Posts Tagged ‘sister martian’

Who Says Bassets Can’t Crochet?

July 8, 2011

Sometimes, it gets a little boring being a basset hound.  My family goes outside to garden, and I’m left inside with only the cat to keep me company.  (I’d rather have no company at all, she’s really bosy.)  So the other day I figured I’d take up a hobby.  After all, each person in my family has a hobby.  Brother Pooch likes to practice playing his vavuvalawawa.  Sister Fairy bakes cookies, which I am sometimes lucky enough to snatch.  Sister Martian likes to drive the car into the garage– she does it all the time, but I’ve never been able to figure out why she likes to do it so much.  Alpha Mom sings, and she’s pretty good, especially when she sings about the lion that sleeps tonight (I can sympathize!).  However, I like Alpha Dad’s hobby best of all because his hobby is giving me attention.

Anyways, I was lying in the middle of the living room with nothing to do.  And all of a sudden I noticed that there was a ball of yellow yarn on the coffee table right in front of me!  I remembered how Sister Martian was… crocheting?  Is that the word? …this morning, and I thought, “If she can do it, so can I!”  I couldn’t find that funny metal stick thing that she was using, but I figured if I just gave the yarn ball a good chewing, my teeth could be just as efficient.

As it turned out, I was really talented at this crocheting business.  Before long, I had covered the entire living room with yellow yarn!  I figured, why would an adventurous basset hound want to take on a small project when he could take on a big project?  I made sure every inch of carpet was yellow, but I still felt like my project was missing something.

And then I had the most incredible idea.  There, on the coffee table, was a blue metal object.  It looked a little bit like a computer, except that it was much smaller and instead of letters it had numbers on the keys.  But most importantly, it was shiny!  I jumped as high as I could and knocked the device onto the carpet.  I gave it a few good chomps and spread the pieces around the living room to adorn my crochet project.  I knew my family would be impressed!

Sure enough, when Sister Martian walked into the living room later that day, she stared at my creation for a really long time.  I think she was awstruck by the force of beauty before her.  And then she told our Alpha Parents to come and have a look, and they stared at my project for a really long time, too.  Before long, my entire family was standing in the living room, admiring the work of their talented hound.

Alpha Dad’s Day

June 19, 2011

Why does a hound always have to do everything?  Some families remember Alpha Dad Day and make plans to go out to eat or see a movie, but my family is disorganized, which means the entertainment for the day is taking me for a W-A-L-K.  Don’t get me wrong, W-A-L-K’s are the best!  I insist that Alpha Dad take me every night, and if he’s tired I just pout and spill my food everywhere until he realizes who’s boss.  But no hound wants to wake up early on Sunday morning, especially after he had to stay up all night because Sister Martian was having a party.  Those crazy kids were running around and shouting and singing for three whole hours!  I did manage to snatch a pulled pork sandwich, though, and that made up for some of the disturbance.  I had counted on getting to sleep in this morning, but woe is the strenuous life of a basset hound.

Anyways, I’m finally home from a long, hot W-A-L-K and you won’t believe what the plan is for the rest of the day!  Watching the U.S.-Jamaica soccer game with the sound on!  I agree with Alpha Mom on this one– soccer games are best with the sound off.  But as Alpha Mom tried to explain to me, on Alpha Dad Day we have to tolerate the crazy pastimes of our Alpha Dads.  So I’m trying to ignore the obnoxious vavuvalawawas in order to catch some shut-eye under the coffee table.

There should be a day when my whole family celebrates me.  We could call it “Basset’s Day.”  I would even settle for “Woody’s Day.”  There would be a strict no-noise policy, everyone would sleep until 5 p.m., and then I would go for a brisk walk, have a whole steak to myself, and fall asleep.  Heavenly!

In the mean time, though, I’ll have to try to get into the spirit of Alpha Dad’s Day.  I suppose I can sleep in for the rest of the week to make up for the great inconvenience of the game.  And I just know he’s going to love my present: I’ve taken it upon myself to help him with his gardening!

Too Many Friends

July 19, 2010

Summer is a tough time to be a hound dog.  All of my big siblings are home and so I can’t get any beauty rest.  For instance, the other day my nap was interrupted when Brother Pooch came home late at night with a big red horn.  I think it was called a Vavuvalawawa or something like that.  And last week, someone dared to turn on the television at three in the afternoon.  Three in the afternoon!  That is definitely siesta time.

But the worst interference in my life this summer has been all of my new friends.  The other night, Sister Martian invited a whole bunch of teenagers over to my house.  For some reason, they all wanted to get me!  I don’t trust teenagers with cars.  They say they want to pet you, but they could be plotting to take you to the vet!  Some of them offered me bread, but I am a smart hound.  I did no-go until they tossed the bread right to me!  When you’re as popular as I am you can pull this stuff off.

Teenagers like to play very loud music.  It sounds kind of like a whole bunch of Vavuvalawawas all at once, with scary banging noises thrown in for good measure.  Also, teenagers never drop People Food- they eat every bite!  I guess when you’re a teenager you just ignore it when your friends do inconsiderate things like that. 

It’s really tough being a basset hound with too many people who want to pet you, but hopefully I’ll get to go to the P-A-R-K this weekend and that will make up for it!

Digging for Treasure: Teen Sister Edition

May 8, 2010

I was home alone.  I was bored.  And Sister Martian’s backpack was so tempting…

At first, I was enchanted by the smell.  It was a delightful blend of a half-eaten turkey sandwich and the zing of soda.  The backpack was unzipped, and I figured that it was my responsibility as Sheriff Bluepaw and the Assistant Protector of Bagels Everywhere to investigate. 

As I discovered, backpacks of teenagers are treasure troves for basset hounds.  Within seconds I had uncovered a blue rectangle with a screen and lots of buttons (which I later learned was called a “cal-Q-later”), as well as a few sheets of paper with scribbles all over them.  I gnawed on the cal-Q-later for a while, but soon realized that the paper with scribbles was much tastier and I demolished that instead.  I finished off my snack with the remains of the turkey sandwich that I found rotting beneath some books.

For some reason, Sister Martian was pretty irritated with me that evening.  She was up really late making funny-looking scribbles on a piece of paper.  (Personally, I think she would have been better off getting some beauty rest, an activity that I have found quite rewarding.)  And you won’t believe this: even though investigating her backpack had been my duty as a loyal basset hound, she was upset with me for eating something that I have never heard of- an “essay-due-tomorrow!”

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…


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