Thursday, May 7, 2009

It's About the Birds

(Finally... I thought the Clydesdale horses themselves were going to be needed to drag her away from this keyboard... but it's my turn now!)

First: look, it's my Flying Nun impression! In a stiff wind, I can fly - just like the birds! (Well, sort of...) But, I am obviously way cuter!

Not a day goes by that I am not reminded.... everything around here is 'about the birds'. Between me and you, I haven't seen a single one of them lay a golden egg! (Since Sammy and Strider are both boys, I get that... but you would think that at least The Diva could sing for her supper, or produce the golden egg that pays for all those pellets maybe?)

Truth be told - those pellets are pretty tasty!
When you have a nickname like "Hoover", and a reputation for cleaning the floor better than a power-vac, you come to appreciate the value of tasty pellets. I'm really workin' for the crumbs here... let me tell ya - literally. And some days, they are few and far between.

Unfortunately, I am not allowed in the bird room 'unsupervised'. Ummm, hello - I am nearly 4 years old... I think it's time to fire the babysitter already!

She continually stresses "it is only for your own safety". I believe it! The Green Monster is, as my dad so aptly points out, a parror-ist!

To make matters worse, the bird room door remains closed at all times - and goodness knows what goes on in there. I hear things... And when I am on the deck looking in through the glass doors, I see things. I could tell her stories that she would refuse to believe! When the three of them start flying in figure-8's around each other... it makes my head spin, and I drool uncontrollably!

Then, there is the way the Green Monster smirks at me through the glass; with disdain and contempt... how do you say 'smug' in parrot-speak?

Watching them from the deck is pure torture. (But not
nearly as bad as the '5-hour slow-cooked corned beef stunt' my dad pulled the other day.) C'mon people! Do you have any idea how incredibly sensitive a dog's nose is?!

Speaking of sensitive areas, my pearly-white belly comes to mind. You do know that, in addition to the nickname of 'Hoover', I am also lovingly known as 'The Tick Magnet'? When your belly only clears the ground by 3.5 inches, it is just part of the package.

One day, my dad saw a tick fall out of a tree and land on my head! They LOVE me!

So since it is that time of year, this means:

More Baths
More Inspections
More Touching (and I'm not talking about belly rubs here).

Before I hop on the bed and snuggle my head into those pillows each night, you can bet I get a once-over... 3 times.

I can help that I am attractive to parasites?

All this attention is getting old, and it is only May!

I know this must sound like whining... I am part basset hound of course. And, I could go on and on, but my staffie side makes me get to the point: from where I sit (on the love seat), it is ALL about the birds. What the birds want... what the birds 'need'... what about a little piece of brisket now and then for the cute little circus dog, huh?

When I ask, they throw 'table food' in my face. (Is that supposed to be a bad thing?) Some days I hardly have the energy to beg for an extra biscuit!

This time of year, with all the full body checks, I don't mind if the birds draw a little attention away from me. Look, when most of your body is the same color as a tick... well, you can figure out the rest.

I'm just sayin' that that these people handle me like a cheap package of Mr. Whipple's toilet paper!

Oh, I almost forgot! Here is a video of me doing my "circus-dog trick". Now tell me, wouldn't you give me at least a small bite of brisket for being this cute?! I'm thinking, yes!


1 comment:

wolfgirl1987 said...

I would definitely toss you a treat too! :)

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