With my humans both out for the day, I thought I would take this chance to share some of my first impressions of this new place. Mom is at work, and Dad went to Centurion with my new friend Nikki (she brought me treats!) to help her shop for a new truck. They call trucks “bakkies” here. I do not know that word. Anyway, Dad left his laptop on, so I decided to put my paws to the keyboard and tell you my version of what’s going on here. I read the blog, too, and I think that’s been missing.
First things first, did you hear about what I went through to get here? Sweet Mother of Milkbones! The cross-country drive was one thing (I like car trips), but 22 hours in that cage – including 16 in the belly of that giant metal horse – was the worst! I don’t think I slept at all. I may not have any concept of time, but that was a long time! There were some nice humans along the way that fed me treats from a baggie attached to the cage, but that was cold comfort in the grand scheme of things. What’s funny is that when I saw my people again, I totally forgot it was them that put me through all that. I just needed to piss like a race-Great Dane.
Now that we are here (wherever “here” is), I am beginning to really enjoy myself. There are a ton of new smells. Even the dirt smells different, and the grass is really short and it’s fun to roll around on it. What’s most fun about going outside, though, is finding all the chicken bones on the ground. I’m not a religious dog, but Sirius must have truly blessed this place to make chicken bones so abundant. Sometimes I even find cow and lamb bones! It’s awesome!
Ha, ha…sometimes…this is great…Sometimes I even get them when I go running with Mom. What I’ll do is I’ll stop and pretend like I have to “do my business,” but really I smelled the chicken bone from, like, half a block away and I’ll just pick it up and eat it. She falls for it every time!
Speaking of doing my business, I really like to poop in front of the Iraqi Embassy. It’s just up the street. It means nothing to me, but my humans always get a kick out of it. Once, I heard Dad say that my pooping there was like something he called a “metaphor.” Bakkie? Metaphor? I don’t know these words.
Across the street from the Iraqi Embassy is a vet shop. I usually don’t like going to the vet, but this one has yummy treats and these tasty sinew chew sticks. I eat those. I’ve become really good at dragging my humans into this shop.
My humans also got me these treats called “Beeno.” They’re like regular, little, bone-shaped biscuits, and they taste pretty good. My friend, Nikki, brought me some, too. Every time I get one the humans say, “Take Beeno and there’ll be no gas.” Yeah. As if. Have you seen all the crap I pick up off the street? Even my iron gut can’t handle some of those strange things.
I’ll tell you what else I can’t handle: all these grumpy security dogs behind their giant fences. We’ll be running or just out for a walk, and all these pompous purebreds will start yapping nastiness at us. To tell you the truth, I have no idea what they are saying. One golden lab told me, in a very thick accent, that I had better learn something called “Afrikaans” if I wanted to fit in here. Bakkie? Metaphor? Afrikaans? I don’t know these words.
That stupid Jack Russell that slips through his fence and follows me around…man, I can’t understand him at all. He’s hyper. “Talk to the paw,” I tell him.
Oh, there is a gentle old chow who’s been nice to me. I always thought chows were mean, but this one is pretty friendly. Well, as friendly as you can be through the fortress walls.
All in all, life is pretty good. Again, I don’t know where we are or what this place is called (I’m tempted to name it Chicken Bone Land), but as long as my peeps are here and they keep letting me have most of the room on the bed at night, I am happy.
I just thought you should hear it from me.