Posts Tagged ‘hound’

What Bassets Aren’t Allowed to Do

April 17, 2010

When I arrived at the P-A-R-K today with Alpha Dad and Sister Martian, there was a policeman trying to give people tickets for having their dogs off-leash during No Dogs Allowed hours.  Since I couldn’t read the No Dogs sign, I walked right into the P-A-R-K and luckily wasn’t caught be the policeman.  Unfortunately, some of my friends got busted by the strict cop.  I don’t understand why they won’t let dogs off-leash at the P-A-R-K after 9:00- nobody is ever there during the day and we’re not bothering anyone!  Some rules Rules in general don’t make any sense to me.

When I was entering the P-A-R-K, I ran into my friend and fellow basset: Chip.  Chip was heading back toward the parking lot with his parents.  In his mouth was a headless wabbit.  Chip was looking mighty pleased with himself, and he even let me take a sniff of his prize.  For some reason, his parents weren’t thrilled about Chip’s find.  Chip’s Dad kept trying to get him to drop the wabbit, but of course Chip wouldn’t do something that stupid.  What sort of basset hound would drop such a prize just because someone asked them nicely?  Unfortunately, Chip’s Mom proved to be a real Alpha Parent.  She grabbed the wabbit by the hind legs and yanked it out of Chip’s mouth, and then flung it off the trail.  Chip and I both gazed wistfully at the dead wabbit lying in the grass. 

The good news: there is always next time, assuming that Chip and I aren’t kept out of the P-A-R-K by some policeman who doesn’t like dogs.

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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