Posts Tagged ‘arkansas’

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!

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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