"THE DOGHOUSE DIARIES" , wooden nickel

"THE DOGHOUSE DIARIES"

Feb 21: The truck is gone and most of the items from the old cave have been moved to the new one. Bill keeps fussing over me. He seems to think I will have trouble adapting to a cave with a yard, trees, grass and our very own squirrels. AS IF. This morning, on the deck, he kept saying, over and over again: "We live HERE, now. Do you understand? We used to live THERE. But now we live HERE. This is our HOME, now. HERE." Yeah, yeah. HERE. I get it, already.

Feb 22: After opening another can of goo for me, Bill made himself a thick, juicy rib steak. We've been together since October, and he's still treating me like a dog. He did, however, offer the bone to me when he was finished. I chewed it for a while and then buried it in the dirt by the shed. Bill stood up, with this rather incredulous look on his face, and it suddenly occurred to me that he'd never seen me bury anything before. He asked if I learned how to do this from watching cartoons. I think he was serious.

Feb 23: I have to say that I really LOVE this yard. The only drawback is that there are fences on all four sides. But, as that cute Chihuahua in East Rutherford used to say, "No problema." I've begun preliminary excavation work at four different locations. Bill has noticed three of them, but the fourth one is hidden behind a poster of Rita Hayworth. I may not have learned much from watching cartoons, but "The Shawshank Redemption" was a revelation.

Feb 24: Every time I bark in the yard, Bill has a fit, and makes me come back into the cave. What is his problem? Today he actually said, "If you want to bark all day, get a job, and buy your OWN house." Well, excuuuse me. I guess no one's told him that barking IS my job. God knows I never hear HIM bark. People walk by all day and night and he never makes a sound. He just paints, empties boxes, and rearranges rugs, knickknacks, and furniture I've never seen before. Sometimes I don't know what to pee on first. As for the barking, maybe I'll just stop altogether. In fact, if someone breaks in, maybe I'll jump on his lap, lick his face, and help him dismantle the stereo.

Feb 25: After napping on the couch for three hours, Bill got up at 1:a.m. and started painting the hallway. I HATE that smell. As soon as I saw him spreading newspapers on the floor, I went up to bed. I came back downstairs to check things out an hour or so later, and he was still painting away like a lunatic. When he saw me, he said, "Hi, Jasp," like it was the middle of the afternoon. I walked across the newspaper, into the living room, and onto the couch. Then I heard this blood-curdling scream. Apparently, I tracked paint all over his stupid Pakistani rug. "Do you know how much I paid for this rug?" he screamed, spritzing club soda all over the place. Well, at least I got him to bark. Incidentally, if you've never had club soda on your paws, it's the wildest sensation. I can't wait until he paints the porch.

Feb 26: We were out on the deck again, and this big fat bug waddled by, so I ate it. Bill ran over and pried my mouth open. Too late! But he was really freaking out. He even ran inside and called the vet. (Ha! He should only KNOW what I've eaten since we moved here.) He came back out a few minutes later and started waving his finger at me. "Don't you ever do that again," he said. "Eating bugs is a sign of mental illness." I didn't know what to say, so I nodded, and played with my squeak toy.

Feb 27: Gary came over and we all sat on the deck. Bill went inside to answer the phone, and as soon as he did, Gary took four bugs out of his pocket, and we each ate two. Gary is so cool. He said, "Whatever you do, don't tell Billy." My lips are sealed.

Feb 28: Bill was fine all day, but he really came down on me after dinner about my toys. Ever since the move he's turning into like this TOTAL rule freak. Outdoor toys stay outside. Inside toys stay inside. No squeak toys after 9 p.m. Yada, yada, yada. Then he went on this total RAMPAGE, picking all my toys up off the floor, tossing them back into the box, and saying, "Can't you put these things away when you're done with them?" I don't mind sitting, rolling over, and shaking hands, but I draw the line at putting away toys. If he wanted a monkey, why the heck didn't he buy one?

Feb 29: I finally figured out that I can get into the yard by myself. And it's so easy! All you have to do is push the screen door open with your nose. A puppy could do it. Anyway, when Bill saw me outside he said, "I thought I brought you in," and then let me back into the kitchen. Naturally, I pushed to door open again with my nose and returned to the yard, just to show him how I clever I am. Well, this is never a good idea, especially when you're living with the control freak of the century. Within 15 minutes he screwed a hook onto the screen, and gave me this whole lecture about who's in charge around here. I can't even imagine what he's going to do when he finds out that I can use the microwave.

March 1: Well, I guess it had to happen sooner or later. I saw a squirrel on the fence. And, when he ran into the next yard, I made a beeline for my secret escape route. I wound up in the next yard somewhere, and then I couldn't find my way back, so I went through some hedges, and wound up on the sidewalk. It was totally disorienting. I finally found my way back to the house, but I couldn't get back into the yard because of the fence. How's that for ironic? So, I climbed the front steps and waited by the door. About 10 minutes later, Bill came out to get the mail, saw me, and yelled, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING OUT HERE?" He then took me back into the yard, and started blocking up all of the openings in the fence -- even the ones I CAN'T fit through-- with rocks, lumber, whatever he could find. Is this fair? "I'm doing this because I love you," he said, "and I don't want anything to happen to you. Do you understand?" I didn't, at first, but then, the more I thought about it, the more I figured he meant it. And I was kind of touched by the whole thing, to tell you the truth. So, when we went back inside I licked his forehead and made him some popcorn in the microwave. "WHAT IS THIS?" he yelled.

There is just no pleasing the man.

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. Father Murphy was playing golf with a parishioner. On the first hole, he sliced into the rough. His opponent heard him mutter "Hoover!" under his breath.

On the second hole, the ball went straight into a water hazard. "Hoover!" again, a little louder this time.

On the third hole, a miracle occured and Fr. Murphy's drive landed on the green only six inches from the hole! "Praise be to God!"

He carefully lined up the putt, but the ball curved around the hole instead of going in. "HOOVER!!!!"

By this time, his opponent couldn't withhold his curiosity any longer, and asked why the priest said "Hoover".

"It's the biggest dam I know."

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Whatever your cross Whatever your pain There will always be sunshine, After the rain.

Perhaps you may stumble Perhaps even fall But God's always there To help you through it all.

So now that you've stumbled,

so now that you've fallen,

Pick yourself up, let the sun shine through,

Thank God for giving you the ability TO try again.

God's Love IS our umbrella, our crutches,

our landing pad, with Him we CAN do anything.

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Life is a garden, good friends are the flowers, and times spent together are life's happiest hours...



And friendship, like flowers, blooms ever more fair when carefully tended by dear friends who care.



I just want you to know that the times we spend together are very special to me, and as time goes by I value our friendship even more.

====================

A farmer lived on a quiet rural highway. But, as time went by, the traffic slowly built up at an alarming rate. The traffic was so heavy and so fast that his chickens were being run over at a rate of three to six a day. So one day he called the sheriff's office and said, You've got to do something about all of these people driving so fast and killing all of my chickens." "What do you want me to do?" asked the sheriff. "I don't care, just do something about those drivers." So the next day he had the county go out and put up a sign that said: SLOW: SCHOOL CROSSING. Three days later the farmer called the sheriff and said, "You've got to do something about these drivers. The 'school crossing' sign seems to make them go faster." So, again, the sheriff sends out the county and they put up a new sign: SLOW: CHILDREN AT PLAY. And that really sped them up. So the farmer called and called and called everyday for three weeks. Finally, he asked the sheriff, "Your signs are doing no good. Is it all right for me to put up my own sign?" The sheriff told him, "Sure thing, put up your own sign." He was going to let the farmer do just about anything in order to have him stop calling. Well, the sheriff got no more calls from the farmer. Three weeks after the farmer’s last call, the sheriff decided to call him. "How's the problem with those drivers. Did you put up your sign?" "Oh, I sure did. And not one chicken has been killed since then. I've got to go. I'm very busy." And he hung up the phone. The sheriff thought to himself, "I'd better go to that farmer's house and look at that sign... There might be something there that WE could use to slow down drivers..." So the sheriff drove out to the farmer's house, and he saw the sign. It was a whole sheet of plywood. And written in large yellow letters were the words: SLOW: NUDIST AREA !! traffic was almost at a standstill.

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