Christmas Threat by Domino and Dash,mini & toy poodles respectively

Dogs don’t really care about Christmas.  It’s just another day for us, although we try to pretend that it’s special, kind of like the way Jews do.  Not that we don’t enjoy the festivities--who doesn’t want another ham-infused nylabone?  (Would grandmother say, ‘Stop, no more cashmere’?)

But why must Christmas make humans fly their freak flags around dogs?  Otherwise tasteful people suddenly think we pups look better in red and green harlequin collars or sweaters saying Santa knows we’ve been naughty.  And must our every step be announced by the bells you’ve decided are our seasonal accessory?  Please don’t take away the one clear advantage we dogs have over you: we get to run around naked like you know you want to.

Besides the indignities of dress up, the rest of the holiday is quite fun: the mayhem, the markedly improved quality of food scraps, the extra laps to nuzzle in for ongoing scratches.  All good.

So with Christmas just around the corner, may we take this moment to remind our humans that when you are all together this week, try to include us pups, and not just as that one family member with a mock-me target on his back?

Just remember that we’ve seen you steal your sister’s sweater, ‘borrow’ money from your mother’s wallet, and read your friend’s diary after you excavated it from its hiding place in the back of her closet.  We may not be able to tell this to anyone, but if there’s even a sniff of a miniature elf hat around us this year, be prepared to see your secrets every time you look into our big, adorable eyes that are watching, always watching, you.

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Around our Neighborhood by Domino and Dash, mini & toy poodles respectively

Now that we've moved to a neighborhood in Florida from the hills of Connecticut,  we take our walks on leashes, rather than bounding freely through tick infested forests. Of course we liked the freedom, but that apres-romp tweezer deal was something easy to leave behind.

Actually, leashes are quite helpful to us in our current lives.  In Connecticut, we had to drive places to be with other dogs, but this neighborhood is packed full of them, although frankly, some scare us. That's where the leash comes in- for them, not for us.  We have nothing against rottweilers, but when we see one maniacally pulling its human companion in our direction, our mother has the good sense to use the time it takes for crazycakes to reach us on his leash, to get us the heck out of there.

But forget the rottweiler; there are many other dogs we can't wait to see.  One of our favorite friends lives on our block, She is a long haired chihuahua named Chloe d'Amour. Although she tried to bite us the first few times we met, we just figured it was because she, like her human mother, is French. From what we've heard, you have to earn your friendship with the French, and once you do, we agree, it is well worth it.

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Domino is a Blog-Hog; Just Sayin’ by Dash, the toy poodle

I’ve just read the essays below, for the first time, that my poodle brother, Domino, has posted on our blog- emphasis on the OUR, which this blog doesn’t feel like at all!  He’s written every single entry. What a blog-hog!

I see these posts have been up for 2 months now, wreaking havoc with my reputation.  I should have checked this blog when we originally had the idea to write about our human family and ourselves.  But, and I suppose you know the answer here if you’ve read Domino’s posts, I’ve had other things on my mind.

In my defense about my ball obsession, let me say, that we’re heading towards middle age now, and I, for one, do not intend to let my mid-section resemble a sausage.  Clearly, Domino feels differently. This is probably why he has so much time to blog.

Having said that, if I didn’t devise games and tricks to play with my ball, which so clearly annoys him, than I’d be lying around all day flabbing away like he is. 

And what’s this bull about humans finding me irresistible?  I’m well aware that I’m the jock’s dog o’choice (for my catch and fetch abilities), but when was the last time someone tossed me a good one?  We live in an artsy fartsy house where everybody throws like a girl. 

I’m giving Domino fair notice right here in this post.  Don’t push me, buddy.  Remember how jealous you were when mother carried me everywhere she went because I got a spur in my foot and couldn’t walk for weeks?   Well I think that pain’s coming back;  I do believe I feel a sharp twinge.

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