sup?

OH, and foodboy is still a slacker

so i haven't written in FOREVER. lets face it, i don't even know how to write...much less form coherent thoughts for humans to understand. i feel a need to explain my web absence, but i'm not going to.

there's not much to explain really, i've just been chillin' at the house.
OH, and i got a new backpack...

i COULD write to you of all that i've done the past 5 months. i could write about my move to a new house, or how foodboy has consistently left me alone. i could write about my frequent solo visits to downtown (in search of foodboy), or even write about how the neighbors yard is a MUCH better place to relieve myself. i could write about how i've used fear to train the UPS guy, how water is from heaven and leashes are from the devil, my reunion with fuzzy face, getting attacked by bees, how much i LOATH baths, or i could write an apology for not writing about all those things.
BUT, i'm not. instead i'm gonna write about a very serious issue.

otitis externa - or for the layperson, outer ear infections.

otitis is an ear disease that affects floppy eared canines of all ages. i have been a victim of this terrible condition on many occasions. although usually not life-threatening, ear infections are often very painful. those with this infection often shake their heads, scratch their ears, or rub their ears against objects. Inside, the ear is sometimes red, and a foul-smelling discharge may be present. Head tilting and poor coordination can be a result of an inner ear infection. approximately 80% of the canine community are infected at sometime in their lives.

i would like to start an initiative to combat this threat. if you or someone you know has been victim to this horrendous condition, please call the toll free number at the bottom of this post.
thank you for your time, thoughts, and prayers for those who suffer from this disease.

sincerely,
jeb

1-800-ICARE-FORDOG-EARS

i don't know about you, but lately i've been livin' la vida loca, if you know what i'm sayin. the past week or so i've been buffing up; lifting weights, eating healthy, and running like crazy. why, you ask? because it's SUMMER TIME! the time of year where anything goes, watch where you steer because the big black dog is near...to fear. and maybe get a career?

just today i instilled terror in the trash guys. you should have seen their faces...scared. out. of. their. minds. they yelled something at foodboy, and i strutted back into the house proud of my work. when you're someone like me, who knows he's bad to the bone, no one can even shake a stick at you. well, unless they intend to throw it. because who can resist a good fetch?

i've been thinking of changing my name to something like Bonebreak or Fleshtear just so people know i mean business. in all honesty though, i know i may seem to have an intimidating, balls to the wall kind of attitude on the outside...and i do, but on the inside i'm as tenderhearted as a little kitty, just ask pepper.

foodboy told me that he would not be around for a while and that fuzzybootsgirl may stop by to hang out. i thought to myself, yeah...believe it when i see it…she seems to only be around when foodboy is, and even then all she does is follow him around.

so when she did finally show up, i was surprised. not that I had been waiting for her…us dogs know better than to wait on two-leggers. they tend to do whatever they want whenever they want in total disregard of us four-leggers. i was chillin in the sun when she came, which is one of my favorite things to do, but i was eager to do some exercise (i've got to keep up my boyish figure!). it took several crotch sniffs and barks to get her going, but finally she tied this awkward thing to my collar and off we went.

car rides are the best.

when we got there my senses were invigorated, new smells! dirt in my toes! (have to clean those later) sticks were everywhere! fuzzybootsgirl took off running, and i was like "woah! hey! the best sticks are back here!". i had no idea what she was running from or who she was running to. i just followed. i figured foodboy taught her how to throw the stick properly for me, but she totally ignored every last one of them! she just ran and ran and ran. the wildlife was intriguing , the fake-dogs were annoying, and eventually the water was no where to be found. it got pretty bad…ummm….thirsty? water? hello? dog here! foaming at the mouth! did she not figure it out? i tried to look for water, but every time i tried she yelled "JEB! something something." fine! she seemed clueless. i mean, foodboy understands, the world revolves around me and what I want…right?

next thing I knew we were back at the car, and she was ready to go. what was the point of all that running!? we're just gonna leave? after all exercise does have a point…..to get the stick. two-leggers just don't get it.

it's that time of year again...the time where you find yourself not wanting to spend so much time outside and all you want to do is cuddle up with the heater and read a good book. but a dog can only take so much before becoming restless and in need of some excitement!

the other evening foodboy, fuzzybootsgirl, foodboy2, and i had to get out of the house. white stuff was falling, energy was in the air, and we were ready to go!

3 things i love about white stuff
1. it makes pushing sticks around a breeze
2. it's like an endless water bowl
3. it's refreshing between the toes

once i get out in the white stuff, there's no catching me. foodboy tried several times but ended up on his face. once he's down i go to work on him...biting at his arms, pouncing on his head, and nipping his ears. i can tell he loves it because he yells "(something) (something) JEB!" and swings his arm out to pet me. i could play for hours, but i'm finding that humans don't quite have the same endurance that i do when it comes to white stuff. if only they'd grow some hair like a real dog they could hang!

i was doing my usual routine on the web today; you know checking my stocks, news, email, looking for good deals on www.cheapdogdealsfordogs.com, seeing if i got any myspace comments, etc. etc. and i read this article on the wall street journal. (well when i say read, i mean just the first 3 sentences, i'm way too busy to read an entire article)

how PREPOSTEROUS! they murdered this poor horse at age 4 because of a broken leg??? but what's worse is the owners weren't even thrown in jail! i'm going to start a petition some day against this tragedy. the animal community i'm sure is in a rage, crying out to their food feeders for justice. what's next? gerbils being thrown away because they make to much of a mess? gold fish being flushed to make room for bigger brighter ones?

foodboy may be a punk sometimes but at least he didn't euthanize me after i was attacked...uhh...i mean accidentally hit by a car. my heart goes out to Barbaro's friends and family.

now, back to my myspace...

i've been meaning to write. much has happened in the past couple months and a lot to write about...like what i got for christmas, my worm problem, my new years resolutions, my business trip to New York, my new fascination with the red couch, the list goes on. but i've just been way. too. busy.

i finally found an afternoon to just sit, hammer out some thoughts, and rethink my priorities and responsibilities. it's been refreshing really. it's easy to get so involved in the basic worries of life and not find time to just...sit. i was walking to the post office the other day trying to make my usual stops...

1. find stick near pond
2. pee on lamppost
3. get treat from bank attendant
4. keep guard outside postoffice while that other guy who feeds me gets mail
5. try to get another treat from bank attendant

and i was getting really stressed out! i couldn't find a stick, foodboy2 was in a hurry, the bank was closed, nothing was working out! and i realized that, you know it's OK if i don't complete my list, if i miss a couple things i'll be alright! there are worse things happening to others in the world than me missing out on my daily treat.

i'm coming to realize that my thoughts may be a little self centered. instead of thinking of how crappy my bed is, how about thinking of how crappy someone else's bed is? or instead of thinking of how to find someone to throw the stick, i could think of those who, God forbid, don't even HAVE a stick!

foodboy, of course, has been no help in all of this. he's probably been off feeding some other dogs for all i know. but you know what? i'm a big boy now and can start doing things on my own...except feed myself HA! that would be absurd.

i've been rather bored lately. there hasn't been much to write about for a couple weeks so i figured that i'd give a brief synopsis of the 'goings on' recently.

when i got in the car to go for a ride with foodboy i was expecting a nice hike or some kind of exercise...not being dropped off with one of my buddies for a week. even though i find christmas overall pleasant she has a tendency towards anxiety and barks louder than necessary. it was a relaxing vacation, christmas' feeders treated me as royalty, as they should, but i definitely didn't have the freedom i normally have. i spent most of the time indoors licking my feet and trying to find a suitable resting place on couch or bed. it seems that foodboy may have informed them of my living preferences because the door to their bed was closed, christmas kept hogging the couch, and their trash cans were hidden. after a few days of these frustrations i let my irritation overtake me and i relieved myself on their carpet in protest. despite a sense of satisfaction, i felt bad acting in such a childish manner and decided to be a 'good boy' for the rest of the week.

i enjoyed my time with christmas, but find that one can only stand so much close-living-social-interaction before becoming drained. the next few weeks at my house were a bore really. the trash cans mysteriously moved higher in elevation and out of my reach, and the rats have been unusually quiet. i had become quite the hunter racking up my kill count to 3, but i blame foodboy for the rats extinction/my entertainment. i really think that he has something against dogs, maybe early in life he had been wronged by one? who knows? all i know is that i'm looking forward to the spring days of rolling in dirt, chasing the ball, and eating grass.

it has become routine really. i come inside, foodboy and wrestleface leave the house to go do whatever it is that they do, and i raid the trash cans around the house. usually i'll forgo eating my own dinner to save room for what goodies i find. it's almost like a scavenger hunt, except i'm not in the forth grade nor in the cub scouts. tipping over the trash can be a challenge, but it allows me better access to it's contents. once i've scattered the spoils all over the floor i carefully inspect each item. i love finding old meat wrappers, and on rare occasion (the most sought after) chocolate wrappers. i find tearing and ripping therapeutic, and if allowed enough time would like to sleep inside the trash can and see if it's true that you dream what you smell.

all of this is rather enjoyable for me, but the true fun comes when they get back. i come to the door in my usual friendly manner to greet, and usually throw in a few stretches to give the illusion that i've been sleeping. the time frame slightly differs each night, but sometime shortly after they return i hear "JEEEEEBBBBBB!!!!". i'll walk into the kitchen slowly and put on my sad face. foodboy will usually point and yell something in a loud voice, shove the trash to my nose, and yell something else. i make sure to act like i didn't do it, and make him wonder if it was the rat instead. after he cleans up my mess, he'll make me sit in the corner thinking that it actually may cause some reform in me. i make certain to look as pitiful as possible, but all the while on the inside i have on my happy face.

a wise dog once said, "the key to life is a lack of self conscience, and the key to a better rest...is a better bed." i've taken that little pearl to heart in my quest for a better sleep.

when i first started this life i was forced to sleep in a plastic crate. inhuman if you ask me, but after consistently and loudly voicing my opinion about the matter i was "upgraded" to sleeping on the floor. now don't get me wrong, sleeping on the floor has it's advantages. one being that it allows you to be keenly alert of all the noises and vibrations happening throughout the house, but more importantly allows for full stretch capabilities. however, as i get older i find it increasingly difficult to find a full rest on the floor. foodboy has provided me a small, thin mat, but i find it insufficient and prefer to sleep on the floor next to it. i moved to sleeping in the chair and used to receive protest, but those have recently subsided. the chair is nice and certainly cozy, but doesn't achieve me the benefits of sleeping on the floor, as stated prior. lately, however, i have found a new avenue of comfort. i wonder why it took me so long to find, but foodboy's bed is by far the apex of luxury. not only that, but 16 hours a day it is left unused! the first few times trying it out were pure bliss. though i suppose, as most great things do, it had to come to an end. foodboy discovered my aspirations rather quickly and put up fortifications to curb my efforts. at first he left the most comfortable part unobstructed, which afforded me many hours of sleep on a comfy pillow. however, that area too soon became fortified.

for now i've gone back to the chair, and look forward to the days that foodboy forgets to put up his defenses. nevertheless, when i'm rich and famous i'll have my own bed in my own house. one larger than foodboys and twice as plush. and when he wants to use it? despite his lack of charity towards me, i'll allow him...out of the goodness of my heart.

before all the grammatical suspicioners start accusing, i want to point out a simple and important fact. even though i may be smarter than other dogs, and have an IQ of an average human being. i am still a dog. being the dog that i am, I DON'T HAVE PINKIES! therefore, i have elected to minimize the amount of capital letters used in my posts. even though i don't enjoy having to push 'caps lock' every time i want to EMPHASIZE something i do feel it necessary on occasion.

let me show you how difficult it is for me:
The other day I went to Walmart and I bought some Betty Crocker cookies.

see what i mean?

despite my lack of lesser extremities, this is jeb's blog. and jeb can do with it as jeb wishes. now that some clarity has been established, let us move on.

yesterday i slept in the chair ALL...DAY...LONG.

there comes a turning point in one's life where they make a defining step. where before they were known as pup -- now they are known as dog. i've always considered myself tough, and i try to be intimidating. though i've never felt that i've stepped in to my full dog hood...until now.

i've been hearing noises recently, but couldn't determine where they were coming from. i would bark randomly, but the source would never reveal it's self. i think foodboy heard it too, because he started encouraging me to smell underneath the couch. the smells were quite intense, and the noises more defined. he lifted the couch up on edge to allow further investigation, and THERE! WHAT WAS THAT! a few tense moments passed ... THERE! IT MOVED AGAIN! a lining underneath the couch was keeping me from seeing what was behind it, but everything in me screamed something's not right.

i poked my head through the lining to see, and get a clearer smell. THERE IT IS! chomping down hard i rip it out from it's hiding. it escapes my grasp and runs to the wall. i'm not letting this thing get away, i run over, stomp on it, grab it again, and whip it across the room to the opposite wall. surprised to see it not stunned, i chased it down. i can hear foodboy and that guy who wrestles me cheering me on in the background. despite it's small stature it put up a vicious fight, running and squealing and jumping. finally, i cornered it, fear was in it's eyes, i lurched forward and delivered the fatal blow.

i had never killed anything before...a few moments of quite shock stilled my being. is this that defining moment my grandfather used to tell me about? i sat pondering my first kill, wondering where to go from here. do i eat it? do i bury it? do i call the cops? foodboy made sure to comfort me, and i could sense he had a new found respect for me.

who would have thought that a little pup-pup from the mountains would have come to such a great victory in his life? may stories of my accomplishments be told throughout the generations...

everybody needs food right? it's just a part of life. me desiring food is just the same as someone else desiring a scratch behind the ears. foodboy really got on my case last night because i got into his little "secret" stash of food. i can't help it if i feel extra energized after eating his food, and i can't help it if his food tastes WAY better than that healthy crap he forces me to eat. back when i was living with my buddy pepper he shared his food all the time, and i never heard any complaints.

i can understand his anger, i mean, i'm sure he looks forward to eating his food just as much as i look forward to eating his food, but come on! two little bowls of chow a day?! i'm a growing boy!

i don't know for certain, but i bet even those third world dogs eat better than i do. can you blame me for wanting a little extra?