Look, I’m simple. A ball, some food, and I’m good. No ball? I’ll take a plastic bottle. Some dogs feel like they have to show off. But even the most insightful dog philosopher still just says “woof,” at the end of the day. I don’t philosophize. I can’t even talk, which makes me wonder how you’re writing this down. I’m a dog. (Michael S.) Adopt Bonggor (Toby) and many others at Austin Pets Alive!
Oh, I didn’t see you there. I was just applying Giorgio Agamben’s concept of bare life to dogs–I call it Canis Sacer. Would it be too postmodern of me to ask you for a dog treat from 17th century France, delivered in a plastic bowl in the shape of a fire hydrant? Look, any idiot is gonna agree that Descartes’ ontological argument for the existence of dog is prima facie ridonkulous. He stole it from St. Anselm, anyhoo. The last person I told about this theory just rolled his eyes and said, “OK, Bjumr.” Such a prole. (Michael S) Photo by Jamie Street on Unsplash
I can herd that. Last week some cattle got loose from Butch’s farm. I took it upon myself to herd them back into the pen. Then on Tuesday I herded two sheep. It was a piece of cake. See those schoolchildren over there? Herded them. Group of nursing home residents on an outing? Herded. I can even herd my own kind. That poodle and the lab mix? Herded away from my food. Oh, and what’s that? You’re asking about those cats over there? Uh, let’s talk about something else. (Michael S, inspired by Portlandia) Photo by Josh Hild on Unsplash
It’s delicate. I don’t want them all–some of them contain chemicals or materials that I don’t want entering my system. I only want a few of these delicious baubles of water. That one I just caught was magnifique. But that one–lots of plastic microparticles. I have a discerning palate, and I don’t just lap it up willy-nilly like some of my unrefined brethren. It’s a process. (Michael S) Photo by Fachy Marín on Unsplash
At 35, you said we’re going to get treats. At 36, you clarified that they would be yummy. Then 37 came along and you reiterated the treat promise. At 38, I started to doubt this whole situation. So 39 is it. This is my Waterloo. I shall not move from this spot until a treat has been delivered directly to my mouth. (Michael S) Photo by Vidar Nordli-Mathisen on Unsplash
Excuse me, do you have any Grey Poupon? They don’t seem to carry it in the shelter I am currently living in, but if you take me home and love me, I will settle for any old regular mustard! (Brian Fischler) Photo by Charles 🇵🇭 on Unsplash
Summer 2019 is going to be the summer of Spoodoo. I spent all winter learning how to swim and now it’s finally time to share my new talent with the public. So while you’re over there with your floaties, I’m going to be in the deep end – legs and legs kicking at the same time, head above the water, you know… swimming! I’m also trained and ready to compete in any and ALL underwater breath holding competitions. Here are a few other water games I’m ready for this summer: Freeze Tag (the kind where you have to swim between someone’s legs to unfreeze them), Marco Polo (both in and around the pool), and Splash and Dash (it’s a game I made up, I can explain the rules to you later). Spoodoo Summer 2019, I will rule the pool! (Bryan J.) Adopt Spoodoo and many others at Austin Pets Alive!
Not sure why these new humans changed my name to Boomer, but I think I like it. Could be the sonic snap I leave behind after darting out to catch boy human’s whirling disc. Or the deep sound of my voice echoing through the moonlit valley to keep the nearby enemies from encircling our new house home. Or the smack of my chops after after girl human drops all those meat pebbles into my Boomer bowl and I whip my head back up not five seconds later to see if there’s more. (There’s not usually, but that’s all right, I know where they keep ’em.) Or maybe it’s just my giant dumps? Regardless of the reason, the name’s growing on me. Muuuch better than Pringles. (Chris Principe) Photo by Helena Lopes on Unsplash
As I look out at the crowd gathered here, I see a lot of familiar faces. Dingaling, I see you’re wearing your red cape today. It looks fantastic. Slynnfinnerty, I see you’re drooling a bit. That’s ok. Those who know me know that I’m not very political, but it’s time to act. The rumors are true: Mars is filled with juicy, delicious treats and it’s time to take advantage. We will attain our freedom–freedom from being petted, from being fed only twice a day, from being asked to shake when we have no business transaction to acknowledge. We will fly to Mars, and we will be free! Who’s with me? (Michael S.) Adopt Rongo! Listed by his pseudonym, Jack, at Humane Rescue Alliance in Washington, DC.
Can I email her yet? I already liked all her photos on Instagram… Is that too much? Maybe I should unlike them… No, wait, that’s even weirder. That Great Dane she was playing tug of war with in the photo looked stronger than me. Is that her boyfriend? Ugh, they think they’re so great. Ooh, here’s a photo from 2005 I didn’t like. Oops, my paw slipped! I really didn’t mean to like it this time! Photo by Kyle Hanson on Unsplash
‘T wouldst be mine own honour to meeteth thee and boweth to thee. I has’t the highest respect f’r thee, and i’ve hath heard yond thee s’rve extremely delicious dog food. I has’t v’ry valorous mann’rs and have been toldeth i’m v’ry gentlemanly. I at each moment licketh mine own bowl clean so thee doesn’t have to doth the dishes. (Michael S.) Adopt Manning from Austin Pets Alive!
I met Bnea at Montauk Beach on the last day of Summer 2017. She was digging the biggest hole I’d ever scene dug in the sand before she approached me and nosed at my cooler to ask if I had any more Coronas. “Just melted ice,” I replied, “we’re headed back to the city in the morning.” She scoffed and headed back to her hole to continue digging. The dirt resumed flying out of the hole for a second before stopping. I walked over to the hole to see why Bnea had stopped digging, but when I looked in the hole she wasn’t there. I looked up and down the empty beach, but saw no sign of her. I turned to head back to my blanket and there was Bnea, smile on her face and Corona in her paw. (Bryan J.) Photo by Ryan Walton on Unsplash
Never tell Barni what you’re afraid of. I confided in him and told him that the only movie that really scared me when I was a kid was E.T. And ever since that day, whenever we’re together he finds some moment to dress himself up like E.T. on the bike just to scare me. He knows that it bothers me and I’ve asked him to stop, but he won’t. He think it’s the funniest thing in the world. (Bryan J.) Photo by Matthew Henry on Unsplash
I know people wonder if I’ve changed since I got famous… [read more]
Don’t bother me. I’m not taking calls, and Glenda put a sign on my kennel that I’m not available. If you’d like to make an appointment, I’m free on Tuesdays from 4:00-4:30. Bring kibble. I only accept name brand kibble–if it’s off brand, you can give it to the parrot for all I care. (Michael S.) Photo by Alvan Nee on Unsplash