Turnips: The Forbidden Fruit

An addition to the squeak/no squeak data set:
Turnips: no squeak.
I found this out when I noticed a bag from the farmer's market sitting on the kitchen floor last night. I investigated and found several small, round objects that did not look remarkably different from your average tennis ball, only less furry. I thought I'd check one out to see if it was worth either eating or playing with. Word to the wise: turnips do not taste good. Stick with the socks and underwear. However, turnips are fun to play with, even without the squeak. They roll on the floor in a pleasing manner, are just the right size to fit in your mouth, and your humans will chase you if you steal one. Just resist the urge to bite off a chunk.

I love Saturday

So, what do you think, two days in a row, not too shabby! I suppose I should tell you, I've spent most of today sleeping. We had a little run in the park, but other than that, it's been the big snooze. That's because yesterday, Mom and Mama came home from dinner with a new friend for me. Mama's cousin, Cristina, had the privilege of staying at my place in our nation's capital. She was very nice, she let me steal her hat, and we stayed up real late. It's not too often I get to bond with my extended family, and I hope she comes to visit again soon. So, now we're all watching the game and having a beer (Beer--who knew a plant-based food could be so delicious!) In any case, I forgot that the pics of me and Ruthie Kramer were on Grandma's camera, so I'm working on getting those for you. Until then, I hope you're all making progress on your resolutions!

Oliver's Rockin' New Year

Happy 2009! I must say, it has been a very busy holiday season for yours truly, and I'm still recovering from all the partying. I spent a lot of quality time at Grandma's, and made a new, feline friend. I know what you're thinking--"Ollie, you're WAY too cool to hang around cats, what were you thinking?" But, hear me out. Her name is Ruthie Kramer, and she shares my affinity for attention, food, and staring out (or, in her case, in) the window. I'll post a picture soon, but she lives outside Grandma's house, and every once in a while she comes in for a visit. In any case, Ruthie's one tough kitty--she lives outside without a sharp "Go Navy" sweater like mine, and she finds her way around the whole neighborhood by herself. Not too shabby for a pet of the feline persuasion.

In any case, the point of this post is to tell you that, like any good American, I've made some New Year's resolutions. I think they are all reasonable goals, and I'm going to try my best to stick to them:

1. Go cold turkey and quit my sock habit.
2. Even if it's only one sentence, write in my blog at least 5 days a week, no exceptions. Except when I make exceptions.
3. Post pictures in my blog at least once a week.
4. Re: resolution #1: Get the patch, as I've just fallen off the "giving up socks cold turkey" bandwagon.
5. Be nicer to Winston, except when he's being a lame-o doofus.
6. Train with Mom for the "Fast and Furriest" 5K race next October.
7. Overcome my fear of parked cars.

Meanwhile, Mama has made a resolution of her own: http://iamstayinghere.blogspot.com

We'll have to see who can keep theirs better.

It's a sock, it's a squeaky toy, it's...

SuperPoodle!!

Sometimes humans have crazy ideas, but there is one that has recently come to my attention that I find rather enjoyable. This would be Halloween. Put on a costume that only serves to increase my already ginourmous adorability, and spend the night gallavanting around, eating candy? Yes, please! I attended a very fashionable, hip party dressed as "SuperPoodle." Winston was my trusty sidekick, but I made him a cape just like mine so he would think we were equally super. I must say, the underoos were quite cozy--if anyone's thinking of an early Hannukah present, Winston and I both wear size 2T-4T.

Atonement

Greetings on this Yom Kippur day. First, you should know that I'm finally not a bastard child anymore--Mom and Mama got hitched, and I feel like my new standing as a puppy-in-wedlock has given me a new sense of responsibility. Therefore, I am going to devote this posting to atoning for the few, itty-bitty, nearly insignificant sins I have committed this past year.






Martha and Jim: I'm sorry for peeing on your bed. I got WAY too excited about the golf balls.

Mama: I'm sorry I chewed up your Spiderman glasses. They looked kind of like candy. Boy, was that a mistake.

Mom: I'm sorry I can't stop sticking my head inside your work bag. It's so cozy in there, and there are sometimes snacks!

Grandma Focarazzo: I'm sorry I ate your plants. And dug one up. And got dirt all over the carpet.

Winston: I'm sorry I stole your monkey and chewed off one of the arms.

Mom: I'm sorry I got caught in the bathtub for the 1,000th time. I'm trying to stop, but I think I might be addicted to bath water. Plus, Dove doesn't taste too bad, especially the green kind.

Mama: I'm sorry I peed on you when I got home from camp. I was SO happy to see you that I kind of lost it.

Jen: I'm sorry I chewed your knitting pattern. Maybe it can be like an extra-super-challenge now.

Colleen and Becky: I'm sorry I pooped in your hallway when I was sleeping over. I'm even sorrier I tried to make you think it was Winston.

Winston: Sorry I tried to make you take the rap for the poop in the hallway.

Mom: I'm sorry for running away from the bus. I thought I could drag you out of the way, but you just didn't hold on tight enough. Next time, I'll just bark like crazy.

Hanna: I'm sorry I wouldn't share my stick with you at the park. I'm older (in dog years, anyway), and I should have been more mature. Next time we play, I'll let you win.

Mean old man neighbor: I'm sorry I mistook you for someone who has a heart. Clearly you are not a friend of the canines, and I won't try to share the love again.

Kelly the groomer: I'm sorry I may have acted a bit grumpy that one time. It was not so long after my "operation" and I wasn't in the best of moods. You're really an ok person, and I hope you'll be my stylist forever and ever.

Ben D.: I'm sorry for not reading your vibes right when I first met you. You rock--I'd share my toys with you any day.

To everyone who's ever stayed at our house: I'm sorry for stealing your socks. I've acknowledged my problem, which is the first step to recovery.

Anyhow, I'm sure there are more, but the fasting has gotten me a bit light-headed, and it's hard to focus on the screen. So, happy atoning everyone, and let's hope Mom and Mama will let me have something other than kibble for break fast!

Me, me, me

It seems that you, the people, just can't get enough of me, the Oliver. So, here are some more pictures to help get you through your Tuesday...

Eh, Fuggedaboudit.

I'm not coming out until that vacuum cleaner is in the next zip code.

Winnie, go easy on the Pepsi!

No, no, a little to the left, get the waterfall in the background, it makes me look sporty.

Toby, a novel, by Jack Schaffer

I almost forgot to give you an update on my new friend, Toby. As a sign of friendship, I MAY have sent Toby a giant crab with claws that squeak (I tested them myself). I heard back from Toby that he found the crab even tastier than poop, which says a lot. Here are some prize pics of Toby and the crab.