I see now. Every morning Sammy and Bruce leave and go somewhere. Mommis says ” let’s go, team Hardaway,” and they leave me.
I think I’m not on the team yet. But yesterday I met the coach and he’s coming back to train me for the team. He told Mommis I couldn’t go with her because I didn’t have all my shots.
I think I’m right about all this but I’m just guessing about what a team is. Shots I already know because I got one. A shot is a needle under your fur and it stings. But if I need shots to go with Mommis i’ll get them.
Until then, I figured how to keep her from leaving: she needs two of these and I have one.
I’ve pretty much got the routines of the house down. This is what I do when Mommis types. Is this a toy? Or if Mommis comes, will she say “no, Bupsta”?
First they thought I couldn’t be potty trained this young. Then they thought I was afraid of heights until I sprung myself off the banquette in the kitchen. And now I have faked them out again by hurling my baby body through the dog door. Hello world!
I got out the dog door last night. Mommis thought I couldn’t so she didn’t try to look for me there. She kept saying I was lost. I was on the back patio. But maybe I was lost because I didn’t know how to get back in. And now I can’t remember how to get out.
But I’ve learned how to spend the night in jail in the living room without crying, and I’ve found a place I like sleeping. Mommis must live in a mansion, because I keep getting ‘bewildered in the wilds of the living room” as Uncle Max says.
Uncle Dan came over this morning with a pile of newspapers. He gets very fancy newspapers. And I get to pee on Sheriff Arpaio’s face and vacations in Switzerland. This morning Mommis mopped and I got to chase the mop. I thought it tasted good, but she said it was dirty.
I am Buppy the Puppy and this person holding me is Mommis. I’ve been stuck with the job of manning this hand me down blog since the original owner passed over The Rainbow Bridge. The original owner was a social media guru, and I have a lot to learn. But I can do video, and he couldn’t.
But first, a little about me. I’m not a rescue. Mommis wanted another golden and couldn’t find one in Phoenix to rescue. Finally, I manifested, through an intermediary, Paula the Breeder. Paula mated Cash. King of something or other with my dog mother and I have seven brothers and sisters. We are all British creams, and that’s the key to my landing up in this amazing pack. My predecessor was also a British, though not a cream and probably not even a ‘real’ golden. Rumor has it that he had some chow.
I don’t. Instead of chow, I have papers. I know what papers are, because Mommis puts them outside my crate and makes me pee on them. Then she says I’m a good boy,so I wanna pee on those papers all day long. But the papers I came with — Mommis won’t let me pee on those.. Paula the Breeder told her to mail them somewhere to register me on something, but Mommis said this isn’t important. What’s important is for me to be healthy and happy.
I was born on March 30, the day Buppy the Puppy I died. So I am a manifestation, although Mommis’s friend Fred thinks Mommis is a real looney for saying this.
Mommis doesn’t seem looney to me. She is full of systems. She picked me up on Friday, and she had a plan: day one, physical security; day 2, potty on the papers (except the ones she should mail) and day3, interpersonal relations with the other dogs in this pack. There are four. Her systems exhaust me. I’m gonna take a little nap.