NOTE 2: For the purposes of simplicity, I will refer to Alex's parents as Mom and Dad for the remainder of this post. Thank you.
Well, HELLLLOOO everyone! Yes, I am back! Now, let's get right down to business because I know you've all been eagerly awaiting with bated breath (yep, Alex isn't the only one getting smarter by going back to school! I've been sleeping in the office by the dictionary...apparently learning by osmosis really works...who knew!) about what exactly differs in my behavior when I visit the country. Now, now...don't go assuming that my awesomeness doesn't transfer cause it sure as hell does! Baby, this awesome used to only speak German! I got multilingual awesome. Learn it, live it, love it. Okay, now where were we....ah yes! Country Dog Behavior - Part 2: The Welcome and
(FYI: that stupid effing shirt says "...the good life". I hate it but thought you might like seeing me humiliated. Enjoy cause there's no more freebies.)
As we have already established, by the time we turn into the little neighborhood that Alex's parents live in (and yes, it is actually in the country...they have 12 acres and deer!), both me and my roomie are SOOOO ready to get out of the car. If Alex's off key singing or her phone conversations are boring me or she doesn't need my help getting out a ticket, then I like to nap to prepare for my welcome. When we start getting close though, Alex feels like she needs to ask me "Are we nearly there?" in a really annoying voice. I mean, c'mon. I never figured out how to work that TeleNav crap on her Blackberry and besides, haven't we been here enough that you know where you used to live?! God, I can't imagine how lost this chick was before I adopted her. Jeez! You're the one with the steering wheel for crying out loud, ya know what I mean? Let me have it if you can't handle it. Moving on...
Of course, when we are going down the driveway (which I will elaborate on later), my window must be rolled down. I whine and bark a little to let my roomie know this is the right house (the idiot) and when we pull up, Alex knows not to even try to take her seatbelt off or turn off the engine because I am getting out. Whichever one of the big dogs, Frankie or Pedro, is out comes up to the car door and I have to tell him what's up so he'll quit trying to drool on me (men, right?). Queen Bee is back, bitch (or whatever the other word is that means a male dog instead of female). Then if it's Frankie, he's kind of like the trumpet that you hear before the king or queen walks and he barks to let everyone know I'm coming. Pedro just pees on the tires. Then it is straight to the back door (not the garage one- it's scary!) to see Mom and Dad. Sometimes Alex makes me so proud...I mean, she doesn't even try to get my bags out of the car before she opens the house door for me. It's just so great when all of your hard work pays off, ya know? Sigh. She really is a smart kid sometimes.
Anyways, I walk in and let them know I'm here (if they didn't hear Frankie's announcement). They both come running to the door (or they should at least) and I tell them about my day and how horrible the drive was and how good it is see them and have you lost weight, Mom? You know, the usual convos. Pretty standard.
Now, what time of night or day we arrive determines which important duties I must fulfill shortly after arrival. I'm not even sure how they function without me. Lord only knows the chaotic mess that ensues without my iron paw ruling (God, I'm articulate). Since most of the time it's in the evenings, we'll start there and work our way back to the night after that. Before we get into it though, I'd like to discuss a few things that I really like about the country.
Whew, I didn't realize how much stuff there is to tell you! I think this post is going to have to hold you for awhile. Apparently this 'Country Dog Behavior' is going to be longer than the Godfathers. Hopefully the third installment doesn't blow though like that one did. You know it did, DeNiro. Don't be mad at me, Bobby. I don't make the rules. Anyways, I've gotta jet. I like to get in bed by at least 11 so I can get Alex up for the dog park or Greenbelt before class. Lazy killed the cow (you know...like curiousity killed the cat?). Thanks to Preslee for making that statement once. And yes, Alex, that was a fat joke directed at you. Bite me.
And as you can see I'm getting cranky. BUT before I go, Congrats to Mister Olive for winning Best Schnauzer in the Austin American Statesman Readers Poll. Pretty awesome, but ya know, I didn't enter because Alex never gets me groomed. Or because I hate to bathe...probably one of those. Whatever. Way to represent, Olive!
One more thing, everyone please keep Zack in your thoughts as he recovers from surgery. And, Zack, if you have names, hun, you get those to me when you can. I know pitbulls with anger issues. We'll handle it.
To keep you happy, I'll leave you with this little video. I call it "Nub Wagglin' Goodness". If that doesn't cheer up your day, then you are probably not the audience I'm trying to reach. Go look at some news website. We don't need your kind here.
Until next time...