Bubbles and baubles and blubbles. That’s what makes my life complete. What’s more, they are very low-calorie so I don’t have to worry about having to pretend I just have extra floofy fur. Did you know that bubbles are 98% air? And the rest is actually soap, making them great to fight COVID if you just rub them on your paws for 20 seconds. Photo by Noah Austin on Unsplash
OK, we can go over this again. No, no, that’s fine. I’m sure it will sink in the eighth time. Peanut butter. Peanut butter is what I want. Not almond butter, not cashew butter, but peanut butter. I’ve been very patient about all this. The first few times you had the groceries delivered, you just forgot. That’s fine. Then the cashew butter. Not really sure how to comment on that. Then somehow you procured an empty jar of peanut butter—let’s just admit that was odd and a bit of a dick move. But next time you order groceries, I know you’re going to get it. Or I will pee all over your new rug. (Michael S) Photo by Ash Goldsbrough on Unsplash
Sometimes you just need a break. You just feel like dragging your umbrella to the top of a mountain and laying in the shade. Well, I guess I’m in the sun but I do still have my umbrella. Photo by Robson Hatsukami Morgan on Unsplash
C’mon, you know you love my coat and the way my tongue hangs out. It’s true that I mistakenly piddled on the floor last night, and I don’t feel too good about it. But I’m the same dog that licks your face when you get home from work, and I do try to be a good boye. For now, can we just focus on my coat and my tongue? Photo by Caleb Woods on Unsplash
My agent says this is it. This is the shoot that will put me over the top and get global attention. I had to do some things I wasn’t really comfortable with–I had to get wet, and look into the sun–but that’s the price of fame, right? Soon, everyone will be wearing one of these couture collars because of me. (Michael S) Photo by Succurrere on Unsplash
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