Three Pigs in a Blanket? No, Three Dogs on a bed

Wow, what a beautiful Monday evening. Around seven o'clock I spent about twenty minutes sitting out on my front porch watching the dogs amuse themselves chasing birds, squirrels, chipmunks, and anything else that dared trespass into our yard. Now they are tired, and I am sitting at the kitchen table writing on my laptop. That is where I took this picture.

I am outlining the story of my childhood buddy, Rags the dog, and trying to figure out where to start the story. The day we brought Rags home, or the day we left his predecessor, a dog named Blackie, at the Vet, because someone had fed Blackie ground meet with glass and he died in surgery.

People are cruel to one another, but not dogs. they establish their territories, and then they abide by them.

Dogs have the right idea. Let's all just get along.

I am who you think I am, and I love dogs

It has been a very busy, and tough week. Friday alone was a great roller coaster ride.
I wanted to leave work early, but that didn't happen. So I didn't get to Vallos bakery until after three to get our order for Saturday morning at the Jersey shore. Then because of the line, I was there about 45 minutes. This means I didn't get home until after 4 PM, and Ethel the dog had an appointment at the vet for 4:30 PM. Mrs C went to the Jersey shore with her sister and niece at 9 Am, so I was on my own.

Ethel the dog is very sick. so sick that she couldn't get her shots and be boarded. It happens. So I had to cancel boarding for her, Lucy and Sally. I got up at 4 Am as usual Friday to go to work, but now, with all my fun, I don't get back home until after 6PM. I need some me time, so I pack up and head to the gym for a good work out, and then I come home just before 9 PM, having relieved some stress, and check my email. I immediately wish I hadn't, but I move on from there, starting laundry, reading a few more emails and then the paper online before heading to bed.

Saturday I get up at 5 AM, having slept in for an extra hour. I give Ethel her medications by hiding them in a chopped up Oscar Meyer hot dog, and administer her ear drops. I feed the fish, and then I load up the car with all the goodies for the almost three hour drive to Cape May point, New Jersey.

Now don't freak out people, I leave the dogs alone at home in a very big house and Mrs C and I are away each day anyway at work. We have the whole Brinks security thing going on, motion and fire detectors, threshold sensors etc, so there's nothing to worry about.
I get to Cape May point about 9;30, enjoy the Easter Egg hunt, do family lunch and all that, and then at 2 PM I kiss Mrs C good bye and head home. I get back at 5PM, and do another shift of Dog meds, before letting the three puppy girls outside for a while.
Then around 6 PM I turn on the alarm, and go run the errands, as in grocery shopping. I got home around 8:15 PM, and now, after putting the groceries away, I open my email, and what do I get?
Supposedly I spent the last 48 hours online posting anonymously hateful comments on the blogs of other people who I don't get along with.

YOU PEOPLE NEED TO GET A BLEEPIN LIFE!

I know that it is hard for some, especially certain residents of certain Pennsylvania counties that border New Jersey and the Delaware river to understand, but I have other things to do than hide behind a computer and think up ways to insult your obviously fragile egos. I'm also irked to hear that one particular wackjob, a NOBODY, you might say, is anonymously impersonating me.

Let me make it very clear to you crazies, and not so crazies.

I SIGN MY NAME TO MY COMMENTS, AND I DON"T WRITE ANYTHING THAT I WOULDN'T SAY TO YOUR FACE. Yes I called someone a stubborn mule concerning their behavior. I signed my name to that comment, see a pattern there? GET OVER IT.

If you don't like what I write, DON 'T READ IT ANYMORE!

This is just a blog, that I use to express myself, nothing more I'm not using it to do character assassination, as some bloggers who consider themselves "relevant" and "credible" do. No settling of personal or political scores here. Just me laughing at myself as I make it through each and every day.

Most bloggers I know understand what we are doing here. It's a support community for many who found a new way to express their innermost thoughts. We share our joys and our pains, without inflicting them on others. But some people take Blogs as their real life, and I think in some cases, their BLOGS HAVE BECOME THEIR LIFE. In Fact, I am convinced of that.

You know something else? I'm not sure if it was Will Rogers or Mark Twain (Samuel Clements), but there is a quote that says you can take a dog as a friend, and he will be a friend for life, but if you make a man your friend, eventually he will bite you. You could say the same for some male bloggers I know. (So far all the women bloggers I know are class acts)

If I had a choice between my three dogs, and certain(and it is a very few, and they are all male, by the way,) bloggers as friends, I would choose my three dogs.

They are loyal, loving, and don't care about my bad days, they treat me the same and aren't fair weather friends. I know of at least a couple of Lehigh Valley Bloggers I could never say that about.

Certain Bloggers versus dogs? Dogs win hands down.

Oh, and by the way, Happy Easter. Sally chased a rabbit out of the yard while I was writing this. I guess there won't be any candy in my basket tomorrow!

April Fools Day, and We have so much work to do

Hi, I'm Sheriff Fred, and next to me is Deputy Ethel

Due to Budget Constraints in Allentown, we are all that is left of the Police Department. We will do our best, but there wasn't anything left in the budget to pay for gas in our patrol car, so we will be on foot. Our response time is pretty good, considering we have to run, but we will manage. We blew our budget this year paying for this, our official portrait. Hope you like it!

P.S. We are good friends with McGruff, he said he'd stop by and help out on weekends, if that makes you feel any better!

"Monday Monday, how I hate that day..."

About the only good thing about Monday is that Friday is only 4 days away. As promised last week, here's a picture of our dog Sally, after the haircut.

Can you feel the pity? Do you feel as guilty as I do? Don't. She got a clean bill of health. We have no idea how old she really is, but she still thinks she is a puppy. After almost 6 years she has us trained.

The Lost Cruller

Yesterday, a local columnist who I think highly of had knee surgery. I felt for him. When I had my hip replaced, and when I had my gastric bypass, it was a great comfort to me that many people who knew me in passing stopped by to see how I was.
So I stopped by the gentleman's home this afternoon after work, and I came bearing comfort food: a half dozen crullers from Vallos bakery.

Those of us who live in the Lehigh Valley know how wonderful the products of Vallos bakery are. Their loaves of bread are made WITHOUT preservatives. Sure, the mold will show up in a week, but whose loaf last that long? Their pastries are without parallel. During lent they make their standard glazed and powdered sugar crullers, as well as chocolate glazed and Blueberry glazed crullers. Talk about LARD! Just put an IV of cholesterol in my arm, it wouldn't be as dangerous as eating one of those crullers, but it damn sure wouldn't taste as wonderful!
I stopped by Vallos on the way home from work near Montgomeryville, and picked up a half dozen for my ailing friend, who was grateful.

I also purchased 3 powdered sugar crullers for my wife, as well as one chocolate and three glazed crullers for me. I did purchase a fresh loaf of Vienna bread, that was still warm from the oven when they bagged it. Try driving home with that smell in your car!

So anyway, I went to the gym and worked out this evening, and when I came home, Mrs C broke the news: "You lost a cruller."
How do you lose a cruller, you might ask?
What happened was Mrs C decided to indulge in one of her powdered white sugar crullers, but somehow dropped one of my glazed crullers on the floor.
Now with three dogs in our house, what do you think happened when that cruller hit the floor?

I love my dogs. I just hope nobody goes into sugar shock.

Time to Shave Sally!

This is Sally Ann Casey. Sally does not liked to be groomed. She does not like to be bathed either. Once a year, usually in the spring, when it is warm enough, Sally goes to the vet for grooming. They put her under anesthesia to do it.

We adopted Sally from the humane society shelter on Dixon street in Allentown way back in 2003. She is very fearful of strangers, and because she runs and hides every time I unravel a garden hose, we believe that she was beaten with one by someone. Everyone who has tried to groom her ends up getting bit. We are able to give her occasional trims, as she will let me hold her while my wife uses the scissors.

When we first moved to Trexlertown, right after we got Sally, she was afraid to go off the porch because the invisible fence shocked her. Then she learned that if she ran fast enough, she could get through it, no matter how high we turned it up on her collar. So see, it wouldn't work on your kids! I know some of you were thinking that!

So Sally has a run that allows her a radius of 50 feet, and allows her to chase the rabbits and cats at fully Sally speed, at least until she hits the boundary of the invisible fence. Lucy and Ethel are both approaching 13 years of age, so they are content to let Sally do all the entertaining.

Monday I took Sally to the vet for her yearly check up, shots, and the required blood work before anesthesia. You don't want to know how much it costs, but for all the love and protection our Sally dog gives us, it is a bargain in my book. Wednesday Mrs C drops her off before 8 AM for her shearing, and we will pick her up tomorrow night. I'll post an after picture on Thursday.

Dogs don't care about Time Changes

Last night, I worked on my literary endeavor off and on again for about 6 hours. The three dogs watched my every move, and every time I rose to stretch or get a drink, they followed, so I let them outside for a few minutes.

Dogs don't use clocks to tell time. They don't really use their master's habits either. What they do use is their own internal clock, one that says "time to pee, time to eat," or "time to sleep".

This morning, long before sunrise, Sally hopped on the bed to let me know that it was time for something. My clock said 4:30, which was 3:30 in old time, but that's about the time I usually get up, and sally had needs. So off to the door we went, with Lucy and Ethel dragging along.

"Everybody go poop" I commanded, and of course they did. Right in the middle of the sidewalk, as if displaying trophies of their accomplishments. Lucy is the smallest in height, but the biggest in girth, and she is proud of her poops, all in one place, one big pile.
Ethel though, likes to walk down the sidewalk while doing it, as if writing a message to the Gods. Translated, I believe the pattern may say something like "Send more Puppy treats."
Finally, there's Sally, who likes to cover all the bases, literally. Sally likes to spread the fertilizing wealth, so to speak, around. One poop here, one poop there, then one over there, and another over here. It all ends up in the Rose garden, but still, she tries to share.

But to them the Time change means nothing. When I get up, it's time to go. When I leave for work, its puppy treat time. When Kricket gets up at 6:30, they go out again, and when she leaves it's puppy treats for the road. when I get home after 3 PM, it's time to run outside and poop once again, after holding it all day.

Between Brinks security, with alarms on every door, and motion detectors, our dogs don't worry about time changes or intruders. all they worry about is sleeping, eating, pooping, and chasing squirrels.

The sun comes up, and the Sun goes down, and all is right in their world. What a life. I'm sort of jealous.

Dogs Hate Winter Too

Lucy on the Left, Ethel on the Right

Lucy: Y'know Eff, remember when it was warm outside?

Ethel: It was warm outside? when was that?

Lucy: Back before they brought that Sally Dog in the house.

Ethel: You mean the whack job that chases her tail and barks at her reflection in the mirror?

Lucy: Yeah, her, but I'm talking about when it was warm, remember that?

Ethel: I guess, I have trouble remembering what I bought last with my credit card. By the way, I ordered us new squeaky squirrels!

Lucy: How do you do that?

Ethel: On Kricket's computer. She leaves it open on the chair all the time!

Lucy: Well how'd you get a credit card? I thought only humans had those?

Ethel: Hey, it came in the mail. I applied online. And I pay the bill by filling out shopper surveys. People are stupid, they have no idea I'm a dog!

Lucy: So how do you decide what to buy?

Ethel: It's tough. Though since Chris started getting all those Orvis catalogues, it's been easier. I even use the discount code on the back of it.

Lucy: You don't buy anything for Sally, do you? She gets to sleep on the bed, and I don't.

Ethel: Don't worry, I got you a "dog's nest" with an orthopedic support for your bad back. It's even heated!

Lucy: You're the best older sister a dog could have, you know that? I love you girl.

Ethel: Ditto, but thanks for saying that. and try and show some love for Sally, it's going to get warm again soon, and she will spend more time outside.

Lucy: Which means more time for us at the food bowl, right?

Ethel: Now you're getting it.

Lucy: I hate winter

Ethel: Me too. Now lets tell Sally that we think there's a stray cat in the yard, so she'll want to go out.

Lucy: Okay! If it gets her away from the food bowl, I'm all for it!

More Fun with Floors!

My 2.6 regular readers will recall that back around the last weekend of October I put wood flooring in the Family/TV room. That turned out so well, that I decided to move on to a much more technically difficult, but smaller area, the main hallway of our first floor.

The TV room took 15 boxes (17.59 square feet per box), the hallway only took six, but it took as long time wise. I had to cut and put in 4 different length transition pieces for access points to the hallway, compared to one 78" piece for the family room. The Jig saw got a lot of use in cutting pieces for the many different grooves and curves in the hallway. I must say, I'm getting quite good at this! Mrs C was most pleased, and impressed.

Of Course, the dogs were not happy. I had to use various instruments to block them from the area as I worked, and every trip back and forth to the garage after measuring to cut a piece was accompanied by my every faithful helper, Lucy. Wherever I go, Lucy must follow. Sally will watch, but Ethel will take a nap, being deaf, my hammering and sawing doesn't faze her.

Lucy though, always finds a way to get around whatever obstacle there might be, and waddle over to get in my way. Sometimes she brings a mouth full of food, and spits it out right where I'm working, as if to offer me a share.

I think it hurts her feelings that I'm not interested, but as long as I rub her belly and give her an occasional scratch behind the ears, she seems placated.

Heeeeere's Lucy! Sunning herself on a warm Summer day!

So that's what I did this weekend. I understand that the people who install carpet have to use a lot of tacks, but damn, getting them out is tedious and time consuming. The Hallway is a high traffic area in any house, and when you have dogs, keeping the carpet clean is an exponentially trying task, especially on carpet. I steam cleaned the hallway regularly, as often as every weekend, because of all the hair, and assorted dirt the dogs drag in on their happy little paws.

I put about 16 hours of labor into the hallway, and that's not counting the trip to Lowes to buy all the supplies ($309.44). Thankfully, Flooring was 15% off this weekend, so I saved a few bucks. I had to buy 5 boxes of flooring, (I had one left over from the Family Room), and two 78" transition pieces that I cut as needed. When I do work for other people, I charge $25 an hour.

So I look at the expense of this as around $700. When we looked into having an local floor company come in and do our family room, they came back with an estimate in excess of $3500, which I thought was kind of steep. The wood and supplies for the Family room ran me around $850, and I did that in 18 hours,, at a self labor cost of $450. So I look at that as an expenditure of $1300. So I think I can reasonably say I saved myself a few bucks by doing all my own work.

Hey, I already owned all the required tools, why not?

So What's next? The reasonably easy dining room, which is 22'6" by 11' 8 ". It is a perfect square, and won't require the jigsaw at all, only straight cuts. Now I round up for my supplies, and I'm figuring I'm going to need 16 boxes of flooring to do the Dining room, and I have enough of a transition piece left over to do the entryway from the kitchen to the dining room. I also have half a box left over from the hallway, so I've got spares.

I'm figuring 16 boxes at $52.20 a box equals $835.20 + tax = $ 885.31 throw in 16 hours of labor ($400.00) and I'm thinking I might get the entire first floor finished by March. I've got a couple of odd jobs lined up in the meantime, (like putting a second coat of paint on our 20 foot ceiling in the foyer) but I'm feeling pretty accomplished right now. Yeah, I like writing, but sometimes I get the best inspiration on what to write about while working with my hands, and that's what happened here, as you will eventually find out.

Casey's laws of Yardwork # 4....

Whichever direction you are attempting to Rake leaves towards a curb, that is the direction the wind will start blowing from in 30 MPH gusts.

I went out this afternoon for about an hour to try and rake some leaves. I swear to God, no matter what direction I tried to rake them in, they blew back at me. The dogs didn't seem to mind. Lucy and Ethel sat on the porch for the most part, staring at me as I raked futilely away.

But Sally? Ah, Sally, she of the big floppy, ever wagging tail. Sally ran back and forth through the leaves, having a damn good time.

Casey's Laws of Yard work # 5: Whatever you are doing, let the dogs help. It will make it seem like a much easier task. (and it will go faster)

I'm not suggesting you let the dog operate the Chainsaw, though I wouldn't be surprised if a dog could drive a riding mower. If only I could train them to rake leaves.

The Birthday Puppy: Guess who's 12?!

The little black Cocker Spaniel in the Foreground is Lucy. Lucy turns twelve years old today. That's approximately somewhere between 80 and 90 in human years. Ethel, behind her to the right, turned twelve on June 28. Both of these dogs are Cancer survivors. Ethel had several tumors removed when she was 5, and Lucy had three removed earlier this year. as of now, they are both doing pretty well. Ethel's had some health issues in recent months, her sight is failing, and she's almost deaf, but Lucy, other than being a bit overweight, is in pretty good health.

Close to Home

Tuesday night about 7:30 the Thunder started. Our dogs are not that thrilled with thunder. It incites much whining and whimpering, especially from Sally. I went to bed just before 9, as someone who gets up in the 4 AM hour is want to do. Then, at 9:22 I was shaken by a good jolt, as the whole house vibrated from a loud booming, very close to home Lightning Strike. From the bright flash through the Master Bedroom window, I'd wager a good guess that the strike happened in the swamp/retention pond on the other side of the railroad spur behind the house.

I was pleasantly surprised that we never lost power, and I count my blessings on that one.
This much I know for sure: I am going to have to bring down that 60 foot plus Walnut tree behind the house before it comes down ON THE HOUSE. I had one come down and do damage and destroy a rain gutter back in February during the Ice Storm, and unless I want a repeat, and want to spend several hundred more dollars on more rain gutters, I better get to it before Thanksgiving.

There wasn't only one nearby lightning strike last night, though, I think there may have been at least two more over the space of 40 minutes between 9:22 and 10 PM. I fell into a deep sleep shortly after the last, and didn't wake until Mr. Alarm started its damnable beeping.
If I get a chance before the weekend I'll head over the Railroad tracks and take a glance at the swamp for any sign of where any of them hit. Earlier this summer there was a tree split in 3 pieces, and dozens of dead birds on the ground, thereby proving that nature is indiscriminate in unleashing her fury.

Painting With Dogs

Lucy "Van Gogh" Casey, contemplates her next
artwork while lounging in the yard.

Mrs. C has been away in Dallas for a conference since last Saturday, and returns tomorrow. While she was gone, I took the opportunity to paint the foyer and stairwell, which has a 20 foot ceiling and walls. Mrs. C had already picked out the color she wanted, and last Saturday, after I dropped her at the airport, I stopped by Lowes and picked up the paint and other supplies.

But I still had three dogs in the house to help me.

So I've got this big blue tarp covering the foyer's tile floor. I happen to spill a small spot of the mostly white paint on the tarp. no big deal, right? Guess where both of the all black dogs managed to step? Guess what they tracked all over the carpets? And just when I get that all cleaned up, Fat black little Lucy decides she should get around the gate and rub her fat black side against the freshly painted wall. If I was planning to paint the floor, I'd just dip her in the paint and roll her around! Kidding!

Do Dogs go to Heaven?

Unequivocally, I believe the answer to that question is yes.

I would like to think that the companionship, the unconditional love and devotion that a dog shares with its human masters, give us a glimpse of what God's true love for his children is.
"In his hand is the life of every creature and the breath of all mankind"
- Book of Job, Chapter 12, verse 10.

In recent weeks, two of my neighbors had to put down their beloved pets, as did a blog acquantaince have to put down a friend who wasn't all that old, yet had congenital painful conditions. Then yesterday I read another blogger's post concerning the loss of a canine friend.

In May 2003, I took the best friend I ever had, Fred the dog, to the vet. He was 16 years and 5 months old. He had deteriorated quickly in a matter of days. He couldn't control his bowels, and when I tried to bathe him, I found a large purple lump on his belly, that I hadn't noticed only two weeks earlier when I had last bathed him.

Fred had been fighting various illnesses for over 3 years. I knew what was coming, but I still hoped it wasn't. My buddy dog was in a great deal of pain, barely able to stand and whimpering incessantly. The vet told me there wasn't much to be done. Pain medication was an option, but his time was extremely limited.

I looked my buddy in the eyes and told the Vet I knew it was time. They gave me a few minutes, while I held him, talked to him, told him what a good friend he had been. I held him firm while they inserted the intravenous line, and I nodded when the Vet asked if I was ready. Fred didn't struggle, but he seemed to stare at me in gratitude that I was doing what I thought best to ease his suffering. After all the love he had given me, it was the least I could do.
I was still looking into his eyes as he went limp and the light of love that had shown so brightly for so long flickered out and dimmed to nothingness.

I believe that Dogs go to heaven, they are part of God's creation, and they await us there as much as any other friend or relative. With that in mind, I can't help but wonder if there are more dogs in heaven than people. I don't believe that God plays favorites, but with the wonderful relationship that exists between humans and dogs, I wouldn't be surprised to learn that God was a "dog person."

Bowling Alley Dreams

I have a recurring theme on my dreams. Some of the most vivid and memorable take place in a Bowling Alley. In fact, it is a specific Bowling Alley that I worked in and out of for over 6 years.

It was a 50 lane super center, and has since closed. I've had some pretty detailed dreams involving this place, but the latest was a doozy.

On my latest, I had died, and my job in the afterlife is to work there, and keep the incoming deceased who want to bowl while waiting to get into line for their "entrance interview" for Heaven happy.

My first thoughts about this are that I am damned.

Yep, damned.

Because nobody at the Purgatory Bowl (and that's what I've decided to call it) is happy with the lane conditions. The waiting customers seem to think that they should be able to throw a strike every time, just because they're dead. They also want their beer cold, and to be able to smoke all they want.

I hate to break it to them, but it's purgatory, or limbo, or wherever the hell I am (Maybe it is hell, I grew to hate working nights at that lanes) and not Heaven.

Anyway, that's my dream, except last night it had a twist. I had made it out of the Bowling Alley and was playing golf with my Dad. It was great! We were about down to the 12th hole, (I specifically remember it to be the 12th) when some guy showed up and said I had to go to a meeting.
Next thing I know, I'm standing at this table, and my wife and some of her friends (all still living) are sitting on the other side, and they are crying, and there's this psychic lady asking me questions. I'm giving her answers, but she's smirking and telling my wife exactly the opposite. Then the guy who dragged me to the meeting says I have to stay on earth as a spirit until I get it all worked out.

Then I woke up.

Is that not a fouled up dream, or what?

A couple of other notes... all my dogs from my life are regularly in my dream, and they are all happy to see me. This makes me think that I'm in a good place, but I had cats too, and I don't remember seeing any of them. I'm wondering of maybe I should lay off the coffee before bed?

Coming up Next: What I saw a guy do with a blow dryer at the gym today. And I thought the idiot who shaved in the jacuzzi was bad, wait until you read what this guy did.

Adventures in Yardwork

We have three dogs. They live, for the most part, in the house.
We also have skunks. They live, for the most part, in the area surrounding the retention pond/swamp behind our house, on the other side of the railroad tracks. Sometimes, the dogs and the skunk(s) cross paths. Those are very bad times.

Those times involve me giving very stinky dogs baths in the garage, usually between 9 PM and 5 AM, when I'd rather be sleeping.

Today's short tale involves a skunk. Fortunately, the dogs were not involved, Unfortunately, I was. Fortunately, the Skunk was dead. Unfortunately, It still stunk, like a Skunk.

So what happened?

One of my neighbors, a nice woman, has hired me to undertake a great deal of yard work and landscaping on her property. I work 5 or 6 hours a week, and among other things, I have been reconstituting several defined areas of bushes and plants, weeding them and putting in fresh mulch. Late last Friday, before taking the beloved Mrs C to dinner at Outback, per her wishes for our wedding anniversary, and I was out on the aforementioned property, working near some underbrush close to the railroad tracks.

I kept smelling skunk spray, but I didn't see it any where. I was on my knees, working my way around the flower bed. I grabbed a hold of a weed, and worked my hand down through the surrounding grasses, to try and grab the 4 + foot tall weed as close to the ground as possible and pull it out. It felt soft near the ground, and I let go, pulled the grasses back, and peered in to take a curious look.
I damn near jumped out of my shoes to see the face of a skunk staring back at me. It took a couple of seconds, but I realized it wasn't moving. The smell was bad, but not too bad. It was dead, and the evidence behind it suggested a battle of the food chain of epic proportions. It wasn't all that big of a skunk, it was probably not all that mature, but there were a great deal of very large feathers on the ground behind the body and around it. We do have a very large hawk living in those trees, and he has been seen snagging squirrels and such to eat.

I have never heard of a hawk or bird of prey snagging a skunk, or maybe it was one of the owls that lives back there, I couldn't tell you what the feathers were from, other than it must have been big.

I didn't touch the skunk again, and I didn't tell the nice lady who owns the place about it. No need freaking her out, was my thinking. I took my shovel and scooped it up. I took the corpse to the rear of the property and buried it. It's only 4 doors down from me, so Wednesday night, when I was out in the yard with Sally at dusk, and I saw Sally start heading for the black and white striped critter waddling along our property line below the railroad, I quickly grabbed Sally dog and dragged her into the house.

I wonder if the skunk was looking for a departed friend? I know it's a skunk, but I feel bad for it. Hey, they're one of God's creatures too. I wonder if we smell as bad to them as they do to us?
Think about that for awhile.

Ethel Mae Casey, Super Consumer!

Meet Miss Ethel Mae Casey, at least that's what we call her, and that's what her name is on somebody's mailing list.
Isn't she cute? She is a very happy dog. She likes to chase bunnies, stroll in the swamp, and roll around in the various poop of our indigenous neighbors, like the deer, the foxes, and even the possums.
Apparently, according to someones database out there, she likes to shop! So today in the mail, she gets the following:


Inviting her to participate in a shoppers survey. Now we have had our suspicions about Ethel, what with the wireless system somehow getting turned on, the mysterious credit card charges to Orvis, and the miscellaneous toys, treats, and padded beds that keep showing on the porch, but now this confirms it!

Fortunately I intercepted this survey before she could fill it out!

Under Charitable causes, I have no doubt she would have checked, "Animal shelter, and under Occupation, "Retired."

There is a section titled "weight Management" which she does relate to, food wise, but under Leisure activities, I'd have to say "Sleeping."

Finally, the last page says if she fills it out and returns it by October 13th, she will be entered to win an additional $2500 dollars! Now that's tempting, almost makes me want to let her do it.

Here's an excerpt from their letter to Ethel:

"Dear Shopper,

As a Pennsylvania resident, you lay a key role in our consumer Surveys. (Really! Our Ethel, AKA Snuffy?! Who Knew!) Once in a while we carefully select individuals in your community - those whom we feel represent the smartest, most value conscious shoppers.

(Oh yeah, that's our Snuffy dog, smart and budget conscious!) Then we use some of our research budget to find out exactly what these smart shoppers really want. (Must be one hell of a budget!)

If our hunch is right, you are such a person. (I hope you guys already got paid!) That's why I'm sending you this private invitation through the mail."

I'm going to skip ahead here, to my favorite part:

"As the Main Grocery Shopper in your household - when you speak your mind, Better products get to market".

Yep, our dog does make the market better. She especially likes the Natural Dog Biscuits fortified with Vitamins and 6 minerals that you can only buy at Sam's club. She likes Nutro dog food for Senior Dogs, but also likes an occasional plain McDonald's hamburger, served after a visit to the Puppy wash.

At the Puppy wash her hair is washed in a creme rinse, giving it that soft feel, and fragrant smell, that only helps to keep her smelling fresh until she finds someone's fresh poop to roll in. Yep, Snuffy's doing her part to help get better products to the market!

On Top of all this, for serving as an OFFICIAL PENNSYLVANIA PARTICIPANT in OUR 2008 Consumer Product Survey of America, Ethel , aka "Snuffy" could win a lot of money. What is sad is we still get credit card offers for her all the time. I toss them in the shredder. That's where this is headed now. But I'm going to give her and the other two dogs a treat first. They deserve it. It's hard work being the subject of a blog, for a dog.

Gee what's next, is she registered to Vote? Oh My God, What if she's a Supervoter!!! Will Sarah Palin make her an official Iditarod spokesdog? Will Joe Biden offer to make her an honorary drug sniffing dog for the DEA? God help us!