A Diary of My Stay in Prison... er... uh... the Kennel

Mommy and Daddy recently dumped me... I mean took me to the vet's kennel to stay for a week while they went to some place called Dallas for some conference. After realizing my predicament, I decided to take it upon myself to compose a diary. Below are my thoughts....

Day 1

Daddy was the one who had to drive me to the vet's office this time. I knew right away what was happening. Normally, it takes me awhile. But I saw their suitcases and the house had been aflutter with activity (beagles normally don't get to use words like "aflutter," so I thought I throw that in here). I immediately pressed my head under Daddy's chin and started whining... and we hadn't even gotten to the end of the street yet. Hey. I figured if I want to make her feel guilty, might as well start early! When we got there and the attendant was asking Daddy questions, I tried my darnedest to make her feel even worse by crying and jumping on her legs. She looked like she was going to cry herself. Let's just say I felt some satisfaction with that. I made one last go at it as she turned to leave, but alas, she left anyway.

Day 2

My day begins with a walk outside. I am then led back to my pen and have to wait *cough cough* patiently for my food as the attendant goes down the row of inmates... er uh... fellow canines to feed us. I hop up and down to get her to hurry. She giggles and says I'm cute. I'm thinkin' I might get some extra food out of this. Hmm...

More walks, more food, then the endless night of being ALONE with the other inmates... er uh... fellow canines.

Day 3

When the attendant takes me outside for my walk, she tells me that the front desk said Mommy had called to check on me. That's nice. It's also nice to know she feels guilty about me being in here. We have our four walks for the day and more FOOD. I bat my big brown eyes. She giggles again, and gives me just a little more FOOD.

Day 4

Okay. This is getting old fast. I'm tired of my giggling warden... er uh... attendant. Yeah, she says I'm cute, but she also says she can't give me any more food than what my Daddy had apparently told the other attendant. Puh. Remind me to tell Daddy what I think of her instructions when she gets back from this place called Dallas.

More walks. More FOOD (but not as much as I wanted). More giggling.

Tonight, I begin my howling warm-ups for the next day. The other inmates... er uh... fellow canines like to join in, but I'm the best darn howler in these here parts. They might as well hang it up.

Day 5

On my morning walk, the attendant tells me that Mommy called yet again to check on me. Well GOOD that she's still feeling guilty. She should! Seriously! I could have gone down to this conference thing with them. I would have been good. Honest! And I would have been a hit with everybody, too!

As soon as the attendant drops food in my dish and starts to walk away, I howl. Big time. What does she do? She freaking giggles! HELLO! She's supposed to feel guilty, too, and either: a) feed me more; b) let me out of jail; or c) feed me AND let me out of jail. I prefer the latter choice.

I went to sleep with visions of my escape....

Day 6

When the attendant takes me on my afternoon walk, I yank as hard as I can in an effort to be freeeeeeeeeeeee. Don't ask me where I'll go. But I'll be freeeeeeeeeeeeee. She holds on tighter and--you guessed it--giggles again. Sigh. Back into jail I go. Food. Howl. Giggle.

Later, they come to get me to take me to another room. Oh! Oh I know what this is! They're going to torture me with a BATH! But I'll suffer through it because I know that means my stay in prison is nearing an end. It portends Mommy or Daddy or both of them picking me up! Yay!

Day 7

Just as I put my head down to eat my morsels of food, I hear, "Buddy... Buddy Manfredi is ready to go home" over the intercom. HOT DAMN! I hop, yes, hop to my jail cell so the attendant (who is, yes, still giggling) gathers my stuff for my trip home. And to anyone out there snickering about my girth and hopping, guess what?? I've lost SIX POUNDS. So, yeah, I can friggin' hop now!

The attendant walks me outside and there's Mommy waiting on me! Yay! And there comes Daddy who is laughing at my antics. Yay! Oh wait. I'm supposed to be mad. Well, screw it. I'm not a cat. Cats do indifferent. Dogs do, "I'm so freakin' happy you're home I can't contain myself!" Can't help it. It's in our DNA.

On our way home, I give Mommy and Daddy numerous kisses to let them know I missed them. They giggle. (It's okay when Mommy and Daddy giggle--I can take it.) As we walk into the house, I sprint to my food bowl where I know Mommy would have dropped a little bit of food for my welcome home. And there it is!

Ah, home sweet home...

My mommy....

Hello, everyone. Today, I want to talk about my mommy. I try not to let on to Daddy that Mommy is my favorite, but it's kind of obvious sometimes. Especially when they come home and I run (well as fast as I can move) to the door to greet them. If Daddy happens to be the first in the door, I move past her to get to Mommy to welcome her home. Daddy always says something like, "Oh, fine. I know where I rate." Then I trot over to Daddy who always gives me ear rubs despite saying, "Now you come to me." I think she gets it. I believe I've "imprinted" with Mommy and have since I was a young pup.

That's why it's been especially hard these past months. I think that's what I've heard Mommy and Daddy call the passage of time. As a dog, to me any passage of time seems like forever. But we'll go with "months." Mommy hasn't been herself. She was gone back in April forever (I think Daddy said a "week"). When she came home, Daddy wouldn't let me jump up on her. She kept saying, "No, Buddy... Mommy had surgery," when all I wanted to do was leap into my mommy's lap to let her know how much I missed her. But apparently "leaping" is a big no-no. I thought I'd eventually be allowed to leap in her lap, but then Mommy had an infection that lasted forever. The best I could do was some head pats and ear rubs while sitting beside her chair. Until yesterday. Yesterday was the first time I could be in her lap. I jumped up when she least expected it and she giggled. I knew then it was okay.

Mommy has had to rest a lot since her surgery. Sometimes, it's just been me and Daddy. Daddy has been sad. She told me about Mommy's cancer and Grandpa's too. I don't understand it all, only that cancer's a "bad thing." Kind of like when I hear "bad boy." Anything with "bad" in it can't be good. But I've licked Daddy's face when she's cried and it's seemed to help some. I've heard Daddy say that Friday is Mommy's last treatment and that is a "good thing." I love to hear "good boy," so I get it.

I want things to go back to the way they were, but I don't know if they ever will. What I do know is that I love Mommy very much. I love Daddy, too, but like I said, Mommy's my favorite. I've been surrounded by their love since I was a puppy. I know that will never change.....

Long time, no bark....

Greetings to all my special friends, girlfriends, Bella and Clover... and too many other girlfriends to count. I want to share something that's happened here at home, and I need an honest opinion. First, a question for all the four-legged beauties out there: Do you like the smell of a real male hound dog? Let me explain... My mommy and daddy got upset because, after a run in our backyard, I came into the house with the scent of a "real dog." Yes... I rolled in that which shall not be named. I held my head high and my tail straight up in a proud position as I sauntered into the living room. I moseyed over to Daddy and proceeded to get some pets and ear scratches. It was then that Mommy looked at Daddy and said, "What is that smell?" (They think I don't understand when they talk--little do they know.) Daddy looked at the side of my face and, with a shout of "Ew!", realized the smell was emanating from my gorgeous hunk of male hound. She asked Mommy if she had any suggestions. Obviously, Mommy, who is always cleaning, said I needed to be washed. Now, what's a fella to do? Guys, tell me what would you do after you spent a glorious run in your backyard and had a frolicking moment of a lifetime?

Needless to say, Daddy washed certain areas of my body, but lucky me, the smell's not totally gone. Yesterday, which was the day after "the event," Mommy called and made an appointment for a complete grooming at the vet's office. I tried to think of ways to get out of this--like being cute, posing so that Daddy will take pictures of me and... well... just being me. This was my tactic so they'd forget, but I guess the smell is what did me in. Oh well. It ain't over to 'til the slightly overweight beagle sings. There's always another day.

Take care all my four-legged friends and remember... Buddy is THE MAN!

A day at the grandparents' house

Hello to all my fair tailed handsome and beautiful fur friends (and their caretakers who think they're in charge). I apologize for the length between my blog posts... Daddy has been hogging the laptop again.

Boy did I get in trouble yesterday! I went with Mommy and Daddy to visit Grandma, Grandpa and Uncle David. My uncle just came in from Japan, so I was really excited to see him. 

As usual, my mommy and daddy brought lunch and yes, they put me outside in the backyard while they were eating. This is so annoying. They think I don’t have manners at the table. But what would you do if you were me? I happen to be a hunka hunka of burning love (my daddy loves Elvis). Is it a crime to sit quietly and beg, using my big brown eyes as a secret weapon? To gaze up lovingly while everyone is eating at the kitchen table? And bat my long eyelashes for maximum effect? I mean really, is this a good reason to put me in the backyard? Now, you tell me, am I annoying or cute? I'm not askin' the caretakers here... I'm asking my fur friends. The ones who understand how you have to "work it" to get a morsel of food.

Well, they ate and talked while I sat outside howling. You didn’t think I would go down without a fight, did you? Eventually, they brought me into the house.

I sat in the kitchen hovering by what I call the white monolith, which occupies a small portion of the kitchen. I knew that eventually, something would be needed, someone would open the door, and the seven wonders of the food chain would be revealed to me. It happened! I was quick and undaunted. While Daddy opened the door, I hustled in front of her--so fast she didn’t see me--and snatched a chicken breast before she could stop me! YUMMY! She yelled my name. Man, she seriously overreacted! By the time she tried to get the chicken away from me, I had eaten most of it. She was saying something about the bones and that it wasn’t good for me, but I didn’t care because it was delicious. Mommy yelled at Daddy to put me back outside. HELLO! Will they ever learn this is what caused the problem in the first place?

ANYway... later, as I sat by Daddy, she said, "He doesn't look good." Uncle David agreed, saying I looked "pale." I almost snorted. How could a dog look "pale"? But as I started to snort, my tummy did a little turn. It quickly righted itself. Daddy stuck me back outside again. I'm sure she thought I was going to dispose of the chicken carcass right there in the living room floor. I was fine, though. I didn't even have to munch on grass. I would think they'd know by now that I have a cast iron stomach.

I still enjoyed myself, though. It was good to see Grandpa and Grandma, as always. And Uncle Dave let me sit by him on the couch. I licked his face, which got me some extra scratches behind the ears.

All in all, it was a successful... er... uh... nice visit.

A night of Mahjong

It’s Friday night and Daddy’s watching the Reds game. I love the Reds! Daddy’s written two books in a series about the Reds and the first female baseball player in major league baseball, Amy Perry. If you want a good read and love baseball, then Playing for First and Two for the Show are definitely “must read.”  Hopefully, this announcement on my blog will get me two extra crackers.

Yeah, I know you’re wondering what does this have to do with Mahjong. Well, Mommy was in the living room trying to play Mahjong. The following is a classic way on how to get what you want. So, all you fellow canines listen up. I love when both Mommy and Daddy are in the room together because I can be sooooo cute and I get more attention. This is for all you guys out there who want to be hugged and petted.

First, sit beside the mommy playing Mahjong, not the daddy watching the game. Second, tilt your head slightly and lower your eyes (by this time, Mommy is telling Daddy, “Isn’t he so cute?”) Third (remember the objective), is to sit on Mommy’s lap. Now, start moving your mouth as though you're talking and continue to look at her. By this time, Mommy has stopped playing Mahjong and is casting her loving eyes at you. Last, as she starts to pet you, begin licking her arm, gazing deeply into her eyes. Guys, trust me. She’s now yours and putty in your paws! Which includes lots of ear scratches and extra lovin'. You have achieved your goal for the night. Mommy is no longer playing Mahjong, but paying attention to you.

just chillin'

I've not written in quite some time. My daddy has been hogging the laptop but I managed to sneak away with it when she wasn't looking. Let's see what's happened since I last wrote in June...

In July, Dad and Mom went to Wisconsin to visit with good friends and then to attend a reading/signing at Outwords Books in Milwaukee. Dad had fun with Cathy Rowlands, Martha Miller, and Anne Laughlin at the reading and enjoyed seeing Carl, the owner again. Mom was supportive as always. Me? I was stuck in the kennel AGAIN. *sigh*

I've managed to add another girlfriend to my harem. It's a long distance love affair with Clover, the schnauzer in Colorado. She's sent me goodies in the mail, like peanut butter treats and little biscuits. She's playing it just right since we all know the fastest way to a beagle's heart is through his stomach. And she most certainly has addressed that need. So schmooches and hugs go out to Clover, my loving pen pal.

Here on the homefront, Mommy thwarted my attempt to sample Grandpa's birthday cake. Damn. I was this close to making sure Mommy used all the right ingredients. I was just trying to help! Honest. I mean really.

On the book front with Daddy, I overheard her saying she'll be in Atlanta on November 5 to celebrate Charis Books and More's birthday with Blue Feather authors Jane Vollbrecht, Mavis Applewater, and hopefully Renee MacKenzie... maybe more. There'll also be other authors at the shindig. Then, she's flying to Dallas to attend the Jewel Lesfic Book Club on Tuesday evening, November 8. They'll be discussing Playing for First. She plans on announcing it on Facebook and on her own blog and website soon. But I don't think she'd mind me piping in here now. I think this weekend she's been on the Author's Hot Seat in the Yahoo forum, Virtual Living Room, to discuss Two for the Show.

Okay. I think she's getting ready to grab the laptop back, so I'd best sign off.

Until next time....

Methinks I'm about to be ditched . . .

Lots of suspicious stuff's been happening:

Bad Sign #1: I overheard Mommy calling the vet's office about "Buddy coming in for a stay."
Bad Sign #2: Mommy and Daddy have been talking non-stop about "Orlando" and something called the "GCLS."
Bad Sign #3: They pulled out those big bags and have been stuffing their clothes in them.
Bad Sign #4: Mommy started getting my food and a couple of toys ready for my "stay," a/k/a prison sentence.

Again, I ask you, why can't *I* go on these trips?? I wouldn't be a problem on the plane. They wouldn't even have to shove me in a crate and put me in cargo. I'd sit dutifully by Mommy and Daddy. Granted, I might jog up to where the flight attendants have the snacks to, um, see what might be available. But that's all!

I did my best to deter Daddy from leaving. She left the suitcase open in the den and I took out a pair of her socks one by one when she wasn't looking. Not that I was being subtle or anything. She fussed at me, but I think I made my point.

Well, I hope they have a good time because I sure as heck won't while they're gone. They'd better suck up to me BIG time when they get back. I think this calls for a couple of extra treats, a new peanut-butter basted bone, and 5,432 ear rubs. And don't think I won't cash in on it when they bring me home.