Scoot over, Rover!

This weekend, I had the rare opportunity to enjoy the cool weather while the walker drove my around town on the Vespa. It is rare because we don't usually have nice cool weather here in New Orleans. Most of the time, it is hot! It is so hot that, at times, I won't allow the walker to walk and, if forced, will walk only in the shade and never on those metal covers and grates on the sidewalk!

But this weekend, it was a perfect Saturday! The walker was able to understand my telepathic messages to him about breakfast. Repeated jumps on his chest must certainly mean that I need a long walk and powdery sweet beignets. He communicated the message to the feeder, who finally surrendered. Does the feeder really think that I would stay inside on a such a beautiful day and eat yucky warmed-over Cesar trays when there is a possiblity that my begging for a snickle of beignet corner might persuade the walker to share? And, have I mentioned how fun it is to bark at the pigeons gathering to beg for beignets at Cafe du Monde? Rodents. They are horrid birds!

Anyway, back to the scooter ride! The feeder carried me in my handbag during the ride. She would turn the bag so that I wouldn't fall out. It was kind of her but I couldn't see where we were going. Of course, I have to see everything and feel the wind rushing through my hair! The walker forgot to bring my doggles, an essential scooter-riding accessory! I'll have to make sure that they keep them in my handbag. You never know when you'll wake up craving a beignet for breakfast!

Dogagraph, anyone?

I really could use a 401K.

I have been asking Winter for a job for months now. Winter runs the store around the corner that sells those things that smell like wood that the walker and feeder call books. Winter is very sweet and her customers always want to pet me. But they never pay for the privilege.

I have told Winter hundreds of times that I would make a great spokesdog for her store. If she would only listen. I give her only the clearest of barks and kisses. The walker and the feeder translate doganese well enough. I think Winter talks persian, so maybe Louis can talk with her. Or maybe Winter will see my blog?

See I cannot read yet, but I can spell some words. G-O, W-A-L-K, and P-A-R-K are my favorites. I'm not sure I understand what T-R-E-A-T means, but I really like those pupperoni things. Keep 'em comin. I would like to sell books and learn to read them along the way. But only if I get benefits and above minimum wage. Oh, but I don't work Saturdays. That's when I go to the P-A-R-K.

STOP!!!! I need an editor. I obviously cannot trust the walker to take dictation. He must want me to work so that I can buy a NEW walker & feeder. He needs to learn his place, which is to walk me to the P-A-R-K and go to work so that he can buy me nice things and fancy dinners!

I do love the bookstore & Winter. I would love to be their spokesdog. I promise to promote the reading of the books, try to learn to spell more words, and not to do my business on the paper stuff.

Barkin' in the Rain...

and walking in the rain! The weather has been a bit rainy lately, so I had to wear my new raincoat out on my walk. I don't particularly like it, but it keeps me from getting too wet. I hate it when my feet get wet so I usually get the walker to carry me out to the grass and put me down briefly for my walk.

Well, I hope that the weather improves so that I can take off this silly raincoat!

I'm a full grown dog.

I hear it all the time, "Oh, look at the little puppy" or "Oh, see the little baby dog" or "What a cute little puppy." The worst was, "Aren't you just a little escapee from Michael Vick's puppy farm?" But I am not a puppy.

I am a FULL GROWN DOG. I am three years old and I'm as big as I'll ever be. I'm sick and tired of hearing baby-talk and cooing aimed in my general direction. The walker and feeder should know better, and they need to tell everybody else.

Also, I find it disturbing that I don't ever get complimented on being grown up. My expensive clothes match the bows in my hair and usually my toenails, my hair-cut is stylish, and I eat nothing but the finest foods, peanut butters, vanilla wafers and treats. I am confident and assertive when I bark at knockers at the door and those mutts on the street that don't follow my orders. Does this sound like a mere puppy to you? Of course not.

Really, what do I look like a midget? A dwarf? I am not Happy, Dopey, Doc, or Sleepy. Not Bashful, Grumpy, or even Sneezy.

I am a FULL GROWN DOG and you better not forget it, mister.

The only one that seems to understand this is my friend the greeter. He greets people at the big doors at the hotel on St. Charles by the restaurant Luke that smells so good--where the walker makes me turn when I don't get to go the park.

The greeter refers to me properly, which is good since he is paid to greet us. He calls me "Vicious" and "Big Dog." He usually steps back when he sees me coming. I like that a lot. If he would only bow.

-Dictated by Posie to the walker

The country

Some of you may already know that I been a bit under the weather lately. The vet gave me something that caused an awful sore on my side. The walker claims that this is the reason that I must wear clothes all of the time (for the healing process - no licking!), but I know that the real reason is that he'd like to pick up ladies while walking me. Apparently, it is a well-known fact that ladies like cute, little dogs (like me) in fashionable outfits.

Anyway, I decided to abandon the regular walker & feeder and take to the road this weekend. I found really great substitute walkers & feeders with a home in the country! I walked in a real neighborhood and felt the grass in my paws and ran around in the backyard free - leashless!

No vacation is complete without photos! Here is a pic of me and substitute walker, Megan! Aren't we cute?

Introducing feline #3....

The Shy One
This is Magnolia. She loves the walker. She has even been known to go so far as wait by the door in the morning when it is time for MY walk. What are the chances that the walker is going to mistake a (rather large) white fluffball for a petite little pup like me?

I have found a good use for her. She is prone to "accidents" when she is confined, so I have taught her to use the portable park (a.k.a. "puppy pad") that I use when the walker is being lazy or he is gone. This is good for me because I get a treat when the walker or the feeder sees that the portable park has been utilized for the proper purpose. Now, I get more treats!

Introducing feline #2....

The Beggar
This is Louis. He is named after Louis Armstrong. He has been here longer than any of us. He is not really much help to me, except for the begging. He loves ham and will help me bother the feeder & walker to get some. He is a very aggressive beggar, going so far as to jump on the table and try to get the ham off of their plates. When compared with Louis, my pleas for food look silly so they will give me a little something. If the cat gets ham, I have to get something better, like treats!

Introducing feline #1....

A Clockwork Peach
This is Peach Pie. We get along very well, especially now that she has taken up the job of waking the walker and the feeder. Every morning at 5:30 a.m., Peach Pie wakes them with repeated meows, as a reminder that it is time to feed all of us and walk the very special one, me! Sometimes I have to remind her that it is fine to wake them, but not to jump on me while I am sound asleep! Anyway, she is doing a good job of getting everyone up - bright & early. Better than a rooster!

Today's Challenge: Taking off these ridiculous clothes...

For a week now, I have been made to wear this silly "Surfer Girl" t-shirt like some tourist on holiday at the beach. My main objective is to take the shirt off, hide it and make sure that it is never found again by the walkers and feeders.

Note (from the feeder): Posie has to wear the shirt to keep her from licking the medicine that we have to put on a sore on her side right now. The shirt has been washed several times this week. The sore was either due to an allergy or thermal burn.