Daisy and Bob's Blog
http://blog.everythingandthedog.com
Daisy and Bob's Blog
Wagatha's
When I was first diagnosed with my heart problems, my very dear friend Tracie Hotchner, sent me a gift box full of goodies. Amongst them was the cutest little round tin of Wagatha's Organic Dog Biscuits, made in Vermont. Oh yum, yum. Now this is what I needed.
I loved the biscuits so much that I sent my Mom shopping in Leesburg and she found me some big tins of my very own. Whereas I am considering sharing with Bob, on the other paw, I may not. Bob and Rusty and Scarlett have some company at their home today and tomorrow. A little brown Cocker Spaniel who cannot hear a sound. I don't think she reads lips, but my Gram says she can get her to understand a little bit if she looks right at her.
This service is called a Bed & Biscuit in our company, but I don't think I will be sharing my biscuits with Mia Mackey either. It's not, you understand, that I am selfish. I just don't want anyone to have my Wagatha's.
This morning I had chicken breast and Wagatha's Breakfast Biscuits. They have cinnamon in them. Oh boy. My Mom and my Gram say they don't care if I want dog biscuits for breakfast, they just want me to eat. I will, I will. I promise.
So if you want to have some Wagatha's of your own, you can go online to Vermont Made and you can order them for yourself. There is no shipping if your order is over $50, and as far as I am concerned that is a small price to pay for this heavenly treat. Or you can go to Dog Day Afternoon in our own town of Leesburg, Virginia, and you can buy them there. Just be sure you tell them that The Princess sent you, either place you shop.
I found a picture of their cute little logo that is on the front of all of their tins and I wanted to share with you
Isn't this just the cutest little thing ever? If Bob wasn't so lazy he could have auditioned for this and probably it would be his picture out there. I just don't know what to do with that Boy.
So have fun, and when you go to buy your Wagatha's please send me a few bones from every tin you buy. That way I won't run out. That would be bad. What would I have for breakfast?
Love and Licks,
Daisy
Oh and by the way - I forgot - Wagatha's Biscuits are KOSHER, so now my friends Boris and Stewie can eat them. Quick, I have to call my Aunt Jennie to tell her.
I loved the biscuits so much that I sent my Mom shopping in Leesburg and she found me some big tins of my very own. Whereas I am considering sharing with Bob, on the other paw, I may not. Bob and Rusty and Scarlett have some company at their home today and tomorrow. A little brown Cocker Spaniel who cannot hear a sound. I don't think she reads lips, but my Gram says she can get her to understand a little bit if she looks right at her.
This service is called a Bed & Biscuit in our company, but I don't think I will be sharing my biscuits with Mia Mackey either. It's not, you understand, that I am selfish. I just don't want anyone to have my Wagatha's.
This morning I had chicken breast and Wagatha's Breakfast Biscuits. They have cinnamon in them. Oh boy. My Mom and my Gram say they don't care if I want dog biscuits for breakfast, they just want me to eat. I will, I will. I promise.
So if you want to have some Wagatha's of your own, you can go online to Vermont Made and you can order them for yourself. There is no shipping if your order is over $50, and as far as I am concerned that is a small price to pay for this heavenly treat. Or you can go to Dog Day Afternoon in our own town of Leesburg, Virginia, and you can buy them there. Just be sure you tell them that The Princess sent you, either place you shop.
I found a picture of their cute little logo that is on the front of all of their tins and I wanted to share with you
Isn't this just the cutest little thing ever? If Bob wasn't so lazy he could have auditioned for this and probably it would be his picture out there. I just don't know what to do with that Boy.
So have fun, and when you go to buy your Wagatha's please send me a few bones from every tin you buy. That way I won't run out. That would be bad. What would I have for breakfast?
Love and Licks,
Daisy
Oh and by the way - I forgot - Wagatha's Biscuits are KOSHER, so now my friends Boris and Stewie can eat them. Quick, I have to call my Aunt Jennie to tell her.
Concentrated Water
Speaking of NPR, which as I explained in my last Blog to anyone who doesn't know, stands for National Public Radio, here is a news flash.
Grammie was driving in her car today and listening to the Kojo Show and they decided to talk about bottled water. The gentleman was explaining that he didn't think it made much sense to ship water from point A to point B, when the people in point B already had perfectly good drinking water and sometimes the people in point A had none.
But here is the news flash. Now some people in Hawaii are going down 3000 feet in the ocean (which has very salty water, as you may know) and bringing that water up, then taking all the salt away from it (I don't know how that happens, but Gram says it is possible). After they get all the salt OUT, they put it into TWO OUNCE bottles and sell it for - get this - $33 a bottle.
People are evidently willing to pay $33 for two ounces of this water because it is concentrated. Concentrated means that you have to add water to the water to make more water.
I realize I am a dog. I've known that all my life. Some would say that dogs are not intelligent, but even me, who in spite of being A Princess is still a dog, knows that it stupid to buy water to make more water.
That's the news for today.
Perplexed in Leesburg, Virginia, where our water comes from a well (but is free),
Daisy
Grammie was driving in her car today and listening to the Kojo Show and they decided to talk about bottled water. The gentleman was explaining that he didn't think it made much sense to ship water from point A to point B, when the people in point B already had perfectly good drinking water and sometimes the people in point A had none.
But here is the news flash. Now some people in Hawaii are going down 3000 feet in the ocean (which has very salty water, as you may know) and bringing that water up, then taking all the salt away from it (I don't know how that happens, but Gram says it is possible). After they get all the salt OUT, they put it into TWO OUNCE bottles and sell it for - get this - $33 a bottle.
People are evidently willing to pay $33 for two ounces of this water because it is concentrated. Concentrated means that you have to add water to the water to make more water.
I realize I am a dog. I've known that all my life. Some would say that dogs are not intelligent, but even me, who in spite of being A Princess is still a dog, knows that it stupid to buy water to make more water.
That's the news for today.
Perplexed in Leesburg, Virginia, where our water comes from a well (but is free),
Daisy
Leo, The Cancer Therapy Dog
I heard about something on the NPR Radio when I was driving with my Omi the other night and I decided I needed a cancer therapy dog of my own. The show was almost over and I didn't really hear too much except that the dog was named Leo, and I decided he needed to come here to cheer me up. My little shopping spree yesterday wasn't to well received by my Dad when he found out about it.
"Daisy Girl", Grammie told me, "when you borrow your Dad's AmEx card and go on a shopping spree, you might want to NOT tell millions of people about it, cause one of them is going to be your very own Dad". Oh that Grammie. She is so set in her ways.
Anyway, I asked my Gram to find me a cancer therapy dog of my own and she said I already had one. Named Bob.
Our Bob? When Bob comes racing into our home with his panties all in a bunch about something wonderful he discovered in the woods (like yet another dead frog), he makes The Princess think about bulls in china shops or some other ridiculous carrying on. Most of the time Bob is just too stupid for words and he makes me laugh. My Gram seems bent on pulling this one off, and she says that she heard the NPR story (which in case you might not know, but of course you do, stands for National Public Radio). The dog, it seems, was a PitBull just like Bob except that he was rescued from a horrible life being owned by Michael Vick. His name was Leo and his trainer, Mathina McClay was on NPR talking to Scott Simon.
My Grammie and I try not to take too many "stands". That means talking about things that other people get into arguments about. But since everyone knows we have Bob - he is, much as I hate to tell you, the Bob of Bob & Daisy - then it follows that everyone knows Bob is a PitBull. PitBull's as everyone also knows about, get a bad reputation for doing nothing except being alive. That is terrible. Even though Bob is stupid he has a wonderful reputation and I would never, ever in a million, bazillion years let anyone talk badly about my Bob. I can handle that all by myself, Thank You.
So the point is Bob really does make me laugh, and the ability to make people laugh, and smile, and feel better is what cancer therapy dogs do. Every day. And they get special training to do that. Just think, Bob was born making us smile and be happy. We didn't even have to train him. Not that we didn't try, believe me.
So Leo was rescued from Michael Vick at his horrible kennel place where they made PitBulls do things the dogs didn't really want to do. That is the thing that people might argue about. Some people just don't know (and this is the part that was on the radio story) that PitBulls, as a breed, are just born happy. All they want to do is make their human person happy also. And just like Bob, most of them suceed. But some, like Leo, get into a bad place and need helping out.
So Ms. McClay rescued Leo and re-trained him to do nothing more than be himself. Evidently he has a fine sense of humor, just like Bob. It took her only five weeks to change his lack of social skills into good manners, and you know how I feel about manners. The Princess, me - Daisy, feels that every dog needs them, and I would happily give a short course on etiquette should you ask.
Back to Leo. So with positive re-inforcement training, Leo now goes to cancer wards in hospitals and does his magic working. Do you want to hear about Leo? Then have your MousePerson take you to: National Public Radio with Scott Simon and turn up your sound machine.
So Gram says that Bob can be my very own therapy dog. Now I have Dr. Tyrrell to take my pulse, Miss Jewell to give me Reiki and Bob to make me smile.
Life is good.
My tumor is bound to fly away to outer space and explode any day now and as long as there are dead frogs in the woods for Bob to roll in, I have something to smile about.
Love,
Daisy
This is our boy......getting ready to spin himself off into Outer Space ------------if you are hanging out with any dead frogs you had better get out of the way.
But just in case any of you have forgotten just how beautiful Bob is when he is resting, please look no further. This is our boy. This is a PitBull.
"Daisy Girl", Grammie told me, "when you borrow your Dad's AmEx card and go on a shopping spree, you might want to NOT tell millions of people about it, cause one of them is going to be your very own Dad". Oh that Grammie. She is so set in her ways.
Anyway, I asked my Gram to find me a cancer therapy dog of my own and she said I already had one. Named Bob.
Our Bob? When Bob comes racing into our home with his panties all in a bunch about something wonderful he discovered in the woods (like yet another dead frog), he makes The Princess think about bulls in china shops or some other ridiculous carrying on. Most of the time Bob is just too stupid for words and he makes me laugh. My Gram seems bent on pulling this one off, and she says that she heard the NPR story (which in case you might not know, but of course you do, stands for National Public Radio). The dog, it seems, was a PitBull just like Bob except that he was rescued from a horrible life being owned by Michael Vick. His name was Leo and his trainer, Mathina McClay was on NPR talking to Scott Simon.
My Grammie and I try not to take too many "stands". That means talking about things that other people get into arguments about. But since everyone knows we have Bob - he is, much as I hate to tell you, the Bob of Bob & Daisy - then it follows that everyone knows Bob is a PitBull. PitBull's as everyone also knows about, get a bad reputation for doing nothing except being alive. That is terrible. Even though Bob is stupid he has a wonderful reputation and I would never, ever in a million, bazillion years let anyone talk badly about my Bob. I can handle that all by myself, Thank You.
So the point is Bob really does make me laugh, and the ability to make people laugh, and smile, and feel better is what cancer therapy dogs do. Every day. And they get special training to do that. Just think, Bob was born making us smile and be happy. We didn't even have to train him. Not that we didn't try, believe me.
So Leo was rescued from Michael Vick at his horrible kennel place where they made PitBulls do things the dogs didn't really want to do. That is the thing that people might argue about. Some people just don't know (and this is the part that was on the radio story) that PitBulls, as a breed, are just born happy. All they want to do is make their human person happy also. And just like Bob, most of them suceed. But some, like Leo, get into a bad place and need helping out.
So Ms. McClay rescued Leo and re-trained him to do nothing more than be himself. Evidently he has a fine sense of humor, just like Bob. It took her only five weeks to change his lack of social skills into good manners, and you know how I feel about manners. The Princess, me - Daisy, feels that every dog needs them, and I would happily give a short course on etiquette should you ask.
Back to Leo. So with positive re-inforcement training, Leo now goes to cancer wards in hospitals and does his magic working. Do you want to hear about Leo? Then have your MousePerson take you to: National Public Radio with Scott Simon and turn up your sound machine.
So Gram says that Bob can be my very own therapy dog. Now I have Dr. Tyrrell to take my pulse, Miss Jewell to give me Reiki and Bob to make me smile.
Life is good.
My tumor is bound to fly away to outer space and explode any day now and as long as there are dead frogs in the woods for Bob to roll in, I have something to smile about.
Love,
Daisy
This is our boy......getting ready to spin himself off into Outer Space ------------if you are hanging out with any dead frogs you had better get out of the way.
But just in case any of you have forgotten just how beautiful Bob is when he is resting, please look no further. This is our boy. This is a PitBull.
In The Company of Dogs
The Princess feels like Shopping! Get out of my way, Bob, I just happened to find my very favoirte catalog:
In The Company of Dogs, Summer 2008
and I am ready to spend my inheritance. Well, not really. But if my Dad just happens to leave his credit card around, and my little paw just happens to swipe it (pun intended), then what good is a Dad for, if not for that? I mean really. He always says I am his favorite girl and I am feeling sad and blue this morning, so a trip through the pages of this fine, fine publication are in order. Since I have been diagnosed with my tumor, I have found that many things are possible that were not possible before. My Gram says this is called "milking it for all it is worth". Remember Patch Adams? He felt that laughter was the best medicine. Actually, I'm sticking with Dr. Tyrrell, but I do think that it is important for me, The Princess, to have a proper sense of humor. And shopping skills.
So what to buy? What to buy? What to buy? Let's start on page five with me and Bridget, the Bullmastiff. I don't want to meet Bridget, but I definately need the dipping pool. My Mom is very sweet and just purchased me a kiddy pool, but come on. Who in the world does she think is going to cool off in a kiddy pool. I NEED to have a special construction, attractive and easy to use dipping pool WITH a constant supply of fresh drinking water. What was my Mom thinking? Oh, please! Get Real. It's me, Daisy. The Princess. In cheap plastic, designed for diaper wearing little kidlets? I guess that settles that one.
Turn the page. I need the Breezy Bed, complete with canopy (well...overhead protection). Peddlar, the Golden Retriever can stay at his home with his bed. And by the way, can I have this custom made in pink?
The L.A. Limo on page 9 will come in handy when I need to visit my doctors. I guess I'll have to settle for khaki with white trim, although the Companion Console Car Seat on page 11 does come in pink. Finally the proper color. But the biggest Companion holds up to 30 pounds, and whereas I have lost weight, I'm not that thin, nor do I plan on becoming that thin in the foreseeable future. So page 9 it is.
Next page, please. Page 10. I am very tired of hopping up into my Mom's car. Please ship the Telescoping Ramp at the bottom of the page. Can this be scattered with rose petals each time I use it?
I'm sure you are seeing a bit of a theme going with my purchases. I need to rest comfortably in the back-yard and when traveling.
How about the Instant Screen on page 22? I made my own doggy door out of our kitchen screen door, but my Dad is drawing the line on the front door. I think he would really like this useful invention. Please leave Paji, the Rhodesian Ridgeback at home, BTW.
Frankly, "Ezzie" the English Bulldog on page 26 is not all that beautiful. Or manly, I guess I should say. But the Therapeutic Pad he is resting on is what I need. I will admit that occasionaly I will break down and lay on our tile, but I would do it more often with this as it will prevent calluses on my joints and keep my health condition from worsening. I don't like blue, although this appears to be more of a turquoise shade, so it will have to do. Lime green is nicer, catalog people.
I don't need any doggy bowls, thanks. Although the ones in the catalog are nice. But just not me. My Gram hand-paints my bowls, and I do like the ones I have. And she knows my color choices from moment to moment. I do, however, need the Tile Mirror on page 38. I would like it hung at MY level so that I can be sure I always look nice. Don't you think that would be useful? To hang your mirror at your dogs eye-view?
Oh look, how cute. Page 45. My Gram needs those pajama's with little Rusty dogs on them. This is definately my Gram. And they are big enough for her, too. And do you not just love the Good Dog Jar on page 47. I'm getting that for my Gram too. And for me?????? I love Stephen Huneck! Look at his Dog Toy Chest on page 49. It is perfect for me. Perfect. Please ask Taylor, the Akita puppy to step away from the chest. Thanks.
Oh and I can't wait for Bob the Bulldog, the framed print on page 51. Is that not special? Why anyone would name their dog Bob, I have no idea, but oh well. Oh wait, I forgot. We have Bob in our home, don't we?
How could I forget him? I should purchase him something. Or not.
My Mom needs the I Love my Dawg Bracelet on page 56. This way she will be even more stylish than she already is when she is walking other people's dogs and everyone will know she loves me best. I promise I won't tell that sometimes, in the morning? She leaves our home in her pajama's.
Last but certainly not least, I'll have a one each of the new collar's on page 58. One in Orange/Hot Pink and one in Tidal Blue/Blue. They remind me of the special walking in the water shoes that my Mom has. We will match when we go to see Dr. Tyrrell. Not that my Mom will be walking in the water when she is taking me places, but they are just so cute and they match her pajama's so sometimes she does wear them when we are together.
I'm done.
I'm tired.
But this was pretty fun, wasn't it? Where is that AmEx card, anyway? I really should have one of my own. In pink, don't you agree?
In parting, let me just show you something: 
This photograph - a recent cover of my favorite catalog, I would guess, is NOT THE PRINCESS. Nope. Not even close. Catalog people? Why is The Princess not on your cover?
When all of my fans go shopping, I suspect they will be asking you this important question.
Love,
Daisy
Beautiful Girl
Have you forgotten me? Does it seem to you that I ask this question a lot? My Gram is just so old and useless. I need a new Blogging Assistant. And not Bob either.
So here is my gorgeous face, complements of my own personal photo graph taking Wonder Woman, Bev Hollis. Do I look like I am asking you why my Gram can't be more organized? Yep. That is the Question of the Century. She has certainly worn out that "I've been sick" excuse. I'm sick and I'm still blogging away (at least when I can get some help around here).
Don't you just love the way this photo looks? I am so beautiful I could just pee from the excitement of it all. What would I do without Miss Bev? A long, long time ago when I was just a Baby Bulldog my Mom used to do something called ScrapBooking. It involved a lot of lovely papers and fancy scissors and wonderful stickers and I just loved to turn the pages and watch myself mature into the fabulous creature I am today. Bev has turned my gorgeous self into a ScrapBook Work of Art.
As with all things in our home, ScrapBooking was short lived. I think my Mom and my Gram have a lot in common some times. Their intentions are good, but then they get distracted by something as boring as working and off they go. All their projects are left in a heap on the floor, gathering dust.
Speaking of dust. Guess what else has happened in our home? Gram and Mom actually cleaned their office yesterday. Now THAT was a project. I must admit it does look nice. Even the bird cages got a dusting. The poor birds are in shock, I can tell you that. Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes. I remember. It was my Beauty.
Do you think my foot looks strange? The position isn't as nice as it could be. I'll have to speak to Miss Bev. I certainly don't want anyone to think I am having trouble with my joints. Oh, scary thought! What if I am turning into Gram? Getting older, I mean. Gram has joint issues. Do you think they will run in the family? Bad joints? I just can't think about something that awful.
I'll tell you someone who is going to have horrible joint issues when he is old. Bob. Yesterday I watched him make a fool out of himself yet again. He thinks he is double jointed. Do you know what that is? When someone can twist into totally strange positions with their body while leaving their head and shoulders on the ground? Bob has discovered the fine art of rolling on a dead frog. Let me tell you something. Bob is nothing if not entertaining.
I have never in my life stooped so low as to roll on a dead frog. I have a very alive frog living under my front porch and I have nightmares about that thing getting into my home. And now Bob is rolling on a dead one out in the woods. So my theory is that all of that twisting and turning of the body, while the shoulders and head are on the ground is bound to cause Bob's joints some permanent damage. Of course Bob doesn't care. He can't think past his breakfast, five minutes after it is done.
I need a nap. Beauty Sleep, I believe they call it. I asked my Mom to get me a pale pink silk eyeshade to wear when I nap. Those are very useful. I actually don't require any creams or lotions on my face as my skin is one of my best features. But I could use an eyeshade. And a bed jacket. I need a lovely lace bed jacket, so I don't get a chill. Oh and where did I put my Bunny Slippers? (I hope you aren't laughing about the Bunny Slippers because I actually do have two pairs so my toes don't get cold)
Keeping me gorgeous is so time consuming.
Just getting ready for my nap has made me tired, but I am glad we took the time to remind you that, I, Daisy, The Princess, am still here, still as wonderful as ever and still willing and able to entertain you with my Blogging Business. It scares me sometimes when my Gram takes "time off to regroup". I would never, ever want my friends to forget about me because Grammie has actually taken a nap of her own, but just called it something else. And it wasn't Beauty Sleep either.
Love and kisses,
Daisy
So here is my gorgeous face, complements of my own personal photo graph taking Wonder Woman, Bev Hollis. Do I look like I am asking you why my Gram can't be more organized? Yep. That is the Question of the Century. She has certainly worn out that "I've been sick" excuse. I'm sick and I'm still blogging away (at least when I can get some help around here).
Don't you just love the way this photo looks? I am so beautiful I could just pee from the excitement of it all. What would I do without Miss Bev? A long, long time ago when I was just a Baby Bulldog my Mom used to do something called ScrapBooking. It involved a lot of lovely papers and fancy scissors and wonderful stickers and I just loved to turn the pages and watch myself mature into the fabulous creature I am today. Bev has turned my gorgeous self into a ScrapBook Work of Art.
As with all things in our home, ScrapBooking was short lived. I think my Mom and my Gram have a lot in common some times. Their intentions are good, but then they get distracted by something as boring as working and off they go. All their projects are left in a heap on the floor, gathering dust.
Speaking of dust. Guess what else has happened in our home? Gram and Mom actually cleaned their office yesterday. Now THAT was a project. I must admit it does look nice. Even the bird cages got a dusting. The poor birds are in shock, I can tell you that. Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes. I remember. It was my Beauty.
Do you think my foot looks strange? The position isn't as nice as it could be. I'll have to speak to Miss Bev. I certainly don't want anyone to think I am having trouble with my joints. Oh, scary thought! What if I am turning into Gram? Getting older, I mean. Gram has joint issues. Do you think they will run in the family? Bad joints? I just can't think about something that awful.
I'll tell you someone who is going to have horrible joint issues when he is old. Bob. Yesterday I watched him make a fool out of himself yet again. He thinks he is double jointed. Do you know what that is? When someone can twist into totally strange positions with their body while leaving their head and shoulders on the ground? Bob has discovered the fine art of rolling on a dead frog. Let me tell you something. Bob is nothing if not entertaining.
I have never in my life stooped so low as to roll on a dead frog. I have a very alive frog living under my front porch and I have nightmares about that thing getting into my home. And now Bob is rolling on a dead one out in the woods. So my theory is that all of that twisting and turning of the body, while the shoulders and head are on the ground is bound to cause Bob's joints some permanent damage. Of course Bob doesn't care. He can't think past his breakfast, five minutes after it is done.
I need a nap. Beauty Sleep, I believe they call it. I asked my Mom to get me a pale pink silk eyeshade to wear when I nap. Those are very useful. I actually don't require any creams or lotions on my face as my skin is one of my best features. But I could use an eyeshade. And a bed jacket. I need a lovely lace bed jacket, so I don't get a chill. Oh and where did I put my Bunny Slippers? (I hope you aren't laughing about the Bunny Slippers because I actually do have two pairs so my toes don't get cold)
Keeping me gorgeous is so time consuming.
Just getting ready for my nap has made me tired, but I am glad we took the time to remind you that, I, Daisy, The Princess, am still here, still as wonderful as ever and still willing and able to entertain you with my Blogging Business. It scares me sometimes when my Gram takes "time off to regroup". I would never, ever want my friends to forget about me because Grammie has actually taken a nap of her own, but just called it something else. And it wasn't Beauty Sleep either.
Love and kisses,
Daisy
Happy Father's Day
This may come to a complete shock to all of my loyal fans, but The Princess is forced to live "on the kindness of others" My Gram says she thinks that may be a movie line. What it DOES mean is that The Princess is broke.
I had been saving some of my pennies so that at some point in time I could go to DisneyLand with a few of my friends who play football, but somehow my piggy bank took a vicious blow to the side of his little head and my pennies were scattered to the winds. Gone. All nine of them. Obviously the DisneyLand trip is going to take place far in the future.
So, bottom line. Nothing. Nada. And today is Father's Day, a special day for celebrating Father's. And the Princess has nothing with which to purchase a gift for her very special Pop. This is, as far as I can see, totally depressing.
I asked my Gram if we could make a present from some of the many pounds of scrapbooking items in plastic containers stored in our garage. Gram said, first off, we would have to find them, and she has a general idea which stack they are in, but Good Luck. Obviously, my Mom has not been doing anything in her Book of Scraps for quite some time.
Then I suggested that we find a beautiful photo of me, The Princess, and get it framed nicely to give to my Pop. My Gram looked at me as if my memory was as awful as her's is. "Daisy Girl", she said, "first we would have to print the picture, but then we would have to go to the store and purchase the framing material, and the way I see it we are back at Step One on that idea." Yep. Gram is correct. No money.
Then Gram came forth with a wonderful idea. Let's just write about my Pop in my Blog. Words are free, Gram says. Indeed that may be true sometimes, but to me this sounds like a really big topic that could open up a can of garden worms, but we won't go there. Let's talk about my Dad.
My Dad wasn't too terribly keen on having a dog in his life, especially one with a huge head and small body which caused that same baby bulldog (me) to tip over on a regular basis. And, if the truth be told, I was not at all attractive. But at some point something popped in my Pop's head (and heart) - and yes, pun intended - he fell in love with The Princess. I was not a true Princess at the time, but it wasn't too much later that I accepted my royal status.
So once my Dad was smitten, he has become one great Dad, believe you me. Let's get to the Short List (you know - the kind of list that Mr. Obama and Mr. McCain are currently working on):
1. My Dad does not get angry when I have an accident in the bed in the middle of the night. (as my friends know, I am ill, and peeing in the night time is not my fault...it is drug induced)
2. My Dad cooks me my own private stash of chicken, which is very delicious. It is one of the few foods I feel like eating because of my illness, so he makes sure I have a lot of it.
3. My Dad allows me to sit on the back porch when his "buddies" are over and whereas I cannot be allowed to actually smoke a cigar, I go into the house stinking exactly like one (per my Mom). This makes me think of my family heritage in Merry Ole' England.
4. My Dad turns his head the other way when I wander in the asparagas patch, even though I usually help myself to a few tasty tops that have just broken ground. Actually, this year in our garden, my Dad is letting the asparagas have a vacation, so I got a lot of tasty tops and I didn't need to be sneaky about it. It wasn't as much fun, so I'm waiting till next year.
5. The Gator Machine. Even though Bob, The Stupid-Head, is terrified of the Gator, I love, love, love it and my Dad allows me to ride upon it when he is playing farmer at our house, or sometimes when we go for the mail. The Gator is a wonderful invention from some man named Deere and I love feeling the breeze blow through my fur and making my cheeks puff out. My Gram says I should have a seat belt, but get real! I'm a Country Dog now, Gram. You and Bob just stay home in his crate!
6. Last, but surely, not least. Cherry Pie. Yesterday my Dad climbed all over our very own cherry tree and picked a huge container full of beautiful ripe cherries. And then (and this is the best part). Out came the bowls, the pans, the mixer and some helpful other ingredients and the result is a Very Tremendous Cherry Pie sitting on our window sill. And I know, deep in my heart that even though pie is not truly healthy for dogs, that my wonderful Dad is going to let me have my very own slice (small) of that Cherry Pie.
So based upon this very short list, you can tell how much my Dad loves me, and as a result, how much I love him. Gram says there is not enough money in the entire world to buy a gift of loving that is this large and that comes straight from my heart. And even though my heart is a little bit damaged right now, it still works when it comes to all the important things, so I know my Gram is right.
Thanks for being my Dad, and Happy Day To You!
Your Girl,
Daisy
I had been saving some of my pennies so that at some point in time I could go to DisneyLand with a few of my friends who play football, but somehow my piggy bank took a vicious blow to the side of his little head and my pennies were scattered to the winds. Gone. All nine of them. Obviously the DisneyLand trip is going to take place far in the future.
So, bottom line. Nothing. Nada. And today is Father's Day, a special day for celebrating Father's. And the Princess has nothing with which to purchase a gift for her very special Pop. This is, as far as I can see, totally depressing.
I asked my Gram if we could make a present from some of the many pounds of scrapbooking items in plastic containers stored in our garage. Gram said, first off, we would have to find them, and she has a general idea which stack they are in, but Good Luck. Obviously, my Mom has not been doing anything in her Book of Scraps for quite some time.
Then I suggested that we find a beautiful photo of me, The Princess, and get it framed nicely to give to my Pop. My Gram looked at me as if my memory was as awful as her's is. "Daisy Girl", she said, "first we would have to print the picture, but then we would have to go to the store and purchase the framing material, and the way I see it we are back at Step One on that idea." Yep. Gram is correct. No money.
Then Gram came forth with a wonderful idea. Let's just write about my Pop in my Blog. Words are free, Gram says. Indeed that may be true sometimes, but to me this sounds like a really big topic that could open up a can of garden worms, but we won't go there. Let's talk about my Dad.
My Dad wasn't too terribly keen on having a dog in his life, especially one with a huge head and small body which caused that same baby bulldog (me) to tip over on a regular basis. And, if the truth be told, I was not at all attractive. But at some point something popped in my Pop's head (and heart) - and yes, pun intended - he fell in love with The Princess. I was not a true Princess at the time, but it wasn't too much later that I accepted my royal status.
So once my Dad was smitten, he has become one great Dad, believe you me. Let's get to the Short List (you know - the kind of list that Mr. Obama and Mr. McCain are currently working on):
1. My Dad does not get angry when I have an accident in the bed in the middle of the night. (as my friends know, I am ill, and peeing in the night time is not my fault...it is drug induced)
2. My Dad cooks me my own private stash of chicken, which is very delicious. It is one of the few foods I feel like eating because of my illness, so he makes sure I have a lot of it.
3. My Dad allows me to sit on the back porch when his "buddies" are over and whereas I cannot be allowed to actually smoke a cigar, I go into the house stinking exactly like one (per my Mom). This makes me think of my family heritage in Merry Ole' England.
4. My Dad turns his head the other way when I wander in the asparagas patch, even though I usually help myself to a few tasty tops that have just broken ground. Actually, this year in our garden, my Dad is letting the asparagas have a vacation, so I got a lot of tasty tops and I didn't need to be sneaky about it. It wasn't as much fun, so I'm waiting till next year.
5. The Gator Machine. Even though Bob, The Stupid-Head, is terrified of the Gator, I love, love, love it and my Dad allows me to ride upon it when he is playing farmer at our house, or sometimes when we go for the mail. The Gator is a wonderful invention from some man named Deere and I love feeling the breeze blow through my fur and making my cheeks puff out. My Gram says I should have a seat belt, but get real! I'm a Country Dog now, Gram. You and Bob just stay home in his crate!
6. Last, but surely, not least. Cherry Pie. Yesterday my Dad climbed all over our very own cherry tree and picked a huge container full of beautiful ripe cherries. And then (and this is the best part). Out came the bowls, the pans, the mixer and some helpful other ingredients and the result is a Very Tremendous Cherry Pie sitting on our window sill. And I know, deep in my heart that even though pie is not truly healthy for dogs, that my wonderful Dad is going to let me have my very own slice (small) of that Cherry Pie.
So based upon this very short list, you can tell how much my Dad loves me, and as a result, how much I love him. Gram says there is not enough money in the entire world to buy a gift of loving that is this large and that comes straight from my heart. And even though my heart is a little bit damaged right now, it still works when it comes to all the important things, so I know my Gram is right.
Thanks for being my Dad, and Happy Day To You!
Your Girl,
Daisy
Happy Birthday
Happy Birthday to Me
Happy Birthday to Me
Happy Birthday
Happy Birthday
Mom forgot about me!
How does it make you feel when your Mom and Dad, your Gram and your Omi, ALL of them forget your birthday. Does it make you feel badly?
Let me just say this about that. I'm moving out. As soon as I figure out how to pack all of my collars, my leashes, my costumes, and ALL of my toys. Oh, yeah, and my blankets and my bedding.
Yep. Moving on'. Finding some other place to live.
I'm giving my Dad and my Mom and my Gram and my Omi, AND Bob, exactly 24 hours to make this all up to me.
Many, many gifts will be necessary to make me feel better and make me stick around.
I overheard my Gram talking to my Mom, and my Gram confessed that she actually forgot the birthday of Lydia's brother, Marshall. That was a long time ago and hopefully, Uncle Marshall was too young to remember and be scared for life. Gram was very stressed that year, I guess. But this year, there are many more people to be responsible for me.
Oh Boy, poor Princess Daisy.
Looking for a place to live unless something from the Edible People arrives on my doorstep TOMORROW.
I mean it. Remember how delicious that fruit was? And how beautiful it was arranged?
Let's not forget that I am sick too. Let's not forget that I went to the doctor for my weekly check-up and he said I need to gain weight. Let's not forget that nice fresh fruit is good for the poor, pitiful, neglected Princess.
And as to all of my TRUE friends, send those cards and letters.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME
Love,
The Princess
Happy Birthday to Me
Happy Birthday
Happy Birthday
Mom forgot about me!
How does it make you feel when your Mom and Dad, your Gram and your Omi, ALL of them forget your birthday. Does it make you feel badly?
Let me just say this about that. I'm moving out. As soon as I figure out how to pack all of my collars, my leashes, my costumes, and ALL of my toys. Oh, yeah, and my blankets and my bedding.
Yep. Moving on'. Finding some other place to live.
I'm giving my Dad and my Mom and my Gram and my Omi, AND Bob, exactly 24 hours to make this all up to me.
Many, many gifts will be necessary to make me feel better and make me stick around.
I overheard my Gram talking to my Mom, and my Gram confessed that she actually forgot the birthday of Lydia's brother, Marshall. That was a long time ago and hopefully, Uncle Marshall was too young to remember and be scared for life. Gram was very stressed that year, I guess. But this year, there are many more people to be responsible for me.
Oh Boy, poor Princess Daisy.
Looking for a place to live unless something from the Edible People arrives on my doorstep TOMORROW.
I mean it. Remember how delicious that fruit was? And how beautiful it was arranged?
Let's not forget that I am sick too. Let's not forget that I went to the doctor for my weekly check-up and he said I need to gain weight. Let's not forget that nice fresh fruit is good for the poor, pitiful, neglected Princess.
And as to all of my TRUE friends, send those cards and letters.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME
Love,
The Princess
PupPup in Love
My Gram just spent nine nights sleeping at the home of one of our clients by the name of PupPup. While she was staying with him, she told him all about our Scarlett Baby, who is one of My Grams girl dogs. Well actually, she is My Gram's only girl dog. Well actually, since I'm a girl dog and my Gram is my Gram, then Scarlett is NOT the only girl dog in our family, now is she? It is important to work through the thinking of these things as otherwise people will become confused.
So. My Gram was sleeping with Pup Pup and my Omi had to sleep with Scarlett, Rusty and Bob, because they are all too afraid to sleep alone. However, if there are three of them, then they aren't really alone, are they? See, yet again, important facts to be kept straight.
So. Do all of you know the story of our Scarlett? First off, let's see her little face.
This is Scarlett Baby Best
Scarlett was rescued from the home she was living in because in that home there was another small dog who was very unkind to Scarlett and even scared her away from their food bowl. Poor Scarlett, she was very thin and not very happy when she arrived in our home, but within a few weeks, she felt much better. Now she has a forever home and no one picks on her. Scarlett Baby thinks she is The Queen of our family, mostly because she is the kind of dog that thinks those thoughts. A Rat Terrier usually has some qualities that make them do some foolish things and they have a lot of genes that make it hard for them to sit still and be quiet. So Scarlett Baby THINKS she is The Queen and she will never give that thought away. Gram says she can think about it all she wants to but it won't change things at all. Gram says Scarlett is in denial, which would, I suppose make her The Queen of De Nile. Ha! Funny. Get it?
Well once Pup Pup saw the photo of Scarlett he definately wanted to meet her. Definately. He promised my Gram that he would behave his manners even though he doesn't really like other dogs too much, but he said this was a different case.
So Gram got a photo graph of Pup Pup from Pup Pup's very nice father and here it is:
Scarlett Baby has a lot of concerns:
First off she would like to know if Pup Pup is in jail? Why is he looking through the bars? Secondly, Pup Pup looks a little chunky, doesn't he? Maybe his head is just small and his body very large? and lastly, but this is a big one. Is Pup Pup a drinker? Scarlett understands the Latin Language because she asked my Gram and my Gram said that finally four years of Latin in high school helped with SOMETHING and in this case it is: In Wine We Trust or In Vino Veritas.
Much to PupPups dismay, Scarlett says she is really NOT looking for love. I would, being The Princess, that I am, string him along for a little while to see how many wonderful gifts he would give me first, but Scarlett, who I will admit is sometimes kinder than I am, fails to see the point of wasting ones time like that. Instead she just sent him a note asking him to stop drinking, loose some weight, and get out of jail. After all of that, she told him he could ask his parents to bring him around for an introduction.
Poor PupPup. Now The Princess feels sorry for him. I think I will send him a note telling him that I like his chubby little body and tiny little head, that I KNOW that is only a patio gate and thirdly, he can come up and have his little glass of wine with me anytime he feels like it. I don't drink wine, myself, but a frosty tall glass of beer goes down quite nicely, thank you.
See what happens when you are in denial and think you are better than everyone else. The Princess steals your man.
Cheers, Pup Pup
Princess Daisy
Northern Virginia Magazine
Not only do we want to say "Thank You, Thank You, Thank You" to Northern Virginia Magazine, we also want to say Thank You to all of our friends and clients who voted for Everything & The Dog and my Mom, Lydia Best, as their favorite "Dog Walker".
And most important (of course) there is a most wonderful picture of me, The Princess, with my Mom, on page 103 of this fine publication! Do you not love the fact that yet again, my Mom is wearing a pink shirt, and that the Daisy Flowers on my collar are color coordinated to match up with her? We are, as you may have figured out, quite stylish. It's important for The Princess to look appropriately dressed whenever she appears in print!
So. Northern Virginia Magazine was founded in 2006 and in just two years has a readership of 150,000 PLUS. That's a lot of people. We have a lot of clients too, but not 150,000 of them. Nope. No Way. But we are glad about that number for the magazine people and hopefully when other people find out how much fun it is to get this magazine in their Mailing Box, maybe the magazine will have even more readership people.
The fun part about magazines in the year 2008, is that you can also ask your Mouse Person* to take you to Northern Virginia Magazine on Your Very Own Computer Screen and you can click around as much as you want or until your mouse gets tired, whichever comes first.
And here is something else that is really, really fun. Most Memorable Pet Moment is a way you can qualify for some fun prizes AND if you have a photo of your pet to send along, you might be selected to appear in the 2009 Pets Issue. The Princess knows that a LOT of our dog walking and pet sitting clients have some pets with very unusual personalities. We have very small dogs, very big dogs, skinny dogs and fat dogs. And don't forget the kitties! And the parrots. And all of the other furry or feathered friends living in your home. Tell a Story. Submit a Photo. Win a Prize!
Oh and by the way. Back to me, The Princess. If you look carefully on the left side of the very top of page number three, guess what? A smaller photo of The Princess is in The Table of Contents! And guess what else? My Mom is kissing me on the very top of my sweet little head. Oh my. This is all so exciting, I could just pee.
Love and Licks,
Daisy
*Please note. My Gram said that by constantly referring to that little oval shaped object with a long tail, as a Mouse Man, perhaps we were offending someone. I will try to call him (opps) - it, a Mouse Person from now on. If I did offend someone, I am sorry. My Mouse Friend is sorry too.
And most important (of course) there is a most wonderful picture of me, The Princess, with my Mom, on page 103 of this fine publication! Do you not love the fact that yet again, my Mom is wearing a pink shirt, and that the Daisy Flowers on my collar are color coordinated to match up with her? We are, as you may have figured out, quite stylish. It's important for The Princess to look appropriately dressed whenever she appears in print!
So. Northern Virginia Magazine was founded in 2006 and in just two years has a readership of 150,000 PLUS. That's a lot of people. We have a lot of clients too, but not 150,000 of them. Nope. No Way. But we are glad about that number for the magazine people and hopefully when other people find out how much fun it is to get this magazine in their Mailing Box, maybe the magazine will have even more readership people.
The fun part about magazines in the year 2008, is that you can also ask your Mouse Person* to take you to Northern Virginia Magazine on Your Very Own Computer Screen and you can click around as much as you want or until your mouse gets tired, whichever comes first.
And here is something else that is really, really fun. Most Memorable Pet Moment is a way you can qualify for some fun prizes AND if you have a photo of your pet to send along, you might be selected to appear in the 2009 Pets Issue. The Princess knows that a LOT of our dog walking and pet sitting clients have some pets with very unusual personalities. We have very small dogs, very big dogs, skinny dogs and fat dogs. And don't forget the kitties! And the parrots. And all of the other furry or feathered friends living in your home. Tell a Story. Submit a Photo. Win a Prize!
Oh and by the way. Back to me, The Princess. If you look carefully on the left side of the very top of page number three, guess what? A smaller photo of The Princess is in The Table of Contents! And guess what else? My Mom is kissing me on the very top of my sweet little head. Oh my. This is all so exciting, I could just pee.
Love and Licks,
Daisy
*Please note. My Gram said that by constantly referring to that little oval shaped object with a long tail, as a Mouse Man, perhaps we were offending someone. I will try to call him (opps) - it, a Mouse Person from now on. If I did offend someone, I am sorry. My Mouse Friend is sorry too.
Sandy Kane
How many times have I had to apologize for my silly Gram? Yipes. She is just too old for this job, I think.
Yesterday we published a very beautiful photo of our friend Tyler Greiner. Miss Sandy Kane was the wonderful photographer who was responsible for the taking of that photo. My Gram very nicely thanked Miss Sandy, but unfortunately, I believe Gram gave all of you the wrong e-mail address if you would like more information about her work.
The Princess wants to apologize very profusely. Don't you love those big words? I do.
So anyway, here is the correct information:
Sandy Kane
The Sandra Kane Collection
"An artistic photographic impression......lasting a lifetime"
sandrakanecollection@verizon.net
Please be sure to tell Miss Sandy that The Princess sent you,
Your Friend Daisy
Yesterday we published a very beautiful photo of our friend Tyler Greiner. Miss Sandy Kane was the wonderful photographer who was responsible for the taking of that photo. My Gram very nicely thanked Miss Sandy, but unfortunately, I believe Gram gave all of you the wrong e-mail address if you would like more information about her work.
The Princess wants to apologize very profusely. Don't you love those big words? I do.
So anyway, here is the correct information:
Sandy Kane
The Sandra Kane Collection
"An artistic photographic impression......lasting a lifetime"
sandrakanecollection@verizon.net
Please be sure to tell Miss Sandy that The Princess sent you,
Your Friend Daisy