i'm baaaa(r)k

did'ya miss me???

arf.

What's an old dog to do...

Chasing cars is boring (and hard to do lying in the sun on the back porch).

Ropes and toys don't make me bounce around like they used to.

The kids are too big to play with anymore (can't push them around like I used to).

Don't need to do rounds anymore...nothing to watch for, plus, what would I do if I saw something??

Bored watching the news or reading the paper (before shredding it)...

It's still satisfying to rip a box to shreds, but how many times can you rip open a great smelling Pop-Tarts box, just to see that this one, too, is empty and hollow.

Now, not only do I have to be afraid of everything on four legs that I come across, but there's a new threat on 4 WHEELS chasing me around the house every now and then...

It's spring.  I need some spring.  Please send comments on what we can all do this summer, ok??

Arf.

Plus, I cheated to win the NCAA pool.  I had the Lobos originally...not the Huskies...  there.  I feel better already...

Maybe I can learn to knit...or whistle...

ReArf....

Dogs vs Cats in the NCAA final...

...Dogs win and I take the family pool, methinks....

I have a hard head but I am not a rhino

According to The Onion not only have I moved to Washington to be the President’s pet, but I’ve also skipped genus (or is it class or order – I’m still just a dog.  A ChaunceyDogTM and Chauncey-RooTM product, and The Most Interesting Dog In The World^XX, but still a dog) to become a RHINOCEROS.

Text of my note to the editor:

Dear Publisher Emeritus T. Herman Zweibel (look it up):

A recent article professed to state that I, as the only referenceable celebrity named Chauncey in the US and covered territories, have become a mere house pet.  In Washingon.  As a rhinoceros.

This article is defamatory.  And incorrect, to boot.

Let me make one thing perfectly clear (that’s the same president, right…I have problems with time, since…stay with me…I’M A RHINOCEROS wait – DOG, yeah, DOG).  I am not now, nor have I ever been a member of the rhinoceros party.

It is true that some rooms I’ve “redecorated” have looked like a rhino went  through them, and I’ve had some veterinarians make disparaging remarks about my weight.  It is also true that I have a large tusk sticking out of my head.  Wait, no it’s not…   I am confident that you heard about these incidents, took some “creative liberty” with the facts, and – bang – I’m a rhinoceros.

I’m here to tell you that as the purveyor of news that is the primary source for current events for over 70% of Americans, you have a higher responsibility to the truth.  I expect you to hold to your own high standards. 

Always remember – If Chewbacca doesn’t make any sense, you must retract!

An immediate correction or retraction is required.  If not, I will take every option available to me through LegalZoom.com to remedy this situation.  I’m sure neither of us want that.

Respectfully,

Herr Dr. Prof. Chauncey Roo

PS – you can make this all of this magically disappear with an SEIU-sized hunk of stimulus money diverted (and converted to dog biscuits) into my Swiss bank account.  Actually, it’s more a hole in the bank of the Chicago river.  Call me for details…

Arf

Blah, blah, back in Chicago, blah, blah 60 hour car ride, blah, blah, thunderstorms and lightning making me piddle in the pan in my cage blah, blah, Blahck Blawks…  BACK OFF - Got a lot on my mind…  and......wait for it......     SHUT UP, MEG!

Hat tip to NOBODY – I do MY OWN research, plus, no one likes a Charlie in the box J

SSSShhhhhhh – There’s nothing going on here

The house is quiet lately – the dad is learning to fly, so he’s gone a lot. The young kid is playing basketball and baseball’s starting up again, piano and cello eat time, and he’s winning robotics or writing contests and such, so he’s never here.  The older kid’s started DI again (dear god in heaven, not DI again…) so he’s really never around.  The mom ditched everyone for a carefree weekend (or was it a year – dogs aren’t great with time) in Chicago with her girlfriends, so clearly she’s never here.

Do you see where I’m going here??  It’s just lovable old me left in a corner with nothing but a 20 foot rawhide chew bone to gnaw on and a luxurious gigantic new bed to sleep on.  Seems like something out of Soylent Green.  A quick pat on the head, maybe a quick run around the block, and then “See ‘ya, Chanuce”…  well a girl’s got feelings too, ya know.  Maybe I don’t like being left all alone on a Saturday night when Trishie cozies up with Roy Rogers (although I do love his roast beef sandwiches).

Quick recap of the last six months.

-          Kids have hundreds of events – dog left alone for days at a time

-          Family goes to FL for Xmas - dog left alone

-          Mom goes to Chicago – dog left with boys (worse than alone) – ever been used as a pillow by a 13 year old boy…yeah, I didn’t think so…

There are two really cool game trends lately – first - they’ve started playing Gears of War deathmatch as a way of showing how much they love each other, and try as he might, the oldest kid continually gets owned by the dad…it’s sad to watch him get so totally chain-sawed over and over…then there’s the crying…  second – they’re playing rod hockey (thanks for the pointer, Uncle Mike – not everything dad says about Red Sox fans must be true), again, the dad completely rules, but what, after all, is to be expected.  NOTE TO STUPID HUMANS – YES, YOU, YOU IDIOT, I see you hiding behind that tree – If you should, ahem, find some issue with the all-knowing Chaunceyrooishness of this paragraph, feel free to USE THE COMMENTS section…  Actually the boys are playing through the original Doom games (a real family bonding exercise) and little John is learning the wonders of the crowbar in HL2…  Thomas doesn’t game very much and that’s great – more time to play with ME !! 

Anyway – I’ve got access to a computer again, so we’re back in the saddle again (AC/DC isn’t my favorite, but sometimes you just gotta howl at the moon – wait, that’s a different guy…off to iTunes to waste more time…)

Arf.

The One Where I Jump Up On The Bed And All Hell Breaks Loose…

So, if you are all my Friends, we can get to the horrible detail.  Yes, I had a moment of weakness, and jumped on Mom’s bed.  With muddy paws.  Fully expected to catch a beating, after all, that is the point of the blog – getting beaten and complaining to my adoring public.  But no.  She shrieked, then said nothing.  I think it’s worse disappointing Mom than actually making her mad…

Anyways, I’ve been trying to make up for it by leaving food (in case she wants any), and hanging around when they sleep (in case there’s any problem), but nothing…let me just rest my eyes for a minute…

Intruder Alert…..Intruder Alert

I don’t know if I’m going Berzerk, or if I’m just in a Frenzy, but it seems like lately my life is a series of waves of vaguely similar situations, with incrementally more demands on me, until I get chased to some relative safety to catch my breath until the whole series starts again…

Chicken…..Fight Like A Robot 

Oh – I must be dreaming...no wait, that’s the Wisconsin election cycle – with Evil Otto Barrett and his minions of whiny followers calling a do-over of the election just a couple of years ago.  Note to self, it’s shameless enough to LEAVE rather than do the job you were elected to do, but if you actually try to recall someone because you disagree with them, representative government is over.  Go Scott Walker – if not for (only) for his cause, then for the fact that it reinforces the fact that elections should matter, and that a loud minority can’t just cry until they get their way…

Oh well, speaking of babies…

I’ve been waking up and seeing KIDS in the house lately – school is out…  the good news is that John will be able to walk to Middle School from the new digs, the bad news (from his perspective) is that he’ll be able to walk with Thomas – who just graduated from elementary school J.

I think they’re starting to get the hang of Texas, they walked around the driveway without me leading them by a leash.  They put the new/old basketball thingy back together (much cursing, looking to the heavens for parts, and trying to find assembly instructions on the interwebs) – and they finally got there, too.  Stupid humans, give them arms and look what they do, try to bounce a ball into a hole above their heads.  If I could hold a pencil, I could solve all the world’s problems…  As it is, back to chasing squirrels…

…or lizards – they are small and fast and wiry – haven’t caught one yet, but I know I almost pulled the old man’s arm out of its socket trying to get to one…heh, heh…  He had it coming from the day he tried to get the shelter guys to not let them adopt me…I may be a dog, but I can carry a grudge…  What happened the last time you help up the Yoshi doll to tease me??  Where’d you get bit???  That’s right…THAT’S where J  don’t forget it… now get me some chips or something…

Arf

Act. Of. God.

You all know that I’m a pretty regular dog – keep the house safe for the family, free from cats and squirrels, all the basic stuff – but the problem is that this crazy family can’t stay put.  I must have moved 1000 times in the last couple of years.  First we had the little house with the tiny yard, then we had the house with the big snowy deck (and my love Izzy and Rorshach).  Then, The Move.  Stuck in a million different shelters, then drugged and driven cross country because of the species-ist policies of the airlines…traveling like baggage, indeed…then spend a night in an apartment, all to get dragged to some goofy house from the 60s with a nasty pool and VERY LITTLE GRASS in the yard.

Very Disconcerting.

At least I met Smitty and his family, and we’ve been securing the perimeter for the howl (whole?) Woods of Westlake for a few months now.  Developing a little routine – get the kids out, nudge the old man out of bed, bark for us to do rounds, even guarding the adults at night (the crate gets a little lonely).  But there was always one constant through the whole thing.  Only one.

Junky Blue Couch

Its place has changed – it’s gone from the main TV couch (Olive for a while) to off to the side (Hoyne) or into the dad’s office, but it’s always been the place I can go to curl up off the floor without getting a swat.  

It’s MY place.

Until yesterday.  The girl called the Salvation Army to take MY couch away.  I was sad.  The three boys begged Cruella not to do it, but to no avail.  The couch was going to take “The Long Walk” and there was nothing I could do about it.  So, I kept a stiff upper lip, and went in to say my final goodbyes.  I even wrote a bye-ku:

So long junky couch

You’ve always been so comfy

Go and help someone

So, when the Salvation Army got here, I was brave.  I didn’t cry.  I didn’t howl and bite.  I was resigned to losing my friend, but hopeful there would be another dog (or kid) who would be able to enjoy JBC as much as we have.  The kids watched the Sox win the World Series on that couch.  We all watched the Hawks win the Cup from there.  We watched Manning beat Brady the first time on it (well, I did – they were on the leather sofa then…).

OK – I cried a little.

It was like Cypher in the Matrix when he’s talking to Trinity, and all he has to do is unplug Neo, and tells her there’d have to be some kind of act of God to save him at this point. 

And there was.

Just like Tank coming up and killing Cypher, the Salvation Army guys said – “That REALLY IS a Junky Blue Couch – far TOO junky to even give away to somebody else…thanks, but no thanks…”  And thus was Junky Couch saved.

By an Act. Of. God.

Can I get an Amen for that??

Now, in reality, I don’t know whether to be happy or offended, but right now, I’m leaning towards happy.  In fact, I’m curled up right now…

Arf.

PS – the big deal is that this whole thing started up again because movers showed up again.  Who knows where I’ll be posting from the next time.  I can only guarantee that I will never post from poolside…