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Elroy her. I have an announcement. Her highness is soon to become constipated. Really. She has a serious problem. It’s The Boss. What began as a little joke has become a real issue.

It began with shower barking. Viktor has talked about it in the past, and I’ve mentioned it too. That’s when The Boss waits until her highness gets in the shower and he begins barking like he is fending off a small army of intruders. And he did that every now and then. But NOW- EVERY time her highness goes into the bathroom, he does it. Even if the shower isn’t turned on. Here’s the scenario. Her highness announces that she needs to use the bathroom- and she’ll “be right back.” The Boss watches and waits. He has calculated JUST how long it takes until she is “seated” and then he starts. He takes off. Running like a mad dog to the front door and barking like someone is DEFINITELY there. And…yours truly now joins in. I’m not much of a barker – but I DO have a “big dog bark” that indicates something more than a squirrel or butterfly has entered our property. It’s a SERIOUS bark. And I go racing to the front door too.

Meanwhile, her highness is never SURE that we are joking. We put on a spectacular show. So she has to decide if she should put a hold on nature’s call and race out, or finish her original plan. It’s not funny. But it really is.

She usually shouts out something like “Frodo if you are faking I am going to kill you.” You know, of course, she would never harm him – and the Boss knows it too. When she runs to the front door, and looks out and sees no sign of anyone or anything, she spins around and glares at him. He just calmly shakes himself off and goes back to find a comfortable spot to lie down.

This escapade is now happening EVERY time she goes to the bathroom. I could show you video footage taken by Big Brother- but she won’t let me. I looked at it and her comments included “you guys have to stop this. It’s not funny.” As I stand there wagging my tail. Yup. She is going to get constipated.

Yesterday, she did manage to get back at the Boss- by giving him a serious grooming. Mind you, she would have done that anyway. Grooming him is no fun – for either of them. She always does it BEFORE she has taken her shower. She’s sweating pretty badly after the wrestling match. And he emerges smiling – for all the treats he has been given.

I always thought that Viktor had her highness wrapped around his paw – but I now fully understand where he learned his tricks. And THATS why he’s called The Boss…Yup. The “good dog” is really bad.

Have a good one. Peace and paws up.

Elroy here. I had to write today to tell you all about my best day ever this year. I had a play date. With a pretty Picard named Willow. And I am smitten.

Now long time blog readers may recall I had a play date with her once before. And as you may also recall, I wasn’t the best date. Let’s face it – she wasn’t all that the enamored with me because, well.. as you might remember, I chose to play with Farley. A multi-breed dog who was part Moose and who crashed our date at the dog park. Remember how I ditched Willow and wrestled non-stop with Farley? It wasn’t very polite on my part – so it was a miracle she wanted to even meet up with me again. But she thankfully did.

We met again at the fenced ball diamond. Now Willow doesn’t REALLY need a fenced area. She behaves. She follows her human. She comes when called. And me? Well….. it’s 60-40 as to whether I’ll behave. OK. More like 50-50. So I need that fenced location.

I don’t want to boast – but this date went MUCH better than the last time.

We met and did our obligatory polite greetings. She bows. I bow. It dates back to olden times. And we begin the Picardy waltz.

After the bows, we then go to opposite sides of the ball diamond.

We come back together…

And then the dance takes off…

Sometimes yours truly must lie down and watch her go. And then she races back towards me…

And off we go again…

In addition to running in the Picardy waltz there is also jumping…and flying…

When the music slows, we rest, and share a little tiny kiss…

But then she discovered I had been eating fish treats – and my breath was a bit….rancid…

So the kissing didn’t last long- and off we went again…

The acrobatics continued…

Until the final movement where we smiled…

And posed for our final bows….(thanks to Willow’s human for this shot).

We had a wonderful time playing and waltzing. Ahhhh. Bliss.

That being said, she came back to our house afterward so her human could have coffee with her highness, but I needed to be sequestered. Dream date over. Because I suddenly decided she was “my girl” and although I would make “advances” (AKA humping behavior) at certain points at the ball field, she could simply swing away and stop my occasional rude advances. But in the house, it could have proven challenging. So while I hung out on the deck, The Boss got to stay with her. He was a complete gentleman. He never made a forward move. The Boss thought she was cool. I think we both have a crush on her….

I hope the humans plan another date soon. I don’t have wheels – so it’s not like go can go and pick her up myself. I’ll have to behave in the coming week. I definitely want to see her again. And I won’t even be distracted if Farley shows up.

Have a good one. Peace and paws up.

Frodo here.

It is three weeks today that Brother Viktor left us. Since then, her highness has been moved by the outpouring of support we have received. On the very day that we announced his passing, a kind blog reader sent flowers. And since then she has been touched by flowers from neighbors, donations in Viktor’s name, food (including a yummy lemon loaf!) and cards of sympathy and support.

One dear friend went above and beyond in the days following his passing – making sure that we all ate and were taking good care of ourselves. We call her Saint Joanie.

Both the SPCA and the Ontario Veterinary School have received donations in memory of the wild grey whirlwind.

Her highness has appreciated every email, text and phone call.

People ask how we canines are doing. We’re OK. Personally, yours truly has never been what one would refer to as a “clingy” dog – but that has changed a bit since my brother is gone. I just REALLY want to be where her highness is. At ALL times. That’s partly how the gates to the DFZ have been opened. I now waltz in there like I own the place. Which of course, I do.

The beatnik seems a bit more low key since Viktor is gone. However, I do think he would be happy to carry on Viktor’s undesirable habit of escaping into the woods, if let off leash. Her highness isn’t taking any chances.

So thank you, thank you for all the kindness you have shown. It has been a great comfort. We know that Viktor is running free with Paxton – and so many others – and he’s watching out for us too…

Meanwhile, on a different note -I should tell you about how yesterday, I totally exhausted myself. By throwing myself against the front door in a frenzy. Repeatedly. It all started with the arrival of a UPS van. Her highness had a parcel that was being delivered. As usual, I went into my Cujo routine. Her highness closed the door to the front hall while she opened the door for the parcel. The happy delivery guy commented that he had panicked a bit as he came down the driveway- as it was a bit of a luge run. Her highness KNEW it was icy – but she hates to salt it because of our feet. Besides that, she was able to drive Ludwig up and down, so she wasn’t THAT concerned.

The driver bid his good-byes and her highness watched with bated breath as he drove away. He started up the hill. He went 5 feet. Ten feet. And then the sound of wurrrrr-wurrrr reached my ears, resulting in another Cujo frenzy. The UPS truck was stuck. He reversed back down the hill, and her highness quickly put on her puffy coat and hat and grabbed the bucket of road salt. She slipped and slid as the guy watched her throwing salt – and listened as I shouted out instructions.

Thankfully, on his next attempt, he made it up, beeping his horn in a salute as he left. Which was reason to again bark. Winter is such great fun.

While, personally, I do not like snow with high moisture content (which I have talked bout before), and I do not like overly cold snow, or crusty snow…. I do loved packed snow. I love to roll in packed snow. Her highness has literally lost count of how many times I have been rolling. I walk and immediately hit the ground and I roll. Now we know I don’t like water, and going in the lake is taboo for me. But when I discovered that it was frozen, I went crazy rolling.

At one point, her highness got a bit worried as I looked like I was about to run off down the lake. But it was my attempt at a joke. Just like shower barking. In the meantime, the beatnik was left on leash on shore to watch my gleeful running and rolling. He was not impressed.

Ah yes. Winter is great fun. And just think – only 56 days until Spring…. As I say (and demonstrate) – let the good times roll!

Have a good one. Peace and paws up.

Yo. Elroy here. Today I want to talk about Social media. Because I’m a social kind of guy.

Her highness follows things on Facebook and Instagram. And she often sees photos that tug on her heart strings. Like photos of a dog before and after he is rescued. Taken supposedly minutes apart. And they are so wonderful. But…do ya ever wonder if some of the photos you see MIGHT be fake? I know. It’s hard to believe everything you read on social media ISN’T true. A guy like me would believe everything I see. Not so much The Boss. He’s more skeptical about some of the news stories. And the photos. Some of the stories are not unlike the tabloid newspapers sold by the cash at the grocery store.

Which got me thinking. Maybe I could write some captions for some of OUR photos. I do have a more comedic nature than the Boss – and I thought this could be fun.

So imagine you saw some of THESE photos with the following captions…

Just writing these makes me realize that they COULD be possible. But it makes you also wonder how much you see and read isn’t true! I saw a story about a pig writing a blog! How crazy is THAT?! Everybody knows, animals can’t WRITE. We use a computer!

Have a good one. Peace and paws up.

Extortion is the word for the day. It means “to obtain something through force or threats.” Humans use extortion with us dogs when they threaten that if we don’t “do” something, we will not be rewarded. No sit. No treat. That’s extortion in my mind. “You jump in that mud puddle, you will get a bath.” Another example of a threat. Which sometimes comes true.

So today, I decided to threaten my human. Give me all the treats in the treat jar, or I will tell the world what goes on in our home during a snowy day. A day when her highness cannot leave home because of the weather. A day when it is highly unlikely we will have visitors.

She did not comply with my request – despite my continued staring at her. I thought it would be clear that she should just give me the treats. But she didn’t. So allow me to give you a visual of her appearance and behavior during “snow days.”

True – she does extricate herself from her cozy bed before daybreak to allow us dogs to answer nature’s call. It’s also because we start staring at her and the beatnik starts licking her face. That maneuver always works to awaken her. She stumbles out of bed and into the bathroom, where she attempts to flatten the upstanding hair on her head. She also puts on her uniform.

If the day is particularly cold or windy or snowy – which is the description of most days January through March, she makes the proclamation that we are going “Quick quick .” That means no long walk. To embark on this journey, she wears a rather unflattering puffy coat. The right pocket is filled with treats. The left is filled with poop bags. Thanks to one of our loyal readers, she no longer has the poop bag extrication problem. That’s when you cannot open a poop bag and your fingers are freezing. One brilliant reader suggested doing that BEFORE we go out. That simple step has made our lives, well her highness’ life so much better.

Her attire these days also includes those mittens with the string that attaches them. Like children wear. They are a godsend when you need to take off your mittens to pick up poop. She does not need to stuff her mittens in her pockets. And she is no longer forever dropping them. They are beginning to wear out. We hope they will last through the season.

After we come in, and she has removed her outerwear, her hair is even more interesting. Now it is a combination of bed head and hat head. Bat head. And it is true – she looks batty.

After our breakfast routine and after we allow her to eat, she now has the whole day ahead of her. It is snowing. She can’t go anywhere. No one will be by to visit.

I am here to tell you, she does little to improve her appearance. In fact, if it is a truly stormy day, she may not even shower! I am betting that there are other dogs who are subjected to an equally astounding sight- but most will not share their experience with others. They just watch and roll their eyes.

Meanwhile, if the laundry has been done, the dishes have been put away, and she has performed that futile exercise called vacuuming, she will now indulge in a new form of entertainment. Initially, when I heard the name, I thought it was for OUR entertainment. I thought it was a movie series just for us canines. I thought I heard her say PETflix. But no. It is something called NETflix. I gather this is not a new “thing” but her highness is sometimes slow to catch on to trends. She just got a Walkman last week too. I jest. It was three weeks ago.

I think the whole extortion topic today came about because she watched some movie called The Irishman yesterday. I thought it was about Bono. Or Irish wolfhounds. But no. It was a mafia movie. About an Irish guy. Played by an Italian actor. How rather puzzling. But she managed to watch the whole thing without falling asleep. So it must be good. Mind you, it starred not a single dog.

During these snow filled days, in addition to watching films, she rarely moves. And when she does, it is because one of us is bored. And one of us in particular starts squeaking.

She puts on her outerwear again and takes us out. The resulting hair style continues to get even MORE interesting. If she herself requires a bathroom break, I wait for the opportune time to begin barking. Imagine her horror that SOMEONE has arrived and will actually see her in her uniform with her bat head. It’s a fun little joke.

So there you have it. The picture of slothenly beauty. I just made up that word. But you get the picture.

I suppose now that I have revealed her secret, I can no longer use that as a way to extort her. You all have an image in your mind of how she looks. And while she would definitely not win any beauty pageant awards for her “at home” look, I might as well confess that we don’t REALLY mind her appearance. To us, she looks just fine. Quite lovely in fact. Because truth be told – we canines can steal a line from Bruno Mars and we love you “just the way you are.”

Maybe I can extort her about her closets…

Have a good one. Peace and paws up.

Yo. Elroy here. And I’m here to give you the latest updates from our humble home.

As long time readers of Brother Viktor’s blog may recall, we have one room in our house – which others would call the living room but in our house it is known as the DFZ. Or Dog Free Zone. That room has always been off limits to us guys because it holds a variety of items her highness would prefer that we don’t touch. Like the antique hooked rugs. Or the rugs made by her highness’ mother or her highness herself. This recent photo her highness posted on the net is, I suppose, good evidence as to why we aren’t allowed in that room.

I was just inspecting the dining room carpet! And my previous handiwork. Still, I admit it doesn’t look too good…

The DFZ also holds two glass cases, filled with assorted breakable stuff. So the room has a gate that keeps us guys out.

But for some reason, in the past week or two, her highness has been a bit more “lax” with entry into the sanctuary. Well – she lets the Boss in. And he goes right over to the fireplace and makes himself comfortable. He doesn’t DO anything. He just goes in and flops down and he’s content.

So the other day, given his good behavior and given the fact that I kept standing by the gate and squeaking to be let in, she finally let down her guard. She told me I could come in IF I would just settle down like the Boss. My “settle down” lasts all of 48 seconds. Then the overwhelming urge to explore everything in the room is more than I can control. I must sniff EVERY carpet. EVERY chair. EVERY table. EVERY knickknack in every corner of the room. Despite repeated instructions to “settle down”. I’m a gallery lover. What can I say? It goes with my inquisitive, scattered attention span. The first time I tried to settle down by balling up one of the hooked rugs, I was instructed to “leave it.” The room has too many “rules” for me. So I leave of my own accord. But I come back later, and repeat my thorough exploration of the room again. Like I’ve never been there before. While I do so, her highness watches my every move. When I attempted to begin a wrestling match with The Boss, we both got the “this is not a room for wrestling” announcement. Like I said, too many rules for me.

Yesterday we had very very VERY cold temperatures- so our walks were pretty short. Just as well – it’s not easy to walk on three legs. Although I certainly try my best. And I WOULD stay out a bit longer – but the Boss marches back in, so I follow. Let’s see what today’s weather holds….If it’s not nice, I can always explore the DFZ again. I should mention though, that the gate is only open IF her highness is in there. She’s become more lax – but not TOTALLY crazy…

Have a good one. Peace and paws up.

Frodo here. So. What do Meghan Markle, Prince Harry and the dogs in this house have in common? We are hounded (pun intended) by photographers. Well. One photographer in this house.

Above you will see a photo taken by her highness yesterday during one of our walks. As we were trotting along, exploring the flora and fauna in our very own backyard, her highness spotted some sunlight ahead on the trail. She instructed yours truly where to stand, and I did so while she took several dozen photos. She didn’t bother to attempt to put the beatnik in position because she KNEW by the time she got him to even sit, the sun would be gone. In fact, she probably would have been taking the photo in the moonlight. He is not a poser.

I hate to brag, but I am an outstanding poser. And honestly- why not? I mean how simple is it to be a model? You stay in one spot, don’t need to DO anything, and you get treats. I never understood why Brother Viktor and the beatnik don’t simply cooperate. I could pose for a magazine ad.

Her highness was really in the mood for taking photos yesterday . Truth be told, the weather outside wasn’t all that great (that one ray of sunlight in my photo is all we saw of the sun all day), we had already had our walks, and she didn’t feel like vacuuming. So she decided to take some photos of me. She set up our photo backdrop and turned on the lights.

But then, she had this not so bright idea to take some shots with wind blowing. Like a real model.

No words can describe her “I Love Lucy-type” performance in attempting to stabilize the dog blow dryer hose in order to create a wind effect. First off, to do so, she needed to detach one of the lights, because she couldn’t find another extension cord that would work with the dryer.

Then the hose on the dryer repeatedly went flying like a mad snake. Repeatedly. Did I mention it happened more than once? I just watched the proceedings with fascination.

She finally managed to stabilize the wind machine, but it was kind of aimed at my chest. She didn’t really get the “look” she wanted when I shut my eyes…

Then I told her exactly how I felt about the hurricane effect…

So she turned off the wind machine and turned on the other light. THAT was much more enjoyable – so I followed every instruction. You will see my happy look. And my pouty, serious look. I’ll do whichever she wants.

But once she ran out of treats, the model said that’s it. No pay. No work. Union rules.

The beatnik didn’t get a formal photo shoot but she did manage to get one shot of him outside. And he didn’t even WANT the treat.

I find this whole human interest in taking copious amounts of photos rather interesting. Perhaps not all humans have the same obsession as ours does. I wonder what it’s like to go out and not have your photo taken every time you turn around. I know exactly how Harry and Meghan feel. You know, I wonder if they will perhaps become our neighbors. They DO like dogs, so no doubt we would get along famously. AND that 20 acre property right next door IS still for sale…

Time for our morning constitutional. Walking with the beatnik is certainly entertaining. Yesterday her highness made a dramatic announcement something to the effect that “I’ve been walking two PONs for more than 8 years and I have NEVER had as many tangled leashes as I have walking a PON and a Picard.” And why do you suppose THAT is? Because the ping ping Picard does not understand the concept of a straight line. I have SO much to teach him…Including how to smile for the camera.

Have a good one. Peace and paws up.

Elroy here. Today I want to share some information about why we dogs do what we do. And why we sometimes do things that defy explanation.

Yesterday her highness decided to Google dog sounds. And if you do so, you will see a variety of sounds that we make – for a variety of reasons.

One site on the net said that we dogs make the following sounds: we bark, bay, howl whimper/yelp and whine. Check out this article:

https://www.whole-dog-journal.com/behavior/body-language/the-meanings-behind-different-dog-noises/

As you know, The Boss is really good at what they called demand barking. And sometimes he barks just for fun. Her highness has noted that lately, 8/10 times when she goes into the bathroom, that he will bark. He knows just how long to wait before she either steps into the shower, OR has a seat on the toilet . I think it’s pretty funny. Because although her highness has caught on to his game… she’s never totally sure. We’ve seen her dashing out in a towel more than once. And we’re used to the sound of the toilet paper roll spinning.

I’ve never been much of a barker. BUT, since Viktor is gone, I have now decided that I should become a better guard dog. Let’s face it – before, the two mops made enough noise to drown out a jackhammer. So I didn’t bother barking. Why waste my voice? But now, I can see the importance of protecting my turf against…I don’t know what. But I’ll do whatever the Boss does.

There is one noise not described in the article, and her highness wonders if it is a “Picard thing.” She calls it the “mouse squeak.” Now when most dogs squeak, it’s because they either need to pee or poop, they want to DO something – like go for a walk, something hurts, they are hungry or they are bored. Me? I squeak just to squeak. Nah – nothing hurts – so don’t worry about that. I’m not bored, because I will do it even after I’ve had a LONG walk. I’ll do it even when I have lots of toys around. Sure – sometimes I do it if I want The Boss to play with me. I’ll stare at him while he is relaxing, and I’ll squeak. But lots of the time I just wander and squeak. I guess it’s because I don’t know what to do with myself. I can’t decide. Do I want to nap? Do I want to chew on a bone? Do I want her highness to play fetch? Do I want a treat? Skip that one- it’s not likely. So when I don’t know what I want, I squeak. When I first adopted her highness, she used to worry about it. She thought there was something wrong. Now she’s used to it.

Yeah – her highness thinks it is just one of those endearing traits that make us Picards so darn lovable. OK. Maybe she doesn’t think that – but I do.

Now excuse me while I go and squeak…

Have a good one. Peace and paws up.

Frodo here. I am moving. To Florida. I felt I should let you know. For all of those readers who delight in our snowy photos, I am here to inform you that snow is not all that it is cracked up to be. At least a certain “type” of snow. The type that has a rather high moisture content – which humans refer to as “wet snow”. True, it is perfect for creating snow persons – which provide an excellent peeing target. But…snow that works well to create snow persons also creates snow balls. On fur.

The other morning we had such a variety of snow. We had not yet had a visit from the gentleman who does our plowing. Which means I had not yet had the opportunity to throw myself in a frenzy against the front door which I do while he is releasing us from our snowy enclave. Despite the lack of plowing, her highness announced that the beatnik and I would be going up to the road to get the paper. Now all of you who live in less moist climates are envisioning dogs who joyfully leap into the frozen, milky colored wasteland. And of course, we did. However, that jubilant initial response lasted all of 25 feet. We were not even half way up to the road, and I suddenly weighed 10 lbs more. The beatnik doesn’t seem to have as big a problem – probably because he doesn’t sport a long fluffy coat. His feet were not suddenly the size of footballs.

Her highness realized my plight and said we could go back -as soon as we got the paper. I would have preferred that the two of them leave me and continue the journey without me- but she insisted that it wasn’t “that far.” Perhaps I should tie 40 lb bags of frozen peas around her ankles and let her experience my agony. I trudged to the road and promptly (as prompt as one can be while suddenly weighing twice as much) turned for home. Meanwhile, the beatnik was leaping up and down- racing back and forth across the driveway in sheer joy. I just glared at him.And to make an already agonizing situation worse- two guesses what her highness said on the way back down. If you guessed “It sure is hot out here”- you are wrong. She said the two words frequently heard on a morning walk. “Hurry up.” Hurry up is not a reference to walking speed. It is a command to poop. Like we don’t know that we should poop on our morning walk. Mind you, sometimes Brother Viktor did need the reminder.

Well. Just TRY to poop when you are sporting a snowball coat. By now, snowballs were not just on my feet – but in places that were even MORE uncomfortable. Every time I tried to “assume the position” those snowballs tugged at certain areas of my anatomy- which was VERY uncomfortable. The beatnik- who had happily jumped into the snow and left his telltale trail of poop (which had settled into the snow), just looked at me with fascination. I grumbled as I tried to produce SOMETHING. Finally after several false starts, I was able to produce. We continued on our journey back to the house – with me getting heavier with each step.

I was never so happy to walk into the front hall. But then, to add insult to an already horribly injurious situation, her highness announced that I needed to “come into the garage.” Great. Now what.

She took me over to the tub and somehow lifted all 100 lbs of me. Imagine my horror. A bath? Could this day get any worse?

But no – she simply ran warm water over my snowballs in an effort to quickly melt them. Meanwhile I was doing the bathtub hop – where I go back and forth every time water hits a limb.

The beatnik gave me a happy smile as I emerged from my baptism. Not funny. Not funny at all.

Two days after the “wet snow” we had “cold snow.” A LOT of cold snow. The fluffy variety that is useless if attempting to make a snow person. So that should be better you might assume. Fluffy snow means colder temperatures. And you know what that’s like? Like walking on fire. Suddenly even the beatnik was limping.

Yes. I am moving to Florida. Or Texas. Or Mexico. Her highness better keep those pockets full of treats. Or she is going to have one very constipated dog….

Have a good one. Peace and paws up.

Yo. Bonjour readers. Elroy here. “The Boss” – or Einstein, as Viktor liked to call him, has instructed that we need to carry on the torch for “brother” Viktor and write this blog thing. And if The Boss says it is so, who am I to question?

Brother Viktor. The dude who often grumbled when I would play bow and try to engage him in games. I sometimes called him the grey grump.

Wait a minute. Was that a fur ball rolling across the floor? Let me check it out. Yup. Boss fur. Now. What was I talking about? Oh yeah. The grey grump. Sure. YOU all thought he was happy go lucky. Yeah- not so much with me. He DID mellow over the years. But. Wait. Did I see something outside? What IS that??? I must bark to scare it away. Oh. It’s my reflection in the glass.

What was I saying? Oh Viktor. He never let me do hair styling on him like The Boss does. And we never ran around or played much. BUT, in the last couple of months we would actually sleep near each other. A big difference from early days. When you look at early photos he would be rather appalled to have to sit next to me. But I eventually won him over. Because I’m lovable. Who cannot love me? And ya know what? I really miss the grey grump.

My view of the world is different from the mops (the PONs). For example, both of the mops live(d) for food. Canine vacuum machines. To me, food is overrated. It’s not like her highness prepares gourmet meals all the time. Mind you, she does switch food for moi. Because I don’t always eat. I come by the name “Picky Picard” very honestly. It’s a trait inherent in many of us. Who can concentrate on food when there’s so many OTHER things in the world to pay attention to?! Flying leaves. Butterflies. Snowflakes. Dandelion fluff. Air.

I think we Picards have a keener sense of hearing than the mops. They have too much hair on those floppy ears to pick up the tiniest of sounds that we Pick-ards do. I stand on the highest ground around so I can see in the distance AND listen. I love standing absolutely still and observing. Actually, I have two things I REALLY love. (Besides cuddling so close to her highness that I try to crawl into her body.) Yeah – I love observation paralysis. And I love running. Both of my favorite things are completely different. The running part often gets me in trouble. Humans need to chill. I know where I’m going. Or I think I do. I was a gazelle in another life.

I know there are plenty of Picards who enjoy obedience. Me? Not so much. I’m not food driven, and while I DO like toys, they get rather boring pretty quickly. I do LOVE it when her highness throws a toy. But hey, why bother bringing it back? She’s just going to throw it again. Hello? I figured that out.

One thing I have learned from The Boss, is that grooming is not fun. True- I thankfully do not have a coat like the mops. But The Boss has demonstrated how if you look like you are being tortured, the process is shorter. Cool idea. That guy teaches me A LOT. I respect The Boss. He’s my idol.

One thing I do like more that the mops is sheep. Yup. THEY were cool. Might have been beginner’s luck, but I passed something called an Instinct test. Her highness hopes to try me out with more sheep this year. Viktor told me the sheep leave interesting morsels – but remember, I’m picky about edibles. I suppose though, I should give them a try the next time. I mean they are locally sourced.

Yeah. We’ll try to keep doing this writing thing. Hey. Is that a bird outside? Oh. He’s gone. Um. Oh yeah. This blog thing. I’ll try it for awhile. If I don’t get bored. Mind you, I suppose I do need to represent my Picard constituency. Whatever that means.

That’s my intro. I’m done now.

Have a good one. Peace and paws up.