Kick Me Anywhere, Kick Me In The Ass

I am 100% asshole....and I proved it again tonight.

We have a neighbor who likes to offer up "advice" to me. Actually, she likes to tell me what I am doing wrong and what I should be doing. As you can probably figure, I really appreciate her insight.

So, this weekend, when she called me over to talk to me I was sure I was going to get some valuable feedback. Our chat was a round about chat regarding her dogs and Spike. As a little background, several years ago we adopted Spike right before he was to go to the pound. He was a stray that no one in the neighborhood wanted.

As a result of his nature, Spike likes to be outside a lot. In fact, he hates being in the house. When I bring him in, he sits by the door, scratches, howls, and annoys me until I put him back outside. I have no problems with this. If Spike's happy, I am happy.

Anyway, my neighbor, who has three huge dogs and one tiny house prefers to keep her dogs inside most of the time. To me, that's a decision between her and her dogs.

The purpose of her chat was to tell me, again, how she thinks dogs should be kept inside where they are warm and safe. "Spike sure seems to be outside a lot. A lot" was what I heard. I explained his preference only to be told, "well, I prefer to take care of my babies".

Ok....whatever. Fast forward to tonight. I am walking Spike along the normal evening route, which goes past our friend's house. As usual, as we walk by, the three dogs start barking and growling from inside the house, through the open windows. Tonight, as we walked by, I decided to have some "fun".

So, as we walked by, I made a very slight but annoying sound. This resulted in the three Cujos going ape shit.....which I thought was very funny. Then, all of a sudden I heard the venetian blinds in the main window of the living room come crashing down......and she started screaming at the dogs.

My side was hurting so much I was afraid I wouldn't be able to finish our walk. Yes, I realize that what I did was not nice.....as Mrs. WHW explained to me when I came home, all giddy from the walk.

Maybe tomorrow night we will go walking past the house where the husky that craps in my yard lives. Hmmmmm.

Me vs Spike

Tonight, a Point/CounterPoint....me vs Spike, my dog.



Point

Eating Baby Birds is Gross
by WHW
Spike, I go out of my way to buy you healthy food. The vet has said it should be good tasting (have no idea how she knows that). Yes, I know I tried Walmart's Old Roy, but I got the message when you knocked your bowl over 3 days in a row.

So why do you still feel compelled to eat baby birds? You can't be hungry. I make sure you have plenty every night. I frequently give you a treat for walks that are uneventful. I know the boys sneak additional helpings of food to you during the day.

So what gives?

Yesterday evening, when I went out and saw you chomping down on those baby birds, I thought I was going to lose it. Just because they fell out of the nest doesn't mean you have to eat them.

That is just gross, dude.



CounterPoint

Damn, You Are A Huge Puss!
By Spike
Before I start, I want it known that I do not like the fact that I am getting second billing in the title. WHW, do you think people are now coming here in droves to read you?? Yea, right. Next, I want to call out my fav librarian. Hey, CL....I dig your mentions for the Spikester. Keep it real (and put me in your next Tour!)

Now, let's address your stupid point, WHW. First, the vet may claim this dog food tastes good, but I am here to say it sucks....no, it sucks monsters. It smells like the dumb cats' liter box....and tastes like packing peanuts, sticks, and slugs. I eat it because I don't find starving to death all that appealing. However, you bring back the Ol' Roy shit and I may revisit my position on starving.

As for the birds...I have given you this lecturer over and over. It is the freakin circle of life. Remember Lion King??? Remember Mufasa explaining to Simba how important all of nature's creatures are? Well, this is the circle of life in 3-D, buddy. Get used to it. The birds lay too many eggs. The nest is too crowded. Too many baby birds in the nest. Some fall out. Spike gets something to eat that resembles normal food. Nice tight circle, isn't it Marlin Perkins?

I will tell you what is gross. The bathroom story you told me Tuesday night on our walk. I really do not want to know about your stall neighor's gas that could peel paint. Now that is gross....even to an animal that eats his own poo.

Next time you get ill watching me eat a bird I suggest you go back inside and stick your pacifier back into your mouth.

WHW = Huge Puss.

Spike Will Soon Be In Da House

In preparation for Spike's arrival to this blog, I am posting his first ever blog post, on the other channel.

Let me set the stage for this post. My MSN Space was a featured space one week, and I had been posting an entry each day for the special week. Toward the end of the week I was getting pretty tired, so my dog Spike offered up his services to post one night. The rest was magic......

Woof Woof
All this blogging has worn me out. However, I do not want to let all of my fans down. I know I promised to blog every night....but I think Friday is going to be tough.

So, I have asked the family dog, Spike, to blog for me this time (please count this as Friday's entry). I bought and installed a canine font from Petco so everyone could understand him. He has been told that he can talk about anything he likes. Take it away Spike......

Hello there everyone. As WHW pointed out, my name is Spike. I have been with the family for many years. A little background on me....I'm a mutt. I am approximately 2 feet tall, and a svelte 50 pounds.

As WHW heads to the living room to rest his little eyes, let me outline the theme for today...WHW is a jerk. Hold on now. Before you kick into the "...but Spike, don't you think you are being a little tough on him" routine, let me state my case.

Point #1: He THINKS he is funny. For example, as he walked away from the computer he joked about my lack of opposable thumbs. Something about how slow I will type bacause of it. Hey, hunt-n-peck boy. I bet I can type faster than you with one paw tied behind my back. Heck, you don't even use your precious thumbs when you type. Dork.

Point #2: He THINKS he knows what is best for me. Last year, at the vet, he was told I was getting a bit heavy. My defense...muscle is heavier than fat. Anyway, Nerd-boy goes out and buys a special dietary dog food. Let me tell you, regular dog food is tolerable. This stuff was just this side of foam, sticks, and pebbles. Nice. I started getting used to it, thanks to the kids. WHW left the food bag on the floor. Whenever the boys would walk by, they would give "Old Spike" another scope full. Then, four-eyes comments that I look even heavier, and figures out how I'm getting my extra Carbs. He then puts the bag high up on the shelf. Nice way to treat man's best friend.

Point #3: His inane stories. He walks me every night, which is good. Unfortunately, he tells me these stupid stories as we walk. Probably 75% of them are about some bizarre thing that happened to him in the bathroom. I'm pretty sure the only reason he is telling me these stories is because Mrs. WHW finally got tired of them. I got news for WHW, it ain't normal for one person to have so many bathroom stories. Dude, keep your head down as you go in, do your business and get the heck out of there. Enough about the poop balls. If I hear that story one more time, I am going to gouge my eardrums out with a milkbone.

Point #4: He TRYS to be tough with me. A couple nights ago, I was in a barking mood. I am a dog. That's what we do. Also, I really wanted to spend the night outside. Well, about 2:00 AM nerdlinger comes downstairs, wearing his Napoleon Dynamite T-shirt and his Spongebob shorts and tells me to cool it. That night I wasn't buying it. Heck, I know very few members of the animal kingdom that would be afraid of someone wearing that get-up....possibly a hampster...a little hampster. Anyway, I wait for roughly 20 minutes, just long enough for Rip Van Winkle to get back to sleep, then I tear loose a series of barks that impressed even me. You would have thought the house was being invaded. Well, WHW comes downstairs again, pillow-head and all, and tells me I am outside for the night. News flash geek, that's what I wanted. Check and Mate to Spike.

Point #5: The cats. A couple years ago we had a few mice in the garage. No big deal....at least I didn't think it was. Well, WHW decided we needed a couple cats. What that means is, he watched a bunch of Tom and Jerry cartoons and decided cats would be cool. He was wrong. The first time one of them rubbed against me, I let them know in clear terms that they were not part of my family. Oh, they are clever. The other day one comes over to my water dish. Poor pussycat was thirsty. One backhand later, pussycat is not thirsty. I didn't notice WHW standing near by. The %^$# cat did. WHW comes over and tells me to back off. Whatever. Dumb cats.

Now, I'm sure he has told everyone how he is a nerd, how he is a loose cannon, how funny he is. I'm here to set the story straight. WHW has his good moments...like when he is feeding me, brushing me, and walking me....and when he is sleeping. But overall, he is enough to drive a dog to drink.

Well, I better sign off. My paws are tired. Besides, I think I see one of the cats nosing around my Snausages.

Later peeps. Peace out.