How You Like Me Now?

What a lie.  Whoever said that those that sleep with dogs will rise with fleas have never had a sleepover with my pals.

“I think it’s even an Italian proverb,” Mea said between a yawn, stretching her vocal chords as her mouth opened to expose her pearly whites.  “We’re Italian Greyhounds and we’re living proof.  Plus, we always sleep next to each other.  It’s the way we know how to preserve body heat and keep warm.”

“So what are we going to do now?,” Gregio asked behind his sunglasses.  He had already gotten up and was doing his morning stretches.  “I feel like getting a coffee and kicking it a cafe.  Something.  We really need to do something today.”

“Why do you wear shades?,” Karma asked, stepping over Lexi who was still lounging.  “We’re sight dogs.”

“That probably explains why you’re always walking into things,” Stella snickered.

“I really want to do something today,” Zoey said hurriedly, giving a nod to Gregio.  “The sun’s out and we’re inside.  What’s wrong with this picture?”

“I remember when we used to do fun things,” Mea chimed back in.  “Remember all the adventures we used to go on?  Now it’s all about the Beefy Snack Club and Xanderleus.  Boring.”

“What do you mean?,” I asked incredulously.  “Is this mutiny?  I was doing it for us and giving us purpose.  What in the world would you want to do?”

Karma was flipping channels and the Kia Sorento commercial came on.  It was first broadcast during the Super Bowl but was really cool. Everyone gathered around to watch and bobbed their heads to the music.

“See what I mean?,” Mea said at its conclusion.  “Even a sock monkey is having fun.  Did you see how the robot had people dancing with him in Vegas?  I remember when we used to do that stuff.”

“Yeah, but we’re not sock monkeys and I’ve seen Gregio dance,” I fought back but Mea had a point.  I had been so consumed with figuring out our origin of consciousness that I got tunnel vision.  I didn’t want to lose my friends in this pursuit.  I had to come up with something fast.  I was always able to think on my paws.

Gregio began to do his three circles before lying down.  It was during his second turn that he began to mutter something under his breath.

“This is going to take forever,” he growled.  “Let’s just give into pop culture’s influences.”

Just then, a light came on.  Why don’t we just give into pop culture? What are dogs doing these days?  Weren’t we always the trendsetters anyway?

“Why don’t we just go to Vegas then,” Zoey suggested as she wagged her tail.  All the others howled their approval. “Vegas, baby.”

“Could we spare the clichés, though,” Abby said. “I don’t think I can take it.”

“How can you go to Vegas and not have clichés?,” Gregio asked. “I’m going to get my stuff.  Vegas, here we come!”

“Alright, let’s coordinate this thing,” I said while lifting my paw in an authoritative manner.  “I’ll drive, Gregio works the brake and Abby can work the gas.”

“But I want to work the gas,” Gregio whined.

“Yeah, but we want to get there alive,” Karma remarked. “I got shotgun and then I get to drive next.”

“Hey Mea,” I shouted. “We’re going on an adventure.  How you like me now?”

We all looked over at Abby who was scratching her ear with her back leg.  She stopped when she noticed everyone looking at her in horror.

“Okay, you’re never going to believe me but I was hanging out with these dogs the other day,” she began sheepishly. “I’m thinking a flea dip before the trip is a good idea.”

Why Sleeping Dogs Lie

The sensation was like having your underbelly scratched. I was devouring the tome on Xanderleus, the canine god. Who knew that canine mythology existed?

As the story goes, canines had gone from running in wild packs to eventually being domesticated. However, that wasn’t enough. Zues thought that canines could go one step further in evolution. After conferring with Aprodite, a dog lover through and through, it was decided that dogs could develop consciousness. A super breed!

Xanderleus, Aprodite’s favorite dog, was sent down to begin recruiting and develop a new generation of dogs. The legion he developed, our ancestors, began to develop a society, of which we are the beneficiaries.

“Louie!,” a bark rang out. “Get your nose out of that book and come and meet a new recruit.”

I had been so overwhelmed and consumed by reading this book that I didn’t notice the others that were filling the room. Mea was playfully biting a puppy’s ear and was calling for me.

“I found someone who wanted to join the Beefy Snack Club,” Mea began as she looked on approvingly at the puppy. “She’s got spunk and even came up for an idea to call our members. She thinks Ponce de Leon Scouts works, in honor of the Fountain of Youth or wherever you think our consciousness derives from. Meet Mischa!”

I have to admit, I was wary at first. Mischa seemed awful young to be part of our group. While playful and spry, would she fit in?

“Nice to meet you, sir,” Mischa meekly said. She held her paw to shake with me. “You’re reputation precedes you.”

I stared at it. And stared at it. And stared at it.

“Well, aren’t you going to shake paws, Louie?” Mischa asked incredulously. “How rude! What a snob!”

It was at that moment that I had an “Euraka!” moment. I had never learned to shake paws. I never learned how to lift it when beckoned or to shake unless forced. I wasn’t an elitist, I just had never learned. But that means….

“Mischa, you’re a genius!,” I shouted out. “You just provided the missing puzzle piece. Of course you can be a member! Heck, if this theory works out, I’ll make you an honorary member!”

Mea and Mischa stared at me with blank looks. Or they may have thought I was crazy.

“Don’t you get it?,” I asked excitedly. “Don’t you get it? Never learned how to shake! I never learned how to shake!”

“Yeah, so,” Mea answered boorishly.

“It all ties back to Xanderleus and our ability to have consciousness!,” I quickly answered. “All the other dogs out there, the ones who aren’t like us, just haven’t learned to be like us. Don’t you see? They’re waiting to learn, yearning to be awakened. “

“You’re crazy,” Mea replied coldly. “Mischa, are you sure you want to be a part of this? Louie has gone bonkers. Let’s go play and leave Louie to his psychosis.”

“Wait a minute,” Mischa interrupted pushing Mea away before getting dragged off. “So other dogs are just sleeping then, awaiting an awakening, an enlightenment?”

“Exactly, my dear,” I said, delighting in the fact that this little pup cracked it open. “Our goal, our mission will be realize Xanderleus’ dream to awaken and bring consciousness to others. To no longer let sleeping dogs lie.”

After saying this, I leaned over and licked Mischa’s furrowed brow.

“I still think you’re bonkers, Louie,” Mea said while trotting out the door. “Let’s get back to having fun and not being so serious. Next thing you know, you’ll be looking for a holy grail. Or maybe it’ll be a holy drinking bowl!”

The Scent of Adventure Rises Again

I couldn’t put my paw on it. There was something amiss. It was kind of like a riddle.

“What’s on your mind, Louie?,” Lexi asked.  She was sitting next to Stella and Mea in the library and we were all studying for a mid-term final in Etiquette – our hardest class. “Looks like the cat has your tongue.”

“Ha ha,” I replied sarcastically over their giggles. “No, I was just thinking about the canine god, the one that gave us the ability to do what we do.  Remember, the mission and purpose behind the Beefy Snack Club?”

“Maybe he’s like Loki, the god of mischief,” Abbey piped in next to me.  “Why else would we be so different than others?”

“That makes sense,” Stella said after getting over her fit of giggles. “We dogs are known for our tricks and cunningness.  We even have secrets! One might say we even participate in chicanery.”

“Is that even a word?,” Abbey skeptically toned.

“Let’s go to our judges,” Stella replied.  “Judges?”

Lexi and Mea nodded in agreement.

“There!,” Stella looked on approvingly as Abbey covered her snout with her paws in embarrassment. “You just have to look at our defiance and then you’d understand.  Heck, we Italian Greyhounds are even known to throw a temper tantrum from time to time.”

Gregio came racing up the aisle.  Instead of using the library for studying, he wanted to use it for socializing and meeting girls.  Maybe that’s what libraries are for now since everybody is going to have an eReader like a Kindle, Nook or even the new Apple tablet.  Maybe libraries will become obsolete leftovers from the last century.

“What’s going on, slow down, slow down,” I yelped at Gregio.  “You’re running around like there’s a storm coming.  Is rain in the forecast?”

“Dude, you have to check this out,” Gregio said between pants.   “I was ducking in and out of the aisles, and I almost ran into Mrs. Longworth, the librarian.  You know, the Irish Setter?”

“Well, I accidentally ran into this bookcase and a few books came off the shelf, bonking me in the head,” he continued. “As I was putting them back, I found this panel behind them.  You really need to see this!”

We didn’t want to raise the ire of Mrs. Longworth so we followed Gregio quickly and quietly. His tail wagged in excitement as he led us to a darkened part of the library and to a bookcase sealed against the wall.

Gregio removed the books in question, saying he put them back because he didn’t want anyone else finding his “discovery.” We looked where he was talking and sure enough, there was a panel.  After a few minutes of jostling it, it creaked open.  A stale air escaped with a puff of dust and inside we found a book.

“Whoa, this is like before Wikipedia,” Gregio whispered.

“Open it up, Louie,” Mea said, her voice dripping with excitement.

With a huff, I blew the dust off the cover.  A barely legible title appeared: Xanderleus: The Canine God. Could this be what we’re looking for?  I flipped the cover over gently with a paw. The pages were weathered and yellowed.  It said that Xanderleus descended from Mt. Olympus with Zeus and Aphrodite and provided companionship to the Greek gods.

I think we found what we were looking for I told the others. Adventure is beckoning once again!

The Snow Prints Formal

Nice moves! Who knew that a Doberman Pincher could dance like that? It was the annual Snow Prints Formal and everyone was dressed to the nines. Ralphie and The Howlers, a local cover band, were playing and the dance floor was covered with paws cut out from paper. There were streamers, glitter and balloons everywhere. How cool!

We got there a bit late. Abbey wanted to look perfect and we had to wait for her toenails to dry. Why dogs need nail polish, I’ll never know. Gregio was in his festive, party mood and decided to rebel by wearing a t-shirt under his coat jacket. We ran into Mea and some other friends at a near table.

“What’s the matter with Zoey?,” Abbey asked as we approached. Zoey was holding her head with her paws with her head tucked onto her chest. Deja had her paw over her and was rocking her back and forth.

“She went to go see the new Avatar movie,” Stella began. “Know how dogs can see colors? This 3D experience gave her sensory overload. It was an explosion of colors and she has a migraine.”

Ralphie, a Boston Terrier, finished his last song and came over to our table.

“Great set, Ralphie,” Deja said. “Do you take requests?”

“Of course, of course,” the Terrier chuckled. Luckily for him, he was already dressed in a tuxedo. His markings made it so.

“You’re short a Howler tonight, huh?,” I noted.

“Yeah, Chucky took the night off,” Ralphie sighed. “We’re without our soprano. You know how dogs can sense if a human is sick and won’t leave their side until they’re better? Well, that’s what happened to Chucky.”

“I know!,” Abbey said excitedly. “This woman that I was living with before I came here was going to have a baby and I guarded her until she had the baby boy.”

“It’s almost like humans are therapeutic for us,” Deja said without lifting her head from comforting Zoey. “It’s like we have an extra sense for helping them out.”

That got me thinking. If we have these additional senses to help humans, maybe we here at school have additional senses to talk, be rational and do the things we do. Those powers, if you will, could have only come from that canine god Gianluca was talking about.

“The band’s back from their break, I need to get back,” Ralphie said. “Who wants to hear Atomic Dog by George Clinton?”

We all scurried to the dance floor to get down with the P-Funk master. Abbey joined the group and asked me to dance. Afterwards, the band began to do Jingle Bell Rock.

“Merry Christmas, Louie, and goodwill towards dogs,” she said meekly. “Men and women too.”

A Deified Dog?

Other than Mea trying to get rid of her hiccups, it just seemed like another day in class.  We were in Mrs. Schnoot’s Agility 101 class and she was trying to explain the physics of leaping over hurdles on the blackboard but my mind wandered.  That was when the door swung open and a mammoth dog walked into the room.

“Sorry for the interruption but I have an exchange student that is joining the school,” Vice Principal Bluehorn said as he propped the door open for the St. Bernard.  “I know you’ll make him feel at home. Please welcome Gianluca from Switzerland.”

“Oh my, well please find a seat for now,” Mrs. Schnoot said hurriedly.  “Class is almost over but we’ll get you a permanent seat next time we meet.”

While any disruption to class is welcome and breaks the monotony, this St. Bernard was interesting because he was just so… different.  Gianluca had more fur on one leg than I had on my whole body!  Since there were a couple of empty desks near me, he lumbered over and slumped into a desk.  It’s important to show machismo when making an entrance.

“Psst, hey,” Gregio whispered, trying to be the first to talk to him. “Do you guys really take brandy to people?”

“Ha! What a myth!,” Gianluca haughtily snorted. “I wish we were seen more like Beethoven.  That movie rocked!”

It wasn’t too long before the bell rang and we were hustling to get out the door.  Before we left, I went over to Gianluca to inquire about a subject.

“Hey buddy, welcome to Milk Bone Pickens High,” I began after introducing myself. “I’m a big movie buff myself.  Hands down, The Dark Knight was a work of art. I can’t watch it enough.”

“Yeah that was the best,” Gianluca gruffed.  “Wait a minute.  You’re that Italian Greyhound Louie guy with that club, the Beefy Snack or something or other.  I’ve heard about you.”

“That’s cool,” I replied, a bit startled. “How did you hear about it so quickly?”

“Someone mentioned you guys were looking for the origin of canine consciousness,” Gianluca answered while we walked down the hall.  “Is that true? That’s pretty cool.”

“Are you saying you know?,” I said incredulously.  “You know where it all came from and how we can live these types of lives? We thought it might have come from a magic water dish.”

“I know something that will point you in the right direction,” Gianluca said.  “Have you ever noticed that dog is an anadrome and is different when spelled backwards?”

This stopped me in my tracks.  I started to put the letters together.

“G-o-d, it spells god,” I said excitedly.  “That means since we do the things that we do that we’re… gods?”

Gianluca stopped and looked at me quixotically.  His whole body began to shake with laughter.

“You crack me up, Louie,” he began to laugh.  “No, you’re not a god.  For a little dog, you sure do have a big ego.  What I’m trying to say is that we’ve been given these special abilities from A god.  A canine god.  Look into it.”

I had many more questions but he had ducked into his next class.  If this is true then we were onto something very big indeed. This was more intimidating than a big wind storm. I was standing in the hall, mulling the possibilities when Karma came up and playfully nipped me on the neck.  I was late for my next class!

Canine Consciousness Rules the Day

The room was dark and shadowy, almost symbolic that we were meeting in secret.  It was as if it wanted to protect and shield us from outsiders and other influences.  We were in the basement of Milk Bone Pickens High. The first meeting of the Beefy Snack Club was under way.

I didn’t expect to see new faces but sure enough, word had spread.  There was the usual motley crew that followed me around but now there was a Whippet named Gonzo.  He was quite vocal.

“We’re here because we all like snacks,” Gonzo began.  “I like pig ears. They’re delicious!”

Some dogs squirmed in their seats with some covering their eyes in disbelief.

“What?,” Gonzo replied with incredulity. “It’s both high in protein and satisfying to the palette.”

“We’re here because we like snacks but I’d like the club to be about something else,” Karma said softly.  Everyone turned their head to where she was sitting.  Even Gregio and Stella stopped biting each other’s snout in that friendly way Italian Greyhounds do. “I think an issue we can all agree on is abstinence.”

“No way, no how,” Luke, the captain of the Dog Squad, barked. “That’s a slippery slope, for sure.  Next thing you know it, you won’t want to teach Darwinism and replace it with lectures on Intelligent Design.  Besides, I like to get it on with the ladies!”

He held up a paw and gave a high five to Gonzo.  The other males around him howled in support and started wrestling, momentarily forgetting that we were in the middle of a meeting.

“The reason I think we should support it…,” Karma strained to get herself heard over the ruckus. “The reason I support it because it would cut down on puppy mills and unwanted dogs.”

This caught everyone off guard and quieted the room.  I was at the front, leading the meeting from a lectern and gave Karma a wink.  It was a smart rebuttal from a smart dog.

“On that same subject, I wonder how we evolved?,” Delfina inquired.

“Hey, Delfina has a good point,” Deja pounced into the conversation. I had no idea what she saw in it.  Even Mea stopped giving herself a bath to listen.  “We aren’t human, we’re just dogs… canines.”

“Yeah, so what’s your point?,” Mea asked.

“Don’t you guys get it or wonder about it all?,” Deja said excitedly. “Where did we get our canine consciousness?  How are we able to have thoughts, emotions and form rational, logical ideas?  How in the world can we even speak let alone live these types of lives?”

I hadn’t even thought about that before.  How is it that we live in a constructed society and live a normal life?  It’s not normal and had to come from somewhere.  Not every dog is able to do what we can do.

“I think I know, I think I know!,” a voice said from the back.  It was Zoey and she was hidden behind the others.  “We all drank from a magic water dish.  Like the fountain of youth.”

This was followed by guffaws and chuckles with some shaking their heads at the idea.  But it was intriguing and even a bit mystical.  How did we get here and what was our origin?  How could we conduct ourselves and speak while others couldn’t? Plus, isn’t high school all about self discovery?

“I like the idea and the constitution of the Beefy Snack Club shall be founded on the origins of canine consciousness,” I said, raising the gavel above my head.  “All those in favor, bark once.  Opposed, bark twice!”

A deafening bark of approval filled the room and I pounded the gavel on the lectern.  The Beefy Snack Club was born.

Clique Clack Crack

Who knew that it would come to this?

“Louie, you look like you just caught the car you were chasing,” Mea said.  She was trotting beside me as we went down the high school hallway.  The lockers that lined the wall were a dull gray, reflecting my mood.  “Are you going to be okay?”

“I have something on my mind, that’s all,” I had to stop to itch my ear with my back paw.  It was true.  There have been some developments as of late and I didn’t know how to react.  “Remember when I said I was a member of the Beefy Snack Club?  It was just a ruse but now it’s become much more. Dogs, even puppies, are asking me to join.”

“How is that bad?,” Abby interjected, jealously eyeing Mea.  She still holds Mea at paw’s length, even after all this time. “Louie, you’re an inspiration, a leader, a pack leader!  It’s what we’ve always dreamed!  You can’t give this up now that it’s here!”

“But isn’t this how divisions are created?,” I groaned.  “Wouldn’t the Beefy Snack Club be seen as a clique, a bit of a secret society.  Kind of like the Skull and Bones?”

“Where’s the bone?,” Gregio yelped as he galloped up the hallway. “Who said bone? I want a bone.  I want it, want it, want it!”

By this time, a small crowd had formed and I was in the middle of it.  All my friends were looking at me and I kind of felt dizzy, like when I get excited and run in circles.  But it was more like the migraine when I pick up a scent and can’t find its origin.

“Alright, doggone it!,” I said reluctantly. “I’ll do it but we’re going to do this the right way or not at all!”

My friends all howled their approval.  By this time, the bell had rung and everyone scurried to class.  You could see which dogs hadn’t been maintaining their nails because they slipped across the marble as they ran to class.

After our Agility 101 class with Mrs. Schnoot, word had begun to spread quickly. Everyone was crowding around me to jockey for inclusion in the Club.  As I moved towards my next class, I noticed a large pack of dogs walking down the hall.  It was headed by none other than my nemesis, Max, the large Italian Greyhound.

“You’re barking up the wrong tree, Louie,” growled Max as he neared. The other pack dogs chuckled in unison. “Who gave you the right to form the Beefy Snack Club without my permission?”

I thought about it for a minute before replying.

“The Constitution of the United States of America?”

“A wise dog, huh?” Max huffed, stepping closer to me so our noses were almost touching.  “I run things around here and I say if you can form a club or not. I tell you what you can do!”

I have to admit, my enthusiasm for forming a club was waning a bit under the burden of its responsibilities. However, after being subjected to Max’s breath, this confrontation had spiked my interest.  The thinking and trappings of an idealist, I thought.

“What’s the matter, Max?,” I taunted. “Are you afraid of a little competition?”

“I ain’t afraid of nuthin’!,” he growled.  Max backed up on his back haunches, as if he was getting to lunge.  Before he leapt, Mr. Bluehorn, the Pomeranian Vice Principal, jumped in between us.

“That’ll be enough!,” he shouted. “Why am I not surprised to see you here, Louie? And Max, what have I told you about fighting in school?”

“Ah Mr. Bluehorn, I was just showing my pal Louie here some new wrestling moves,” Max sheepishly replied. “Why you got to be so serious all the time?”

“I don’t want to see this again, you understand?,” Mr. Bluehorn said as he shook a paw at us in warning.

Max and I mumbled our acquiescence.  Before we parted, Max snarled at me.

“We already got enough clubs here and we don’t need anymore,” he snorted. “Mark my words, keep your nose out of this!”

As I watched him trot away, I began to think that if forming a club could at least get under Max’s fur, who else would get rubbed the wrong way? Is this the beginning of unraveling the mysteries at Milk Bone Pickens High or am I just scratching the surface?

That reminds me.  I need to cut my nails.

The Beefy Snack Club

Bummer, I’m in the doghouse.  I can’t believe that I got detention for something I didn’t do.  I didn’t participate in the food fight so I get sentenced for being a dog with a funny bone?

“I’m innocent, I tell ya,” I groused to Petey, a muscular boxer that was seated next to me.  He got caught bringing a flea circus to class.  They got loose and everyone had to go to the nurse for a flea dip. “I’m innocent!”

“Shush Louie,” he whispered back. “Everyone here is innocent.  Everyone has a story.”

I was surrounded by an eclectic group in a stuffy library.  Of course there was Gregio listening to a Rolling Stone tune on his Nano contraband.  He flashed it at me and it was Can’t You Hear Me Knocking. Dog’s got taste, I thought. Lexi was sitting next to me and Mea was across at another table.

I looked around some more and saw Luke, the Dog Squad jock.  I think he got caught running someone’s collar up the flagpole or something. As I glanced around at the others, I started getting a weird John Hughes-déjà vu vibe.

“Have you ever seen ‘The Breakfast Club,’” I leaned over and whispered to Lexi. “You know, that 1980s flick?”

“Um no, because I was like born in this century,” she whispered back. “Stop talking to me.”

“We should form a club or something,” I shot back. “It should be about snacks.  We can all agree on that.”

“You want another week of detention, Louie!,” Vice Principal Bluehorn snapped, breaking the room’s silence. He was supervising us and sitting up at the front behind a big desk.  I swear that he was snorting steam which is pretty cool for a Pomeranian.  I smiled at the image before answering.

“No.”

“You’re on a short leash here, mister,” he barked.  “Don’t make me come over there and put the harness on you.”

This is lame, I thought. I’m two years old.  I can do what I want. Grown-ups just don’t get it and this Mr. Bluehorn is worst than a human.  I should put my energy into writing a letter. A manifesto!

The day lumbered on and there were yawns of boredom from time to time. There are just so many times you can twiddle your paws.  I was busy scribbling on a piece of paper and biting my tongue, deep in concentration.

The last bell of the day rang and everyone got up and stretched before heading to the door.  As I passed Mr. Bluehorn’s desk, I turned in my manifesto.  A masterpiece, I thought.  Not Pulitzer Prize stuff but decent at the same time.

He accepted it while glaring at me.  With a wink, I headed to the door to my friends who were waiting in the hallway.  I glanced over my shoulder and saw him studying it.  It read:

Dear Mr. Bluehorn:

I accept the fact that I had to sacrifice a whole day in detention for whatever it is that I did wrong. But I think you’re crazy to think of me as a dog whose bark is worse than his bite. Put simply, I walk on four paws like everyone else but you want to see me in even more simpler terms. I’m not one to get tangled in semantics and won’t hang my tail in shame for being who I am. Just accept it.

Sincerely yours,

The Beefy Snack Club, member

Meet Mr. Bluehorn

Vicious. Fierce. Pomeranian.

Gregio, Lexi, Mea and me were sitting in the waiting room outside of Vice Principal Bluehorn’s office.  It was a scary time for sure.  Luckily, the carpet was padded with newspapers as some of us – who will go unnamed – had a bit of an “accident” caused by fear.  They must go through a lot of newspapers here, I thought.

“Louie, get in my office!,” a voice behind the closed door growled.

“Mr. Bluehorn will see you now,” Ms. Jansen, the school’s Beagle secretary, said gently.  She must have coaxed many fearful dogs into that office.  It instilled a bit of confidence.  Or maybe it’s more like a beef chew wrapped around the pill that I take every day.  I hate taking pills.

“Take a seat, mister,” Mr. Bluehorn barked.  “You’re in a lot of trouble.  I don’t know who you think you are, coming to this hallowed institution, Milk Bone Pickens High, and causing all this mayhem.  The food fight in the cafeteria is not the type of behavior we instill into our students.”

“I want to know who started it and I want to know now,” he continued.  “I want names!”

“I don’t know where to start,” I began.  “I’d like to put it in perspective first.  This is a kind of ‘Wag the Dog’ scenario.”

“Is that some kind of joke?” Mr. Bluehorn grunted.

“Yes.”

“I like the context but this is not the time,” he replied. “Go on.”

“You’re looking at this all wrong,” I began to warm up.  “Where you saw a food fight, I saw generosity.  When was the last time you saw a dog share food with others?  Never! I submit to you, maybe you don’t approve of the method of sharing the food but Mr. Bluehorn, I beg of you, don’t punish these acts of kindness.”

Mr. Bluehorn stared at me.  And stared. And stared. He got out of his chair.  I looked around.  There’s no newspaper on these floors.

“So let me get this straight,” he snorted. “The food fight was just a distraction from what you were trying to accomplish which was to share food? A canine charity event?”

“Right!”

“You’re a pretty funny dog,” Mr. Bluehorn stated flatly.

“Thank you.”

“That wasn’t a compliment,” he angrily replied.  “You can laugh yourself right into detention.  One week!”

With that Mr. Bluehorn reached over and hit a buzzer.

“Ms. Jansen, could you please bring in some newspapers.  Thanks.”

Food Fight!

I wonder what’s on the menu today? We were standing in line, slowly shuffling our paws forward to where the meals were being doled out. The lunch lady looked grumpy; as if she wished she was somewhere else. If only she knew her power. An extra nugget of food meant all the world and she had total control.

But what was really the best part of lunch was dessert time. That’s when the lunch lady went around and put a dollop of peanut butter on our noses and we would all eagerly lick it off. Gregio was overzealous one day and chomped at her finger, causing the gooey delight to stick on the roof of his mouth. You should have heard him talk!

After getting my lunch (she was kind to me today- two extra nuggets!) I found a seat with Gregio and the girls. They were all chatting and the current gossip was on what clubs were the best and who, of course, were the cutest dogs in each.

“Have you seen Luke yet?,” Deja nudged Mea who was licking her chops to get that last kernel from her back teeth. Luke was captain of the Dog Squad and the most popular at school. “He’s a dreamboat! I’m definitely going out for cheerleading. Maybe he’ll notice me.”

“He’s like a senior,” Zoey interrupted. “There’s no way he would go for you. He’s way out of your league.”

“Deja and Luke, sitting in a tree,” Lexi teased. “First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes a puppy with a puppy carriage. You’re in love with him. You want to have like 400 of his puppies.”

Deja began to blush. She covered her snout with her paws to hide her embarrassment.

“I can’t believe that I’ve gained another pound,” Lexi moaned, stretching and inspecting herself closely to spot where the mystery weight went. “I’m now at double digits. 10 pounds! So disgraceful!”

That’s not so bad, the other girls comforted her. It’s not so bad for an Italian Greyhound.

“Enough of this gobbley gook,” Gregio said suddenly. “I can’t take this anymore. Food fight!”

With that, he began to fling his nuggets across the table. The girls, taking the cue, hurled them back. Pretty soon, the mayhem spread to the other tables and the air began to fill with food and squeals of glee. Like in a hail storm, I ducked under the table but not before getting pegged with an oversized nugget.

“I’m hit!,” I yelled “I’m down, I need backup. Never leave a dog on the battlefield. May day! May day!”

All of a sudden, the food stopped flying and the lunchroom was in lockdown. The adults had streamed in and were desperately trying to re instill order. I peeked out from under the table and watched as they marched over to where Gregio and I had been sitting.

“Louie, Gregio, Lexi and Mea,” Mr. Bluehorn, the vice principal of the high school, yelped while staring at us each when he said our names. “Report to my office, NOW!”

Going to School Breeds Adversity

“Pssst. Louie, where have you been?”

At this time, everyone had settled in their seats. The classroom was brightly lit by sunshine streaming from the windows and I had luckily snagged a seat near one. Boy, I sure like the sun. However, the downside is that my gaze often settles on the activities going on outside rather than in the room.

“Um, what?,” I replied, startled that anyone was paying attention to me. I gave a quick, curt response. “I was just daydreaming.”

“You better get your head into the game,” Gregio whispered. “This class is going to be tough.”

It was the first day of Milk Bone Pickens High. I was fiercely intimidated by the prospect of being around other dogs in a controlled environment. I’m a pretty fidgety dog so when I have to stay in one place for too long, let’s just say that my attention span is short while my energy level is high. In fact, if I was younger, I would be bouncing off the walls right now. My owners still point to the paw prints left on the ceilings.

“Good morning, class!,” Mrs. Schnoot barked as she trotted into the room. She had been at the school for years and was well-known as one of the best looking Italian Greyhound teachers in the high school. Her fur was always glossy and she even took the time to paint her nails. She looked radiant. I looked over at Gregio and his tongue was hanging out to the side with his tail wagging excitedly. I kicked him to straighten up.

“Welcome to Agility 101, I am Mrs. Schnoot and I will be your teacher,” she said. She began to write her name on the chalkboard but her nails scratched the board, causing some in the room to squirm. “Is everyone excited to be here?”

“Now that you’re here, I am,” a voice in the back of the room said. Everyone giggled at the outburst and turned to see who said it. A large IG wearing a “Ruff DogWear XXXL” t-shirt and chain link color smiled a toothy grin at the reaction he got.

“Hello Max, it’s good to have you back in class,” Mrs. Schmoot sighed disapprovingly. “You’ll make it through the course this semester, right?”

She had stolen the spotlight back from him. The class turned around and faced the teacher. I glanced over at Max to see his reaction and he was steaming in humiliation. He noticed me and growled. I quickly turned away. What had I done?

Mrs. Schnoot asked us to introduce and tell something about ourselves. After that, she passed an outline around the class for what would be covered during the semester. We were going to learn how to use a teeter board, weave poles and even run through tunnels. Cool, this is going to be fun, I thought!

The bell rang and all the students put their backpacks on and scurried to the door to go to the next class. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Max was pacing himself so we would meet at the door.

“So you’re Louie?,” Max growled quietly when we were side by side. “I’ve got my eye on you now. Ha!”

With that, he gave me a shove which sent me tumbling. Mrs. Schnoot was at the front of the door saying goodbye to the students and was startled. She came over and asked me if I was okay. Max was looking at me to see what my reaction would be.

“Sure, I’m fine,” I said as I gathered my belongings and swung my backpack over my shoulder. “I just slipped. No biggie.”

I watched as Max gave a hoarse laugh and continued into the hallway.  Boy, this school thing is going to be tougher than I thought.  Nobody told me that I would have to learn and deal with getting along with others too!

Impeachment Sends Louie to School

Whew! What a whirlwind!

After going on a treasure hunt, a road trip, and travelling to Italy as a special envoy for First Dog Bo and the White House, I arrived home in Arizona thinking that I could go just back to the life that I left behind.  Not so, Delfina told me as I walked in the front door, exhausted and just a bit travel-worn.

“See what’s happened since you’ve been gone,” Delfina screeched as she held up a piece of paper with official insignia. “You’ve been absent for so long that Bill Gruber has gotten you impeached and removed as dog catcher.  Good going, Louie.”

Months earlier, I had been elected as dog catcher.  Since then, I had been swept along by events and living life.  What’s so wrong with that?  I’m a party animal.  Gruber, the former dog catcher, had found a technical disqualifier that said I must have a minimum educational background.  Even though I was home schooled, like most dogs, I needed to have a diploma or some kind of certification.

“So just go to school,” Mea said.  The whole troupe had followed me home.  What a loyal group they were.  “It’s not so hard and you should sail right through.  You might even like it.”

“I know just the perfect place!” Karma chimed in. “You should go to Milk Bone Pickens High.  It’s really modern and they have all the latest technology.  Every dog gets a computer and learns from e-books. Besides, the girls and I want to be cheerleaders!”

I started thinking. Hmm, this isn’t the worst thing in the world.  Besides, did I really want to deal with the dark side of being a dog catcher and see the sordid cruelties I would be exposed to?  I’m too young to be scarred by the realities of the world.  I need to maintain my optimistic youth and hang onto it for as long as possible.

I looked over at Gregio who had his tail between his legs.  What did you do, I asked with my eyes.

“Will the teacher get mad if I’m not potty trained?,” he sputtered with a worried look on his face.

We all laughed.  We’re Italian Greyhounds. We’re known for our accidents!

W.W.S.B.D.

It was Deja and Karma that found me. They said I was barking in my sleep and making quick jabbing moves with my paws. I hope they didn’t catch me drooling into the pillow.

Now I don’t usually recall my dreams but this one was so vivid that it ended up shaking me awake. It was so weird.  I began to describe it to them immediately.  I found myself talking to a porous yellow sponge that lives in Bikini Bottom.

“What is there left to do?,” I said to my yellow friend.  “I’ve accomplished so much in so little time.  Where am I going to find adventure when I’ve done everything that I want?”

“That’s a question you’re going to have to answer for yourself, Louie,” SpongeBob answered. Other than Cesar Milan, Mr. SquarePants was the closest thing that I had to an idol.  He had achieved iconic status in my world. “I’ve always found that the best adventures happen close to home.  Look at all my shenanigans with Patrick, Mr. Krabs, and Squidward.”

“Why is your voice so mature?,” I inquired.

“It’s your dream,” he responded. He smiled with his two teeth jutting forward.

“Oh right.”

“Go home,” SpongeBob said. “You were elected dog catcher and now you’re neglecting your duties.  There’s something that needs to be done and until you do it, you’ll always be restless. It’ll nag you like a dog pulling on your pant leg.”

We bent over laughing at the reference.  Even in the most serious discussions, my sub consciousness can’t help but to lighten the mood.

“SpongeBob, thanks for always being there for me,” I said wistfully.  “I’ve always guided myself by remembering W.W.S.B.D. – What Would SpongeBob Do. I’m concerned that because I’m just an Italian Greyhound that I won’t be up for the job.”

“Hey that’s what I’m there for,” the sponge responded. “It sounds like you got the fervor and now you’ve got the religion.  Remember, it’s not the size of the dog, it’s the size of their heart.  Now I’m going to go and catch some jellyfish.”

“So that’s how it went,” I said looking into Deja and Karma’s eyes.  Their bewildered look made me feel a bit uneasy.

“What do you think it means?,” Karma said.

“It means we’re going home,” Deja sighed.  “I just found the coolest place for gelato too.  What a bummer. I really like Italy too.  Ciao!”

“Get the others and tell them to pack up,” I said hurriedly.  “Grab the gelato to go.  I need to make two calls: one to First Dog Bo to tell him I’m going back to Arizona.  I’ll return to Italy when the need for a canine ambassador arises.  The second is to Sheriff Joe Arpiao.  I’m lucky to be on the country’s toughest sheriff’s team. Tell him I’m reporting for duty.”

Profile of Canine Courage

Italy was surreal. We were taken to a villa outside of Rome and spent some time gazing at the vineyards. We then got whisked away to L’Aquila to view the earthquake damage caused earlier this year.  It was a humanitarian visit and as the appointed canine ambassador from First Dog Bo, I spent time at a veterinarian hospital and counseled its patients.  There was one dog in particular whose story resonated with me and the others.

“… so there I was and I had to make a quick decision,” Bart the Golden Retriever said. His two front legs were bandaged and a third was in traction. “Do I run back inside the school to see if there were any more children or do I wait for a rescue team? There was no question about it. I had to save the kids.”

“It’s a good thing too,” he continued. “There were three frightened first graders in a broom closet. I sniffed them out and they followed me to safety. It wasn’t easy, with everything that was going on but what was I going to do? I’m a dog.”

He smiled up at me faintly and all the girls cooed at his courage. Zoey and Deja wept softly. These are the unsung heroes but it goes to show that a canine considers himself just as much a part of humanity as our upright masters do.  Maybe more so.

“You’ve done a brave thing and for that, we are thankful,” I said, placing a plaque on his nightstand. “Please accept this on behalf of American canines for your valiant efforts.”

We continued to make the rounds. Mea and Stella liked the Italian accent and tried to mimic it and Karma was even inspired and thought of becoming a nurse.  Once we finished, we all jumped into a chauffeured car and went back to the villa.

Lexi said that she wanted to go north and try to ski the Alps.  Everyone teased her because we all know how adverse to cold weather Italian Greyhounds are.

“But I could wear booties,” she protested.  This caused us to laugh more and her to get more mad.

“I have a surprise for everyone,” I interrupted the laughter. “We are going to make wine tonight.  That means we are going to squish grapes with our paws.  I learned how to do it when I was watching a rerun of ‘I Love Lucy.’ Is everyone ready to make some wine?”

Karma whimpered and then giggled.  The car went silent and we all stared at her.

“I made some whine already,” she laughed. “Get it? ‘Whine?’ ‘Whine?’ It’s wine with an ‘h.’ Hmm, tough crowd.”

Viva l’Italia!

The plane roared off the runway and ascended into the sky.  Phoenix sure had a lot of swimming pools speckling its landscape and the mountains didn’t look as big from up here, I thought. Later, we were over the Atlantic Ocean and there was blue water as far as the eye could see.

Mea, Karma, Zooey and the other girls were smudging up with windows with their noses and their tails were excitedly whipping the air.  Gregio, always the cool one, had reclined his chair and was watching the in-flight movie with his shades on.  I think he was actually sleeping.

“So what’s the plan, Louie?,” Abby asked.  She was sitting next and looking at me with her big soft eyes.  Our relationship had greatly improved since I told Mea we would just be friends. “Never in a million years did I think we would go to Italy and on official business.  It’s so exciting!  It’s like listening to a great Eagles song for the first time, like Sunset Grill.”

“First Dog Bo sent me these papers and we’re first going to make a humanitarian visit to L’Aquila,” I said referring to the town that was struck by an earthquake earlier this year.  It also turned out that President Barack Obama had not appointed a human ambassador so I might get stuck with dual responsibilities albeit for the short term. “Hey, maybe we can visit Pope Benedict in the Vatican? That would be fun.”

“I can’t wait to see all the historical sites,” Deja purred.  “Like the Colosseum, the Leaning Tower of Pisa, the Roman ruins.  It’s going to be… magical. Ooh la la, can we go to the Riviera too?”

All of a sudden, the plan jolted and began to tail dive.  Something had happened to the engine and we could hear it sputtering. Everyone screamed and jumped into their seats.  The sound was deafening and luggage began falling out of the overhead compartments.

“This is your captain speaking,” the intercom said.  “We are going to have to make an emergency landing.  Strap in and prepare yourselves.  Mayday, mayday!”

“This is it, this is it!,” Karma yelled. “I can’t believe this is happening.  I never got to live my life.  I never got to do all the things I wanted!”

My blood pressure began to rise and I was frozen in place.  Could this really be the end? What if we survived and ended up stranded on an island?  My thoughts were invaded with Lord of the Flies references.

The descent of the plane began to slow and eventually plateaued.  The body straightened out and normalized.  The captain’s voice crackled over the intercom again.

“Sorry about that folks,” he said. “We had some temporary engine failure but everything is fine now.  Sorry for the inconvenience.  We’ll be landing in Rome in a few more hours.  Enjoy the rest of the trip.”

I looked around and everyone was panting.  We began to laugh at our luck and at each other.  Zoey and Karma hugged each other in glee. I licked the side of Abby’s face in the gentle way we Italian Greyhounds do and looked around the cabin and smiled. Our fate lies not in the Atlantic Ocean and a good thing too.  I didn’t want us to become a Swiss Family Robinson repeat. Too much of a cliché.

Gregio stirred in his seat and took off his shades. He looked around in disbelief at the disheveled cabin.

“What did I miss?” he asked sleepily.

Meet Ambassador Louie

It is safe to say that when returning home from my visit and speech to Porterhouse University, that I had hoped for some time to catch up. Maybe a little R & R. Kick up my paws and finish some odds and ends around the house. But sometimes, events happen unexpectedly and catch you flat pawed. This morning happened to be one of them.

“This is the White House calling for Louie,” a strange and unidentifiable female voice said on the other end. “I have First Dog Bo here to speak with Louie. Is he available?”

“Omigosh, why yes, let me get him for you,” Deja said excitedly. Because I was elected dog catcher, she asked to be the office manager and transferred the call to my adjourning office. “Louie, it’s First Dog Bo on line one.”

“This is Louie,” I said, answering the phone while easing into my chair. Why in the world would the dog of the President of the United States be calling me? “How may I help you?”

“Louie, this is Bo. How is everything in Arizona?” he said in his Portuguese Water Dog accent. “Something has come up and I need you to fill a role for us. There is an opening to be the canine ambassador to Italy and I am pleased to offer you the position. We need an Italian Greyhound, so are you interested?”

Wow, what an honor! I was beaming with ethnic pride, but then a thought occurred to me. What does a canine ambassador do and why would I be given the opportunity? I asked Bo for his reasons.

“You were selected because of your Italian heritage and because you can express the goodwill nature that this administration wants to promote Italy,” he explained, adding that a canine ambassador would  provide diplomatic communications and relations among the four-pawed population of each country. “I know you’ll do a fine job. Can the President and I count on your support?”

I quickly accepted and explained that I would be bringing an entourage, including Deja, Abby, Gregio, and the rest of the girls. Bo said I would be receiving briefing papers via a courier and that I should be ready to leave soon. We said our goodbyes and I looked through the doorway at Deja. She and the others would become emissaries.

Here we go again! Our adventures are about to go global!

A Crisis of Confidence Resolution

“This one goes out to all my peeps and pups.”

I woke up in the middle of the night. Jeez, what time is it? I was shaking and had woken up Abby in the process. We were at Porterhouse University and found our suite. Sure enough, it was as pleasant as we had hoped. The ivory towers that we had imagined were ordaining the school and to be quite frank, I was a bit intimidated. Would I live up to their expectations? Could I deliver?

“I just woke up thinking about the speech,” I said through pants. My confidence was shaken.  “Will I be able to deliver? What if I’m laughed off stage? I can’t afford that and I’m so intimidated by it all. What if I’m no longer funny?”

“Please, you’re Louie,” Abby said sleepily. “Everybody loves you.”

“Not everybody.”

“Okay, this is what you do,” Abby replied through her yawns. She studied my face for hints of distress. “You need to think of everybody in the audience as without fur. That will get you through it all.”

“I think something else is going on, Louie,” she continued.  “It has to do with Mea.  I saw the two of you talking and quite frankly, you have to do what you want to do.  I’ll stand by you but if you stray, that is when your house will crumble.  Don’t be a stray dog.  It’s really tragic.”

We met up later at Abby’s sorority house.  Her sisters were debating who was cutest and Lexi won!  She had recovered from her humiliating experience in the car and everyone was chanting ‘Lexi’s Sexy! Lexi’s Sexy!’ Quite a triumph! Deja and Zoey tied for second in votes and Mea came in third.  We all howled our approval and the winners bowed in appreciation.

“Hey Mea, can I talk to you for a minute,” I said, pulling her aside from all the commotion. I always had a soft spot for the underdog.  “I wanted to tell you that I really like you but I’m with Abby.  I just want to be friends.  Is that okay with you?”

“Ah Louie, you’re so sweet,” she covered her snout with her paws to hide her laughter.  “I could never break up a sister’s relationship and would never dream of getting in between you.  I just think you’re really cool and wanted to be your friend too.”

The speech was going to be in the afternoon.  As I trotted out on the stage and looked over the student’s faces, my mind and heart were at peace.  What a lucky dog I am!  All the students were hairless chihuahuas and terriers! I began to speak and the confidence continued to build in my voice.

 ”… and in the end, if all else fails just remember that the big dog in the sky is looking out for you.”

 

Meet Frankie, lookin' so cool!

A Love Triangle Forms

“It’s more fun riding in a car than chasing them, huh?”

Everyone in the car chuckled at Gregio’s reflection except for Lexi. Poor Lexi was reading her comic books and became car sick. As if dogs don’t get motion sickness enough, she tried to read while we were driving. We had to pull over because she needed to get some fresh air- if you know what I mean.

“What were you reading anyway?” I asked, glancing at her in the rearview mirror. We had driven over half the distance to Porterhouse University. I was to address the student body and was still putting the speech together in my head.

“Oh, I’m sooooooo embarrassed,” Lexi mumbled. She was an aficionado of sorts when it comes to the comic world. She could go on forever about the minutiae and intricacies of characters and their storylines. “I started this new series about Hawkeye. He’s part of the Avengers and an archer. You know the Avengers? Started by Iron Man and Captain America?”

“You’re such a dork!,” Stella barked. All the girls in the back, including Abby, giggled at the ribbing. Lexi just shrugged and swallowed her pride. She still looked green.

“We don’t know anything about you Louie,” Mea asked meekly. I couldn’t get over her eyes. Anyone can trim their eyebrows but truly sexy eyes, the windows to the soul, are hard to come by. Mea had them. “What’s your story?”

“I don’t really like talking about myself,” I said. Which was true. I’m more of a dog that likes to lead by example than by telling others what to do. I guess it’s a way to limit any charges of hypocrisy. That’s a good line. I have to remember that one. “I’m just a simpleton that believes every dog has his day.”

“Ahh, you’re an optimist,” Mea swooned. She smiled at me and then turned to gaze out the window. “Not too many of those around. Not many at all.”

Abby was watching our conversation and I could see the jealousy building up in her. I’m surprised she didn’t jump on Mea and wrestle her to the ground like female Italian Greyhounds do. They’re usually pretty rough with one another. Zoey and Deja had already wrestled to see who got a window seat. Abby’s sorority sisters knew she and I had something going but that didn’t stop them from trying to pique my interest.

“Since there’s only two boys in the car, we can’t play ‘Spin the Bone,’ Karma said referring to the game where a bone was put in the center and spun and whoever it pointed to had to kiss. “So I say we play ‘Truth or Dare! No lying now. I’ll go first. Louie, truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Do you like Mea?,” Karma quizzed. “C’mon, you said ‘truth.’ You gotta tell us!”

An awkward silence settled in the car. Did I answer? Heck no! My reason is that I wanted to prevent a crash. I patted myself on the back for my diplomacy. No pun intended.

Road Trip!

How many IGs can fit into this?

Dear Mr. Wilson:

It is our great honor and pleasure to extend an invitation for you to speak at Porterhouse University. Our faculty has been impressed with your adventures and would like you to address our student body. All the necessary arrangements will be made to accompany your lodging needs.

We look forward to hearing from you soon so that our students may benefit.

Kind Regards,

William “The Boxer” Cunningham
President

This was the letter that I received upon returning home from the Superstition Mountains. Wow! Porterhouse University. THE prestigious Porterhouse University! Who would have ever thought that they would invite little old me to come and speak? Wait, how in the world am I going to get there?

“Sounds like a road trip, dude,” Gregrio drawled. He had been reading over my shoulder. “We have to get a car!”
“Do you even know how to drive?” Delfina condescendingly asked. Her mood had greatly soured since our last adventure and she demanded to sit out any future ones. She was so frightened that she had shed her hair like a chinchilla. Italian Greyhounds don’t have a lot to lose so any gone is a lot.

“No but I could learn,” I replied. “How hard could it be, really? The real question is, what kind of car should I get?”
“There’s this car out that an IG could drive,” Abby cut in. “I think it’s called a Smart car. It’s good for the environment, the perfect size for a small dog to drive and we’re going to a school. That’s only logical.”
“By the way,” Abby continued, smiling slyly. “I have some sorority sisters that would want to go. Whaddya say, Louie?”
“No problem but they have to chip in for gas,” I said. “The prices are crazy!”

We scheduled the speech with the school and packed up the car. Gregio called shotgun and I was behind the wheel. Abby and her sorority sisters were in the back seat, making jokes and giggling. She introduced them all. There was Stella, who demanded all the attention, Karma, who was a reputable great kisser, and Zoey, the shy one. Then there was Lexi, the bossy one, Deja, who was always cheerful, and Mea, the cute one. When I saw her, I immediately grew red in the face because I was smitten by her eyes. Mea’s hot!

“Ready for some tunes?” Gregio asked no one in particular. He selected a track on his iPod and the familiar song began.
As we roared off, the music began and everyone lifted their snout in the air and sang together:

“You ain’t nothin’ but a hound dog
Cryin’ all the time
You ain’t nothin’ but a hound dog
Cryin’ all the time
Well, you ain’t never caught a rabbit
And you ain’t no friend of mine”

Meet the Beautiful Musetta

Gorgeous Musetta, looking Pretty in Pink

The Great Escape

“How do you like our city, Louie?” King Winston called out, referring to Whelpsville. The Great Dane was with his entourage and walking through the streets, showing acquiescence to his subjects and giving them nods of approval. I was with Abby at a bookstore, going through used books on the patio. When I saw him, I trotted over.

“It’s been interesting,” I responded. “I wanted to ask you a question. You said that you were trading the Lost Dutchman’s gold on the open market, right? Well, how do you get it to the surface? We’re in the middle of the Superstition Mountains.”

“Nothing gets past you, does it?” the Great Dane laughed deeply. “Of course we still have contact with the outside world; it’s that we just choose to live in the one of our own making. In the past, we had used a train to transport the gold to the surface. It runs on the old miner’s rail lines.”

King Winston continued to walk down the street with his court. His response got me thinking. I needed to see the sky and be around humans again. Utopia for me was not defined by being separated from the world I know. Canines need humans and vice versa.

After a quick rendezvous with Gregio and Delfina, we went to the city’s outskirts to the rail tracks. We walked down them until we came to an old mine cart. Abby remembered seeing Indiana Jones ride one once so we all climbed in. I lifted the break and the cart’s wheels creaked as it moved forward. The wind whipped at our faces and it was like sticking our heads out the car window.

It was a rollercoaster of a ride! We zipped back and forth and roared through one cave into the next. Delfina looked back and screamed. It was King Winston and his gang were chasing and getting closer to us. Wow, were they fast!

“Close the gate, close the gate,” he yelled. The wall of the cave began to move and close off the light that meant freedom. Steadying our resolve, I had us all lean forward to increase the speed of the cart. We pulled away from the Great Dane pack and the cart popped out of the mountain before the cave sealed. With everyone panting, the cart slowed to a start and Abby looked over at me.

“Let’s keep our future adventures above ground, deal?”

The Lost Canine City

Who could have guessed that there was a city underneath the Superstition Mountains- populated solely by dogs?

We walked out of the cave onto a landing that overlooked a bustling and bright metropolis.  There were Shih Tzus, Doberman Pinchers, Saint Bernards, Dachshunds and other breeds living peacefully together. They were acting out their daily lives as if this was all just… normal. It wasn’t long before some of them stopped and began staring up at us.  What was going on here?

“Welcome visitors!” a voice boomed behind us.  Startled, we turned around to a group of towering Great Danes. “Welcome to Whelpsville! I am King Winston and am delighted to meet you! A feast will held at the Great Hall in your honor.”

“I’m Louie and we were on a treasure hunt looking for the Lost Dutchman’s gold,” I began hesitantly. “This is all a bit overwhelming. We just fell down this huge hole and haven’t the faintest clue of where we are.”

“Well Louie, the gold has already been found,” King Winston chuckled reassuringly while flashing a gold tooth. “That’s how we are able to live down here in peace, without humans. In fact, happy times are here again.  Have you seen what gold has been trading for lately?”

“He has a gold tooth so you know he’s hardcore,” Gregio whispered.

King Winston and his entourage left the landing and walked into the city.  We quickly followed and he called me over to talk.  He told me about how the city was founded after discovering the gold over a century ago.  Dogs had lived peacefully and without human interference since then.  All of a sudden, we passed an enormous statue of Cesar Milan in the town square.

“Why do you have a statue of the Dog Whisperer here?,” I inquired as we continued to walk.

“He’s our hero down here,” King Winston chuckled again. “Isn’t it great how he trains humans?”

The Great Hall was before us and Basset Hound guards flung the doors open. A Poodle band blared their trumpets for the King’s arrival and the Hall was crowded with onlookers.  A banquet table was spread with food as far as the eye could see.  Famished, my friends and I rushed over and sat down. Our mouths were watering and we looked eagerly at the awaiting food.

“We welcome you to Whelpsville with open arms!,” King Winston said from the front of the table. “You may begin!”

Journey to the Center of the Mountain

So this is what a treasure hunt is like.

Although the caves below the Superstition Mountains were spooky, we kept our spirits up by doing what dogs do in these situations.  We sang songs, told jokes and barked out stories to pass the time.  Abby and Gregio were amusing in their own ways but poor Delfina, as serious as she was about everything, seemed to be born without a funny bone.

“Did you know the Hopi Indian legend says the human race emerged into this world from another,” Delfina asked aloud to no one in particular. “They believed the other world was underground, like this.”

“Groovy,” Gregio replied. “Maybe dog’s came through the same way? We could meet our ancestors!”

We continued to hike along and follow the “Lost Dutchman’s” map.  To prepare us for the journey, we had packed a knapsack full of necessities and food. The map had us making different twists and turns throughout the caves. We even came across some parts of the cave that had collapsed so we had to shimmy our bodies and dig ourselves through. At night, we would sleep next to each other like Italian Greyhounds do, conserving our body heat.

One night while we were sleeping, my ears twitched as they heard footsteps approaching.  I looked around and saw dozens of red eyes staring at us and moving closer. Startled, I shook myself awake and in doing so, woke the others.  At this time, we were all wide awake and frozen with fear. “What are we going to do,” Abby quietly whispered.

“Run!,” I yelled. Everyone jumped up and ran further down into the heart of the mountain.  I think we were all going easily over 40 miles an hour.  As we raced around the corners, we could hear hundreds of legs and feet scurrying behind us.  Everyone’s heart was pounding a million times a second. Forget the map, we’re out of here!

All of a sudden, the floor went out beneath our feet and we all began to free fall. Everyone screamed as we plunged into a dark hole. I remembered that everyone’s back pack had a parachute.  Over their screams, I told them to pull the chord with their teeth.

With a whoosh, our parachutes deployed and our descent slowed. In what seemed like an enternity of floating, we finally landed.  We stumbled a bit to regain our footing and then all turned to look at a glowing white light.

“Whoa, we’re not in Kansas anymore,” Gregio said under his dog breath.

When Adventure Finds You

The Superstition Mountains

“Hey, what’s this over here,” I barked as I flipped through Gregio’s art collection and pulled a painting out. As a former Greenwich Village bohemian, he wandered the antique stores, bazaars and vintage shops that dotted the neighborhood and collected trinkets and knick knacks. “Did you know that it’s peeling?”

“I dunno, I might have picked it up in Soho,” Gregio said through teeth that were tightly clenched around a paintbrush. Like an Italian Greyhound, he was standing on his hind legs at an easel, speckled with paint and completing the final touches on his latest canvas. “The frame’s killer and you can’t find those ’round anymore. Pull it apart. For five bucks, it was a steal.”

“I think Arizona’s dry heat is having its effect on it,” I replied. I peered closer and noticed a lightly veiled paper stuffed behind the painting. I turned it around and carefully began to separate the picture from the frame. With a crackle, a worn piece of paper floated to the ground.

Out of curiosity, Abby and Delfina wandered over to see what the fuss was about. Gregio helicopter flapped his ears and came over too. Lightly sketched on the back was a name and date: Waltz, Jacob c. 1891. Using our paws, we carefully turned it over to find a scribbled trail through a mountain range.

“Cool!” we exclaimed in unison.
“Omigosh!,” Delfina gasped. “Jacob Waltz was remembered as the “Lost Dutchman,” whose gold mine was never found in the Superstition Mountains.  This might be the map to his lost treasure!”
“We’re going on a hunt!,” Abby said eagerly. “I’ll get my things!”

“Wait a minute,” Delfina warned. “It’s really dangerous up there. Hundreds, maybe thousands of people have searched but found zilch. Granted, they’re just humans but its a honeycomb of underground caves and tunnels. It’s too risky!”
Abby disappeared and we could hear rummaging noises from the other room. She returned with a mining hat and light affixed to her head.
“It can’t be any scarier than the vacuum cleaner,” she giggled. “Let’s go spelunking!”

And the Winner Is…

Disingenuous. Outrageous. Gigolo.

These were the headlines splashed on every newspaper and barked across the talk radio airwaves. The whiff of scandal was in the air and every journalist had picked up on the scent. The pup-a-razzi was snapping my picture everywhere I went. I never dreamt that running for dog catcher would cause such a frenzy of activity. It was time to address the issues in a press conference to clear the air. It was time to do damage control, and with the election was just days away, there was no time to waste.

“I would like to start by saying that the allegations against me are unfounded and false,” I told an assembled press conference. A hacker had gained access to my Blackberry and leaked all the contents to the Internet- phone numbers, emails, pictures, and texts. “The voters will judge this as best an invasion of privacy and at worst, an attempt to score political points.”
“If this is what anyone can expect to have happen if they run for political office,” my address continued. “Is it any wonder why good dogs won’t run?”

“Hi Louie, Mia with the Canine Tribune,” the Yorkshire Terrier gossip columnist interrupted. “Is it true that you really have 62 girlfriends?”
“Mama mia!,” I exclaimed to laughter. “If I had that many girlfriends, I wouldn’t have time to run for office. I want to reassure the voters that while I am single, I still am a one dog, dog.” With that, I winked at Abby who began to blush.
“In fact, I would like to call on the current dog catcher and my opponent, Bill Gruber, to denounce these tactics,” I sidestepped from the question. “It would be a way of showing the voters that we reject this conduct and support a clean political environment and election process. Next question!”

Some members of the assembled conference began to bark their approval. Of course, my campaign had suspicions that the hack had been coordinated by the Gruber camp but we didn’t have any proof. Instead of automatically accusing him of the attack, I chose to appeal to the voter’s sentiments.
“Louie, what would you say to the dog who managed to gain access to your phone?,” Benny, the black Labrador Retriever from D.O.G.G. radio, asked. “Aren’t you the least bit angry that everything has been made public?”
“I want to appeal to a dog’s better angels rather than comment,” I replied. “If I am elected dog catcher, the voters will know that we are turning a page in history and that these types of activities will be a thing of the past and not the future.”
—–
“I can’t believe this is happening,” Gruber screamed at Genghis, his bulldog henchman. “The voters are actually siding with Louie. This can’t be happening!”
“Boss, we never saw this coming,” the bulldog replied. “We thought we had ironclad proof that the information inside his phone would destroy his campaign. My contact, which is very close to him, ensured that all we had to do was get access and then….”
“I don’t care about that,” Gruber ranted. “I’m going to lose this election and it will be the end of me. The end of all of us. Can you imagine what the world would look like if all dogs, everywhere, were happy and free? It just doesn’t happen! No, no, no! Dogs need to be rounded up and caroled. They have to be controlled!”
Genghis didn’t answer and remained silent.
—–
Like a good toy, the election was a squeaker. Gruber was an entrenched incumbent but had never run against an actual dog before. The press conference had the desired effect on the voters and the polls trended in our favor, peaking on Election Day. It came down to a last few precincts before the race was called. After a review of the results, I was named the new dog catcher. Unbelievable! History was made! Italian greyhounds beamed with breed pride that one of their own was elected and dogs everywhere, big and small, were overjoyed.

After all the excitement of election night, the acceptance speech and backslapping, I was exhausted and returned home. I still had confetti in my fur.
“So why didn’t you go after Gruber?” Abby asked. She was snuggled up on the couch and watching the election commentary on the nightly TV news.
“I dunno, I guess there’s just a time….,” I trailed off, thinking of the appropriate answer. “There’s just times that we have to listen to the little dog that’s inside all of us.”

A Brewing Scandal Is Stirred

Life on the campaign trail had been filled with kissing puppies and non-stop speeches for days on end. The “Take Back the Doghouse!” rallying cry had begun to resonate with all ages and breeds. Wagging tails welcomed me wherever I went.
“Every dog deserves to be a happy dog and in a happy home,” I would begin my speech to be elected dog catcher. “No flea will go unscratched and I promise a bone in every bowl! We’re going to make history and mark our territory!” This was always greeted with thunderous barking and howls of approval from the canine-filled audience. The momentum was euphoric and intoxicating.
“Who is going to be your First Lady,” a Poodle supporter swooned as I gave out my paw autograph. “Don’t you think you should have a partner with you in office?”
“That’s a good idea,” I mused as I gave my final signature. “I may have just the right one in mind.”
—–
Meanwhile, the opposition across town were mulling their options. Old Bill Gruber, the current dog catcher, was a well-known cruel man that was the first to give up the net for the noose to catch dogs. He had employed Genghis, a cigar-chomping bulldog, to serve as his lackey and henchman.
“We gotta stop this Louie guy,” Gruber growled. “I can’t lose to a dog! What do you got?”
“Relax,” Genghis said between puffs of smoke. “This Italian Greyhound Louie, he’s no problem. I’ve seen his kind come and go. He may have the charisma but he’s an idealist. They’re always the easiest to deal with and besides, I’ve got my people, err dogs that have the inside skinny.”
“I don’t know what you’re going to do and don’t want to know,” Gruber said, brooding with unease. “Just get it done.”

—–
Using my Blackberry, I texted Abby to meet me at the Pooch Pub. A popular K-9 dance club, I got there early and found a table. I caught something out of the corner of my eye. Was that Mia, the Yorkshire Terrier gossip columnist for the Canine Tribune? Maybe not. Abby strolled in, looking radiant and glowing after her stay at the dog spa.
“You’re going to be the next dog catcher!,” she beamed. “Oh Louie, you have given hope to those who had given up.”
“I couldn’t have done it without you guys but it’s not over yet,” I winked at her. “There’s not much time left and we can’t let Gruber win again.”
Suddenly, I was blinded by multiple flashing bulbs. I raised my paw to cover my eyes from the blinding light. What was happening? What were they after?
I furrowed my brow. Had I been had?

Dog Catcher or Bust

There are moments in a dog’s life that galvanizes him into action. I had come to a crossroads. It was time to be serious. It was time to announce my candidacy for dog catcher.
“That’s dumb,” Delfina said while looking up from her book. She was tucked into an overstuffed pillow. “You can’t possibly think you could get elected.”
“Why?,” I fired back. “Is it because I walk on four feet and lack opposable thumbs? The world needs a knee high perspective and I’m going to give it to them. With the right campaign, voting for me will be Pavlovian.”
Abby was nearby, exercising on the treadmill. Gregio was sitting on the floor and using his claws to paint the fine details into his latest canvas. Our group was learning to do more things as a pack.

Inspiration from Marmaduke

“It sounds as if you have the ‘fire in the belly,’” Gregio said without stopping.
“Is it because I ate that spicy meatball for lunch?,” I asked.
“Maybe,” he replied. “It’s a common expression used to explain a politician’s passion.”
“Hmmm,” I said aloud. “That’s a lot of meatballs.”
“That’s so cool, Louie,” Abby chirped. “I’ll support you. Why are you doing it?”
“I’m versatile,” I answered. “I want to fight and shake up the system. This is a dog’s world.”
I began to explain the different ideas, themes and messages I wanted to employ during the campaign. After listening to my ideas and a healthy bout of skepticism, it appeared that everyone was on board and would even volunteer to get the ball rolling.
Dog Rights Now! Louie for Dog Catcher!!

Possible new pet? I would name him Jimmy Changa

Fillet, R.I.P.

The room was silent, filled with a somber air. Everyone wore long faces. Which I guess, on second thought, is easy for an Italian Greyhound.
Lying on the makeshift alter was the inanimate goldfish that once was Fillet. Abby held my paw for comfort. I sobbed softly and blew my nose into a hanky.
“Would anyone like to say any words,” Delfina asked while looking at me. Everyone shifted and shot me uncomfortable glances.
“Yes,” I mumbled, searching for the strength to find the words. “I have some remarks for the occasion.”
I slowly struggled to my feet and shook the weight of the world off. I approached the lecturn, uncrumpled my notes and cleared my voice.
“Prepare yourself you know it’s a must,” I began. “Gotta have a friend in Jesus; So you know that when you die, He’s gonna recommend you, To the spirit in the sky.”
I paused and looked over to see Fillet lying there, so peaceful.
“Gonna recommend you, To the spirit in the sky,” I continued. “That’s where you’re gonna go when you die; When you die and they lay you to rest; You’re gonna go to the place that’s the best.”
I returned to my seat and Delfina smiled uneasily at me.
“Was that Norman Greenbaum?” she asked sardonically.
“Yes.”
“That was lovely,” Abby said while patting the back of my paw. “Just lovely.”
We walked over to where Fillet laid and carefully picked up each corner of the tissue he was on. We solemnly marched to the bathroom and let him slide gently into the lavatory. Gregio reached up and hit the lever. With a swoosh of water, our heads circled in unison as we watched Fillet make his final exit.
“That was kinda cool,” I said, wiping my tears. “Can I get another?”

Fillet, we hardly knew ye

Louie Gets A Pet

I can’t believe it. I can’t believe I actually have my own pet now.
As part of my birthday, my owners thought it was time I learned responsibility by taking care of a pet. I already have to pick up my toys and make my own bed. Do I really have to feed and ugh, clean up after someone else too?
“Whatcha got there?,” Abby asked excitedly. She pranced into the room and looked eagerly at the orange floating creature in the jar. Gregrio and Delfina sauntered in after her.
“Abby my dear, meet Fillet,” I said. “He’s my goldfish.”
“That is so cool!,” Abby exclaimed. “How do you talk to him?”
“It’s pretty easy,” I replied casually. “I put my head in the water and blow bubbles. I can even open my eyes up under water!”

Fillet, can you hear me? What do you want to eat?!?

“Did you read him ‘Everybody Poops’ like we had to growing up?” Abby asked.
“Like that helped us!” I laughed. “Gawd, I have to scoop his poop. At least I don’t have to carry a bag everywhere he goes.”
“Dude, you’re like earning your bona fides,” Gregio said in a voice thick with funk. “Bone-a-fides.”
“Yeah, bona fides,” I replied. “That’s definitely a dog-related term.”
“He’s skinny, like us,” Delfina piped in. “What does he eat?”
“I’m still working on that,” I said. “I’m just glad I don’t have to give him a bath.”
“Well, Sponge Bob has his pet snail Gary,” Abby said, referencing Mr. Squarepants. “It’s only fair that you have a pet as well.”
“As goes Sponge Bob, so goes the world,” I sighed. “C’mon, let’s go outside and play. Fillet! You stay here and do… um, do whatever fish do.”
We all ran outside, tripping over one another in glee. I looked over my shoulder and swore I could see Fillet waving a fin goodbye.

ADDENDUM
Here are some cool dogs I met on my birthday:

Brody, can I count your spots?

Is it true you save people in the mountains?

This one escapted from his bun!

You Say It’s Your Birthday

Canolis, pupcakes, and snickerpoodles surrounded me. All my friends were there, looking at me, ready to play at my command. Billowy clouds dotted the sky and Sinatra’s voice wafted through the air. I was in a blissful state.
“Hey wake up,” a voice shot out of nowhere. “You’re going to miss your big day.”
Lemme sleep. I was about to bite into a canoli.
“C’mon sleepy head, let’s get moving,” the voice said again. It was Abby and she was nudging me with her snout. I peaked through my eyelids and saw she was looking for a sign that I heard her.
“I just want to sleep,” I said while wiping the drool off my chin. “Can’t I catch some zzzzz’s for a change?”
“But it’s your big day,” Abby beamed. “You’re all grown up! It’s your birthday, it’s your birthday, it’s your birthday!”

I groaned while yawning and stretched my legs. Is it true, am I really two? Does that like, make me a teenager? I think it does. I yawned, licked my chops and looked over and saw Gregio in the corner, listening to his iPod. When he saw me, he did that thing with his ears, making them dart in all different directions, like an antennae. All IGs reading this know what I’m talking about. It made me laugh.
“For your birthday, we were going to go to the cafe, for a latte, okay?,” Abby giggled. “That’s for starters.”
“Yeah, dude, like we’ve really got to jam out today,” Gregio said in that cool, casual way that he does. “It’s a big deal-e-o, for sure.”
I was still sleepy but struggled to my feet.
“I feel different,” I said. “Yeah, before I would go ga-ga over a new toy. If it was a fluffy one, I could shred it in seconds with my Ginsu teeth.”
“But now,” I continued. “It’s as if being with friends, my owners or a nice cozy lap would suffice. It’s as if I’m not as materialistic as before.”
Abby was giving herself a bath and Gregio was lost in his music, listening to the beats and rhythms.
“Did you say something?,” Abby asked, pausing as she shifted her weight to get a better cleaning angle.
“Yeah,” I replied. “I wonder if I’m old enough to grow a mustache now!”

Beating the Napoleon Complex

“I’m turning Japanese. I think I’m turning Japanese. I really think so!” I sang as I trotted into the studio. The cast was regrouping to shoot the pilot episode.
“Why are you in such a good mood?” Gregio asked. He was slouched on the casting couch and munching on biscotti. Everyone was in the room, relaxing.
“Have you guys ever heard about the Napoleon Complex before?” I asked. “I wanted to learn more about it so I rented Napoleon Dynamite.”

“The concept actually refers to the French military leader…,” Delfina eruditely interrupted.
“… and I think I’ve cracked the Napoleon Complex!,” I continued excitedly. “It’s simple, really!”
By this time, everyone’s attention was focused on me. Abby was scratching her ear with her back leg and Gregio was actually wagging his tail in anticipation. Typical Delfina sulked at the table and looked on disapprovingly.
“What is it, Louie?,” Abby asked between scratches. “What is it?”
“Well,” I replied, intentionally dragging out the suspense. “This whole time I thought it was related to being small and trying to overcompensate. You know how when you’re out and small dogs are trying to be all macho and stuff?”
“Yeah, we get that,” Gregio said. “How do you beat the complex?”
“By talking like Napoleon Dynamite!,” I said while beaming confidence. “Gosh!”
“That is so cool!” Abby cooed. “Ask me something, Gregio!”
“What are you going to talk about on the show today?”
“Whatever I feel like I wanna say!” Abby said while laughing. “How was school?”
“The worst day of my life, what do you think,” Gregio said. “Do the chickens have large talons?”
We continued to laugh and practice different lines. Even Delfina tossed off her defenses and joined in the fun. I daringly asked her if I could win a dog catcher election and what I should say during the campaign.
“Just tell them that their wildest dreams will come true if they vote for you.”

The To Do List

It’s not as if I want to jump out of a plane or run with the bulls. But I do need to have certain milestones in my life, like goals and stuff. Can I learn Texas Hold ‘Em? Sure, if these dogs could play cards, why not me?

If they can do it, why can't I?

So I decided to put together a list of things I wanted to do. Everyone should have a To Do List!

10. Learn how to drive
9. Become a hot dog vendor
8. Sing at the Grand Ole Opry
7. Sell a product line on QVC
6. Make an appearance on Oprah Winfrey’s show
5. Watch the entire Broadway show “Cats”
4. Learn how to make a quiche
3. Wrestle an alligator
2. Learn to juggle
1. Get elected dog catcher. Fight the system from the inside!

IGs Undercover: The Genesis

“… and this is Abby who graduated from the prestigious Porterhouse University and is a gymnist,” the reality tv producer said. The four that made the cut were assembled in the casting room. In addition to Abby, there was Delfina, the IG historian and Gregio, the avant-garde artist from Greenwich Village.
“Last but not least, there’s Louie,” the producer concluded. “He’s a writer.”
“What do you do other than write a blog?” Delfina condescendingly smirked towards me.
“I provide the comic relief,” I replied casually. “I’m from Arizona. It gets so hot there, the trees look for dogs!”

Everyone giggled. This was going to be exciting. Finally we’d have a chance to tell our story.
“Once again, welcome everyone to IGs Undercover,” the director said as he stood up. “You all have the eclectic backgrounds we’re looking for. You bring that certain quality we want in the show.”
He went on to explain that we would act as detectives, hence the undercover aspect. Our lives would go on but we would discuss the IG perspective of being with humans.
“Groovy man, but is this like going to cut into my creative juices,” Gregio grumbled. “I gotta paint and do my thing, ya dig?”
“He brings up a good point,” Delfina responded. “I do have to attend to my research and cannot have my time infringed upon.”
“I’m so glad you brought this up,” the director hurriedly replied. “We would never dream of interfering in your daily lives. It would ruin the whole show if we did. No, no, no, we need you to act as if we’re not even there. Take Abby, for instance. Her owners are expecting a baby so her take is going to be on how she is protective of the baby, even though it’s unborn.”
“… very nice, very nice…,” could be heard around the room.
“So, you all know the storyline and angle,” the director said. “It’s now time to return home for a week with a camera crew. We’ll see you back next week, okay?”

The Tao of Lou(ie)

It was a big day, to be sure. I was going to see my mentor, my sage. I ran to the mirror and stared at the image. That is one handsome man, I mean dog. Sometimes I forget I walk on four feet.

When I got to his house, Russo answered the door. Vaguely acknowledging my presence, he turned and solemnly walked back to lay down. I scurried after him, remembering how I used to run under him like a giraffe. He was a regular greyhound and had imparted a great many words of wisdom to guide me as a pup. I sat at the foot of the bed. I needed his help again.

Talk to me, Louie

“Louie,” Russo began as he laid down, “You come to me as a fully grown dog. What could I tell you that you don’t already know?”
“You are wise, my teacher, but the problems I have now are more complex,” I explained. “I need your help.”
I began telling him about my life, the attention my blog had been attracting and the new reality tv venture.
“Not complex, just different,” Russo altruistically replied. “You have embarked on a journey, no? Along this journey, you must discover the meaning of being Louie.”

“Life used to be so easy,” I complained. “I could snuggle, hand out kisses and hugs without abandon and now what?”
He stared down at me over his long snout and continued.
“No one can tell you what,” he said. “Only to be.”
“Thank you, master,” I said, bowing my head slightly. This is one righteous dude. One day I hope to be as cool as him.

“Did you hear about the escape of the IG from the pet store?” I asked light-heartedly. “Yeah, it turns out he was psychic.”
“And….,” Russo replied.
“They put out a bulletin that said, ‘Small Medium at Large.’ Get it?” I said through the side of my mouth, masking my laughter.
Russo’s grimaced for a moment and then returned to his serene state.
“Let us hope that when we meet again, your jokes will be better,” Russo said and gestured to the door. “Now go and continue the journey of Lou….”
“… eee,” I responded.
Russo smiled at my quick reaction, a smile that the wise give when observing the wily ways of the young. I glanced back at him as I was walking out. My dear friend Russo, what would I do without you?

IG Reality TV

“Louie? Are you Louie “Zamboni” Wilson?”
I had just stepped out of the house. Jeez, can’t I just go anywhere without attracting attention? I turned and watched as two men approached me. They were sharply dressed and smiling with hands extended to shake my paw. Their teeth were so bright, I could almost see myself in them. Nice choppers.

Could I really be a star?

“Yes?,” I said wearily. I can be a little stand offish when it comes to meeting strangers.
“We’re televison producers from a major studio. You write Louie’s Dog Blog, right?” Smiles were still frozen on their faces. “We love it! The viral marketing! The pizazz! The zing!”
“So….,” I began to say.
“So, we think it’s exactly what America needs. Your message can resonate and lift the country’s mood. You’re ready for the big time! How would you like to be in a reality tv show?”

Wow, they really do give these out to everyone.
“Like Iggy Idol? Could we call it Iggy Pop?,” I volunteered with a sly grin.
The two men smiled at each other and then back at me.
“IG’s Got Talent? Dancing with an Iggy?” I grew impatient for their answer.
“We were thinking of watching IG’s lives as they intersect with each other but also the affect on their owners. An IG’s intelligence, agility, etc. all comes into play. Do you know any others that may be interested?,” one of them asked.

“Have you seen IG Whispers yet? They’re the perfect candidates since their pictures ooze love. I thought I was cute until I saw them,” I let out a low whistle.
“Bingo!” they said in unison.
“You round up a posse and we’ll do the rest. Our people will talk to your people and so on. Big things are going to happen! We can see it!!” With that, they turned and hurried back down the way they came.
“Wait!” I called after them. “What’s it going to be called?”
“You’re the creative one! You think of it!!” they shouted back.

Hmmm, what should it be called?

Maybe my friends Flash, Emma and Ellie would join?

Louie, Esquire- I Believe in You!

Play with ME! Let’s wrestle. Fetch? Walk ME! C’mon, c’mon, C’MON! My insistence had gone unnoticed and fallen on deaf ears. It was morning and I wanted to play. Everyone was rushing to get ready for work. Work, schmurk.

My owners were rushing around, gave me a quick pat and kiss before hustling out the door. For a minute I stared at it, then turned and resigned to my favorite sleeping corner on the couch. The blanket was still in a cave formation from the day before. The tv was still on and my favorite commercial, the Visa one with Mambo Italiano came on. It made me smile.

The next had an attorney solemnly stating he would represent you for some infraction. Bob Laub Law or something. That’s fun to say. Bob Laub Law, Bob blah blah. Hee, hee. Wait a minute! Why don’t Italian Greyhounds have representation? Maybe I should become a lawyer and represent my brethen and their trampled rights. I started to daydream:

Denied a snack? Call Louie! Need to go outside? Call Louie! Only have 50 toys? That’s just a beginning! Hi, my name is Louie and I’m here because for too long, our howls have gone unheard, our needs unmet and our pranks unnoticed. To this I say harumph! Don’t want to take a bath? Give me a call. Brush your teeth? No way. Unfettered attention? You deserve it!

You plus Lou equals solutions to your legal problems!

The sun was shining through the window and began to warm the blanket. My eyelids grew heavy and as they shut, I let out a deep sigh. Now I just have to decide if I’ll work pro bono or for beefy snacks.

Hound Hijinks

Meet Whirley, the bloodhound. By far, he was one of the coolest guys around. His face was all wrinkled and when we first met he stared with his droopy eyes and sighed, “Kid, you’re going to have to take it easy.”

Chase me Whirley!

I like to hang out with bigger dogs since it helps with my self esteem. I just don’t have a lot of patience for hyper dogs. They’re all frenzied and spazoid. Like the other day, this Jack Russell Terrier was running around in circles….

… but I digress.

I started talking to Whirley and he told me he was known for his sense of smell. I was like, dude, with ears like that, you could say anything and I would believe it. Those are so cool!!

I started thinking. Hmmm. If you’re a scent hound and I’m a sight hound, we could have some serious fun together. We could have some great adventures together as a duo. He could be Butch Cassidy with me as the Sundance Kid.

I ran the idea by him and he liked it immediately. He said we could keep a diary of our adventures, sort of like Jack Kerouac and On the Road. It could be called Paw Fiction or See No Evil, Smell No Evil. Or maybe even Hound Hijinks! Whirley winked at me and said it was a title that would work itself out. Until then, we would bide our time.

To be continued…..

What a Babe!

I had a chance encounter with this babe named Lacey the other day. She was three, making her older than me. I think she was a cougar, on the prowl for younger dogs but I’m glad she found me. She was also pure-bred so we clicked right away.

What's a happenin', hot stuff!

“Whoa baby, you’re looking mighty fine today!,” I whistled as I trotted over to this unknown female. “Lift a leg in these parts much?”
“That’s cheezy. That line worked when I was one or two but not now. Get with the times,” she said.
“But that works on all the fine females, or at least it used to,” I said, a bit unsettled. My ego was wounded but I was intrigued at the same time.

“You’re in the big leagues now. Those lines don’t fly anymore. Where do you think we are, a kennel?” Lacey said. “If you want to impress a lady, you need to do it in a more appropriate way. Compliment her or bring her a present, like a soup bone.”
I pondered this for a minute. She was one sophisticated mama. Maybe I could learn a thing or two from her.

“I like the way you smell?” I said.
“That’s good. That’s a start. How about introducing yourself. My name is Lacey. And you are…?” she said.
“Oh Louie. Everyone around here knows me. My name is Louie and I like to P-A-R-T-Y like it’s 2007.”
“Why 2007?”
“‘Cause that’s when I was born,” I replied.

“You’re such a dork but you got potential, kid. Wanna dig a hole together?” Lacey said, lifting her tail in anticipation.
“Are you asking me out on a date?”
“Louie, it’s 2009. The modern era when we girls ask out the guys equally. Ya wanna go or not?”
I thought about it for a minute. Man, do I love these times. Lacey had turned and walked over to an open spot. She looked over at me. I looked at my owner, back at Lacey and let my tongue drop out of my mouth. I ran over and began to dig on the other side of her. I think I’m in love!!!

Economic Stimulus for the Rest of Us

Now that China finances your home mortgage, the financial rescue nearly exceeds last year’s GDP, and Treasury prints trillions of bailout dollars, I’ve carefully considered an alternative, albeit radical solution. An economic stimulus for the rest of us: abandoning the US dollar for the Louie dollar.

Minted with premium milkbone backing

Let’s face it: the greenback has had a good run. The US Treasury has printed so much money now that an inflationary bubble is going to burst and make us a banana republic.  There have been calls to issue a new global currency.  Even communities around the country are beginning to issue their own currency so it’s time I get in on the act.

Since the US dollar is not backed by the gold standard, I’ve decided to back mine with milkbones- both chicken and beef.  Just bring your dollars to me and I will exchange them at a 20:1 rate.  This is the only way we can bring common sense back to a US-based currency.

It’s time for the pendulum to swing back towards the good guys. Hey, would you want to use the euro instead?

Dream a Little Dream

I often think life would be easier if everyone took dog naps. Step away from the hustle and bustle of daily life, put life in perspective, etc. I do that through a careful regimen of sleep and play. That’s my role in life, right? I’m going to live up to its standard!

Frolicking thru a field of beef jerky

I haven’t posted a picture of me on my blog for a while so I thought it was time. Someone thought it would be cute to get a picture of me sleeping. Do I suffer from R.E.M.?

To be sure, life is simpler for me than say humans. But I serve the purpose of reminding them that life is not as complex as it’s made to seem. I think all pets do that. We bring a peace of mind to our owners.

Welcome Bo!

I don’t think I’m the only one in the pack who has been anxiously awaiting the announcement of the First Dog. As everyone knows by now, the dog that has joined the First Family is Bo, a Portuguese water dog. What the heck is that?

Welcome Bo! Cool house!!

According to the AKC, the breed is known to have a waterproof coat and can swim all day long. Cool! It’s known as an exceptional diver and accompanied fishermen on their boats. His coat is hypoallergenic (a plus for little Malia’s allergies) and is known to be intelligent and eager to learn obedience.

I heard the story first broke on the Internet, proving that nothing too small or big can’t be brought into the open. Either way, any dog would be jealous from having the most powerful man in the world as his master. To this, I say to Bo: “I salute you!”

Mr. President, where are you going?

Louie 1: Smugness 0

Want to hear something funny? Here’s the scenario: This woman at the park walks over to me and blurts out, “Oh… my… gawd! That is the strangest looking dog I’ve ever seen! He’s so… skinny and weird!” My owner was nearby and quipped that I was skinny because I served as his inspiration.

I’m so used to being doted over that I usually let this kind of thing roll off my fur. But sometimes I let my ego get the best of me. I’m always showered with glowing attention and gratuitous remarks that if something strikes me as a slight, I get, well, downright ornery. Is that a sign of immaturity?

I had to use the bathroom and didn’t see a nice tree (or cacti) nearby so I decided to squat. Isn’t this what dogs do? I ended up hitting my chest and underside but didn’t care. The woman was still glaring at me and snorted, “He better not jump on me because he just peed all over himself.” She turned around with her nose in the air and curtly called for her dog to follow. How smug!

Sensing that the time was right, I ran and jumped all over her pant leg. With a horrified look and contorting face, she quickly stormed away. What’s the big deal? I was just trying to be friendly. As I ran over to play with my friends, my owner told me later that I was grinning while running across the yard. Call me weird, huh? Now that’s what I call marking my territory!

Prayers for the Motherland

I’m sure you’ve heard about the earthquake in Italy? The one that hit the town of L’Aquila? As an Italian, my heart is heavy and I am saddened by the tragedy that has befallen my motherland.

As everyone knows, Italian Greyhounds were bred to catch mice and other vermin. We were designed to crawl into small spaces. I wish it were possible to go and sniff out any people that are still alive and trapped in the rubble. If we could just save one life, it would be worth it. Perhaps I should petition Italian Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi about forming an IG Rescue Army. I like him. He’s cool.

Mother Nature rears her head

Until then, I would urge any IGs reading this to make donations to the National Italian American Foundation or Red Cross to help out the victims of this earthquake. Thanks!

My Marley & Me Message

I finally got to watch Marley & Me this weekend. I surrounded myself with my favorite concession snacks — a rawhide chew, beef jerky and some favorite toys. It reminded me of the symbiotic relationship between dog and man and how we are man’s best friend.

While watching the movie, I was more sympathetic to Marley than to the humans. I could understand why he did the things he did. Where was the structure in his life? Why weren’t his owners repetitive and consistent with him? We dogs need a pack leader!

Why did his owners consistently call Marley “the worst dog ever?” Isn’t that some form of projection? While dogs can’t pick our owners, we sure can make life interesting for them if we don’t get the discipline we need. You can’t add a dog to your family and think we’ll be just another item like a piece of furniture. While not human, we’re a part of your family now and if you don’t pay attention, we’ll make sure you don’t HAVE furniture. Right, Marley?

Delicious!

A Machiavellian Tail

Others ask me how I learned to dominate the lives of my owners so quickly and with masterful skill. From Nicolli Machiavelli, of course. He’s only one of the most renowned Italians to influence Western civilization and political thought.

I draw a lot of inspiration from his writings and translate them into daily life. For instance, he states: “He who wishes to be obeyed must know how to command.” Have you ever seen an Italian Greyhound, or any dog for that matter, put his paw on the person they are trying to persuade? That is a commanding act!

A true inspiration

Or, “A prince never lacks legitimate reasons to break his promise.” You want me to be good around company? Let me reach inside my bag of excuses and see what I have today. Finally, he writes “Where the willingness is great, the difficulties cannot be great.” I’ve never been a fan of sleeping in my own cozy bed. A protest here and a whining there and my persistance will be rewarded! I will always sleep in the master bedroom and never be alone again!!

An Unsettled Temperament

I can’t believe I had denigrated to being a bully. What happened? Was it the anxious energy I could detect, like Cesar Millan reminds? The car ride to the play date at the Kiwanis Park in Tempe? Overprotection of my owner or insecurity towards the numerous other IGs at the park? All of the above?

To the horror and anguish of my owners, not only did I snap and nip at children but I actually jumped and pushed a little boy over. Other IGs came over to play but I growled and showed my teeth to ward them off. Something inside me snapped and I was no longer an angel but a vengeful savage- a devil dog.

Why couldn't I remember Grimley?

My friend Grimley was there. He wanted to play but I wouldn’t give him the time of day. Not only did he playfully tag my shoulder with his paw but also gave the international sign for play when he whined and bowed in front of me. Like a prima donna, I snobbishly turned my back.

To be sure, when I snapped at the children’s hands, my snout was grabbed and I was sternly disciplined. My inner demon dog had been released. I had become something most unsettling. It’s back to the drawing board and Dog Whisperer to better understand dog pyschology.

Look at all the different Italian Greyhounds!

A Mastiff Meeting

I limped into the veterinarian’s hospital today. The receptionist asked, “Louie, what’s wrong with you?” and I replied, “Someone shot my pa.”

Everyone laughed but that’s how I roll. I don’t mind going to the vet and even if I did, I’ll be darned if I show it. I had to get my bi-annual shot for Bordetella. It helps me breathe better.

I like to talk to the other dogs while I’m there. I get this gargle in my voice that starts out like a bark and I move my jaw and it sounds like I’m trying to put words and a sentence together. Anyways, that’s what the humans say.

Margo, the friendly Mastiff

This was the first time I ever met a Mastiff. Her name was Margo. She was really beautiful. I liked her face and jowls. Even though she wasn’t feeling well, she wagged her tail and was friendly. Her owners said she only weighed 40 lbs now, as a puppy, but would get up to 150 lbs when she’s full grown. Holy cow! That’s almost 15 of me.

Godspeed, Margo. I wish you a speedy recovery and hope to meet you again soon!

Where are the Italian Greyhound apps?

For being just an IG, having an iPhone is so cool. With the touch screen, it’s paw friendly and easy to use. The iPhone has already changed my life with how I organize a dog’s world. The next step is to get a Kindle to revolutionize my reading habits too!

While I’m still searching for an IG app, currently my favorites are:

1. iShoot- Lob bombs and missiles at other tanks until you destroy them and the landscape.
2. Thunder- A driving game modeled on the movie Days of Thunder. Awesome!
3. Chopper- Fly a helicopter, dodge bullets, destroy others and save hostages.

4. Koi Pond- Voted 2008′s Best App. Allows me to flick a paw to make the water and fishes move.
5. Scripture of the Day- Daily Bible passages to help me keep life in perspective

There are some dog apps, to be sure. But nothing jumps out at me. I hope I don’t have to program it myself. You can only teach a dog so many tricks! Until then, I’m going to have to work in the two-dimensional world and find cool things like this:

The Gecko Resurrection

I suffered a traumatic experience recently. I didn’t want to talk about it because I had faith that it would have a happy ending — and it did! My beloved gecko’s squeeker had popped! My sharp teeth finally pierced my favorite toy and it would no longer squeek.

The Mighty Gecko

What a travesty! I recall the nights when everyone was sleeping and I would run around the house squeeking, like a trumpet. Oh, the memories. Those days, it seemed, had come to an end.

Why not just go out and buy another one from PetSmart, you ask? I tried and they said that they were a promotional item and no longer carried them. With defeat at hand, I slumped home and sought refuge from surfing the ‘net. It turns out that two sisters in Illinois, at Gollygear.com, carried them. I was so happy and overwhelmed that I ordered two!

They arrived this week and I’m back to squeeking. Who needs to sleep when you have two brand new spanking geckos?