The Family Dog is Jacking This Blog

The dog in reference would be Raisin Mulan, for those of you that don't yet know me.

My apologies for the name. We dogs can't choose our owners or our names, and I feel the need to clarify right off the bat that my birth mother named me Chia Chen after one of our ancestors, but I was cruelly yanked from my mother's side ahem, adopted by the Master's family, and have since been forced to endure the name because my boy gave it to me.

The Raisin part I'm not crazy about, on account of a raisin being nothing but a shriveled up grape, but you have to give the boy props for seeing my warrior qualities as a mere pup and lobbying for my warrior name, Mulan. While it's not the name my mother would have chosen, it does give a nod to my Chinese-American heritage, so I can't complain.

In my early days with this family, I, Raisin Mulan, had a place in my captor's the families Christmas card. Because I was so wrinkly and adorable, I was fitted with some reindeer antlers and included in the picture, and not merely mentioned in the card.

Ahhh, those were the days when my Mistress would scratch my belly and pet me and rub me behind my ears, and talk to me in the lovey-dovey voice (rarely directed at me anymore) and sneak me morsels of whatever she happened to be cooking for dinner.

Since that picture wasn't exactly my best side, I've also included for you the beautiful portrait of me which the Mistress took of me and entered in the County fair that same year. I present to you Raisin in the Sun, which earned an honorable mention, though I don't think the photographers skill was so great as the subject, even if I do say so myself.

**dramatic sigh** Sadly, the above photos were taken in those wistful and nostalgic days of my pampered puppyhood when I was still an indoor dog and the mistress still crooned to me with such endearments as "Pupperoo" and "Raizy boo".

Ever since that little kid came along, however, I've known my days were numbered, and sure enough, the next year I saw them taking the photos through the glass sliding door without me.

There I was, basking in the sun on the living room floor one day, and, as that famous TV Chef says, "Bam!", shut out in the cold.

I just don't understand how the family has 'let me go' so readily. I am a perfectly loyal, loveable canine!

And why, when the mistress got so many compliments on how cute I was in that first picture? Who could resist the characteristic clamshell ears, the wrinkly face, and such an endearing personality, I ask?

I think it all began when one of the Mistress' friends had to go and comment on how a puppy was so much work, my people might as well have just had a baby. And next thing you know, I'm outside, and there's this wailing pint-sized person in my former domain.

I don't mean to sound bitter. I've long since worked through all that. Earning my keep as a loyal guard dog has helped me to retain my dignity and a sense of position within this family, however poor the living conditions and food rations.

And that little kid? He's not so bad...lately. He's always excited to see me, and when I hear the back door open and come looking for handouts wagging my tail in the excitement of seeing them, he's there, usually with food in hand. I'm not sure why, but the mistress gets all mad at me when I eat the food out of that kids hand, but when he's offering, I feel obliged to accept it. Especially since all I get these days is dry kibble. Can I help he's such a kind and generous boy?

And I've found that the older kid gets to feeling particularly guilty enjoys playing with me when I pull out a few puppy-like antics when he comes out to feed me in the mornings.

Getting back to my story, however, dogs have kind of a sixth sense about things. Somewhere in the recesses of my doggy brain, I knew once that kid came along, the day was coming where the Mistress wouldn't even mention me as a member of their family anymore.

I knew I must devise a plan to stay noticed. Because to blend in with one's surroundings is a dangerous thing for an aging family dog...especially with the ever-present threat of a cute little puppy joining the household, or, dare I say it, replacing the older dog. **shudders**

For a couple of years there, I managed to weasel my way in on cold winter nights (by looking as shivery and cold as my chihuahua friend Killer and his step-dog Little Bear, which has always elicited enough pity that they allowed me to come back into my house...the house I guard and protect, mind you, to sleep indoors for a night or two) and while the family was sleeping, I quickly typed up a letter, printed them off, and tucked them inside the cards. Luckily, that second Christmas, my Mistress was in such a rush she just put the cards in the envelopes without looking.

My third Christmas with this family, however, the cards were already sealed shut. As if getting in the house weren't enough of a feat, I had to steam open each card to put my letters in! You have no idea how hard that was to pull off while balancing on my back legs and carrying the tea pot to the sink and then the stove, and holding up envelope after envelope to unseal them. Oy, the lengths I've been forced to go to just to keep my rightful place in this family!

Lucky for me I accidentally broke the opening of the teapot while trying to fill it in the sink, and the obnoxious whistle mechanism was history or my cover would have been blown. How, exactly, would one explain the family dog making tea in the Mistress' kitchen at 3 am? Besides which that whistling teapot sound is one that that bothers even my acute canine auditory sensabilities, so good riddance if you ask me. Once again, the cards went out without a hitch, my letter included.

But my peeps, this was the year. I could sense it, just as sure as I can sense fear in those that are frightened of my vicious bark.

I waited and waited for the Mistress to get those cards done until I thought sure she wouldn't bother because it would be too late for them to get to folks by Christmas.

Well, I got to thinking, and realized that being included in the familiy Christmas card was nice, but frankly, it just didn't give me enough...exposure. After all, a wonderful, hard-working family dog like myself should get more attention than I do.

Anyway, I've been feeling like I needed something...bigger. With a larger audience. TV would be nice, but highly unrealistic.

So here lately, there's been a bit of a buzz through the glass sliding door (which is near the family dinner table, where I stand and shamelessly watch each day, hoping that someone will take pity and toss me some scraps out to me). The mistress has been chattering on and on to the Master about this blogging business, or the happenings around the house during the day. The poor Master can hardly get a word in edgewise, because she uses up her whole 25,000 words-per-day on him from the moment he walks in the door until bedtime, and he's usually pretty tapped out from expending his 10,000 at school.

So anyway, I've been keeping my ears up, and heard her explaining the how-to's of blogging to someone on the phone one day.

Now, I'd been prepared to dust off the old 'shiver-and-shake' again if need be, but the cold weather and the Mistresses Christmas card mailing schedule didn't coincide this year. So I concocted an elaborate scheme at the last minute, which involved dragging yard tools all over the back yard, and enlisting the help of the little Pit Bull puppy next door.

Bwahahahaha! You had to be there, but it was pretty much the funniest thing I ever saw!

The Mistress came outside in her PJ's and robe and coat (with this scary pasty stuff on her face) to try and get that squirrelly little pup back into his yard. And while she was lunging at him with that push broom, I was digging for all I was worth further down the fence, so that there would be another hole for the pup to come back through once he got over there.

Oh, was that ever fun...great fun, I tell you! A real comedy of errors...or so she thought. I may just have to do this every now and again just for a few laughs.

And my cleverly concocted ploy worked like a charm. She told the older kid to take me indoors! Not just the garage, but indoors!

So while he was down the hall getting ready for school and the Mistress was out there trying to get the pup to go back under the fence...I snuck in here.

That bigger audience I was looking for?

One word: Blogging.

Which explains why I'm in here jacking her blog.

I couldn't have planned it more perfectly. She had apparently already logged on in passing, which saved me a heap of time needing to hack into the system, and though she struggles with it, I found the HTML stuff to be a piece of cake.

Looking around in here, I must say that I like how everything looks at Christmas time in the Master and Mistress' house. It brings back such fond memories of my indoor days as a pup, curled up beneath the Christmas tree.



I was a little dismayed, however, when I noticed that the ornament the family has in memory of their first dog, Mosely (who preceded me in this family) holds a place of honor and esteem near the top of the tree.



There he is, the Regal Beagle, posed beneath the gleaming silver word 'Hope'. **waves paws expressively in the air**

What gives? Is this like Wilbur the pig and the fancy words written on Charlotte's Web? Except instead of 'Humble' and 'terrific' and 'some pig', he gets 'Hope'? **again waving paws expressively in the air**

Normally, I have too much pride to complain about such things, but when I looked for my own ornament, I was a little...shall we say offended, when I saw where it was.

You may not be able to tell from the photo (and I'm working under a serious time constraint, so it will just have to do), but there it is...relegated to the lower portion of the tree facing the wall! Nowhere near some wonderful silver word like Joy or Love, either...just hanging by a dumb green bulb.

And if that weren't bad enough, it's rather a smack on the snout that it's right where the little kid can reach up and paw all over it! And believe me, I've heard all about the stuff the Mistress has already pulled out of the Christmas tree water. I tell you, I get no respect around here! And after all I do for this family!

But that gives me an idea. Be right back.

**rustling around in the tree, dashing around the living room, a flash of light**

There. Perfect.

What? You don't think there were dogs in the Stable that day?

Follow me here for a moment, if you will...Shar Pei's like me were once a closely guarded and rare breed of dog. We were from the Orient, and were bred exclusively to guard princes and princesses. Even I know that the Wise Men were from the East, and may have been advisors to royalty, so I don't think it's such a stretch to think that some of my ancestors could have been along with those Wise Men to guard those lavish gifts they were brining to the Savior.

What? You're not going for that either?

Okay, I know I'm not exactly shepherd dog material, so that take is obviously out, too.

Would it be too much to say that I think there had to have been more than just your run-of-the-mill livestock present in that stable that day? After all, there had to be a reason for the old phrase, "Dog in a manger".

Okay, how about this, I'm a dog who needs more attention from my owners, and needed to do something dramatic to get noticed...

Woopsie~ the Mistress just sent the kid running over to the neighbors just now, no doubt to tattle on their puppy. Thankfully the kid didn't spot me on the laptop here behind all this junk on her craft table, but I'm going to have to cut things short, as the jig is nearly up, and it's costing me a boatload of kibble to the neighbor pup and that obnoxious yapping Pomeranian who is demanding hush money.

I'd better go. I need to clean up the crumbs left on the kitchen floor last night for extra nourishment, and so the Mistress will think I've made myself useful while indoors.

Until next year,

Your adorable canine friend
Raisin Mulan, Warrior Princess