Georgie Speaks

Georgie Speaks

Well, it is January, and I, along with many other Irish-Viking Dachshund Americans are starting the new year with the idea of being healthier.  My promise to myself, and my Companions, was to spend 2016 trying to exercise more, eat more nutritiously, and generally take better care of myself.  Of course, my loyal Companions were eager to join me in this endeavor.

To this end, I began incorporating healthy habits in the Family Bed right away.  I’ve eliminated in between meal snacking by putting a retinal scanner on the Commissary door.  Since none of the Companions have actual retinas – it’s been working very effectively.  Of course, Bachmann has tried to outsmart the locking mechanism several times, but he’s only accomplished getting himself zapped by the alarm system.  It’s amusing, but growing tiresome.  I do hope he finds a better way to occupy himself soon.

Another health-conscious change to the Bed has been increased workouts for all Companions.  We are all benefiting from these expanded conditioning sessions.  In fact, I’ve already seen a huge difference in Candace’s balance and Je M’appelle Claude’s eye/claw coordination.  Even Ernst is looking more svelte and sleek.  I, myself, noticed a significant increase in my own haunch-flex ratio after just a few weeks of daily work.

 

Georgie Speaks

Naturally, diet is one of the most important components of good health.  Nutrition has always been a priority in the Family Bed, and now, more than ever, I am making decisions about food choices with that in mind.  I’ve added many more nuts and legumes to the menu plans – a change that most of the Companions are quite pleased over.  Of course, many of the aquatic creatures are disappointed with the lack of variety in the seafood department, but as I’ve explained many times, we just don’t have sufficient refrigerator space to keep seafood fresh for any length of time.  And no one wants old fish stinking up the place.  Except Bachmann, but he’s always the dissenter in any conversation.  I do try to bring in organically raised, sustainably-sourced wild-caught salmon when possible and Raoul likes to grill it with just a little lime juice and dill.  Very tasty.

Additionally, I’m regularly attending local farmer’s markets to obtain the freshest possible produce for my vegetarian Companions.  Well, and for myself, of course – who does’t love a fresh, crisp apple right out of Mama Dog’s hand?  Hmmm??  While I have been forced to outsource for some of our dietary needs – dairy in particular (Candace doesn’t like to talk about it, but she’s lactose intolerant, which is quite embarrassing for a cow, as you would imagine.) – most of the Companions don’t mind only having goats’ milk cheese or yogurt a few times a week.

We’ve been working to eliminate artificial food from our diets, as well, including sugar.  And believe me, that hasn’t been easy.  Dijon in particular has quite the sweet tooth.  I’ve been substituting stevia in my dessert recipes with good success.  Dijon has not seemed to notice any loss of sweetness or richness in his nightly dish of flan, for which I am grateful.  He becomes absolutely unbearable when he doesn’t have his nightly flan … breathing fire over the other Companions as they try to watch television in the Commons area, slashing his tail around the room, bellowing, and generally making a real scene.  It’s just better to avoid that sort of theatrics altogether whenever possible.

Overall, I believe the Companions are much more focused mentally with the addition of these changes in physical activity and nutrition.  I’ve kept careful notes in their behavior charts over the past few weeks and have seen an upswing in both their general happiness and gross motor function.  It’s very rewarding to see a plan achieve such success.

As we move forward, I will be increasing the number of discussion group sessions for the Companions, as well.  I think giving them more opportunity to work through their individual issues through group discourse will bring them closer together and create a real sense of community within the Bed.  As I have mentioned before, Family Bed harmony is often non-existent.  And I plan to incorporate even more options for physical training as the weather warms up and the Companions can work out of doors.  Tai Chi on the Lawn; Gopher Hole Digging 101; Voice Projection; Releasing Your W.O.I.D. (Wrath of Irish Dachshund); and Quiet Wandering are just a few of the new classes that will begin in the spring.  There is already considerable interest in this area.

I sincerely hope each of you is experiencing the success with your own goals for the new year that we in the Family Bed Education, Training and Rehabilitation Center are experiencing.  I just can’t express how rewarding it is to lead this group of Companions on a path to better health and well-being.  Oh, yes, a few are not really coming along willingly.  But you always have a few stragglers and late-bloomers in any educational setting, don’t you?  You just drag them along until they get tired of fighting you and then … well, everyone’s happy, aren’t they?  Indeed.

So.  Good luck to all of you, dear readers, in your New Year’s goals and objectives.  Good Day, and thank you for your support.

Georgie Speaks

Georgie Speaks

Well. Clearly I have been absent from the blog for some time. I wish I had a good excuse, but the truth is that my humans are just selfish, selfish people who do not consider my needs, or the needs of my subscribers.  I apologize, dear readers, for the terrible loss you’ve suffered at the hands of my humans.  Let me explain how they are responsible for the lack of posts on my blog of late …

First of all, that Big Kid – the one we call Lunky – started playing some game called football.  Now, I distinctly remember hearing him say that this wasn’t something he wanted to do, but Daddy Dog said he was going to do it anyway and there was some big brouhaha about it.  Anyway, now Lunky is doing this football thing in a town 90 miles from where we live and Mama Dog or Daddy Dog has to take him 3 days a week, plus every single weekend, to practices and games and such.  Of course they don’t invite me along … typical — leave your faithful and long-suffering dachshund at home while you galavant around America.  pfft

Additionally, the two Sissies (made up of The Little Blonde Girl & The Little Brown-Haired Girl) joined some kind of competitive dance team.  Mama Dog or Daddy Dog (or sometimes even Grandma and Grandpa) have to take them to practices in another town, which means an extra two days every week when no one is home.  Oh sure, they leave a lamp on for me and sometimes they make sure I have fresh water before they disappear.  But precious little time is spent seeing to the comfort of the Household Supervisor.  It’s insulting.

The past few weeks, Mama Dog has been especially absent – again, without my permission – as she tends to her duties as what she calls ‘Prairie Flower Color Mama’.  Now.  I have absolutely no idea what this is, but she’s pretty wound up about it.  In fact, this morning, when Bachmann returned from his early morning swim through the water lines and told me that he’d accidentally caused a leak somewhere in the system … well, I wasn’t surprised when Mama Dog started having a meltdown after discovering there was no water.  She was ranting and raving about having to wash some ‘Prairie Flower’ costumes and how they had to be done today and now there wasn’t any water.  It was quite something.  I thought it best not to mention Bachmann’s inadvertent involvement in her dilemma – no sense in making her even more upset.  But I have to wonder about her sanity at this point, as most prairie flowers I’ve seen in the wild aren’t wearing synthetics …

Without so much as a ‘by your leave’, Daddy Dog left abruptly right after lunch to go do some farm thing or another.  I tried to go with him but he rudely shoved me aside with his foot and shut the door in my snout.  Have you ever?!  I know!  I just don’t think there’s any excuse for that kind of behavior.  He’s still not back as I hurriedly type this update – a fact that hasn’t endeared him to me, as even though he didn’t have time to take me with him on this trip – this morning he managed to find enough time to drag me out into the yard and douse me with some sort of “anti-fungal” powder like a common criminal getting a lice treatment.  It was embarrassing and wouldn’t you know it that Bachmann had lined up several members of the Family Bed to watch my humiliation.  They’ve been making fun of me all afternoon and I’m going to have some serious work to do with each of them when classes resume in the morning.  My point is that even when there was an excellent opportunity presented to him, for Daddy Dog to spend quality time with me, working on the farm together … he betrayed me.

Now when Daddy Dog and Mama Dog leave me at home alone, they turn on a light but don’t leave the television on for me to watch while they are gone.  They no longer leave the door to the laundry/mud room open, either.  And I’m not allowed to go into the bedrooms or bathroom in the back part of the house unless I’m supervised by an adult.  And they turn off the WiFi when they leave.  Can you imagine the indignation?  As Household Supervisor I should require no supervision in my own household.  But due to a few unfortunate incidents involving some vegetable scraps, a few pay-per-view movies, a home video that accidentally got uploaded to YouTube, and that really shocking bathroom trash situation a few months ago, Bachmann has managed to destroy the trust I enjoyed from my humans just a short while ago.  That porky beaver does nothing but make trouble!   Somehow, Daddy Dog got the idea (and managed to convince Mama Dog) that I was jealous of being left alone so much and lashed out.  They think I’m the one who perpetrated these heinous acts of domestic vandalism!  I know, gentle readers, I am as shocked and dismayed by this lack of trust as you are.

The point of all this, friends, is to assure you that I am not leaving the blogging world.  I am, however, going to have to restore order to my household, even if it means doing something drastic.  I don’t know what that will be at this time.  I do remember that after Bachmann got into the garden scraps bucket and ate all those radish scraps that made me so sick I threw up all over Mama Dog’s new white rug in the family room … well, she got pretty attentive to me right then.  Maybe Bachmann should do something like that again.  I mean, after all, it’s for the good of the family.  We need to spend more time together and I need them to be here at home so we can do that.  It’s for the children.  Also, I need to be able to have Internet access again if I’m to keep up with my demands as a blogger/life coach/screen writer/Dachshund activist.

So.  That’s my plan to bring my family home again.  As always, thank you for your support.

 

Georgie Speaks

Georgie Speaks

This week, Mama Dog devoted an entire post to me on her blog. As is my due.

Being a generous, thoughtful, considerate, selfless, loving dog – I want to say a few words about her as well.

Where to begin …

Well, for starters, she never lets me out in the morning first.  She always goes to the bathroom herself, then comes to let me outside.  Which I find to be pretty inconsiderate.  Also, she doesn’t feed me before she puts me outside. Daddy Dog does, but he rarely gets up earlier than Mama Dog.  And she puts me outside even if it’s raining.  Or cold.  Or windy.  Or really hot.  Like I said, no consideration at all for my comfort.

Another thing about Mama Dog that really bugs me – she talks to me constantly.  As though I have the time or the inclination to converse with her all day long!  She tells me about her plan for the day.  (Like I care – I have my own plan.) She talks to me about her feelings.  (Ack!  Is there anything more gross?) She announces every little task or chore she’s about to perform.  (Seriously – I do not need to know that you’re pouring a second cup of coffee … it’s not like you share that hazelnutty, creamy goodness with me anyway.)

She’s very clumsy.  She’s always tripping over me or stubbing her toes on my shins when I stand in front of her.  It’s like she has no control over her gross motor function at all.  And even when I’m trying to move out of her way, she still trips over me by moving to the exact spot where I am.  And she blames me.  She says I’m like VISA – everywhere she wants to be.  Can I help it if she can’t step more carefully??  I’ll grant you, she does say she’s sorry when she kicks me.  But she never apologizes by dropping any of that food she’s carrying around the kitchen!

She never sits for very long in one place, either.  Like, if I try to give her support for her “frazzled nerves” and such by laying in front of her chair while she and Daddy Dog are talking in the family room, for example.  I’ll just get into a good, effectively supportive position under her feet when she decides she has to get up and go do something.   Or when she’s “working” at the computer and I lay on top of her feet to show how much I care … what does she do?  She has to go to the bathroom.  Or change over laundry.  Or take care of one of my human siblings.  It’s just rude, the way she jumps up and dislodges me quite brutally, leaving me lying on the floor only half-awake.

Some of her other problems, not necessarily in order of how much they annoy me …

  1. She’s a very neat eater, which means she almost never drops food.  Even when she can clearly see how very hungry I am.  
  2. She’s way too independent.  Everyone knows a Bathroom Supervisor is crucial to proper bathroom procedure.  But would you believe she tries to go on her own all the time?  And then I have to run in there after her to make sure she’s doing it right.  What a chore!
  3. She never takes me anywhere.  She claims that just because I get a little carsick that I shouldn’t travel much.  I only threw up that one measly time … and that was on Daddy Dog anyway.  If he doesn’t care, why is she making such big deal about it?
  4. She never wants to watch the television shows I want to watch.  “Zombeaver” looks like an incredible cinematic masterpiece and I think she’s being narrow-minded in not letting Bachmann and I watch it.
  5. She is CONSTANTLY taking pictures of me.  I can’t nap.  I can’t eat.  I can’t supervise my Companions without having her camera all up in my business.  I’m not sure what she does with all the photos, but so far, I haven’t seen a dime of compensation for all my inconvenience.

She’s not entirely bad, of course.  I mean, she does have a few good qualities.

For example, she tells me all the time how beautiful and smart and clever I am.  Which is all true, of course, but it’s good that she recognizes my attributes.  And she has an Amazon Prime account which means she can buy my cookies and get them delivered fast, fast, fast.  Because I don’t like to be without cookies.  She did set up this blog for me, too.  But it was all my idea so I don’t know if that counts in her favor – she might just be riding on my tail, so to speak.  Oh, and she makes sure I have clean water to drink.  So, you know, she knows how to provide basic care for another living being.  Woo hoo.

So.  There you have it.  Some words about Mama Dog, in return for the feature she wrote about me on her blog.  Good Day.

 

Georgie Speaks

Georgie Speaks

I realize it’s been some time since my Independence Day post.  I have been struggling with such fatigue and have found it most difficult to manage both my duties within the Family Bed and my obligations to you, gentle readers.  Additionally, my Mama Dog has been in desperate need of a Social Secretary – someone to screen visitors and make appointments with other family members – and I simply could not refuse to offer her my assistance. It’s a rather mundane job, but my work with troubled Companions has made me specially suited to the task.

I have been resting as much as possible, though I am still deeply, deeply tired from the release of my W.O.I.D. (Wrath of Irish Dachshund) over the Fourth of July holiday.  An unexpected water outage on the 4th delayed the actual celebration until the 5th.  Bachmann swears he had nothing to do with the leak in the water line, but I don’t believe him.  Forcing the celebration to be held on the anniversary of the Battle of the Manolada in 1316 is just too much of a coincidence.  Bachmann is well known to have a fetish for the Infante Ferdinand of Majorca, and any opportunity he can find to dredge up that old chestnut … well, he takes it.  If I have to hear him rant about how Ferdinand was robbed of his rightful claim to the Principality of Achaea, I’m going to boil his macaroni art.  Gah …

Even though my family’s celebration was a day late, it was no less spectacular.  I’m told the grilled hamburgers were quite tasty.  As I wasn’t given the option of trying one for myself, I must go with popular opinion on that subject.  I tried to preserve my strength as much as I could during the day, anticipating the release of my W.O.I.D. later on.

Once the fireworks began, I was able to put out a prolonged and impressive display of Irish Dachshund power.  Here I am in the initial phase of W.O.I.D. release.

Release the WOID 1

Note my upright, curled tail position and the focused intensity in my face.  This is classically perfect form.  I am leaning slightly forward on my Fraunches, allowing for more flexibility and torque in my rear quadrants.  If Daddy Dog had not insisted on that ridiculous and heinously unflattering harness, I would have had the fireworks by the throat.

Here I am, approximately mid-release.

Release the W.O.I.D. 2

 

In this image, I am in a relaxed, yet alert and ready position.  My tail is still elevated, signaling my preparedness for the battle.  My haunches are flexed and in a widened stance, which gives me a powerful leaping ability.  Again, the wretched harness is clearly holding me back and diminishing my impact.

The wind began to blow quite hard shortly after the mid-point of the fireworks display and Daddy Dog declared that we would be stopping for the night.  But I was able to release the final vestiges of my W.O.I.D. before everyone dispersed.

This photograph captures me in meditation as I prepare myself for the recovery period.  This process is crucial to my mental and physical well-being.  Had I known Mama Dog was filming, I would have looked away, as it is a very private moment.  But I’m choosing to share it with you, dear readers, in the hopes that you can gain further understanding into the mind of the native Irish Dachshund.

After the WOID

As I said, the recovery period for a total and complete W.O.I.D. release is substantial.  I am still in partial convalescence, even though I am trying to keep up with my responsibilities both to my Companions and my human family.  My humans have been most understanding  over my need to take frequent and prolonged naps.  My Companions have not.

I have found the Family Bed in complete disarray on a daily basis, despite my attempts to keep them tidy.  Je m’appelle Claude, Plato-pus, and of course, Bachmann have been the biggest culprits in Family Bed disharmony over the past few weeks.  My plan is to rest enough over this weekend and begin intensive training with them next week.  I only hope it’s not too late.

Despite the delay in celebration, the utter exhaustion from the release, and the resulting chaos in the Family Bed, I am satisfied that this Independence Day will be remembered, as it should be.

Remember, dear friends, Independence is a right.  Swimming through water lines and causing breaks and leaks is not.  As always, thank you for your support.

 

 

Georgie Speaks

Georgie Speaks

Georgie is Exhausted

 

As you can clearly see, the past two weeks have taken a toll on me, both personally and professionally.  To hear the whole sordid mess, you’ll have to read Mama Dog’s blog.  But here’s what she left out …

While Daddy and Mama Dog were jetting off to exotic Midland, TX and the Little Miracles were living plush at Granny Carolyn’s house … I had to stay with Doot, The Grandpa and Cousin Tootsie.  It wasn’t exotic.  It wasn’t plush.  In fact, the only fun I had was scaring Tootsie by jumping on her when she came into a room.  It was doubly rewarding because, in addition to her squeals of terror, she always peed a little and got in trouble with Doot.

I did manage to gain a precious few winter pounds because Doot often “forgot” to feed Tootsie.  Now, it might be possible that she actually fed Tootsie, but Tootsie didn’t eat her food for hours, leaving it to become stale and inedible.  And it also might be possible that I, in trying to be an appreciative, thoughtful and frugal houseguest, may have occasionally eaten the abandoned food.  I didn’t want poor, hapless Cousin Tootsie to accidentally ingest such questionable fare.  It’s even possible that Tootsie thanked me for saving her from indigestion.  Of course, it’s also possible that Tootsie just isn’t very smart or quick and, well, you know the old adage … you snooze you don’t get to eat your food because I’m hungry and I’ll eat it first.  Or something to that effect.  In any case, Doot fed her later, while she was in her crate, while I slept out.  Ha ha ha.

So.  After 3 days away from home, my Companions and The Family Bed, you can imagine what a shambles everything was in when I finally returned.  All the Companions were in disarray, The Family Bed had entirely lost it’s comforting musky aroma and I have spent the past two weeks trying to put things back to normal.  I’ll be giving you a full and detailed report next week, but as for now, I’m deeply, deeply tired.  Good day.

Georgie Speaks

Georgie Speaks

 

In all my years of study and scholarly pursuits, I have yet to find a satisfactory explanation for the existence of cats. Or fat-free cheese.

Truth be told, I’ve really never understood the human fascination with fat-free anything.  As any dachshund can tell you, the flavor is in the fat.  And if there’s no flavor … well, I’d probably eat it anyway, but I’d enjoy it much more if it was full of fatty goodness.

You know, cats don’t have a lot of fat.  It’s a little known fact that cat meat is very lean.  Not that I’ve ever eaten a cat.  But I hear things.  And my Buffalo Spirit Guide used to have a cat named Chauncey and she told me that he was the stringy-est, most non-fat animal in her menagerie.  And I believe her because, well, she’s a Spirit Guide and they don’t lie.  So maybe there’s some kind of correlation between the purpose-less-ness of cats and fat-free cheese.  It only makes sense, doesn’t it?

Let’s examine the facts, shall we?  1. Fat-free cheese is not real cheese.  Fact.  2. Cats are lean.   Fact.  (My exhaustive research has sussed out that 83.6% of the cats I’ve seen on Facebook or other social media are approximately 12.6 pounds or less.  I’d consider that to be quite lean, and seeing as how I am a mere 15 pounds myself, I know something about being lean.  But since we’re talking about lean cats and their fake-osity rather than svelte, haunchy dachshunds who are obviously real, we’ll put that aside for the moment)   Therefore, I would postulate that lean cats are not, in fact, real.   Furthermore, since it’s been well-established through a series of rigorous tests that all cats are lean … well, the obvious conclusion we come to is that all cats are not real.

Now, the real question becomes are lean cats not real cats?  Or (and this is where my superior deductive skills come into play) are lean cats not real cheese?  Ha!  I believe now we have the basis for a solid debate, my friends.

I’m already writing my speech for the Nobel committee.  Or perhaps the Book Prize awards ceremony.  Or the USDA.  Maybe even the Grammys.  It’s such an intriguing discussion for every aspect of society.  Just remember, you read it here first.  Or perhaps I should just be quietly content knowing I’ve sparked what could be the most important conversation in decades?  After all, I’m a modest dachshund – not a glory hound.

Ah.  Well.  After such deep thinking, I believe it’s time for me to take a nap.  But before I go, I’d like to reiterate that I have never, will never, and do not currently support eating cat meat.  Or any other fat-free food.  Like fat-free cheese.  Although they could be one in the same.  Good day, and thank you for your support.

Georgie Speaks

Georgie Speaks

Because of my rare and somewhat overpowering musk issue (brought on by an allergy/fungus situation which I won’t go into at this time), it has been deemed necessary by “Management” that I bathe twice a week with a “special” shampoo.  The Family Bed is required to be washed once a week, as well, so as to completely eradicate any lingering opportunity for me to ‘re-musk-u-late’, which I find terribly rude.  I find my aroma unique and pleasing … but they tell me I actually smell like feet.  Whatever.

As an unexpected stroke of good fortune, the water was off at our house on both of my weekly bath days this past week.  It makes Mama Dog really angry and she makes Daddy Dog call Water Guy to find out what’s going on.  She really gets worked up about it … apparently, she enjoys flushing the toilet, washing her hands and bathing.

Now, what they don’t know is that I’ve secretly sent Bachmann out into the water district’s pipeline system to see just what kind of mischief a beaver of his ilk can get into.  A broken valve here, a ‘mysterious’ leak in the line there … Bachmann has really been living up to his position as Right Paw Beaver.  No one seems the wiser and I’ve avoided a bath for 6 full days.  Day 6:  Musky Mix!

Today, the water seems to be flowing really well.  I guess it’s time to send Bachmann on another aquatic adventure.  Or perhaps I should send my new Companion, Platopus, into the watery breach … he’s a platypus and should be especially suited to such a task.  Either way, my finely-tuned dachshund instincts tell me a water shortage will be forthcoming.

“It’s your bath day, Georgie!” they’ll say.  Indeed.  We shall see.  Thank you for your support.

 

Georgie Speaks

Georgie Speaks

You may not be aware, gentle readers, that I am known in certain circles as Ar the Sun Dog. It’s an honorary title for the most part – bestowed upon me by an ancient Beaver Culture, the remnants of which make their home just outside Sheboygen.  They don’t worship me or anything like that, but they do send me small tokens and gifts throughout the year.  Nothing extravagant, mind you – shell necklaces, books of poetry, smoked meats.  It’s nice to be recognized, I must say.

My own love affair with the sun came at an early age.  I always knew the sun and I shared a special connection.  We both are warm, energy-giving points of light.  We both shine brightest around 2:30 p.m.  And we both find joy in just settling peacefully at the end of the day with a puzzle and a light savory snack.  Well, I don’t actually know for certain that the sun likes savory snacks – he may indeed have quite the sweet tooth.  But I am sure that he loves a good puzzle, just as much as I do.

The truth is, dear subscribers, that everything just feels better when one is in the sun.  Allow me to illustrate …

Here I am, basking in this particularly plush sunbeam.  Do you see how content and peaceful I look?  I remember it was a lovely afternoon and Mama Dog had left the curtains open so I could bask.  Delightful.

And this is me soaking up an early morning sunbeam and surveying my domain.  I look noble and majestic, don’t I?  (Mama & Daddy Dog have since replaced this sofa with a new one.  The new one doesn’t have cushions like this so I can no longer sun myself on a lofty perch.  Hateful humans.)

The health benefits of sun exposure are well documented.  I won’t bore you with the details, but I’ve read article after article stating that regular and prolonged sun-basking can eliminate cavities, strengthen tail-wagging muscles, cure warts, and even make one’s beard grow faster.

Ever in pursuit of health and wellness, I will continue to seek the healing and regenerative sunbeams, regardless of how inconveniently placed I might be.  My humans can walk around me or step over me.  It’s not like their legs are only 3″ long … Good day and Thank you for your support.

Georgie Speaks

Georgie Speaks

This Easter Bunny fellow seems pretty shifty to me.  I mean, here’s a rabbit who makes his living hiding eggs from children.  Seriously … what kind of career is that?   Can you imagine how embarrassed his parents are?  And what they tell their friends and neighbors?

‘Well, yes, Steven is actually working as The Easter Bunny.  We tried to convince him to go into civil engineering or law  – or something more practical like Community Organizing.  But he insisted that he had a “higher calling” to be The Easter Bunny.  All his brothers and sisters have Master’s Degrees or PhD’s and successful careers, you know?  I guess he’s just destined to be the rogue of the family.  Maybe if his father had been around more instead of spending so much time in Farmer McGregor’s garden?  It’s hard on a boy to not have his father’s guidance.  Or maybe we shouldn’t have babied him so much when he was a kit.  He was the youngest of 26, though – and I knew he would be my last … it was hard not to coddle him.  Ah, well, we do enjoy having him still living at home with us after all these years … mostly.’

Georgie waits for The Easter Bunny
Georgie watches for “The Easter Bunny” … if that is his real name.

I mean, come on!  Even Bachmann has a better 5 year plan.  What would parents say if they knew ‘Steven the Easter Bunny’ lives in the basement of his parents’ house and spends most of the year building model forts?  They probably wouldn’t be so keen to let their little darlings accept candy, colored eggs and gifts from him, would they?  So I’m keeping an eye out for him … for the children.

Happy Easter from Beard to Beard.  Thank you for your support.

Georgie Speaks

Georgie Speaks

Last fall, I noticed these weird mounds of dirt with holes in the center showing up in my yard. I heard the Mama Dog tell the Daddy Dog that “those damn gophers” had come back. She was really mad. In my capacity as Yard Supervisor, I immediately launched an official investigation, but was reprimanded for digging. In my continuing quest for knowledge, I attempted to initiate contact with the “damn gophers.” But when I shouted, “HELLOOOO!” into their doorways, there was no response.  I monitored the situation for several weeks days hours, and considered initiating negotiations with these interlopers, but it got dark pretty early so I decided it would be better to wait until I could look them in the eye.  It’s important to look a potential adversary in the eye when determining whether or not they are trustworthy … a lesson Bachmann has taught me.

Georgie says, "Helloooo!"
Georgie initiates a negotiation with the gophers.

Now that spring is upon us, I notice the strange dirt hummocks are more plentiful than before.  Mama Dog and Daddy Dog have resumed their discussions on how to deal with the “damn gophers.”  I’ve conducted many several two hours of research on these “damn gophers,” and have only come up with a paw full of information.  They are elusive creatures, indeed.  Nevertheless, I’m quite anxious to determine whether or not the gophers are still in residence, and if so, how we can work together to achieve a more harmonious yard experience for everyone.