Archive for March, 2010

Treasure Hunting at the P-A-R-K

March 30, 2010

I was out for a trot at the P-A-R-K when I caught a whiff of the most incredible scent!  I buried my nose in the grass and followed the trail to a chicken bone rotting on the ground beneath a bush.  I lay down beneath the bush and began chomping on my treasure.  Unfortunately, just as I was starting to devour my delicacy, Alpha Mom called me from the path.

It’s not every day that a hound dog comes across something this yummy.  I couldn’t just leave the bone until the next morning.  What if another dog found it?  I grimace at the thought of a poodle taking my chicken bone.  This left only one solution: I would have to take the chicken bone home with me.

I heard Alpha Mom approaching from behind me.  For some reason, she doesn’t share my enthusiasm for buried treasure.  But this chicken bone was special and I wasn’t going to let her take it from me!  I gulped up the bone and managed to bury it in my mouth.  The bone didn’t quite fit between my teeth, but I figured it wouldn’t matter because the bone still fit inside of my cheeks.  With the bone safely wedged in my mouth, I spun around and ran back toward Alpha Mom.

Alpha Mom reached down to pet me, and I thought that I might be lucky enough to get a belly rub right here in the middle of the P-A-R-K!  Unfortunately for me, Alpha Mom had her own agenda.  She pulled me toward her and placed her hands on the sides of my face, just behind where I was sure the chicken bone was safely concealed.  Alpha Mom pulled her hands forward across my cheeks and out popped the chicken bone!  I have no idea how she saw it.  I mean, I guess my cheeks must have looked pretty funny with the bone wedged inside, but I thought I had been pretty sneaky hiding it in my mouth.

Here’s the good news: Alpha Mom made me leave the chicken bone behind in the P-A-R-K, but I’ll bet that tomorrow I can get back on the scent and find it again…

Alpha Track Dog

March 28, 2010

Once, I saw a movie about a dog who was a total loser until he joined a basketball team and BAM he was famous!  If that’s all it takes to get some attention, I should be in the newspaper for joining the girls’ track team this morning at the P-A-R-K.

I was hanging out with some of my Basset buddies this morning.  You know, sniffing together, taking power naps together.  Basset Hounds are the most dignified breed at the P-A-R-K, but sometimes they just aren’t active enough for me.  This morning, I was up for a challenge.  And then I saw just the opportunity to show the world just how speedy a Basset Hound can be!  The girls’ track team was sprinting across the park, and I sped over to give track a try.

Girls’ track is harder than it looks.  I plunged into the middle of the pack, only to have my tail stepped on with someone’s muddy shoe!  Plus, my ears aren’t very aerodynamic.  But as I discovered, I have a real talent for running downhill.  I was Alpha Speed-Demon Dog, especially when I led the pack across a pool of mud at the bottom of the hill.  (Can you believe it?  Girls don’t like to play in the mud!)

Just as we were approaching a steep hill, I thought about my Basset Hound friends who were enjoying their power nap.  Who needs up-hills, anyways?  I took a cool-down trot back to my friends and collapsed in the grass.  The way I see it, if a Hound has to run up-hill to be a celebrity, then fame is definitely not worth it.

Family Movie Night

March 26, 2010

Friday nights are one of the best times to be a Basset Hound.  On Fridays, my whole family comes home for dinner and then we watch a movie in the Living Room.  Well, I don’t actually watch the movie, but I like to sleep in front of the television because I can always count on somebody to come over and give me a belly rub.

Whenever Alpha Dad picks the movie, we can always count on a Western.  Lots of noisy guys run around the screen on horses, disrupting my beauty sleep with their gunfighting.  But what I dislike the most about Westerns is that there are never any Bassets in them!  I suppose my fellow Hounds aren’t exactly built for the desert, but it would be nice to see Hollywood have a Hound sleeping on a porch or riding in a covered wagon.  As a true Arkansas Hound Dog, I would much rather watch a “Southern.”

Even though the movie selection is rarely good, I can always count on one of my siblings to bring Big Blue down from the attic.  Big Blue is the biggest, stinkiest, warmest sleeping bag ever!  The whole thing is coated with dog hair, and everyone knows that when Big Blue is in front of the television, it is my territory.  Sometimes, when the movie is really awful, I role over onto my back and fall asleep that way, a surefire tactic for getting a belly rub.

But the very best thing about Family Movie Night is the popcorn!  Alpha Mom makes terrific popcorn and puts a large bowl of it on the floor.  It’s like drivethrough, being able to walk by and snatch a few pieces when nobody is looking.  Once, I accidentally knocked over the bowl, and Alpha Mom attacked all of us with a monster called “Vackyoom.”  So I try not to spill the popcorn anymore.

Someday, I would like to be a Hollywood Hound.  I could have my own trailer and Milk Bones delivered to me on set.  I could star alongside  screen favorites like Winn Dixie and Marley, or maybe even Lassie!  And maybe I could be in a romance with a cute Lady Hound…

Man’s Best Friend… Or So I Thought?

March 25, 2010

You’ve heard it a million times before: “Dogs are man’s best friend.”  But have you ever heard “Man is dog’s best friend?”  No, you haven’t.  And it might have something to do with my exclusion from the 2010 U.S. Census.

This evening, Alpha Mom was filling out the Census form.  At the dinner table, she went from person to person, double-checking birthdays.  But Alpha Mom never asked me when I was born!  On the Census form, they ask for all kinds of information, like race and telephone number.  But no where on that sheet do they ask about Man’s Best Friend.  Shouldn’t Man’s Best Friend be important enough to appear on the Census sheet along with Man’s Family?

Well, I don’t feel like walking all the way to my senator’s office right now, so here is how I would fill out the 2010 Census if humans had the sense to include Basset Hounds:

1. How many people are living in your house?  1 Hound.  Oh, and 5 people.  And Cat.

2. Are there any other people living in your house who you didn’t include in Question 1?  No.  I answered the question right the first time.

3. What’s the deal with the rent/mortgage/loans on your home?  I don’t know.  Basset Hounds don’t sweat the small stuff.

4. What’s your telephone number?  I only give that out to cute Lady Hounds.

5. What is your name?  Woody.

6. What’s your sex?  I am a MALE Hound Dog.  I have never met a Lady Hound named “Woody,” but who knows, maybe there’s one out there?

7. How old are you?  Five in human years.  Dog years involve too much math for me, so you Census People can mess with the multiplication.

8. Are you of Hispanic/Latino/Spanish origin?  I’m Arkansas-ian.  Does that count?

9. What is your race?  Like I said, I am an Arkansas Hound Dog.

10. Do you live or stay somewhere else?  No, though I wouldn’t mind living at the P-A-R-K.

Like I said, it’s a long walk to the senator’s office.  But if you feel like dropping off my Census, I would appreciate it!

Welcome Home, Brother Pooch

March 24, 2010

It has been a stressful day.  Alpha Mom woke me up early to go outside, which meant that I only got fourteen hours of sleep last night.  When I helped clean up the kitchen table after lunch, the only snack that I could find was a grape.  Seriously, what Basset Hound wants to eat fruit?  Bread and meat are delicioius, but fruits and vegetables are absolutely vile.  Finally, Brother Pooch was playing Outside the Fence all day, so there was no one at home to give me a belly rub.

Brother Pooch can be irritating sometimes.  He eats all the steak off his plate (no leftovers for me 😦 ) and once he had a friend over who stepped on my tail.  But when a Hound Dog gets lonely, there is no substitute for my Brother Pooch.  I’ve heard Alpha Dad refer to Brother Pooch as “half-Hound,” but since Bassets don’t waste time with fractions, I have absolutely no idea what a “half-Hound” is.

I spent all day with my nose between two slats of wood in the fence, waiting for Brother Pooch to walk up the driveway.  At last, I saw a boy walking toward the house.  I pushed my nose as far as it would go between the slats, trying to get a closer look to see if Brother Pooch was really coming home at last!  Sure enough, it was him!!!

Whenever someone enters My Backyard, I like to hide behind the bushes beside the driveway.  Then, when whoever it is opens the fence, I jump out from beween two of the bushes and greet them.  You can call me “Guardian of the Fence.”  When I saw Brother Pooch walking toward the house, I wanted to run behind the bushes before he could see me.  But there was one problem: my nose was stuck in the fence!

I squirmed and tugged and just as Brother Pooch was walking up the driveway, I managed to dislodge my nose.  With incredible Bullet Dog speed I plunged into the bushes.  Brother Pooch swung open the fence.  Just as I was about to jump out from the bushes and greet him with a surprise, Brother Pooch bent over the bushes and looked me straight in the eye.

“Busted!”

W-A-L-K Expertise

March 24, 2010

Okay, so as I mentioned the other day, Alpha Dad thinks he’s really clever for spelling words that he doesn’t want me to hear.  I’ll admit, when he started calling the Park “P-A-R-K” and referring to the walk as “W-A-L-K,” I was pretty confused.  But Basset Hounds are scholarly (even though we don’t look it), so now I know to look forward to my W-A-L-K every evening.

When I’m happy to be going on a W-A-L-K, I take off down the sidewalk at a trot.  This is just a little faster than a walk.

Sometimes, I get really really excited about going on a W-A-L-K!  Like the summer when there were cicadas everywhere and life was like an endless snacktime.  Or maybe there’s a wabbit in the neighbor’s yard (look out wabbits, here I come!)  For this reason, I like to call my second-fastest speed rabbit run.

You might think that Basset Hounds are always slow and lazy, but the truth is that we’re only slow and lazy when we want to be… which means we’re almost always slow and lazy.  But on rare occasions (like when I smell a pretty Lady Hound across the street), I like to show off a speed that I call bullet dog.  Basset Hounds have a very aerodynamic shape (with the exception of our ears, of course), and when I get caught up in the scent of the neighbor’s barbecue, there is no stopping this Hound.

Like I said, it’s rare that I ever pull off “bullet dog.”  The speed that I use more than all of the aforementioned is a speed that is best described as no go.  That’s when I park my butt on the sidewalk and say “Alpha Dad, I do not want to go to the vet, and I am going to sit here and refuse to move until you give up and take me home.”

You’ve heard it here, from Sheriff Bluepaw.  Alpha Dad may think he knows everything, but he’s underestimating the Assistant Protector of Bagels Everywhere if he thinks I don’t have a few tricks of my own.

Operation Bagel Snatcher

March 23, 2010

Alpha Mom is an excellent cook, but she doesn’t make dinner until Alpha Dad gets home.  I know what you’re thinking.  Every hound should have a snack after a long day’s snooze, right?  Tell that to Alpha Mom.  Sometimes a Hound Dog just has to take things into his own hands.  Thankfully, Sister Martian left a bagel (!!!) unattended on the table.

Sister Martian is the Protector of Bagels Everywhere.  In my house, it is a well-known rule, When The Bagel Supply Is Low, Thou Shalt Not Touch The Bagels.  As a Basset Hound, reading has never been a priority for me.  That’s not to say that I couldn’t be a scholar if I wanted to be, rather, I simply have no interest in all those squigglies on the page.  The bottom line is, I missed the Don’t Touch the Bagel Memo.  Besides, as Sheriff Woody I figure it’s alright if I call myself “Assistant Protector of Bagels Everywhere.”  Just to make everything official, I quickly named my mission “Operation Bagel Snatcher.”

So there’s the bagel, sitting on the table, right in front of a Hungry Hound’s nose.  Just one whiff, and I could practically taste the lightly toasted blueberry delicacy, generously painted with plain cream cheese.  I looked to the left… to the right… Sister Martian was nowhere to be seen!  I was sure she wouldn’t notice if I just took one bite.  I hopped up onto a chair, and then onto the table, and gulped down the bagel.

Suddenly, Sister Martian came running up behind me and tackled me, dragging me down to the floor and into an unwanted hug.  I would have gladly accepted a belly rub if it weren’t for the bagel crumbs that I knew were feeling lonely on top of the table.  As the Assistant Protector of Bagels Everywhere, I knew I couldn’t just leave them behind!  I bolted and made a beeline for the table, but Sister Martian tackled me again and I found myself being carried outside of the house.

Despite my frustration at the failure of Operation Bagel Snatcher, I might have gotten over it if it weren’t for what happened next.  Before my eyes, Cat leaped onto the table, all twenty pounds of her swinging back and forth as she strutted over to my bagel crumbs.  I scratched at the door, hoping that someone would help me stop this Cat in her Crime Against Bagels Everywhere, but nobody would let me inside!

I might have been moping outside all day, but then I saw a WABBIT and I was off and running…

Allow Me to Introduce Myself…

March 23, 2010

It's been a long day of naps and belly rubs... I'd best get some beauty rest.

Hi there!  My name is Sheriff Woody.  You can call me Bluepaw, Dogdog, Hoondus, The Big Woof, or just Woody if you want to keep things nice and simple.

I was born in Indiana, spent a year frolicking in Arkansas, and now I’m home in the Great Midwest.  There are lots of perks to being a Midwestern Hound Dog.  For instance, there are always plenty of rabbits to sniff and squirrels to chase.  In the winter, we get lots of snow, though it’s not as much as the Weather God promises on the 9:00 news.  Snow is alright with me, except for when there are more than six inches on the ground.  When you’re a Basset Hound, snow can be pretty tricky to walk in.

I have lots of friends, including Alpha Dad, Alpha Mom, Brother Pooch, and Cat.  Okay, so Cat doesn’t exactly consider me a friend, but I’m working on reparing that relationship.  Sometimes, Alpha Dad takes me for a walk at the P-A-R-K.  He thinks he’s really clever for spelling out the word, like that’s going to stop a Hound Dog from figuring out where he’s going.  Alpha Mom makes great food.  Some of my personal favorites are Fish Skin and something she calls “Birthday Cake.”  Brother Pooch isn’t much of a chef, but he’s about my size and whenever we wrestle, I win.  Oh yeah, hears to Basset Hound supremacy.

As a Basset Hound, I get into all kinds of trouble.  Apparently Basset Hounds aren’t supposed to chew pens or steal hot dogs.  (But it’s okay if I sleep on the sofa when Alpha Mom isn’t looking.)  Once, I walked right down the street and got myself lost for a week!  It’s tough being short, too.  Once a Great Dane walked right over me at the P-A-R-K!  The life of a Basset Hound can sure be strenuous.

Alpha Dad started a blog a while back, and he thinks he’s pretty cool for coming up with sayings like “The moral of the story is, my blog is awesome.”  The way I see it, it’s my duty to put Alpha Dad in his place.  The competition is on to see who can get more hits on their blog.  I mean, seriously, who wants to read about all that human stuff?  I’d much rather read about myself. 

The moral of this story is… I may not type as fast or be as clever, but I have one thing on my side that no human or cat has got going for them: Bassetude.


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