Vertically Challenged

Buford here. Mom went and did it, and I'm a little annoyed with her. She got rid of her sports car which was EASY for me to get in and out of. She replaced with with a bigger car with something called "all-wheel drive"---whatever that is.

Well, I can't get in the thing! It's too high off the ground! Mom had to bend down and lift my back end up into the car!! How humiliating!!! I just hope she always does this when the new stupid car is in the garage so no one sees the humiliation of it all.

The Other Side

Yes she can be little destructo-dog, but this morning she was precious!

For the first time in months (not kidding) both pups slept through the night. Finally Buford woke up to tell me it was past time to take him out. Normally Della is in hot pursuit. But not today.

I got up, took Buford outside, brought Buford back inside...no Della!

I went back upstairs to the bedroom to find my precious little baby in my bed (ok, it's really their bed, but...), under the covers with her head on my pillow, sound asleep.

But it WANTED to be ripped!

But it wanted to be ripped!
Originally uploaded by hsarver.

Don't let the innocent look of this face and those brown soulful eyes fool you--this is Della, the Destructo Dog! She is EeeeeeVIL!

Della is 18 months old, and in true basset hound fashion, has FINALLY figured out the housebreaking thing--YIPPEE! So down came one of the baby gates to start expanding the house a little since. But, to be on the safe side all the doors to the upstairs bedrooms and bathrooms were closed to avoid "temptation" (read previous post entitled "Death to all Throw Pillows").

So Della could now play in the family room, laundry room, kitchen, dining room, living room, foyer, and upstairs hallway without getting into trouble....or so I thought.

Last night it got VERY quiet--a sure sign that mischief was afoot. All seemed fine downstairs--Buford was snoring on his chair in the living room (it is HIS chair as it is no longer fit for human sitting). But Della was nowhere to be found.

So I crept upstairs and when I was halfway up, I heard it! The tearing of paper!!! But that was impossible since all the doors were closed--what did she do, learn to turn a door knob?

No--I forgot about the bookcase in the hallway! Della had removed a 2 inch thick hardcover book from the bottom shelf and was happily shredding the paper cover and getting ready to start tearing the front hard cover off the binding!

She took one look at me, dropped the cover and ran to the end of the hallway where she laid down completely flat and tried to look apologetic.

So much for being a Princess--she's definitely on her way to her own OEBE title.

double trouble

double trouble
Originally uploaded by hsarver.

We are being very good! Just look at how cute we are too!

So why won't our mom just put the entire box of biscuits on the floor?

Mommy's Got a Cold!! YIPPEE!!

Hey great big world! This is Della and I got my paws on mommy's compawter. I know you're all wondering why I'm so excited about mommy being sick. You're pawbably thinking I am a mean puppy, but I'm weally not! You see, when mommy has a cold there are tissues EVEWEEWHERE!!! I WOVE TISSUES!!!

Of cause, when mommy sneezes she weally scares me :-(

Death To All Throw Pillows

This is my motto, me Della D. Dog, and I have a motto and it is "death to all throw pillows! I lead a very busy life and I just do not have time for throw pillows. They are annoying because they take up far too much space on couches and chairs that are meant for my beautiful basset body. I spend part of my morning making sure that all offensive throw pillows are on the floor for two reasons: 1) no need to knock them off when I am in need of a nap after having tormented the c@t for most of the morning, and 2) if they are on the floor I have easier access to them for the evening's event of destruction.

First, since they are called throw pillows I put their description to action. I pick one up in my mouth and shake it until it flies from my mouth, thereby simulating an actual "throw." But that is not my main goal. If I shake hard enough I manage to rip open a seam--THAT is the goal!

After some extra hard shaking to ensure these couch hogs are sufficiently dead it is time to disembowel them! If I shake hard enough I can open the seam far enough to get my head inside--and then the disembowelment begins!

My friends, there is nothing more picturesque than a 90% black basset hound sitting on dark blue carpeting surrounded by white polyester filler! (too bad mom didn't have her camera at home today.)

Neglected! Where is our mother??

Buford here. I have been residing in my wonderful home for over 6 years now and can say without a doubt that I hate the fall. Mother, oh mother, where are you? You called a week long absence "band camp." What the heck is that? For 10 days you got up even before me, gave us all breakfast, took us out, brought us in and then you left. You came back at noon for what--5 whole minutes! Just enough time to take us out again. You did the exact same thing at dinner time--at least you fed us. And then off you went AGAIN. You finally came home each night around 11 PM and what did you do after you took us out yet again? You went to sleep!

Now that that particular nightmare week is over, you're still out running around for something called "rehearsals." Mom? We want you home with us! Can't you just stay home and write shows for lots of other schools so you don't have to "go to work" every day and leave us home all alone? Please?

OEBE TITLE!!!

My mother is always after me to stop counter-cruising, stop snorting around in the trash, stop ripping up toilet paper tubes, and to stop eating Guinness (but that cat deserves it!). And of course, I do not hear her. Ok, well I hear her, but I don't acknowledge it because that would be WRONG!

In my heart I knew it would all pay off one day. And a few days back it did!! I submitted my most favorite trash-rampage story to the Daily Drool and Sir Roland, Duke of Ears/OEBE Potentate and OEBE membership made an offer of invitation complete with title!

I am now known as Buford, OEBE Exalted Garbagemeister and King of Garbage! OUTRAGEOUS!!!! I plan to uphold all the ideals of this grand establishment, with pride.

OEBE--I will NEVER fail you!

BBB -- Basset Butt Bonding

What is UP with this?! Every night it is the same thing. I get pushed to the middle of the couch by the "big guy" (Buford). Within minutes the "little one" (Della) has jumped up on the other side of me. I am now wedged between two bassets--and that may be fine, but....

At some point during their evening shut down BOTH of them rotate so that each has their butt shoved up against one of my legs! WHAT IS THAT??

No matter where either of them sleeps, if I'm next to them it is inevitable that they will have their butts attached to me. It is so incredibly bizarre.

Della Graduated!

I AM SO PROUD OF HER!! Della just finished her Basic Obedience Class at the Wilmington Kennel Club. I got this great certificate and she got to choose a toy...which she successfully ripped to shreds before we were half way home. (And how she did that to one of those extra tough tennis balls I will never know.)

She had a pretty good night...ok, it was exceptional because I have been away for the last 2.5 weeks and we had ZERO practice time! SHE EVEN DID DOWN TONIGHT!!

We failed miserably when we played Musical Chairs though. She wanted to EAT the paper instead of sit on it! But what do you expect from a basset hound?!

COGRATULATIONS my little wonder pup!

Caught In The Act (part 2)!

All this time, almost a full year now, I have been feeling sorry for Guinness. This poor cat is constantly being pounced on, trounced on and slobbered on. He has been chased, knocked into walls, knocked off chairs, and headed like a soccer ball into the air. He has been wrestled with, tostled with and plain old beaten up.

And all of this "abuse" is provided by Della, the basset who thinks she's a jack Russell terrier.

And then I caught them. Right there in front of me! And on MY BED!! Della was lying on her side and Guinness was giving her a complete facial!!

I guess there isn't really anything to worry about as they seem to really love each other. ...thank Heavens there's no such thing as interspecies breeding!

Buford's Favorite Activities

Being 6 1/2 years old one doesn't like to carry on quite as much as a younger pup. But Buford still has his quirky approaches to living. His favorite things to do are as follows:

+Stand in front of the gate blocking the living room and barking to be let in---
---only to stand on the other side after being let in and barking to be let out.
+Sit in front of the refridgerator and look back and forth from the box of bisquits to mother.
+Growl at Della simply because she exists.
+Play and romp with Della when mother isn't watching.
+Bark out the living room window because someone, somewhere in the neighborhood closed a car door.
+Sleep--on any and every chair and couch in the house.

Caught In The Act!

Every morning it is the same routine: Della jumps off my bed and in one leap is on top of Guinness (the cat) who is sound asleep on the big, round doggie bed. (Right, there is this big doggie bed that NEITHER of the dogs use--what's so strange about that?)

The poor kitty cat gets all slimed. He protests, he slaps back at Della--never with nails extended however--and he does his darndest to get away.

And then EVERY evening the truth is exposed--this poor cat actually LOVES this nutty basset hound! Each night Della is lying on the couch and each night Guinness climbs up next to her and gives her this big facial bath. Unbelievable!

Technical Support Phone Call--if they only knew

The wonders of computers means that one becomes very acquainted with various hardware and software tech support people. Last night was no exception and if the guy had any idea what was REALLY going on he would have disconnected me!

I'm trying to get a bit closer to "today" here at home with my various computers, internet connections, printers, etc.--so it was time to network everything. Seemed easy enough to start with the printers so that I could work on the notebook and wirelessly print to the upstairs printer---yeah, right.

After doing EXACTLY what the instructions say to do...it was time to call "tech support." Everyone who has ever had to do this knows the routine--but have you ever had to deal with those people when you had a basset puppy in the house?

Ok, so I forgot to close the gates to keep Della from going into the living/dining room. And ok, I forgot to close the gate from the living room to the foyer that allows access to the entire house. All of this means: "Hey! Mom's on the phone---the playground is WIDE open!"

We all know that at some point during these tech support phone calls you have to "reboot" your machine. This only takes about 30 seconds to 1 minute with a MAC....for me it took over 3 minutes. Why you ask?

The tech guy kept asking me if the machine had rebooted and I kept saying, "No, still waiting." This small conversation occured while I was running up the stairs, then down the stairs, then up the stairs, then taking a sneaker out of her mouth, then down the stairs, then taking a throw pillow away from her, then up the stairs, then dragging her out from under the guest room bed and FINALLY getting the "pwincess" into her crate!

Oh, and yes, the print server finally works.

Peanut Butter--fun for everyone

All I have to do is look at both pups and say, "Peanut Butter" and it is a mad race from wherever they are into the kitchen. Both stop on a dime (ok, they slide on the dime across the linoleum) in front of the kitchen counter and bark like crazy!

Peanut butter serves mulitple purposes: it is one of their favorite treats, I get a good chuckle watching both of them try to lick if off the roofs of their mouths, and well, at the risk of being a little gross, it helps "speed things along" if you know what I mean.

Expanding a tad on the speeding along process, with all the shedding these bassets do (24/7/52) they ingest a lot of hair. That hair can "slow things down." So a little help from Skippy is just what the doctor order!

Guinness Speaks, Part II

Ok, what is up with the brat? Does she think I'm some sort of stuffed toy that NEEDS to be messed with all the time?

Every morning it's the same routine: I'm sound asleep on the big, round cushy bed that I have decided is mine. (Note to the big, stupid dog: if you want to sleep on your bed then you have to get to it before I do--that's the rule.) At 5:30 AM that out of control pup leaps off mother's bed and stands on me, slobbers all over my head, neck and back, and wants to play "chase."

So here's what I have to say to the one called Della: KNOCK IT OFF MORON! IT'S 5:30 IN THE BLESSED A.M.--I DO NOT WANT TO PLAY!!

Buford's Surgery

First and most important Buford came through everything like a trooper! There was this very slow growing tumor behind his left, front leg on the side of his body. It was within the skin so all assumptions were that it was a benign, fatty tumor.

Surgery and 11 stitches later he looked like Franken-weinie. But, the biopsy showed no malignancy; the stitches came out this past Tuesday; he's doing great!

YEA!

Della Goes To School

We went and survived our first class in beginner obedience school this week! Della is actually pretty good with regard to "sit" but that's about it. And walking/heeling--you've GOT to be kidding me?! So off to school we go!

One of the main reasons I am taking her through all this is because she struggles with the social-thing. Frankly she is petrified when strangers or strange dogs are near. Socialization will be the biggest benefit of this undertaking.

Della actually handled the first class very well. The main thrust of the first lesson was getting the dogs to heel--not completely mind you, just to sit when you stop as a first step. The first 4 times--she did GREAT! We walked (she pulled...next lesson...) and we stopped. I said "sit" and pushed a bit on her butt and she sat. I was thrilled!! And then she had had enough. The next few times her attitude was "no way, nope, not gonna sit."

Della has this thing, this quirk. She will only go potty in her own backyard. We will go on a 2 mile walk and she doesn't stop once to pee. But as soon as we get home, she flies into the backyard and does everything she needs to do.

Before we went to class I was ecstatic because she peed AND pooped! But, the last 20 minutes of class she was agitated and anxious. I took her outside the building, but nothing doing. She WANTED to go, but it wasn't her yard so she wouldn't go. So, we struggled to the end of class not sitting at all because, well, she had to "go!" When we were done, she ran to the car, hopped inside, and whinned the whole way home. Once home--backyard time! She hit that yard like it was the Garden of Eden and she found sacred relief!

Hug Them and Kiss Them

Last night was rough--Buford, the boy who is allergic to air (well, not air, but certainly everything else) stopped in the middle of the street on the return route of his short W-A-L-K and started to projectile vomit! The last time this happened he was having a severe allergic reaction to an insect bite (to this day I don't know if it was a bee sting or a spider bite). It was so severe that he went into anaphylactic shock. It was so bad that he seized just after getting him to the vet, and I learned later that the docs "brought him back."

Needless to say, when he started this violent vomiting last night I wasted no time and got him into the car and sped down to the emergency clinic (his regular vet's office was already closed). By the time we got there he had stopped vomiting but was glazed over just like the last time--yes, my heart was going a mile a minute!

Cut to the chase: fortunately Buford came through just fine--he was severely dehydrated from all the vomiting, he never seized and the emergency vet felt that it was not an insect bite but rather something he may have snacked on the side of the road when I wasn't watching him.

This diagnosis and care (subcutaneous fluid injections for the dehydration) took 2 hours. During those 2 hours I waited to hear how my boy was (he is my heart--no question!) while watching trauma after trauma, tragedy after tragedy come in through the front door of the clinic. 1 dog was hit by a truck while pushing his "sister" out of the way; the "sister" was brought in 15 minutes later after a family member realized she didn't escape harm; a pug was brought in to be "put down;" a mother and her son came rushing in with their cat who had just be struck by a car--nothing could be done; a husband and wife arrived--their dog had passed away at home and they brought it in "to be taken care of."

It was horribly real! I was the only person in that 2 hour window to go home with my precious pet! When Buford came out from the treatment room I did what every person who has ever loved an animal does--I slid right onto the floor and hugged him and kissed him and made sure he knew he was loved and that he was safe.

Folks--give your dogs and cats, the ones you count on for comfort, the ones that are ALWAYS there for you, extra "loves and snuggles" for all the others that have made their way to the bridge. Far too often their already short lives are made shorter by unexpected tragedy--so make the most of every moment you have with them.

Big, Bushy, Black and White Kitty Cat---NOT!

I suppose that if anything had happened it would have been my own fault since I ran out of food for Buford and fed him Della's instead. Never change a basset hound's diet abruptly....but that's another post for another day.

With the wrong food in his belly, Buford woke me up at 3 AM because he HAD to go outside and, well, you know. And, when one of them has to go the other MUST join in the excursion. So downstairs we all ventured, me trying to keep my eyes closed and remain as close to staying asleep as possible. I put Della's leash on her, turn on the outside lights in the backyard and open the sliding glass door blinds. And there, in the middle of the yard was this big, bushy black and white kitty cat!

Ok, not a kitty cat. A big black animal with a huge white stripe down the center of it's back....and suddenly I was a VERY awake because I almost had the door open to let Buford outside BEFORE he was on a leash!

Buford was intrigued and Della--she was looking from the skunk to Buford to figure out how to react. Finally Buford gave this one big bark and the skunk took off...ok, waddled off.

If I hadn't been paying attention (as I'm sometimes not at that hour of the night--I wonder why) one of these pups would have had their nose right up against the butt end of that skunk....and THAT would have been a very bad thing.

You're Not As Clean As You Think You Are

Isn't this the cutest little basset hound you've ever seen? Della is only 8 months old in this photo and she is even more precious and sweet than her picture. Don't you want to just lean in and let her cover your face with kisses?

Well go right ahead, but remember: chances are excellent she just "snacked" out of the kitty litter pan.

BATH DAY!!!!

I realize that my posts may give the impression of me being a strong and brave individual...and perhaps when it comes to certain things like stepping on spiders, mowing the lawn or running a rehearsal at the University I am those things. But when it comes to giving Buford and Della baths---FORGET IT! So this morning it was off to the vet where the experts were put to work.

The neat thing about Bath Day is the 4-5 hour block of quiet in my home once the pups have been dropped off. It is also a recovery period after driving the 4.5 miles to the vet's office with 2 basset hounds in a sports car while trying not to have an accident because Della wants to look outside MY window! And all this while trying to avoid getting sideswiped by crazy people who think they own the road during "school bus rush hour."

But the quiet time is short lived and soon it is time to pick the darling cherrubs up from their day of "pampering." All at once, out of the groomer's area come two exited pups running at full speed across the linoleum floor--quite a site as they skid on the slippery floor by the way! Both are all clean and shiny. Their coats all fluffed up. And best of all: nails are trimmed!!

And for the next 10 hours or so they both smell wonderful--not houndy or doggy, but clean and sweet.

....and then Buford finds some worms after the rain fall and simply HAS to roll in them! So my friends, remember when bathing bassets--enjoy it while it lasts. Thus endeth the lesson.

Oh! the Agony!

My poor little puppy Della!

Bassets, in general, usually face a painful part of life sometime before the age of 18 months. Their front legs become a little lame, one leg at a time. This actually has a name: Paneosteitis, or just plain "pano." It is a wandeing lameness which means that YOU, the mom- or dad-slave think you're going completely nuts! One day it's "Hey, the pup is holding her left leg up and won't put any weight on it." A few days later its, "Hey, the pup is still holding her right leg up, er, wasn't it her right leg? I could have sworn it was her right leg, but maybe it was her left leg?" At any rate, you get the idea--the pup is lame, in pain and you are going to sell your soul in order for her to be "healed!"

There was thought that Della was not going to experience this. She was already 10 months old and it still hadn't reared it's ugly hear. Well, just as one gets comfortable with that thought BAM! her left front leg is up in the air and she really doesn't want to touch the ground with it.

Having Buford still in the home and living through his pano days, as well as the king, the original, Walter (ATB) having gone through it, I instantly knew what was wrong. But still, any momslave worth her weight in bisquits has to get down on her hands and knees and make completely sure that her baby doesn't have a cut pad or a thorn or something else wrong with her paw that could cause her to favor it.

So that is what I did--I lowered myself to the ground to inspect the baby's left paw and like all puppies, she rotated directly under me! OK, WHAT IS UP WITH THE WORLD GOING INTO SLOW MOTION THE INSTANT SOMETHING DANGEROUS/TRAGIC IS ABOUT TO OCCUR?! As Della rotated I saw my knee coming in contact with he ankle joint and i did everything I possibly could to avoid contact but there was nothing to be done. Della's rear right leg got trapped under my knee with full body weight leaning on her!

Ok everyone, breathe! There was no crack or anythng like that, but she did jump away holding her rear right leg AND her front left leg in the air. In a little while she walked it off and everything seemed fine...or so I thought.

A couple of days later I called her to come into the kitchen and there was no movement. She couldn't stand up. I FREAKED!!! She finally stood and limped severly as she came over to me--everything from her butt to the ends of both rear paws was painful for her. So I called the vet, made an appointment for first thing in the moring, and put her in her crate in order to avoid any further damage....and my mind was reeling! "What if...this, that, and God forbid THAT!??"

Della's vet is GREAT! After pushing and pulling etc,. he was convinced she suffered from soft tissue bruising and from favoring the hurt leg (that I inflicted--terrible parent!) she caused inflamation in both hips and both knees.

So, Della is on 2 aspirins per day and if she is still exhibiting symptoms (limping, pain, etc.) on Monday we go back for X-Rays.

How is she doing? Well, she taught the kitchen towel a lesson this morning, chased Guinness up and down the stairs for about 30 minutes, had a play session with Buford, ate my best bra, systematically emptied the CLEAN laundry from the basket.....I think she's going to be JUST fine.

Tax Season--a whole new twist to the yearly event

I have never been one to be get my taxes organized, finished and filed any earlier than the beginning of April. There is no reason for this as I have all my documents in hand by the start of February. I even have a week off in the middle of March every year and I rarely take use it for a vacation away from home. To make matters worse, it's not like I do my own taxes--I have an accountant. All I need to do is gather all my papers and receipts, put it in a big envelope and mail it out to my accountant. But no, I wait until the beginning of April to do this, and that means that i get my stuff back from my accountant right before April 15th.

This year was no exception and I got my materials back from my accountant on April 13th.

So I signed the forms, put them in the envelopes, addressed them and even stamped them. Then I decided to leave Della out of her crate while I showered. After all, the envelopes were in the middle of the kitchen table. She's only 10 months old so there's no way she can get them off the table--she's too small.

All seemed pretty quiet when I emerged from the bathroom so I got dressed and headed downstairs. In the middle of the kitchen floor as the "pwecious little pwincess" with an envelope between her front paws. Her mouth was wrapped around one end of the envelope, her teeth were punched through, and there was already a torn off corner of the envelope lying on the floor next to her.

Della looked up at me with those big, beautiful, brown eyes, her mouth locked around my state tax return as if to say, "Look what I found mom? Aren't you proud?"

Good thing my accountant always sends a second copy for me to keep for my records.

%#@!%& Thunder Storm!

I love my dogs very much--I say this from the get go because right now I want to skin the puppy and mount her above the fireplace! (Ok, not really so don't call the humane society on me, alright?)

Della is really the sweetest little basset hound. She just turned 10-months old and while I know she's not done growing yet I am pretty sure she will remain a 40-ish pound petite pup. (40 lbs really is petite for a basset hound folks!) Della has been a little constipated today. I'm not sure why--maybe there was a constipation holiday on the calendar that I missed--regardless, she just didn't "unload" the usual 3-4 times today. (I'm not joking or exaggerating either.)

It has been raining VERY hard for the last 24 hours so that keeps the dogs to the backyard and not the usual walks--they don't want to go and thank God for that! So it's been in and out to the backyard all day long...and the yard has started to become a bit of a swamp this evening. (We passed muddy at around 4 PM.)

Well go ahead and guess when the pwecious pwincess FINALLY had to "go." RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF A FREAKING THUNDERSTORM!!! Here's the play-by-play:

Della scratches my leg to go out. It's pouring...but we go out. She sniffs around--a good sign. She starts to "make the approach for a deposit" when BAMM! Thunder. She runs to the door and back inside the house. This entire sequence looped 4 times in the span of 35 minutes. By the time she finally was "successful" the carpeting in the family was covered with muddy footprints--both puppy and human!

...now re-read the post called "A Dyson and Hoover Steam Vac---it doesn't matter." I am NOT pleased!

A Dyson and A Hoover Steam Vac---it doesn't matter

Today was quite literally a spring cleaning day. I broke out my new Dyson vaccuum (LOVE IT!) and sucked up all the basset hair in the family room. Then I broke out my Hoover Steam Vac and turned a disgusting carpet into something that looked brand new...well, almost. While the carpet dried I scrubbed (and I mean SCRUBBED) the kitchen floor. When finished the carpeting was nice and dry (LOVE THAT STEAM VAC!!), so I put the furniture back and let the pups into the nice, clean room so I could deal with the rest of the house.

I know all of this is pretty boring and mundane, and no, I do not want to be praised for doing housework--what I want is an ANSWER!!!

WHY DO THEY HAVE TO PUKE ON THE NEWLY VACCUUMED, STEAM CLEANED CARPETING?????

Hello Great Big Wonderful World!

OHMYGOD! OHMYGOD! IT WAS INCREDIBLE, FANTASTIC, AMAZING AND UNBELIEVABLE! Hi everyone out there in the great big wonderful world I'm Della that's short for Della-Ware Summer's End I'm a real live basset pwincess no that is NOT a misspelling I get everything I want because I am beautiful and lovable and so full of energy I don't know what to do first so I try everything that I can to see if I will like it my mother loves me very much I can tell because she is always cuddling me and playing with me my big brother Buford thinks he is a tough guy but he really isn't he likes to play but doesn't like our mom to see him play for some reason that I don't know why because playing is so much fun which brings me back to what a FANTASIBLASTIC day I had today mom took Buford and I to this place she calls a park I don't know what that means but there were trees and lakes and other doggies and trails and all sorts of new smells to smell and Buford is SOOOOOOO INNNNNNCRRRRREDDDDDIBLLLLLLY SLLLLLOOOOOOOWWWWWWWW but I still had fun because he found all the really smelly things that I didn't know were there and there were ducks and these really big white birds mom called swans and kept dragging me away from I don't know why because they looked like they would be fun to play with but the water was so very cold but the mud was INCREDIBLASTIC to roll in and mom got mad but it felt so good and then we went home and Buford laid down in the garage on the cold concrete floor like he was tired or something but I just kept right on going because I knew that if I could just get to the living room I could leave all sorts of wonderful marks on the white couch from all the mud that was all over my body but something really weird happened mom grabbed me and picked me up and she hasn't picked me up in about a month because I'm starting to be a big girl now and not some teeny tiny puppy and she carried me all the way upstairs which was great because I didn't have waste all that wonderful mud on the carpeting and would have plenty for the beds but then she put me in this big ceramic container that I think she calls a bath tub and all of a sudden I was soaking wet and soapy and watching the mud go down this thing called a drain but that wasn't too terrible because I figured if I couldn't get the couch all muddy I could at least get it wet but mom had these really fluffy towels and dried me off real good which was also ok because I got to play tug with the towels while she dried me and she wasn't very happy through all of this but I know that she was only faking not being happy because she loves me very much and I hear her coming home now so I better not let her find me on the computer because she thinks she put me in my crate which I really do like even if she thinks I don't because I put on this act of not wanting to go in there but all my bestest toys are in my crate and Guinness my bestest buddy even before Buford keeps me company by sleeping on mom's bed so I am never really alone and she's coming up the stairs now so I better go and make sure I look my cutest because I'VE GOT ENERGY TO BURN!!

Guinness Speaks

I know, I know--I am NOT a basset hound! But since no one in MY home can answer me I thought I would give a shout out to all you foolish humans in the world who think basset hounds are worthy beings. If you are one of these humans, answer me one simple question: WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU???

I was leading a fairly normal life, only having to put up with this big, sometimes stinky, floppy eared, slobbering fool who my momslave calls "Buford" (stupid name! What's a "buford?" I'm named after the greatest beer ever made!). On occasions he would put his nose in a place it had no business being--why, I have no idea...I'm a cat. Stupid dog. And at other times he would put his head against my chest and fling me into the air. (Ok, this was kind of fun but I'll never admit to anyone, even if questioned under polygraph.) But soon these encounters became less frequent. I suppose the first nail on my right front paw may have had something to do with the lessening of these events, but who knows for sure.

And then suddenly the world came to a screeching halt and tilted off its axis--my momslave brings home the silliest thing I've ever seen. It looked like "big and sloppy" but on a much smaller scale. It took me only another few seconds to realize that God is indeed a cruel and merciless entity--he put more than ONE of these needy, whiny, not-very-smart-by-cat-standards, ANIMALS on the Earth! WHAT WAS HE THINKING??

And then the worse thing in the world happened--momslave gave her a name!! She calls her Della. But no, it couldn't stop there, it had to a longer name. The thing's full name is Della-Ware Summer's End. Now what the heck does that mean?! Talk about your candy-ass titles! Just because the thing is a female does mean it has to be degraded with a froo-froo name. GEEZ!

I just don't get it. I don't get you humans who let these things sleep on the bed--that's where we, the cats sleep! I don't get all the baby talk and the cuddling. IT'S A DOG FOLKS! Go get some therapy for crying out loud!!

So again, I ask the very simple question: WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?!

Bounce: what is it about Bounce?

I'm not talking about the undeniable fact that puppies literally bounce--that is a topic for another day. I'm talking about Bounce, the silly little piece of material (with or with Fresh Spring fragrance) that you put into your dryer. If you don't use this when you dry your clothes you get stuck with MAJOR static cling! And the only thing worse that staticy clothes is if you don't use conditioner in your hair (especially during the winter months) and you pull a fleece sweatshirt over your head and your hair stands up on end. But I digress...

Let's face it, bassets and laundry usually means the little buggers sneak between your legs to "steal" a dirty sock, or worse yet, dirty undergarments! When (not "if") this happens the next stage of you laundry routine consists of chasing the tiny-yet-stockily-built puplet around the house trying to get your pair of unmentionables out of that precious little mouth BEFORE they have a new decorative set of holes in them. Fat chance! First, the basset, a usually slow and sluggish moving beast suddenly has developed warp speed! They race around sporting their new found delicacy as if it were an Academy Award. The second you get close enough the dart this was and that--and you don't stand a chance at catching them because you can't run while trying to stop something whose belly is only 6 inches off the ground. Again, I digress...

So you open the dryer door and start to take out your fresh smelling, fluffy and clean clothes when you shake out a tshirt and the Bounce sheet falls to the floor. From all corners of the house (or so it sounds) comes the pounding of paws making the life-sustaining dash to the fallen sheet. Once obtained the lucky recipient spends the next few minutes chewing and shredding and tearing this small textile. And as quickly as it starts it ends. Left on the floor in at least 3 pieces is a slobber covered Bounce Dryer Sheet. What is it about those things?!

Selective Super Hearing

I am contiunally amazed at just how selective the hearing of my hounds is. You can call them until you are blue in the face and they will feign sleep or just flat out ignore you. But if you're in the kitchen eating a piece of cake they will come running from the other end of the house because they heard you bite into the creme filling! Unbelievable!

buford

buford
Originally uploaded by hsarver.

I am Buford--I am "king" of the household. I own this couch and if you want to sit on it with me you must leave plenty of room for when I decide I must stretch out. The photo on the left is of Della. My momslave thought I needed a "sister" or "playmate" so that I wouldn't be lonely when left alone. She's GOT to be kidding, right? I mean, look at that face?! Don't be fooled, she's a holy terror!!! I mean, all I want to do is sleep and all she wants to do is play, play, play, run, run, run, jump, jump, jump--UGH!!!

They can tell time, I swear it!

I am completely convinced that my bassets can tell time. Every morning at 3 AM (yes, 3 AM!!) my oldest comes upstairs and insists upon being let outside. And that, of course, get the young one up and moving too. So, downstairs we all go. And within 5-10 minutes--it depends upon whether there are any bunnies in the yard--everyone is back in the house and asleep. At 4:30 AM it starts all over again. Only this time it has to do with breakfast! This is a particularly rougher moment each day in that I'm cranky from being woken up twice. My mood makes the old boy more insistant (insistant=loud and whiny) and he puts his front paws on the edge of the bed and nudges me with his snout. As soon as I open my eyes he turns his head toward the clock, whines and then nudges me again as if to say, "It's 4:30, see?? Get up already 'cause I'm hungry."