that contains food and things to pee on is just as good as any, but both of those towns have this patina of despair that is unbearable even to my cheery disposition. But at least we're just passing through.

Screw you guys...

2006-05-28T14:31:00.000-06:00

I am so out of here. In two short days I'll be pulling up my anchor and setting sail for lusher, greener shores. That's right I'm going to Oregon. Great Oppressor B has summer work at Mt Hood so that is where my duty calls. I have pretty mixed feelings about this since my last several summers have been spent with Cat (the human, not the species) in New York. Cat is awesome and she lets me run around her farm and kill small animals (I'm still working on the larger ones). Cat takes me to cool places and lets me eat corn on the cob which is one of my favorite foods. I could go on but it is too depressing...

On the positive side of things I will be able to roll in the snow on the hottest of days this summer (assuming B gets off his tail and takes me to the mountain). B will probably take me on some pretty cool hikes too and even though he is really annoying I've grown sort of attached to him over the years. I'm really going to miss Great Oppressor J a lot though, she is going to be in Montana where I used to live. I'm also a little suspicious about my living arrangements, B tells me that I am going to be living with Daisy. I don't know about you people out there in cyberland but dogs with names like Daisy and Pepper or Spike really make me nervous. All I can do is hope for the best and prepare for the worst...

Shangri-Lawn

2006-05-24T23:30:00.000-06:00

This is me straining against the Red Leash of the Great Oppressors to lie on the lush heaven that is our neighbor's lawn. Our next door neighbor is obsessed. The man fertilizes, waters, grooms, and frets nervously over his patch of grass, oblivious to the fact that Denver is for all intents and purposes a desert. Sometimes he bitches about the state of the neighboring lawns loud enough so that we hear him. But as silly as green lawns are, they are nice to lie in. I like to lie in his lawn and rest up from a hard day of thinking about the world's problems, but the Great Oppressors are worried that he may perceive my presence as harmful to his precious bluegrass. They have taken steps to reduce my precious turf-lying by limiting me to one leash instead of two to force me to stay on my own property when I ask to go outside. However, I will no longer lie on the dry, unsatisfactory grass of the Great Oppressors. Note how I still find a way to lie on the lush grass of our neighbor despite the fact that I am being choked by the red leash of oppression. For me, it is Shangri-Lawn.

Is This Guy a Vacuum Cleaner? He Sucks...

2006-05-22T21:46:00.000-06:00

I realize that I am perhaps the only dog out here who is upset at the impending confirmation of Idaho Governor Dirk Kempthorne as our new Secretary of the Interior. I have expressed my displeasure at his qualifications before,. but while some folks are a bit upset about this it appears unlikely that anything can be done. Apparently, there is little doubt that Kempthorne will be confirmed before the week is out. Here is a news item taken from a newspaper that truly deserves to line the litterboxes of incontintent cats, the Idaho Statesman.

Gov. Dirk Kempthorne has moved out of his Statehouse office, and he does not plan to come back for state business.

Workers on Thursday removed nails and covered the holes in the walls where Kempthorne's pictures and framed newspaper articles once hung. His Statehouse staffers are packing their desks, exploring job possibilities.

Kempthorne's busts of Washington and Jefferson, his Civil War uniform, his childhood baseball mitt, and his football helmets from Boise State, Idaho State and the University of Idaho, have been gradually removed from his office. The job was finished over the weekend.

I love the "Still Life with Kempthorne" paragraph lovingly detailing the carefully selected detritus of a politician's office. I'm especially fond of "his Civil War uniform." Did Kempthorne fight for the Union or the Confederacy? As for the busts of Washington of Jefferson, I imagine that Kempthorne probably spent a great deal of his days in the governor's office studying those busts, holding them next to his own face in the mirror (if any politician's office has a mirror, Kempthorne's has one), and trying to emulate their presidential expression. His childhood baseball mitt? His football helmets from Boise State, Idaho State, and the University of Idaho? No word yet on his Tinkertoy collection, pet hamsters and their specially designed Habitrail, or the big box of Legos he keeps in the closet for extra special visitors.

Brutally Unfair

2006-05-20T08:43:00.000-06:00

I'd been hoping to get some things done this weekend, but it looks like I'll be spending most of my day lying on the couch with my favorite pillow instead. Since I seem to have pulled a muscle playing with my new friend Susie the German Shepherd yesterday, this would be the perfect time to nurse my injuries and catch up on my duties as the family accountant. After all, I am a working dog... Unfortunately, my Great Oppressors still haven't managed to get all of their receipts together, so here it is mid-May and I haven't been able to get their taxes done due to no fault of my own. I'm a little irritated that the GOs decided to file an extension this year. I can see this degenerating into one of those situations where they finally get everything together and then expect me to just drop what I'm doing and crank out their return. Well, I'm seriously considering just telling them to take it to H & R Block this year because it makes me feel taken for granted when they put off things like this. Maybe they'll appreciate me more once they see how much money I've saving them.

Don't Fear the Rooster

2006-05-18T01:05:00.000-06:00

Today's entrant in the Screw Old Navy Alternative Mascot competition is blogging to us all the way from Poland. Keep those entries coming!

"Hi! My name's Rooster. I was Chicken Number 09182006Z38 according to the little metal band on my leg but I decided to go for something a little shorter. I'm actually not Polish, but what a country! I was recently hired to be the face of the Rooster Restaurant Chain here in lovely Sopot, Poland. Since the owners of the franchise are trying to go for that American feel, they decided it would be appropriate to hire an American chicken, so here I am representing the red, white, and blue! It's a pretty sweet life here. This is my flock of Polish ladies sitting on my new ride. Check it.

Here is the official description of the restaurant in English from our website...
'Interior design is typical for all ROOSTER restaurants reminding good old time of rock and roll era.
Sopot venue have two rooms, first (capacity 100 person) is smoking second (capacity 30 ) is strictly non smoking.
During summer we offer to our guests splendid outside patio, where they can fully relax after city sightseeing.
Sopot restaurant represent characteristic for chain with ROOSTER logo high quality level of services and meals, and above all you are one step for beach and sea.'

That's right, folks! Here at Rooster's you are only one step for beach and sea, with the same quality food you've come to expect from fine Rooster establishments in Krakow, Bydgoszcz, Gdansk, Gdynia, Lodz, and Zakopane. They serve lots of chicken here but try the beef! It's delicious! Aw, just kidding... Well, seriously, folks... I just flew in from America and BOY are my wings tired!

Anyway, I'd like to take the time to say that we ARE IN NO WAY affiliated with a certain American chain known for its clams, wings, owls, and nubile waitresses! Please direct all legal inquiries to our corporate headquarters in Gdansk. Seriously, folks, I'm just the chicken who gets petted by the nice ladies when Vaclav lets me out of my cage to peck at the peanut shells on the bar. Stop sending subpoenas my way...

In short, I'd like to add 'Old Navy Spokescock' to my lengthy list of accomplishments. Roosters and Old Navy... Oh yeah! Ahoy, mateys!"

Unleash the Fury

2006-05-16T18:40:00.000-06:00

The cumulative effect of Christophe and Jimmy Fleshtone's posts was a tad unsettling, so here is a picture of me with my ear attuned to the literary pulse of America just to remind you all that this is a blog first and foremost about Sid the Dog. My literary tastes have been turning to the nonfiction sphere as of late. If the ageist automatons at Old Navy cared about the well-read, literary inclinations of we older dogs then they might have provided an opportunity to list our favorite authors on our contest entries. But no, we will have to wait for the Paris Hilton/Hilary Duff/Frankie Muniz of the dog world to win their competition and continue perpetuating America's obsession with youth. Anyway, back to my own literary faves...

I would like to urge everyone to read Temple Grandin's latest book Animals in Translation: Using the Mysteries of Autism to Decode Animal Behavior. While I would normally never advocate a book written by a human about us dogs, Temple Grandin is the coolest. Finally, someone with the reasons behind why collies have a vacant stare. The book doesn't quite explain my obsession with Corbin Bernsen, but I'm beginning to think that I might be the only one. The only one....

Vive l'Egalite!

2006-05-15T19:54:00.000-06:00

Today's entrant for the Screw Old Navy Alternative Mascot competition is Christophe from Quebec. There were several non-dog entrants sending in photos over the weekend, but I felt that the gleam of competition lighting up Christophe's eyes was just too good to pass up.

"Allo! Je m'appelle Christophe! I am from Quebec, and even though it disgusts me to use the English tongue, it is not as disgusting as my own tongue, eh? Ah, the ladies, they love the fact that I have no teeth on one side of my mouth. You'd be surprised, perhaps, at how much the bitches love it. Anyway, I love the human bitches on the Old Navy ads and would love it very much if I won the competition and came to the Hollywood and met the nice bitches with their capris, holiday sweaters, and madras blouses. I saw today on the Old Navy website that the people at Old Navy are selling the madras blouses this summer. I would look great in the madras! I would also really love the holiday sweaters from Old Navy because I am part Chinese Crested dog and we have not much hair. And I would love to be chewing the flip-flops from Old Navy as well, although since I only have teeth on one side of my mouth I would probably just poke a couple of teeth holes in the flip-flops rather than what I want to do which is to chew the hell out of them. I would describe myself as everybody's best friend. I am loving to snuggle with everybody, although some people they run away. I love the Old Navy style, especially the boho blouses and the madras capri pants. J'aime Old Navy! Vote for Christophe and make the dreams come true!"

Screw Old Navy

2006-05-11T10:07:00.000-06:00

So, I was fantasizing about my upcoming election to be the Old Navy spokesdog when I decided to do a little research on the original "Magic" spokesdog. It turns out that the original Magic is still alive, and "decided" to "retire" at age nine. To my horror, I realized that since I am nine, the ageist folks at Old Navy will likely reject my bid at stardom. I wonder if Magic really decided to retire or was forced to bow out due to our society's unhealthy perception of aging. It's true that there just aren't any good roles for dogs moving on to their golden years. Here I was hoping to be the Susan Sarandon or Lauren Hutton of the canine set, and it turns out that I am being culled from the available crop before I'm even allowed to compete. So, I am launching an alternative competition for the Old Navy mascot. In addition to so-called "senior" dogs, I will accept submissions from any member of the animal kingdom who figures out how to gain access to the blogosphere. Even cats will be accepted, as is shown by our first entrant into the "Screw Old Navy Alternative Mascot Competition."

"Hi! My name is Jimmy Fleshtone. I'm a hairless cat, or Canadian Sphynx. I am an indoor cat with pale skin, although I am looking into spray-on tanning options to make myself more presentable for a possible television appearance. I'd describe myself as a "Male Fashionista" since we Sphynx cats often have to wear a variety of sweaters to stay warm. I like to work out in order to keep my physique in tip-top shape and try to spend at least a couple of hours a day doing pull-ups and scratching exercises on my cat tree. Check out my guns! Is there a veternarian in the house, because my pythons are SICK! My best trick is impressing the hell out of the ladies."

Wrong Magic

2006-05-10T14:01:00.000-06:00

So embarrassed... The Old Navy "Magic" was a dog, not former L.A. Laker Magic Johnson. Please ignore the previous post.

Search for Magic

2006-05-10T11:09:00.000-06:00

I have to admit, I've been thinking about what would happen if my dream comes true and the American public selects me as the new face of Old Navy. Do I really want the trappings of fame? The paparazzi following my every move, gossip columnists analyzing my personal life, the contents of my poop described on the blogosphere for everyone to see? And will money really answer my problems? I mean, sure, winning the grand prize might win me freedom from The Great Oppressors but will it really grant me FREEDOM? Freedom from our consumerist culture, freedom from stereotypes, freedom from the restrictive expectations forced upon my species by thousands of years? I do not have the answer to these questions, but I promise that if I get this part then I will use my newfound fame to advance the cause of my species. We have been disenfranchised for too long.

So vote for Sid in the Search for Magic competition! LA Lakers, fast playmakers, kings of the court shake and bake all takers! Back to back is a matter of fact! A fact that remains... Intact!

If I Were a Dog, I'd Join the Navy

2006-05-07T18:18:00.000-06:00

Greetings, fans! This is my glamour shot for the Old Navy "Search for Magic" competition, in which the people at my FAVORITE store in the WHOLE WORLD other than Petsmart are looking for a new mascot. I honestly think this is my big shot at freedom, so keep your paws crossed. Betty White from the Golden Girls, Kristin Chenoweth from "RV," and some other people will be selecting the five finalists, who will then be voted on by the American public. When I saw Kristin Chenoweth's name up there, I was a little worried because I thought there might be a chance that Robin Williams would be involved somehow since they were in "RV" together. Robin Williams hurts my highly developed sense of hearing with his tired homeboy impression and offends my keen sense of smell with the accumulated stench of his body of work. But then I remembered that Kristin Chenoweth seems pretty nice and is very talented despite the fact that she was in "RV," so I don't think she would do that to me. And I bet Betty White wouldn't tolerate any special guest appearances by Williams. Betty White kicks ass. Do you think Kristin and Betty know Corbin Bernsen?
The grand prize winner (me) gets a trip to Los Angeles, some money for MY OWN PLACE, and a starring role in a holiday Old Navy ad! I'm hoping it will also feature Corbin Bernsen dressed up in a Scandinavian-style (Old Scandinavy!) sweater with a white deer pattern. Corbin will brush my luxurious spotted coat with a brush as we sit by the fire... Okay, I'm getting ahead of myself. I'll keep you posted.

Life Is Unfair

2006-04-28T18:00:00.000-06:00

This picture is Exhibit A of my unending humiliation at the hands of the Great Oppressors, who are celebrating their tenth anniversary of coupledom if you don't count the odd hiatuses from each other. I have been around for nine of those ten years, and it doesn't appear that things are getting any easier for me around here. Nine years of this poop and counting. Don't think I'm not keeping track of each and every indignity I suffer at their hands, such as being forced to wear Simple clogs and Gap cargo shorts. I wasn't born for your amusement!!!

Urine Trouble Now

2006-04-25T18:01:00.000-06:00

Today's blog is brought to you by my new sponsors, Urine Gone. Thanks to Bonnie at Sales and Marketing for this great opportunity. I promise to represent the brand with pride, integrity, and enthusiasm. As stated on the company's site, "Getting rid of stains and odors caused by cat,
dog or human urine can be exasperating." Indeed... And while cats are listed as Urine Offenders Numeros Unos, Urine Gone can erase the evidence of any unfortunate human accident as well.
Now, some of you may accuse me of selling out or stooping to baseness. Let me explain. I secured my sponsorship after Great Oppressor Number Two kept getting sponsored Gmail links to Urine Gone, The Truth About Cat Urine, and Urine-Off.com. Did her e-mails contain anything about urine, cats, or otherwise? No. There appeared to be no observable connection. But as I heard her discussing the links with Great Oppressor Number One, I realized that the links were being sent to ME. A Sicilian message... So I followed up, and here I am, sponsored. Soon, I will have enough revenue to buy my freedom. Tell your friends!

Voodoo Kitty

2006-04-14T08:57:00.000-06:00

You might notice that I haven't posted anything in a while. I've been spending some time on my spring projects, like the one-act play I'm writing about a smoked hickory-flavored cow femur. Those are so good. I've also been trying to lie in the sun and get some color during the afternoons, and it's just been too nice to sit at a computer. I was also waiting for something blog-worthy, which arrived last night when one of the Great Oppressors returned home from a business trip and brought the other Great Oppressor a gift.

I couldn't get any sleep with this thing staring at me all night. It looks like a cross between one of those creepy wind-up monkey toys and some sort of bobcat voodoo doll. I can't decide what makes me more nervous. Is it the real animal fur? The lazy eye of the mother bobcat? The exposed belly and open mouth of the second kitten from the left? What you can't tell by the picture is that all of the kitten heads are on little springs and bob up and down. The most disturbing thought is that someone spent lots of time lovingly crafting this monstrosity: painting stripes on the meticulously trimmed rabbit fur, glueing the hideous little eyes on the heads, inserting tiny springs so that the wee heads could bobble... So messed up.

A Quiz About the Important Things

2006-03-20T20:30:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I wonder if other people/dogs can guess what I'm thinking. Can you guess?

In this picture, I am unhappy about:
a. The breakdown of organized labor in this country
b. My kibble. Two cups a day is more torture than sustenance.
c. Assholes. Not the kind I sniff, but the ones I see on TV talking about how well things are going.
d. Michael Bolton
e. John Bolton
f. Corbin Bernsen Fan Club (Denver Chapter) for not letting me join.
e. Anthropomorphism
f. Clowns
g. Kempthorne

A "Head" for Politics

2006-03-18T22:26:00.000-07:00

I'm turning this post over to someone else again. I won't go into details about how we met, but let's just say we became acquainted last year. Depite certain unfortunate aspects of his character, I found his arguments compelling and thought giving him access to this forum would perhaps offer a viewpoint not often covered in the mainstream media.

"Greetings!
I'm a tapeworm... Kingdom: Animalia, Phylum: Platyhelminthes, Class: Cestoda, Species: Red-blooded American!

That's right folks, this scolex won't run! The reason I'm blogging is to officially announce my outrage at being barred from being able to campaign for political office. Being a parasitic flatworm, I feel that I have a firm grasp on what it takes to succeed in the American political system. My tenacity, steadfastness, and ability to thrive in a variety of different kinds of intestinal tracts are signs of character that have gone missing of late in the majority of political candidates. Yet while I consider myself to be a patriot, the arcane rules governing the American political process explicitly ban certain classes within the Kingdom Animalia from serving their country as elected officials. To this I say, what are opposable thumbs when compared to the majesty of a scolex? This blatant specism will not stand! To draw a parallel with Sid's recent complaint, why am I any less qualified a candidate for Secretary of the Interior than Kempthorne (see previous post)? He may be better-looking, but I am intimately acquainted with interiors. Besides, I bet I would clean up pretty nicely if I had access to the number of professional stylists Kempthorne's got on his payroll.

So I say, to hell with being content to live in the guts of our definitive hosts and let's show these people who's really running the show! Proglottids unite! Together we can overthrow the culture of corruption! My organization, Para-merica, will lead the new wave of grassroots activism our species needs to make its voice heard! Who's with me? At the very least, perhaps we can rule from the inside. I hear Cheney likes beef."

Proof that Things Can Get Worse

2006-03-16T17:22:00.000-07:00

Okay, I've remained silent on political matters for a while now, but this guy (current Idaho Governor Dirk Kempthorne, recently nominated to be the Secretary of the Interior) is proof that the last scrap of reason is gone. Finished. Done. It's been chewed up like a piece of rawhide only to get regurgitated onto the carpet later when it upsets your stomach, and it's no wonder that reason has been abandoned because let's face it, regurgitated rawhide is gross. I'm a dog, and even I'm aware that this guy is bad news. Now, I'm just a dog, but who nominates a guy who has earned a 1% rating on their League of Conservation Voters' lifetime scorecard to be the Secretary of the Interior? Oh, Bush does? Did he think that Secretary of the Interior is someone who comes in and takes dictation now and then, or perhaps someone who goes around with fabric swatches and paint samples and asks Bush about window treatments while the rest of the cabinet gets to sit at the big table? Because then the choice makes perfect sense. I mean, just look at his face. I've seen King Charles Spaniels with more going on upstairs. Observe.

Now, here is a picture of Samuel Jackson. Ignore the guy next to him, who is dead to me. A 'Hairspray' remake? Please. Anyway, we dogs are very good judges of character, and I'm here to tell you that Samuel Jackson would make a FAR superior Secretary of the Interior. He's forthright, seems very smart, and would kick some serious ass. And at this point, wouldn't that be a refreshing change for the American political system? At this point, since reasons other than common sense seem to dictate how things are run on the human side of things, I really don't see why my choice is any less ridiculous. I don't know if he'd even be interested in the job, and I'm a dog so I really don't have anything to say about who gets awarded Cabinet positions, but I vote for Samuel L. Jackson.
That's enough political activism for now. My next political blog will be about how it makes sense to replace U.N. Ambassador John Bolton with singer Michael Bolton.

It Is Hard Out Here for a Pimp

2006-03-13T16:56:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I like to open up the blog floor to my peeps out there in cyberspace. This post is from my buddy Miles in Montana. Check it.

"Yo, I am Miles Davis C-Man and I am here to tell you that life is one hard m-er f-er for us pimps. I gots the sick life for a dawg, but I is here to drop some truth. I'll bang out the positives first cuz I am one of dam eternal optimists, and I am hopped up on barbs all day, so things look pretty damn fine. I am luckier than Sid cuz - I gots myself a dog door and some hot ass female K-9 accompaniment, if you know what's I'm sayin'. Props to my chocolate deeeelight Selma Sue. Damn, that bitch is H-O-T, I hit that at least 5 times a day and it is fine. Like I was sayin' I spend my daze grabbin some rayz and smoochin on my bitch, but all is not sunshine and hot ass for this Pimp - HELL no. I have a big doggie style job - guarding my territory 24-7. Those bitches that live in my hood thinks that they can be invadin' my ground, those bitches gots another thing comin'! The hoods that really piss me off are the ones that bring their dogs to urinate on my fence, yo, that sh-t just ain't cool. My voice is TIRED from barkin' day after day after day. You think I am barkin' for my health? Get the picture - yo bitch a$$ ain't welcome here - unless you gots the biscuits - hell yeah!
Oh yeah, and those neighborhood bitches think they can sneak up cuz my hearing is going and I can't see so well no more, I is OLD yo! I outsmarted those bitches cuz' I gots my girl workin' our corner to keep me informed of the events, and she can see just fine. Damn.

Man, bitches, walk your a$$es somewhere else, I say, this is the MAYO'S CORNER - step off yo.

Like I be sayin', it is hard out here for a pimp - Peace out."

A Rodent Runs Through It

2006-03-08T23:02:00.000-07:00

This is me hunting baby woodchucks. I thought someone might find the images of me eating the baby woodchucks somewhat disturbing, so I chose an image that I felt captured the nobility of pursuing rodents. Note the determination and the fortitude involved in my eternal quest for nourishment in a world largely devoid of sympathy. Contrast this, if you will, with the pursuits of the Great Oppressors. Fly fishing has been on my mind lately. I understand that many of the Great Oppressors (humans) choose to spend hours in the water trying to catch fish not with the impressive arsenal of explosives that is at their disposal, but with a simple rod and reel combination. I understand that the ones who call themselves "fly fisherpeople" (or "fly fisher Great Oppressors") do not use bait (!!!!) and that they often THROW THE FISH BACK IN THE WATER!!!! If this isn't the sign of a ruling elite driven mad by its excesses, I don't know what is. Even their leisure pursuits are dedicated to the disruption of the natural predator/prey cycle. It's as if they're saying "Oh my, I certainly am hungry. Why, if I don't catch any fish today, I'll certainly starve. Oh, is that a fish on the line? Why it is! Oh, well he certainly is tasty-looking. But, I feel there must be a better fish out there somewhere so I'll simply throw him back. It certainly is wonderful to have all day to spend doing nothing but standing in a river trying to catch animals that I'm not going to eat while my dog sits on the couch at home wondering where in the hell I am. What a wonderful pasttime! It's a good thing I don't need to catch my own food to survive! Leave that to the proletariat!" Hmmph.

Three Letter Word for Awesome: S-I-D

2006-03-07T20:31:00.000-07:00

So, that's enough posts with other people/animals in them. I've decided to spend time getting back to the important things: like me! As you can see, I'm pretty smart and make the best out of really crappy tiles. I don't mean to brag, but the amount of ass-whupping that goes on when I lay my words down is usually pretty intense. Is BOOYAH in the Scrabble dictionary? Because it sure is when Sid's in the house!

What Would Corbin Do?

2006-03-06T20:32:00.000-07:00

My owner, J., was bitching about some stupid law South Dakota's stupid governor signed today. I told her to write Corbin Bernsen about it because whenever I have a problem, I write Corbin Bernsen about that problem and it seems to go away. He never responds, but I like to think of it as sort of praying to God. Sure, maybe he's just some perfect and remote deity who may not communicate back with us when we pray for his assistance, but perhaps the simple act of writing Corbin Bernsen is just a mechanism through which we can discover the answer for ourselves. Or perhaps they do answer our prayers, God and Corbin, but choose to make us think that we are providing our own solutions. It is not for me to pretend to know Corbin. Nor am I really that religious. I can't explain why it works. I can only try to explain to J. that through the simple act of writing Corbin Bernsen, one may find absolution.

C'est Injuste/C'est Moi!!!

2006-03-04T20:25:00.000-07:00

Proof that life is occasionally brutally unfair...

yet...

... followed by proof that occasionally, it is not unfair. How else to explain the swing of the pendulum towards all that is good, righteous, and unspeakably cute? Namely, how might a world so cruel as to contain a cat that dines upon steak and other precious foodstuffs at the table of the Great Oppressors also contain...me? I do not presume to know the answer, I only ask that you look to me for your guiding light. Sort of like the full-spectrum lightbulbs that J. screwed into all of the lamps in the house. I don't know how B. and J.'s seasonal affective disorder is these days, but I've never felt better. When they're gone I just sit under the light and bask, bask, bask. Those things are awesome! The only thing better for a sour mood is... you guessed it... ME.

There Ought to Be Clowns...

2006-03-03T21:58:00.000-07:00

It's so important to be well-rounded. This is one of my most recent pieces of art. You can't actually tell from this photo, but when you view this up close the Seurat-like pointillism becomes apparent. I used blobs of toothpaste to create texture and then added dots of color to form the soulful expressions of these two clowns, who are forced to put on their happy masks to bring pleasure to those in power. This is just another way of saying that we're all clowns: colorful, masked, beautiful, dying on the inside, and yearning to be free.

Heel Thyself

2006-03-02T19:16:00.000-07:00

This is me on my road trip across the country last summer. This is a poem I wrote while on that trip. I think it's really important to be passionate about things, and I think this poem might give you a better sense of who I am. I hope you like it. I sure do.

KENTUCKY DOGS
-by Sid the Dog
Oh! Kentucky!
I like it in Kentucky,
where the dogs run free!
Eating blue grass and horse meat
with loose mentality!
You'd better take my picture,
because it's easy to see!
That Kentucky, feels so lucky,
Because it got to meet me!

Poetry is really a passion of mine. I keep dropping hints to THEM that what I'd really like to do is go back to school and get my MFA, because what I really need is STRUCTURE! I mean, sure I have lots of time to write all day, but in terms of honing my craft and maybe getting some good academic experience I really think an MFA is the way to go. But when I try to tell THEM about my feelings, they just don't seem to get it. I mean, sure, it's expensive and I'd have to take out student loans, but this is my passion and I'M TRAPPED, DON'T THEY UNDERSTAND THAT? Dammit, I just don't think THEY understand that while I might take my job of defending the house from the mailman very seriously, my passion lies with my art. Does anyone out there ever feel like they're trapped inside the house all day? In a sense, aren't we ALL trapped inside the house?

Hands Off My Poop

2006-03-01T18:49:00.000-07:00

Poop like this gets me steamed! Apparently, the good people of San Francisco are planning on exploiting the canine residents of the city by converting dog dung into energy. A "recycling" company (recycling years of dominance on the part of humans if you ask me) is going to set up a collection system for poop within SF parks. This poop will then be placed in a sort of compost bin, where the methane gas resulting from the natural disintegration of the poop will power the tools of the oppressors that can be run off methane gas. Experts predict that the poop of well-fed American dogs could produce 20 to 30 dollars worth of energy per ton of waste.
What I want to know is, where will that 20 to 30 dollars worth end up? Will it end up back with the workers? Dogs, stand up and demand your rights to the means of production! This is our poop! Remember, it's a slippery slope we're dealing with here. We cannot allow the fumes from our poop to be used to drive the engine of their capitalist machine! At least not without some sort of cut... I propose some sort of energy cooperative in which dogs bring the product from start to finish and reap the benefits of our labors. Something! Anything! Workers of the world unite!
It's time to take to the streets, dogs of SF... I thought you could use this picture of me for some of the HANDS OFF MY POOP campaign posters. Don't I look resolute?

American Bitch

2006-02-28T20:23:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I like to pretend that Tobey Maguire as Spiderman is my real owner. We'd go to the park, him dressed up as Spidey and me just looking all cute and spotted and people would stop and stare and Tobey/Spidey would look at them and go "yes, my dog is incredible, isn't she?" Then I'd poop and Tobey/Spidey would just leave it because he's a superhero. And then we'd run an agility course together, and then Kirsten Dunst would show up and she'd throw me a stick. I bet Kirsten doesn't have much of an arm but I'd still chase it even though she only threw it like, thirty feet or something. It would be so sweet... I've got lots of times to fantasize about what kind of owner Tobey Maguire would be since I'm trapped in here all day and I've got nothing to do but wait for THEM to get back, so I thought I'd give this blogging thing a whirl. Shout out to all my canis familiaris!
I know Tobey's not coming anytime soon. It's really all just a way for me to try and forget about Mr. B, my number one owner. The other day, my OTHER owner Ms. J. threw away half the carcass of one of those rotisserie chickens from King Sooper's into the trash, and as soon as she went out the door for hunting and gathering or whatever it is they both do when they leave here WITHOUT ME I made my move. Five minutes later, Mr. B. came back from wherever he goes and I found myself in the unfortunate position of having the chicken's ribcage stuck in the roof of my mouth. SO EMBARRASSED!!! I've always had this little thing for Mr. B, and having a chicken carcass crammed into your mouth when the love of your life comes home is pretty embarrassing. Just call me Elizabeth Taylor. Sigh.. I may have to stick with the Tobey fantasy for now.

*The Heeler*