New Years Resolutions from Mr. Wendell and Pepper

Happy New Year!  It is your pal Mr. Wendell here with my and Pepper's list of New Year's Resolutions.  Since Pepper refuses to have anything to do with self improvement, I will be designing New Year's resolutions for her. 

Before I dive into New Year's resolutions, let me tell you about our Christmas.  I must say, it was a real tail wagger.  First, my grandma and grandpa came in from South Carolina.  I really like when they come in.  It is an extra lap or two to lay on, more food scraps at the table and my grandma has a secret stash of dog bisquits that she slips me and my sister at bed time.  It does not get much better than that. 

Anyways, they were here about a week visiting.  I guess they went to some ballet "The Nutcracker" on Christmas Eve.  My dad pretended it was a good time, but I could tell he was bored.  I guess some 8 foot tall guy sat in front of him and besides the guys ears, my dad did not get to see much.  On Saturday, we went to visit King Syrus and Ms. Tracy down in Carmel.  It was a good time. 

So anyways, here are my resolutions for next year.  I am only going to do four, because any more than that and I will not be able to remember them.   Here we go.

Resolution Number One:  I will not lick myself in naughty places in front of company.  It seems natural to me to want to take care of my hygeine, but I understand that sometimes I may be grossing people out.

Resolution Number Two:  I will stop sniffing other dogs rear ends when there are humans around.  My dad always says he is glad humans don't have the same practice. 

Resolution Number Three:  I will try to stay awake longer than an hour a day. 

Resolution Number Four:  I will stop kissing my dad's face after licking myself in naughty places. 

I should be able to do all of these...at least for a few hours.

Here is a nice picture of my sister in New Year's Eve attire and the resolutions I designed for her.

Pepper's Resolutions for 2010

#1:  I will no longer do the butt walk on my dad's pillow when I get mad at him.  I will use his blanket instead.

#2  I will stop stealing all of Mr. Wendell's bones and hiding them in places that he cannot find them.

#3  I will stop using the carpet under the dining room table as a pee pad because I am too lazy sometimes to walk to where my mom usually puts them and blaming Mr. Wendell for doing it.

#4 When my dad says lets go outside, I will stop running under the bed and hiding from him. 

#5)  I promise to be nicer, less judgmental and patient with Mr. Wendell.


For the New Year's Eve celebration, my mom and dad will undoubtedly be sitting on the coach drinking wine and watching movies...just like all the other residents at the old folks rest home.  Gee whiz guys, go do something!

Happy New Year!

Paw Humbug! By Pepper

I want to go on record that I hate the holiday season.  Why?

Take a look!

Every year, my mom gets the bright idea that sending the relatvies and friends pictures of me dressed for Christmas is "cute".  I hate it.  The SPCA is going to get a call from me about this continued exploitation of my image.  Even Mr. Wendell looks like he hates it. 

The whole process is a nightmare.  First she dresses us up.  This in itself is crazy.  Think about it.  A late 30's woman dressing furry dogs up. She usually talks to us while she does it...telling Mr. Wendell "Yoooooouuuuu look soooooooo handsome young man!" or baby talking to me "Ms Pepper, you are so prettttty in this dress".  What is she?  A 8 year old girl dressing up a Barbie for a tea party?  Grow up lady!

Then she spends what seems like an hour prepping the area where she wants to take the picture.  Hey!  Get a clue, dress me afterward if you must.  You wear a fur coat as an undershirt to a heavy red cotton jacket.  It is hot!

Then, in a nightmare of flashes, she takes dozens of pictures hoping to get the exact right one.  She would not sit still for as long as she wants us to sit still, yet she expects us to sit there waiting on her.  This year, my idiot dad saved Mr. Wendell and I from hours of torture by whipping out some beef jerky and bribing us to look at him.  If he had just pulled out the jerky I would have thought him brilliant.  However, he must of asked Mr. Wendell and I 200 times in that stupid sing song "Does Pepper want a treat?  DOES Missssster Wendellllll want a BIIIIG treat?  What a jamoke. 

Oh yea, I forgot this gem...

The building owners where I live decided to get festive and put a Christmas Tree in the lobby.  However, they really went all out.  They must have ordered it straight from http://www.artificialcrappytrees.com/.  It is the artificial version of the Charlie Brown Christmas tree...3 feet tall, fake plastic foliage that is as thin as my dad's hair and a cheesey string of lights they must have stolen from a homeless guy.  It is really, really bad.

If I sound bitter and angry about the holidays, it is because I am.  Mr. Wendell is so angry he said he has been lifting his leg on the tree my mom put up in our living room. 

PAW HUMBUG!!!!!!

Another weekend, another car ride....whatever! By Ms. Pepper

I don't know why my hyper active dad thinks that I want to abandon my warm blanket, bones and toys to go exploring California...but he does.  It is annoying and I generally don't like it.  What really chaps my ass is the fake nice, motivated tone of his voice when he says "DOES PEPPER WANT TO GO FOR A RIDE IN THE CAR?"  Then the bent over, hands on his knees....COME ON!  COME ON GIRL!  COME ON PEPPER" sends me over the top.  Honestly, it makes me want put my leash on, tie it to something high off the ground and launch myself off a ledge.  (Editor's note:  As Pepper wears a harness, this would not have the impact she thinks it would!)  Mr. Wendell, ever the sycophantic "Yes Man" wags his tail, runs around the house and generally acts like a fool.  Just for a stinkin car ride usually to no where. 

Anyways, my parents decided to take us to one of the many "Redwood State/National Parks" to go see some big trees.  Big trees.  Think about it.   We were supposed to get excited about hopping in the car just to see trees that are big.  What a waste of time.  I could have been napping...instead I was held pawstage (instead of hostage!) while my soon to be granola chomping, flannel shirt and Birkenstock wearing parents went to go see big trees!  They have been on the left coast for too long.  Thats my opinion.

Anyways, these two pictures say it all.  Mr. Wendell was shaking like a crack addict who just turned in a trash bag full of plastic bottles for rebate when he saw the trees.  Needless to say he pee'd on everyone of these big trees that he could!

Then, as if the indignity of walking around the park was not enough, my mom and dad decided that they should take pictures of me and my brother next to the trees, in my mom's arms and in my dad's arms. 

I am worried that there are more days of exploring in my future.  I am going to try to figure out how to fake heartworms.  Maybe then, they will just let me sleep in my blanket like some dog version of Ferris Bueller.

Oh yeah, I stole and chewed down to nothing Mr. Wendell's favorite bone after his stupid "Paws Up" sign off last time.  May he get a lump of cat poop for Christmas.

Feeling Surly....

Pepper

I went for another ride in the car...Mr. Wendell

Cheerio folks!  Here I am behind the wheel of Benson.  Benson you ask?  That is the stupid name my dad gave to his car.  He thought the it needed a name and since Land Rovers were British, that it should be named a good sturdy English name. 

I was on the way down to see my Pomeranian cousin, Syrus (we call him King Syrus) for Thanksgiving.  Syrus was in good health and a holiday mood.  I was not in such a great mood.  My dad must have been drinking a little sweet potatoe wine when he programmed the GPS.  What should have taken about 2 hours took about four and a half.  Four and a half hours with my sister, dad, mom and my human sister Cassie and her boyfriend was not a lot of fun.  Anyways, we had a great visit with King Syrus, had a bit of turkey and got to stay in an overpriced hotel.

Speaking of my human sister.  She and her boyfriend came to visit over the holiday weekend.  It was good to see them. We did a bunch of cool things.  We took them to the Golden Gate Bridge, took a double decker bus tour, ate at a few restuarants, toured the city and  went to a musical down at the Orpheum theater called Wicked.  They liked San Francisco!

While on the Golden Gate Bridge, we saw this sign.  Now, I am not a psychiatrist, but I really wonder if this sign has ever done anything more than make people laugh and take pictures of it. 

Imagine...you are at the end of your rope.  Dispondent.  Irrational.  Ready to take yourself off the high diving board called the Golden Gate Bridge.  You come across this sign.  "The consequences of jumping off this bridge are fatal and tragic."  If I was in the mood to take the plunge, reading this sign would be encouragement.  Awesome, I came here to get the job done and this sign is almost a guarantee!

Paws up!

Wendell