The Family Guard Dog is Jacking This Blog

It's me, Raisin. The Frump Family dog.

Once again, I'm jacking the Mrs. blog.

I was unable to sneak in to use the computer before Christmas this year on account of the Mrs. yelling things like, "Get those dogs off my clean floors!", but knew that my readership would be missing me, and so I kept my ears cocked for the sound of the latch on the glass sliding door.

I finally made my move when the boy came out with a shovel to make our yard habitable again. Apparently the parentals were out organizing the garage or something. There's been a lot of sawing and hammering and such going on around here lately.

You see, we're in new digs now. The Frumps bought a new home, and if I can just wiggle in the back door in an off moment while the boy is filling the water dish, I can make my way quickly and quietly to the right, directly into the room where she keeps the computer and close the door.
In fact, I could probably spend my entire day blogging and nobody would know. Even if they did find me, they'd probably just blame it on that little kid 'cuz he's so full of mischief and is forever letting the dogs in.

They can't leave him alone for a minute, I tell you. I know this from personal experience, because when he comes outside to torment us play, he usually finds a stick, and I have to steer clear of him as he loves chasing me around the yard with it. It's always a great relief for me when they call him back inside.

It's rather stressful having that kind of responsibility babysitting the little kid out back. I can't tell you how many times I've had to throw myself between him and the neighbor Labs at our adjoining fence line so that he won't get his curious little fingers nipped off.

If it weren't for the fact that I get praised for such extra-mile efforts, and hear those quenching words that my thirsty soul longs to hear, like, "Raisin is such a good guard dog" I'd just go ahead and let him get nipped to teach him a thing or two. They have their hands full with that one if you ask me.

The house is nice enough. What I can see from outside, that is.

I suppose I would feel a little differently about things if that 'guest' room could have been outfitted so their hard working guard dog to have a warm place to sleep at night during these colder than usual winter temps, but nOOooo, not them. She had to go and turn it into a multi-purpose guest/craft/computer room and leave the dogs out in the cold because she doesn't want it sullied with 'wet dog' smell, whatever that is. Hmmph.

Really, though, things in the new 'hood wouldn't be half bad if it weren't for that obnoxious puppy they brought home just before Thanksgiving.

I suppose I should be grateful that I still have a job, what with the economy like it is and all, because I hear pets are being dumped off at shelters in large numbers these days. I am, however more than a tad annoyed that my job description increased drastically after that little punk showed up, and for no extra pay (I'm petitioning the union just as soon as I'm done posting this blog)!

Do you know how much work it is to keep a young cur from chewing on important things like the garden hose, and the boys muddy shoes and the picnic table? It's a full time job, that's what!

Add to this that the pup isn't the brightest bulb in the box, if you know what I mean. Pointer/Lab mixes are mostly paws and jaws if you ask me. This little mongrel hasn't been real quick to catch on to how things work around here.

My only consolation is that the family hasn't given him a dignified real name like they did for me as a youngster.

As you all know, my name is Raisin Mulan...a warrior princess kind of a name. Well, they couldn't think of an appropriate name for him for so long that they just kept calling him "Dog" and it stuck. D.O.G. DeeOhGee. **covers snout with paws in disgust**

Dumb as a box of rocks, that one. When the glass slider got a good cleaning the other day just before Christmas, D.O.G. ran headlong toward the door thinking it to be open, and "whack!" does that whole slap-and-slide thing, then gets up, shakes himself off and 'points' like his kind are prone to do, as though to say, "What was THAT?" Funniest thing I ever saw!

But I digress. While I certainly can't complain about the space in our new backyard digs, I have got to feeling a little resentful about the openness of the yard. At both my former dwellings with these people, I was in an enclosed backyard, accustomed to viewing the world through the cracks between the boards comprising the fence. Here, I've been left feeling...exposed. Vulnerable. It's just not right to do that to a faithful, loyal, hardworking dog like myself.

The old Labs next door are nice enough, but the older one is kind of slow-moving and barks excessively when let outside, wanting his people to know he's 'on the job'. Now I, of all dogs, understand this need to be recognized as important to one's owners, but his yapping at every little sound gets annoying. Especially when I've just calmed down D.O.G. enough to finally catch some shut-eye!

Just after we moved here, the Master put me in the gated front yard several times. There were some neighbors stealing cans and other stuff from the yards in our 'hood, and I'm pleased to say that my dark fur works to my benefit in that anyone coming near our gate will suddenly have a snarling beast lunging out of the darkness at them. Yes, the good Lord knew they would need me, and in spite of my issues with feeling so exposed by chain link fencing, nothing was ever taken from our yard on my watch. No siree. 'Cuz I'm a guard dawg, baby!

Those neighbors are gone now, and the Mistress has once again relegated me to the backyard. I can still keep an eye on things out front via the side gates.

She once tried putting me in this thing she refers to as the "dog run" (read prison) when company was over, but my whimpering and gnashing of teeth upon the chainlink fencing in that cell finally convinced her that I am not the sort of dog to be confined. She thinks she's being so benevolent keeping me out of the pen, but it's really me calling the shots around here.

Just like I did when she opened the front gate one day while I was on duty there, and was backing out of the driveway heading somewhere important in her dress clothes. My pretending to run to freedom down the block was not met with humor on her part. Just because she had to chase me down the block, and drag me back by the scruff of my wrinkly neck in front of the rest of the neighborhood dogs. The only good thing that came of that little joke was that she announced that from now on, I need to stay out back while they're gone. She thinks this was her decision, but once again, I'm the one who decides how things operate around here! **Godfather-esque scrapes of paw to chin**

Really, the puppy isn't so bad. I'm just not used to someone dogging my every step. When I go out on my rounds patrolling the perimeter, he's there. When I go to get a drink of water, he's there. When I go to, ahem, do my bizness, he's there. It's downright annoying. He simply doesn't know the meaning of personal space!

I guess he and I just got off on the wrong paw. He came as a pup, fresh from his litter and still had his milk teeth. That first night he was in my yard, he was nosing around under my belly for something that dogs of my station simply aren't equipped for, which left me feeling a bit...violated.



I was uncomfortable to say the least. However, a couple of well placed nips and snarls, and he didn't pull that one again.

However, this business of always trying to crawl into my doghouse with me? I tell you, it's almost too much to take. And my people just leave me to deal with it all! It's unjust, I tell you. I'm losing sleep, scrapping with that pup in the night to keep him out of my house.

I guess they expect that under my tutelage he will grow to be a good guard dog.

But it's kind of hard to be a guard dog when you don't bark.

D.O.G. just does that dumb pointing thing that's supposed to say, "Look!" or "Danger!"



Oh, now that's gonna scare away the criminal element!

I ask you this, what good is that if our people don't see it, much less hear it? Obnoxious is what it is.

He's only barked a couple of times, and his bark is hardly what you would call menacing. He's just not cut out to be guard dog material.

And in spite of the fact that he's supposed to be a bird dog, all he does is 'point' at the ravens that land in our yard from time to time. Again, what's the use of that whole silent alarm thing?

So then I am forced to go bark up a storm and chase them off to compensate. Can't have the Master thinking we're not worth our kibble.

I'm tired of picking up his slack, I tell you. If it weren't for all the attention the big kid gives me on a regular basis, I'd have dug out long before now.

I guess my biggest gripe is that D.O.G. has the audacity to lap up all the glory when the boy comes over to say, "Good job!" to me for guarding the place, and then pets us through the fence!

He does that cute little endearing cocked-head puppy face thing so often that the boy usually pets him first. Hmmph.

All I can say is that his puppy cuteness will wear off one day, and then what will be left to endear himself to our people?

And you should see how this pup eats! It's appalling, watching him wolf down his food like some non-domesticated canine. He must've come from a really large litter where the pickings were slim, the way he falls upon his food. And when he's done with his he edges in on mine!

He even opened the kibble bucket one day and stood there at the edge gorging himself until the Mrs. finally noticed and came running out to scold him, the undifnified cur.

I'd finally had enough of this nanny gig when the Blizzard of '08 hit our area. I was forced to whimper and shake and shiver on the new dog bed to get noticed. The bed outside of the doghouse, because while I was off on patrol, D.O.G. stole my warm cozy bed!



Do you know how hard that is to come in from trotting the fenceline in the snow and have no warm, wind-free place in which to thaw your paws?

Guess that little episode finally showed them that there ain't no way I'm sharing my already paltry living quarters with that pup, and that not even cold weather would force us together, because the master set off for the store that morning in the snow (which I understand is even more difficult to drive in than it is to walk in with padded paws), and returned with a brand new plastic house for me.

He promptly fitted it with the cedar chip 'pillow' and an old flannel sheet fresh from the dryer.
Wouldn't you just know that confounded pup jumped inside moment it was set up?

So while the people were at the hospital to get the nickel out of the boy, I had a little tussle with D.O.G. and showed him who the alpha dog is in this pack. He's been sleeping in his own house ever since.



I finally understand all the older boy went through when the younger one came along.

Which works remarkably well in my favor, I might add, because it is he that comes out and croons to me like the Mrs. used to do, and tells me things like how just because we have a new dog doesn't mean he loves me any less. He also saves scraps for us me, even if I do have to put up a good fight to keep them for myself. Yes, that big kid's not too bad, though he could keep the water bowl a little cleaner.

Usually all I have to do is catch the Mrs. eye, and then run to my bowl and knock it over, and she gets the hint. Next thing I know, he's out there half-asleep, grumbling about having to scrub out the bowl.

But hey, it's the least he can do. After all, I protect his new shoes from that teething mongrel.

Oh, no...the little kid just came in here armed with his toy rifle! I'd better scoot. Gotta pretend that he's tormenting me so that the Mrs. will shoo me out and take that rifle away from him for a few days.

Until next year, my peeps~
Raisin the Magnificent