My favorite time of day

There are lots of great times of the day, but my very favorite comes in the evening when the humans start puttering around in the kitchen. When I hear the squinch-squinch sound of the can opener, then I know… It’s Klingon feeding time!

Here’s the thing about Klingons. They’re carnivores, which means they’re supposed to have nice meaty diets. The humans give me dog kibble, which is fun to crunch in your mouth, but it isn’t as juicy and stinky and delicious as food from a can. That’s the kind of food the Klingons get to eat. Well, two of the three Klingons anyway. The third one doesn’t care for moist food and only eats dry kibble, which only goes to show what small brains Klingons have.

Now you might think it’s a little bit unfair that the two sensible Klingons get yummy canned food and I don’t. But I’ll tell you a little secret. I get some of the Klingons’ food, too. Sometimes #2 sneaks me a bite, and sometimes I take matters into my own hands … er, mouth, and dart in for a bite when the Klingons are finished.

Of course, such an exciting event as canned food time demands a song. When dogs get excited, they sing. Don’t you?

Here I am, singing the canned food song.

Here I am, singing the canned food song.

In case you want to sing along, #2 made up some human words to the song. Of course the dog words are better, but the human words are good too. They go:

Canned food! Canned food!
Give me your canned food, do!
I like canned food
So much I’ll bark at you!

The melody is “Bicycle Built For Two.”

One of the Klingons also sings along sometimes, but she meows instead of barking and that just isn’t right at all.

Edited: April 30th, 2011

The amazing double-coated Klingon

One of our Klingons has more hair than the law should allow. No. 1 swears she has twice the usual amount for the species. No. 1 has to go around the house all the time and use sticky rollers to get the Klingon hair off.

Finally No. 1 she went to the store and came home with a Furminator.

She sat right down on the floor with that furry Klingon and gave her a good going-over. By the time they were done, a tribble had been removed, and the Klingon was so exhausted that she laid down and used it for a pillow.

IMG_0322

furminator

I guess the Furminator helped, but there are still those other two Klingons. At least they have the normal amount of hair. And of course I, being a regal papillon, am a single-coated dog and hardly shed at all!

Woofs,
Willie

Edited: April 28th, 2011

The making of the bed

One of the most fun things EVER is the making of the bed.

First, No. 2 takes all the blankies, the sheets, and everything off the bed. This is very exciting. All of a sudden there is a great wide expanse of empty bed for me to run around on, spin, jump, bark, rumpage, and FRAP!

Sometimes No. 2 joins in the fun.

Really?

Really?

Then he gets a new sheet and stands at the end of the bed. “You ready?”" he asks me.

I was BORN Ready!

He flaps the new sheet high in the air! It is so exciting!

I spin like a whirling top!

I spin like a whirling top!

I surf the sheet, catching the leading edge and conquering it.

The sheet comes down.

The sheet comes down.

You try to cover me but I am too swift.

You try to cover me but I am too swift.

No. 2 never gets it right the first time, and is forced to repeat the maneuver.

He is chagrined.

He is chagrined.

Do it again!

Do it again!

I am ready for Phase 2!

I am ready for Phase 2!

Then come the rest of the blankies and the pillows, etc. And the fun is over, until the next time!

Woofs,
Willie

Edited: April 20th, 2011

Frosting

A human who knows all about the genetics of papillons got in touch with No. 2 and told him that she thought I was a frosted sable.

Apparently, some of us have a gene inside us that makes the colors on our heads and ears fade out early.

I don’t know anything about that. I think if I had frosting on me I would know it, because frosting is very sweet and delicious. Nevertheless they stuck some pictures of me up on a page on the interwebs as an example.

Frosted papillons

My humans say they don’t care a whit, and my fur feels the same, so no big whoop!

You be the judge.

Me as a youngster.

Me as a youngster.

Me at four years old.

Me at four years old.

And BTW, humans still stop me wherever I go and say I’m so cuuuute.

Woofs,
Willie

Edited: April 10th, 2011