Ivy, a.k.a Iva, Iva-doodle
April 29, 2009
Oh great. (You know I am being sarcastic, here.) Why can’t I have anything all my own anymore? Lily and Ivy come over and I have to share my toys and share my Mom and share my step-dad and share my house, and share my yard, and share my screen house and share, well, you get the picture. Now I have to share Dogster with them. Oh great (that sarcastic thing again).
Let me tell you, it’s not easy having them here. Ivy attacked me (can you believe Mom said it was my own fault!). I didn’t get hurt, but I screamed a lot. Now I am much more respectful of Ivy. I sorta, kinda, admire her, too. I am thinking about trying to be more like her. She is the boss.
Then there’s Lily. She just wants to play with me all the time. That gets on my nerves. I try to keep her in her place, but sometimes she doesn’t put up with that. Hmmm. Just so she doesn’t go in my kennel or eat my cheese. My kennel, my cheese. Mine, I tell you!
At least this week they are not here and I have everyone and everything all to myself, just the way I like it.
Lexi, the Encroached Upon
April 14, 2009
Hi ya’ll. I have gone and done therapy twice now at this Siskin Rehab Hospital place. You want to hear something funny? When Mom tells people what I do, sometimes they ask if I am getting therapy. And this is even after she has told them where I am doing it, at a people hospital. So she said next time, she will say, you know dogs can have health insurance now, so the hospitals have to treat them. It’s part of Obama’s stimulus plan. Then she’ll sit back and wait for them to get it. I they really thought I was going to Siskin to get therapy in the first place, I think Mommy is going to be sitting there waiting a long time.
I think she needs to say I am a therapy dog. That would clear it up right away. She thinks the other way will be more fun. Anyhow, I didn’t mean to go down a bunny trail. Although usually I do mean to, ’cause I can smell them. Since both sessions were really uneventful, Mom says I should tell ya’ll about the second session I did a year or so ago. It was at Siskin, too. There was this young fellow who couldn’t seem to move real well. I sat on a stool next to him and made him pet me. You know what I mean – I kept scooting my nose under his hand so he didn’t have much choice. Every time he stopped, I scooted my nose again. I did that for about 15 minutes, and would have gone a lot longer, but Mom said that was enough. As we started walking away, I heard the guy’s therapist say, that was really good – you lifted your hand! Wow, he must have really like me!! Keep barking! Lexi the Therapy Dog