Name:Harrison Location:United States

The Original Lovable Little Fuzzball

Here's the straight stuff.

The adventures of Harrison are true.
Try a few of his Crunchy Bites for a taste.
--Alpha Human Mom

Saturday, March 19, 2005

Imitatin' Humanity

Don't understand humans killin' humans, 'cept maybe durin' a war. I know there are bad people out there who seem to like killin'. And there are probably some bad animals out there with the same problem. For the most part, though, when we kill stuff it's for eatin'. 'Course there's always the survival of the fittest part to be considered. Ya' don't see an antelope herd on the run from a cheetah takin' time to stop and help the old or very young who can't keep up. For thousands of years it was only the fastest, healthiest, and smartest who made the grade--at least until we figured out how to con humans into protectin' us. (You might wanna' rethink that "dumb animal" label. You don't see us deprivin' ourselves so you can have a nice house and yard, do you?)

Sure we give somethin' back--at least we canines do--along equines and bovines and ovines and all those other -vines you can name. Even the fe-lyings do their share when they feel like it--which isn't real often, but I'll cut 'em some slack for the sake of argument. You humans take real good care of us, givin' bunches of money to other humans to heal us from things we'd normally die of if we were still livin' in the wild. And those doctor humans have gotten better and better at healin' too. Used to be a horse was always killed when it broke a leg. Now animal medicine is so advanced they're not, unless it's really, really, really bad.

Still, there are humans out there who think it's okay to eliminate us when we're sick, just because we're "inconvenient" to take care of. I know somethin' about that attitude--happened to one of my own cousins. Problem is, now you humans seem to have decided it's okay to do the same thing to other humans.

Continued in Read the Rest!

See there is This Person my cousin Heloise (deal with it!) lived with who liked to take a lot of vacations. In fact, This Person didn't do much of anythin' 'cept take vacations and run around to restaurants and get-togethers and other stuff to have fun. They were single and considered themselves quite the party animal. That's okay, I suppose, but TP also said they were too sick to do any work and was havin' the government send 'em checks. So they could have fun. And take vacations.

Anyway, everythin' was fine for a while, and Heloise usually stayed with us ('cause we were family) when TP was galavantin'. Then Heloise got diabetes (yeah, dogs get it too) and needed lots of shots and regular attention. (Just so ya' know, we can live long, productive lives with diabetes just like you humans do!) That kinda' made it tough for TP to keep up the whirlwind dinin'/shoppin'/socializin'/vacation schedule, but they tried their best.

Heloise wasn't crazy about that idea. She wanted attention 'cause she was sick! So she started doin' things to get attention--like havin' accidents all over the place, whinin' and shakin' like she was gonna' die any minute, and demandin' to sit on beds and sofas and chairs all the time--and then have accidents there so she'd get more attention. (Hey, I didn't say she was the sharpest knife in the drawer, did I?) TP went back and forth from givin' Heloise lots and lots of attention to bitchin' about what a pain she was. Weird thing was, Heloise never did those things when she was visitin' us--which pretty much explained who the real problem was--That Person.

Then That Person moved away and we weren't around to take care of Heloise for free any more. Uh oh. Heloise needed lots of attention. That Person suddenly had to pay someone to take care of her. How was That Person gonna' keep up the hectic round of fun stuff with Heloise crampin' their style and their pocketbook? Heloise was interferin' with That Person's ability to "move on" with their lifestyle in a big way. Heloise had become a major inconvenience to That Person.

Heloise was disposed of--and an inconvenience to That Person's lifestyle was eliminated. Humanely, of course. Even someone as morally questionable as That Person wouldn't starve her to death...like they're doin' to that lady in Florida.

"I have thought some of Nature’s journeymen had made men and not made them well, they imitated humanity so abominably."
William Shakespeare, Hamlet Act III Scene 2

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posted by Harrison at 4:43 PM


Thursday, March 17, 2005


Heard those humans in Washington agreed to allow drillin' for oil in the ANWR so all the critters up in the great frozen north can be warm and toasty. Not really, I know. And it'll take a loooong time before we see any down in the lower 48--long past my expected lifetime.

'Course now all those enviro-fe-lyings will be yowlin' about whether the wildlife can manage to walk around the wells and pipes and stuff. Since they manage to walk around in two hundred and forty-seven feet of snow most of the year I think they'll manage. Dad told me that out in CA the regu-cat-ors worried about whether certain kinds of birds would be able to fly over fenced-in land (really) and what would the deer do? (Can you say "jump?")

Anyway, somethin' everyone seems to be forgettin' is, once all that black stuff gets here, it's gonna' have to be mixed into gas and all the other things we use. AHM says the places that do that are called refineries and human animals really don't want any of 'em in their back yards. They haven't built one of 'em since before I was born. Maybe even before Grand Dam Bitch was born and that was forever ago. Since human animals can yell and scream, I see quite a cat fight in the future.

What really got me goin', though, was all the other stuff humans make from oil--or from the goopy crap left over after they make the gasoline. Like my bed pillows--or the fake stuffin' inside--and all my toys! Even my cloth tuggy toys, 'cause they use oil on the thread to make it easier to weave. (That could have somethin' to do with why they're so easy to pull apart, too.)

Anything made outa' plastic (squeaky toys) or wrapped in plastic (chew bones) or packed in plastic containers (fancy cookies which we don't get anyway and now I know why) uses oil 'cause all plastics come from oil. Yikes! That pretty much means if the price of oil keeps goin' up, I'm never gonna' get another new toy!

No offense, animals up north, but you really need to get outa' our way. We got a serious canine-needs crisis down here.

*In the 1967 film The Graduate, Dustin Hoffman is given a one word tip for the future: "Plastics."

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posted by Harrison at 10:50 PM


Terrier Tops Crufts

What a babe! Hey, Coco puff--you free Saturday night?


"Six-year-old Norfolk terrier Champion Cracknor Cause Celebre (you can call her Coco) won the Best in Show trophy at the Crufts dog competition in Birmingham, England, on Sunday."

Told ya' we terriers put the "show" in showbiz.

Dug up at Wonderdog Cal's.

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posted by Harrison at 1:03 AM


Tuesday, March 15, 2005

The World is a Comedy to Those that Think,…

…a tragedy to those who feel.*

Which is, of course, why Bill Clinton was such a tragedy as President.

Through the American Flag League I ran across Sneakeasy Joint's link to this old post at Setting the World to Rights about whether or not animals can think--and do they think about thinkin'. Since the subjects of the study were monkeys and dolphins--and we all know what monkeys think about humans--so I'm not sure their conclusions are accurate.

But just in case anyone cares, I can give ya' a definite yes, animals do think. In fact, we go beyond thinkin' into plannin' and--don't think I'm lettin' out any secrets here--schemin'.

Sure there are some of us whose thinkin' never goes beyond food, food, food, walk, food food, nap, food, CAT!, food, food, food… Then there are the artistes. Like me. 'Course I didn't become an artiste overnight, ya' understand. It took watchin' Dad, learnin' about timin', and lots of rememberin' AHM has eyes in the back of her head.

And I'm pretty sure I can say I pulled off one of the finest schemin' feats in caninedom.

Now if I was a liberal I'd probably try to blame it all on Dad who taught me everythin' I know. Since I'm a conservative, I'll admit it was all my idea 'cause I wanted to do him one better. See Dad was addicted to Life Savers®, Certs®, Breath Savers®--all those minty things that come in shiny foil rolls. He would fish around in AHM's purse, find an open roll and take one mint. He was a true artiste. It took me forever to master that trick. Generally I would lose focus entirely, scarf down the whole roll, and poop green for two days.

Then came the day Silly Human Female (who loves to fancy herself a dog person--ha!--I pee on your foot!) arrived for a visit. She had been to one of those Christmas lunch/party type thingys humans who work together have, and her gift from whichever Santa showed up was a small box of cookie-rolled-in-chocolate-and-crushed-nuts sticks. Yeah, sticks. I saw 'em. There were a half-dozen in a little box with a clear plastic lid just sittin' there in her purse. She musta' taken the top off to give 'em a good sniff 'cause the top wasn't taped or tied or anything.

And I wanted one.

Continued in Read the Rest!

This would take some serious thinkin' and plannin'--and schemin'. I went right to work, studyin' things from all angles.

When Silly Human Female left her open purse sittin' on the floor by the sofa and went into the kitchen to talk to AHM I saw my chance. I had to move fast but I didn't want AHM or SHF to know what I'd done until I could actually eat my trophy. What to do, what to do… Think…plan…scheme…

The pile of rolled rawhide chew sticks AHM always kept in one of Dad's trophy bowls caught my eye. Ah ha! They were the same size. Better yet, they were the same color.

Out came the box very carefully--couldn't leave teeth marks, ya' know. I moved the top just enough to grab one cookie-chocolate-nut Holy Grail treasure, put in the chew stick, pushed down the plastic lid, and got it back in the purse in record time. Indiana Jones couldn't have done better--and I didn't end up havin' some barkin' huge fat rock rollin' down a tunnel after me. (Well, that could have happened, but SHF never saw me.)

Off I went to enjoy my prize away from the rest of the moochin' pack and was done by the time SHF was ready to leave. Wouldn't ya' know she picked up the box.

Uh oh. No. Wait. She was just movin' it around to get her keys. Good.

Then she looked at it. And looked closer. Aaarrrrggghhhhh. Much outrage from SHF. Much denyin'--and choked off laughin' from AHM. But the proof was there--five nut-covered chocolate cookie sticks and one rawhide chew. We all played it cool. (Prove it, lady!) She couldn't. 'Course we couldn't deny our part--er--my part--what with the evidence bein' right there in the box and all.

In the end SHF took off and I thought I was home free. I had pulled off the thinkin', plannin', schemin', sneakiest feat in dog history! Gimme that Oscar, pal.

I got cocky. Climbed right up on the sofa next to AHM, feelin' all superior, when I shoulda' stayed on the floor lickin' my chops a little more completely. Dog-slobber-melted chocolate is sticky and those little nut pieces get tangled real easy in dog fur. (sigh)

Oh yeah--I know chocolate's bad for dogs. Guess there wasn't enough in one of those dinky little sticks to hurt 'cause nothin' ever happened to me.

And AHM never told.

*Horace Walpole in a 1770 letter to Sir Horace Mann

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posted by Harrison at 12:10 PM


Sunday, March 13, 2005

Media Bias--Animal Style

It's not just for humans any more. Even really dumb humans.

Since I like keepin' up with what my fellow canines are doin' in the world of show biz, I naturally followed the link to this story 'cause it said there was a spokesdog for a new line of bottled water.

"Bill and Rhonda Fels could never get their 3-year-old, Jason, to drink enough water, and he was chronically dehydrated as a result. So they were delighted when Jason finally found water he liked, from a glacier-fed river Mr. Fels crossed during a hike with Jason in the mountains."

Poor kid, I thought. Then I figurered there was somethin' wrong with parents who'd let their kid be chronically dehydrated.

"Mr. Fels made regular trips to bring back more river water for Jason. When neighbors started mooching his supply for their own problem drinkers, Mr. Fels spotted a business opportunity and started a bottling company to sell the water."

This bit sounded weird--I mean, how many finiky drinkers could there be in one neighborhood? And why couldn't they just get one of those water delivery services to supply 'em like we used to have in California? But at least Mr. Fels was doin' somethin' to help Jason.

"Jason is now healthy and hydrated."

Yea! Jason is saved!

"As a bonus, he has stopped drinking from the toilet."

When I hit this line I just about fell off AHM's lap. A kid drinkin' from the toilet?! It's the same frickin' water that comes out of the tap! We're talkin' a real little spoiled brat, here people.

Then I read this:

Continued in Read the Rest!

"The spaniel-retriever mix is now chief product tester for the Felses' company, Springmill Products Inc., which ships a line of bottled water called PetRefresh for finicky critters nationwide. From their new headquarters on a former tobacco farm in Lawsonville, N.C., the Felses sell their pet water for $1.49 per 20-ounce plastic bottle."

Jason is a dog!

For three paragraphs the writer--in the Wall Street Journal, no less--was leadin' the reader to believe Jason was a human kid!

Now ya' all know I love makin' fun of fe-lyings who manipulate their companions into jumpin' through hoops for just for the hell of it. I guess we canines are finally decidin' it's our turn--'specially those of us livin' in high class neighborhoods considerin' they're connin' their families into payin' $1.50 a pop.

"A Wallace, Calif., company named Pawier Inc. pioneered the industry in 1990 with a vitamin-enriched water for dogs, which it has now replaced with a water-soluble vitamin supplement. Dog Ventures LLC of West Palm Beach, Fla., sells "DogWater" in containers that double as throwing toys. Then there's K9 Water Inc., a Valencia, Calif., start-up whose catalog lists products such as "Gutter Water" and chicken-flavored "Toilet Water."

"I came up with 'Toilet Water' because my dog would only drink out of the toilet," says Susan Goldberg, a 40-year-old accountant who started K9 in 2003 with an associate, Don Magier.

Can't anyone figure out the water in the toilet is the same as water comin' out of the tap? Maybe someone should design a water bowl that looks like a toilet.

"The Felses sell PetRefresh not only for dogs, but also for cats, birds and hamsters. They claim their water is healthier because it doesn't contain chlorine or fluoride. Those chemicals added to tap water can hurt animals' kidneys, urinary tracts and bones, they say. Tap water "also gives them bad breath, and causes hair loss," Mr. Fels says."

Can you say "snake oil salesman?"

"The couple says their water is safe for people, even though they label their product as "not for human consumption." Mr. Fels says the labeling is necessary to avoid strict regulations related to human health. In a recent sampling, unflavored PetRefresh served by Mrs. Fels in a chilled bottle tasted just like mountain spring water."

The real kicker to this story is that the Fels moved cross-country tryin' to find 1) water Jason liked and 2) a state that allowed 'em to swipe gallons of water for a dog that was perfectly happy drinkin' outta' the john!

Read the rest

posted by Harrison at 3:31 PM


Saturday, March 12, 2005

Legal Eagles Usin' Pets

…to line their pockets.

Now these are a couple of really sad stories. Losin' a trusted friend (the only friend some of you people out there are ever gonna' have) is major trauma. But with everythin' else that's goin' on in the world--'specially that piece of crap in Florida who wants to kill his wife--this kinda' stuff has gone waaaay beyond normal

First there's people demandin' $740,000 for a dead dog in Boston.

"The family of Cassius, the dog killed by leaking electricity from an old NStar Electric lamppost site, said last night it had turned down an unspecified offer of "comfort money" from NStar and is demanding $740,000 from the utility or it will sue. The family said it picked the dollar figure because it equals NStar chief executive Thomas J. May's annual salary…

"We didn't want the DeVito family to appear greedy," their lawyer, John G. Swomley, said at a packed press conference last evening where the family disclosed its $740,000 demand."

Ummmm… How else do ya' think they're gonna' appear Mr. Attorney Swomley?

Haven't decided how I feel about this fe-lyin' story--Rotties are not my favorites, 'tho I pretty much kept 'em in their place. 'Course we can always hope the silly woman uses the money to get herself analyzed!

"Mary Ann Anzalone, 45, wants more than $100,000 from Kragness Animal Hospital, the Far South Side clinic where her 4-year-old cat, "Blackie," was killed. Though Cook County Judge Barbara Disko dismissed Anzalone's claim for "intentional infliction of emotional distress," the Illinois Court of Appeals reversed that decision, saying that while the amount might have seemed excessive, Anzalone provided a good argument for the pain she's felt since her cat was killed…

"Anzalone said she's "cried constantly following Blackie's violent death and continues to cry every time she thinks about it to this date," adding she's "lost sleep" and has "recurring waking thoughts and nightmares in which she envisions Blackie, a declawed cat, ripped apart by a Rottweiler."

"Anzalone, who is unmarried and has no children, said the cat was like her child and said the loss has caused her stress, headaches and a weight gain of about 40 pounds."

And now she wants more money to turn herself into a bigger tubbo!

Ya' know, if AHM tried that after somethin' happened to me (and since I'm a show dog and stud she at least might have cause) I'd come back from the grave and haunt her. Just imagine puddles of pee materializin' outta' nowhere. Hmmmm. Could be fun. Maybe I'll do it anyway…

Read the rest

posted by Harrison at 3:03 PM


Thursday, March 10, 2005

Fe-lyin' Terrorist Strikes

Suuuurrre it was an accident.

"State troopers in Iron County [Michigan] showed up at Joseph Stanton's home in Bates Township last night to find him wounded in the lower torso. The 29-year-old man was cooking when his cat knocked a loaded nine millimeter handgun off the counter. The gun discharged and a bullet struck Stanton."

Lower torso. Hmmmmm. Now admittedly I don't stand upright very much, but maybe you guys out there understand the message that terrorist cat was sendin'.

I've been tryin' to warn you fe-lyin' appeasers they're out to get ya'. Just take a peek at this and tell me I'm lyin'.

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posted by Harrison at 1:48 AM


Wednesday, March 09, 2005

Ten Things

Don't know who really started this idea of listin' 10 things I've done that you probably haven't, but I saw it over at KarinKydland's blog and thought it was kinda' amusin'. Now since I'm a dog, there's lots of stuff I've done you humans will never do--or even think of doin'. To be fair I tried to avoid most of the easy ones--like rollin' in poop.

1. Whizzed on the 18th green at Pebble Beach. (On the corner not in the center.)

2. Was smuggled onto a cross-country airline flight and wasn't caught. (Pre-9/11 of course.)

3. Had Sean Connery call me "cute."

4. Modeled for a dog cookie advertisement. (No, I was not the cookie!)

5. Appeared on ESPN.

6. Drank my way along Cannery Row. (Water! I swear it was only water!)

7. Swam in the Great Lakes, the Atlantic Ocean, the Gulf of Mexico, the Pacific Ocean, and Monterey Bay. (Actually I fell into the shallows of Monterey Bay but that still counts, doesn't it?)

8. Herded a bull.

9. Beat a Rottweiler.

10. Bit a policeman. (Okay--almost. Missed him by that much.)

Read the rest

posted by Harrison at 12:13 AM


Tuesday, March 08, 2005

"The charge is prepar’d,…"

"…the lawyers are met,
The judges all ranged,—a terrible show!"*

While pawin' through my Blogroll, where I can safely roll without needin' a bath afterward (most times), I ran across an interestin' post by my buddy Sigmund. No, not the Sea Monster. I mean Sigmund, Carl, & Alfred. Not to slight you other guys--Carl or Alfred could have just as easily asked the questions dependin' upon what frame of mind he was in--they were in--oh, hell. Pick one.

Anyway, he/they wanna' know what we'd do if we were part of the last 100 people left on earth. "…you must believe that your actions will determine whether or not our species survives." (Guess the cockroaches--who seem to be able to survive anything--refused to cough up the answers and we're the alternatives.) And bein' a shrink or shrank or shrinkies (what is the plural of psychoanalyst anyway?) he/they will probably attach great meanin' to the answers, but so what. Here ya'll go.

First things first--no fe-lyings. Now that that's settled…

Continued in Read the Rest!

"What 3 books would you consider essential to have with you, to learn from and teach from, and to pass on?"

The Bible, 'cause whether you believe in it or not, it has a bunch of rules and other stuff we should know plus it shows the payback of igorin' and/or defyin' those rules--and I'm not talkin' a rolled up newspaper, here. (Can't say I'm too crazy about that dogs-lickin'-up-the-blood-of-Jezebel part, but the rest of it is pretty good.)

The Complete Works of Shakespeare. I like the way it sounds when I hear it--kinda' like music. Unless the person talkin' has a southern drawl. Then it's--well--let's just say it's not the same. Lots of modern writin' comes from ideas he had or things he said first 'cause he was writin' for his audience not a bunch of fe-lyin' NYT the-a-ter critics. Beside, his histories show the screw ups of out-of-control Alphas which is somethin' we should all learn about.

The New Way Things Work by David Macaulay 'cause you humans are gonna' have to figure out how to build new stuff, right?

"What form of government would you hope to establish, and why?"

A representative democracy which is what the best packs have. Yeah, you read that right. You humans may think we're a dictatorship, but you'd be wrong. Sure we've got an Alpha in charge but d'ya' know that could be a female as well as a male? More than you other Americans have done so far, eh? And if the Alpha screws up (like if we get a Demo-cat Hillary or somethin' like that in charge), the rest of the pack dumps 'em. (Okay, not always in the most civilzed manner, but cut us some slack for being canines.)

Now if ya' watch real close, you'll see the rest of the pack has various levels of bosses--beta down to omega--females, pups, companions of the alpha leader. And we all have our jobs--findin' a homestead, guardin', defendin', raisin' kids, gettin' food, etc. If we're livin' with humans we pretty much let them do the gettin' food part, though. 'Specially since every time we try to contribute they get all pissy and throw our "kill" into the trash.

"Would severe infractions that put the group in danger ever be dealt with by capital punishment? If so, for what infractions?"

See above re: "if the Alpha screws up..." Oh, all right. Deliberate murder would pretty much be the only killin' crime. Stealin', territory jumpin', tryin' to assassinate the Alpha--most of the time the cur is banished from the pack. They can start their own pack if they can, then come back and challenge the Alpha later, but I think we're gettin' into a foreign policy debate with that. Or maybe political parties and elections--tough to tell the difference sometimes.

Hope that answers your questions, Siggy. Oh, and this is just for you…

*The Beggar’s Opera Act 3 Scene 2

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posted by Harrison at 12:37 AM


Saturday, March 05, 2005

Lock Down that StargateTM Already!

A few days ago Meryl Yourish asked if I had gotten over the Dandylion flashbacks I was getting' every time I saw a picture of Tig.

I'm here to say unequivocally yes and no. No more serious flashbacks, but lots of nightmares about this. Just take a gander at those glowin' eyes. Think possessed. Think alien invasion. Think Goa'uld symboite from some outer space pyramid.

Don't believe me? Here's evidence they're tryin' to take over NASA! (Gotta' admit, though, these fe-lyings look better than John Kerry ever did in that outfit.)

Label 'em, Ferdy. Slap a barkin' huge mailin' label on that cat butt and ship 'em back to whatever planet he came from. Your life may depend upon it.

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posted by Harrison at 3:35 PM


Friday, March 04, 2005

Everyone is Nice Till the Cow Gets Into the Garden

Ya' know, this story about cows havin' moods and bein' happy or holdin' grudges brings back the memory of the most ignominious moment of my young canine life.

Gotta' admit we've been lucky to live in great places like the ranch with lots of room to run and roll and chase most anythin' we wanted. Well, we were smart enough to avoid the coyotes across the way and the Great Horned Owl couple who'd occasionally flap down from their cliffside condo to sit on the fence and stare. I'd say they were lickin' their chops but I don't think owls have chops.

Anyway, the rules of the ranch yard were simple. Don't go into the field and harrass the cows in case the cow manager showed up on his mule. (Yeah. Mule. Doesn't that just shoot the ole' cowboy image all to hell.)

Now just in case you forgot--we're dogs. So what are you gonna' bet we pretty much ignored that rule? Dad was always sneakin' us down for a couple of games of whack-a-gopher, plus there were just piles of fascinatin' stuff to roll in. 'Course we learned one roll was worth a thousand baths so we all retired from that sport at a very young age.

I was still in my teen-age year (we only get one ya' know, and aren't all you parents of human children jealous) when a whole bunch of cow miniatures showed up along with the regular sized mooers. We pups sat at the fence tryin' to figure 'em out when one finally moseyed over, bein' the neighborly sort and all. Turns out they were kids too--somethin' called heifers. Well, we just had to go play. That's what neighborhood kids do, isn't it?

A quick check to make sure AHM had gone back inside the house and it was par-tay! The regular size cows didn't seem to mind at all. Probably glad to get the little suckers off their hands--er--hooves--er--whatever-- for a while. We did a little nose-touchin'--butt sniffin' bein' out of the question--and other sorts of "nice to meet ya'" stuff, then got down to some serious activity. Those heifers were pretty good at tag, not as good at "herd-'em," and waaaayyy too eager to show off their version of those Ram Tough truck ad rams. (Size does matter in that game.)

All and all, though, we were havin' a great time playin' jumpin' jacks, ring-around-the-heifer, and dodge 'em. Then we heard a bellow that wasn't from a cow. We were busted.

Everyone else ran for the fence, wigglin' under as far from AHM as they could get. Me, I didn't run from anythin'. I was the Alpha--or would be someday--and had my rep to maintain. So I walked. Even swaggered a little just so AHM would know it was my choice to come back.

Now that I think about it, I shoulda' known somethin' was wrong from the look on AHM's face. She got this weird quirk to her lips and her mouth opened and closed a few times like an inarticulate fish. Then I saw the other guys lined up starin' at me.

I remember thinkin': Hrumph. Wimps.

I remember thinkin': I don't run the second AHM hollers.

I remember thinkin': I'm showin' 'em who's top dog around--


Somethin' hard and fuzzy smacked into my rear. I went ass over Dentabone®, flipped at least three times, landed on my nose, and whipped around to find one of those bratty heifers grinnin' at me--and getting' ready for another run.

I had to make an immediate executive deicision. Dignity… Disgrace… Another bang in the butt…

At least I can claim the speed record for gettin' under a fence.

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posted by Harrison at 11:41 AM


Thursday, March 03, 2005

You Talkin' To Me?

Hope not, 'cause I'm not listenin'. I can't think of one thing I'd wanna' say to this lady. (Ya' gotta' go look.)

"Lorelei Hunt has been helping people communicate with their animals since 1996. Using telepathy, she conveys what an animal is thinking and feeling as well as answers to any questions that their humans ask them."

Okay I can think of one thing. And she wouldn't have to be communicatin' with me very long before she'd figure out I'm tryin' to say Stop eatin', lady! And take that dog of yours for a run occasionally. Or a swim. Or a walk. Or just get the hell out of the chair for somethin' more than visitin' the refrig.

"Lorelei has completed advanced studies under Anita Curtis and Penelope Smith, who is a pioneer in the field of Interspecies Telepathic Communication."

So she's an Interspecies Telepathic Communicator, eh? Hmmmm… Sounds like those red-shirt guys that were always getting' dismembered, disintegrated, disincorporated or otherwise disposed of in that old Star Trek series.

Who needs an interspecies translator anyway. I do just fine in the communicatin' department. Fe-lyings spit--I growl and chase. Mice squeek--I growl and chase. Birds squawk--I growl and chase. Demo-cats run for office--I growl and chase. How hard is it?

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posted by Harrison at 12:02 AM


Tuesday, March 01, 2005

Kibbles & Bits®

Man bites dog. Really.

"A blind man who allegedly bit his guide dog has been charged with animal cruelty. David Todd is accused of sinking his teeth into the animal's head in a busy street, Scottish police said Thursday."

Squirrels Take on Academia. Even they know the score at our country's colleges and univesities.

"[University of Pennsylvania] freshman Samantha Kleinman was strolling down Locust Walk one day in November when she was suddenly hit by something small and furry. "I was attacked by a squirrel," Kleinman said. "The squirrel had jumped out of the trash can and was holding onto my jacket pocket, so I was pretty much standing there shaking it off and freaking out."

They've even pentrated to the heartland.

"On parts of [the University of Kansas] campus yesterday morning, people found themselves in the dark. A squirrel got into the transformer at 1714 W. 19th St. and started a fire at the bottom of it…"

'Course, maybe those rodents were just PETA plants protestin' this

"A bizarre ceremony was held in High Wycombe as students paid their last respects to a dead squirrel. The funeral…was organised by June Kingsbury, an MA student studying ceramics and glass. Part of Mrs Kingsbury's work is to cast animals killed by the side of the road… She said: "I use the actual bodies of animals to cast ceramics and glass because it emphasises the fragility of life."

…which leads as naturally as a fe-lyin' to the sound of a can opener to this:

"Animal rights activists are disgusted by a new candy from Kraft Foods Inc. that's shaped like critters run over by cars - complete with tire treads. The fruity-flavored Trolli Road Kill Gummi Candy - in shapes of partly flattened snakes, chickens and squirrels - fosters cruelty toward animals, according to the New Jersey Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals."

Wonder if PETA thinks people are gonna' be drivin' up and down country roads, chawin' on Road Kill Gummis, swervin' back and forth so they can abuse the local snake and rodent population, and celebratin' a daily double score if they squash a snake that just swallowed a rat?

Oh, and speakin' of rodents…here's somethin' we all need…glowin' rodents (with picture). At least we'll be able to see 'em when we chase 'em.

Read the rest

posted by Harrison at 12:50 AM