Thursday, December 14, 2006

Not so fast, big guy.

Brogan, Brogan, Brogan.

First of all you don't need to try to hide your internet inadequacy by your defensiveness regarding blogging. You're just a big dumb wolfhound. Nobody expects too much out of you when it comes to computers. I shudder to think of where you'd be without spell-checking.

But, I have some bad news for you.

I have done some research, and my sources say you're not going to be happy with what is about to happen to you. Oh, my, the indignity that is going to be heaped upon you!

First, you are going to be taken for a ride to that place with the stainless steel tables where you get poked and prodded (and in my case, adored). And unlike the normal time, where my favorite human or my agent stay with you, they will leave you there.

Someone will probably come in and give you a few scratches to placate you and before you know it, something will be... different. You will find yourself missing all your hair in an area that, well, normally it would have hair and you really don't want to know where it went. Oh, and that's not the only thing you will be missing. I don't want to spoil it all for you, but... let's just say there won't be any more little Brogans running around (thank goodness!), shall we?

Trust me on this. I've heard stories. And if you don't believe me, just watch. You will not get your breakfast tomorrow morning. The starvation is all part of the process. I guess it softens you up so you can't fight back. My favorite human will get out the leash. You will be led to your impending doom.

Then when you get home, they may be nice to you for a while. Oh yes, you will be awfully sore, and if you proceed to lick back there they will put on one of those plastic contraptions that make it so you can't reach (or fit through the doorway, for that matter). They still won't give you any food that first day. You know, to keep you compliant. They won't let you play. They will, however, probably pet you extra and make sure nobody bothers you, stuff like that. But it's only to soothe you... to make you feel a little better because

You. Will. Never. Be. The. Same.

Still think you're the favorite? You just have to accept it, no other breed can ever be the favorite in a house with an Estrela Mountain Dog!

I'm getting a treat, I'm getting a treat!

Well, well, Mr. Bart. I just had to share this news and I thought I would post it here on your little bulletin board thingy (you can't spell "blog" without "blah" did you know that? Huh, smart guy?).

Something good is about to happen to me, I just know it. The humans are showing me all sorts of extra affection today. They are saying my name to each other a lot. I got brushed and petted and my butt cleaned of cling-ons. I think maybe -- just maybe -- they are going to give me something really good. Like maybe I'll get to sleep on the bed with She Who Must Be Worshipped. Yeah, I bet that's it. I'll get to have biscuits up there and stuff. I bet I am finally getting confirmation that I am in the position you have always coveted. Yes, I am her Favorite. I knew it already. But here's your proof.

So, nyah. Enjoy your outside kennel (I know you have a heavy fur coat and don't get cold, but... eww, it's dirty out there! and it rains and stuff) while I am lying in luxury tonight, getting scratches and stuff.

Your superior,
Brogan

Friday, December 01, 2006

A new protege

Please meet the newest Estrela Mountain Dog resident of the USA. His name is Argus and he lives in Texas. He flew all the way from Portugal just like my parents. He is about 10 weeks old. Was I ever this small?



Despite his lack of beautiful brindling like mine, I still think he is a handsome boy.

These photos were at his new home. Note the lovely flower bed, ripe for digging. And the motion blur -- I think he is going to be fast, like me.



The yellow object in this picture is, I believe, a duck. I do not condone chewing on ducks. Even pretend ones. But, he can be forgiven, because it does look kind of like a nice fluffy "good towel," one with a beak. And feet. Or maybe that was just photoshopped in there. Hey Argus, there aren't any big dumb wolfhounds around, are there? Or toads?

I sent him a welcome package. As you can see, it has a picture of moi on it.



He is carefully guarding it from his soon-to-be subordinate, Maggie. I also think he is trying to emulate my expression from the photo. The boy has some skills already! The force is strong with him. But I can see that there is still much I will need to teach him. Like the difference between "good towels" and ducks. The best spots to dig to make the muddiest paws. How to cajole his new favorite human into making him spaghetti sauce. The dangers of toads. The temptation of baklava (read the rest of my blog if you are not familiar with any of that material). How to chew that lovely rug that is right in front of him. He just has so much more potential than big dumb wolfhound puppies. And look what I have done with them!

I sent him a little letter with his cookies and rawh er, just cookies. This contained a bit of "getting started" advice. The boy is going to have to get e-mail so that we can communicate a bit more readily. If his favorite human sends me new photos I will post them too.