NEW RELEASES
Winifred the Wonder Mutt
I’ll bet you’ve been wondering about that puppy we got. Yeah, me, too.
I think there’s something wrong with her.
I’ve never seen a dog wiggle so much in my life. Also, she’s growing at an alarming rate. Probably because she eats everything. Possibly she’s part goat. She’s eaten cups and shoes and a hole in my jeans along with a zillion stuffed animals, a rug and a sled. Yes, a sled.
Also, she does a lot of growling. A lot. Like really a lot.
She likes to race down the hall at full speed, pass through the door into my bedroom, dart between my dresser and the foot board and dive under the bed. Remember how I told you she was growing a lot? I’m certain that within a week I’m going to have to disassemble my king-sized bed to extract her from underneath. I don’t know what’s she’s doing under there besides pestering the cat, but I guess that provides enough entertainment to warrant the risk. Besides the possibility of getting stuck, there is a very real chance the cat will kill her while she’s under there.
Actually, I thought the cat harbored nothing buy animosity towards Winnie, but the other day I found said cat sitting patiently in front of her, his head bowed and Winnie carefully cleaning his ears. I knew from then on all his veiled and not so veiled threats were hooey. Geddy the Cat secretly likes her.
It’s sorta hard not too with all that happy wiggling.
Her favorite delicacy is cat poop. YUM! Yes, cat poop. Fresh or stale it doesn’t matter. A nice slab of cat poop with a side of kitty litter. You can always tell she’s been partaking because she’ll run up to you, her face dotted with white litter particles, and pant right in your face with all the enthusiasm she can muster. And believe me, that’s a lot of enthusiasm. It’s just the best smell ever!
She and Roscoe the Idiot Dog get along famously and it’s apparent they adore each other. He’s taught her all kinds of neat tricks. The other day, My Honey and the kids came home and found her on the kitchen table staring out the window waiting for them to come home.
Of all the tricks he could have chosen to teach her, boy am I glad he picked that one.
Winifred the Mighty
Well, quiet little Winifred as definitely developed a personality. I think for a minute, My Honey had the misconception that a little girl puppy wouldn’t be as much work as boy puppy. If that was the case, the man was totally delusional.
I am currently writing this with a hole in my right palm. It’s in the perfect shape of a tiny little puppy tooth. I don’t know what I was thinking, putting my hand down there near her face.
Roscoe has decided she needs to be kept an eye on. She’s resting for a minute under the coffee table because she was racing full speed into the living room with a mouthful of something she wasn’t supposed to have and nearly knocked herself unconscious bouncing under the table.
She’s an absolute doll – when she’s sleeping. Once awake and fully engaged in a wrestle, her growl is the stuff of horror movie monsters.
Just now there was maniacal yipping coming from the bedroom. My Honey tells me she found another bossy little puppy in there, lurking in the mirrored closet door. Of course, that only kept her attention for a few minutes before, “Hey, is that a sock?” and off she ran.
The other day I tickled her nose with her tail and the look on her face when she realized that funky little thing was always there was hysterical. Unfortunately, now it must die. When she’s not chewing on Roscoe, she’s yanking on her own tail.
Speaking of Roscoe, who is easily five times her size, she is absolutely fearless.
Please don’t misunderstand. I adore her and am not in anyway complaining. Even when I have a hole in my hand. I’m merely reporting the facts. Except that I am 100% certain it’s not true, I’d postulate that she might have rabies, she’s such a lunatic.
If you come over, remember this advice and remember it well: don’t look her directly in the eye and don’t stick your hand down there. She’s 7 pounds of terror in a polka dotted collar.