Tiia says stockings are the best part of Christmas...

...and I have to agree with her. I got my first one this year. It was hung on the new cabinet between Dan and Tiia's, kinda like a gold medal podium. I wonder if that was subconscious on their part? Had I known the middle one was mine before Christmas Eve, I could have spent the two 2-hour car rides in less than 24 hours pondering it. Not saying I don't appreciate it, but taking me to cottage paradise and leaving before I even get a chance to get comfy is a bit cruel, don't you think? Ahem...?

So, in my very first stocking, I got a cute green furry guy to chase up and down the hall, a rooster that "cockadoodledoos" three times every time I bite it (great fun to break out when Tiia and Dan sit down to watch TV), and a really yummy cookie that totally makes up for getting shafted by Heel Boy on the Queen Street Walk. If you're reading this, and you shop at Heel Boy, can you please ask them to put the cookies back out front?

Who's the coolest dog in the world?

You bet your tail it's me!

The perfect belly rub....

The perfect belly rub is comprised of three very important elements, two of which have nothing to do with the belly:

Part 1: The Belly

Obviously, any good belly rub requires attention paid to the belly – but it's the kind of attention that dictates its quality. There should be a mixture of rubbing and scratching, and it should be evenly spread out across my stomach. Also, it should not veer too much to either side, and instead take north/south paths.

Part 2: The Armpits

During any belly scratch, you'll notice my arms and legs stretch out as far as they possibly can. That's the unspoken sign to pay a visit to my underarms. I'll yelp if you scratch too hard, so please be gentle.

Part 3: The Armpull

I'm never more relaxed that I am after a belly rub, which is why it's the perfect time to stretch my muscles.

The keys to being an off leash dog

I don't mean to brag but, as of this month, I've spent more than half my life as an O.L.D. Actually, I kinda do mean to brag. Know why? 'Cause it wasn't easy to learn how to do it and it's even more difficult keeping the dream alive:

Road vs sidewalk: 95% of this is a no-brainer, but those alleyways can be tricky because they come out of nowhere and the sidewalk doesn't dip. There are other visual cues, though – look for little piles of trash and women with lots of makeup who walk a bit funny.

Mmmm...: There's a lot of great food around, but getting a taste without getting in trouble is key. I developed a variation on the bait and switch, whereby I'll poo about 20 feet from something yummy, and then while Dan's picking it up, go grab a bite. The best time to pull this one out is around dusk.

Doddlers: Once you become a bit more savvy, you'll start walking free on main streets – and that's generally where you'll run into doddlers: these are people who walk super slow for no reason. Even though they deserve to be bitten in the ass, you MUST resist the urge.

Squirrels: They know you're not going to run into the street. That's their trump card and they'll always play it. Bastards. Save yourself the frustration and leave them alone.

I know there are more, but I can't think of them right now. I'll be sure to think about more on tomorrow's walk.

On an unrelated note, I know I've been rather absent lately. It was a crazy busy October. I'll tell y'all about it later in the week.

I think I met my twin the other day...

Ask The Maui Monster

Dear Maui Monster:

My people left me home alone for almost nine hours. I find this unacceptable and would like to express my displeasure. Any suggestions?

Lonely Lhasa

Dear Lonely,

Like me, you have the benefit of long hair – which you can use to bring almost anything you want back in to the house with you. Remember, though; it's not so much what you bring in, but where you leave it. For example, I'm a big fan of dropping a pile of sand and woodchips on the bed when I get annoyed. I also find that letting snow melt off me on the bathroom floor really ticks Dan and Tiia off, especially if the newspaper's still in there.

Feel free to send your questions to maui.yurkenbaum@gmail.com. All questions will be posted and answered within 24 hours.

Tryptophan + lethargy = writer's block

I spent seven of the last 36 hours in the back seat of the car, five sitting under the Thanksgiving dinner table catching scraps from delightfully messy eaters, and the rest sleeping or sitting. No wonder I have nothing to say.

Until the 'morrow.

The difference between a French Water Dog and a Portuguese Water Dog.

We're ruder and less useful in battle.

Mmmm...eye gunk.

I have inverted eyelashes. Now, I know what you're thinking – how would you bat inverted eyelashes to get what they want? The answer is, you don't; which is why I whine instead. It may be half as cute, but it's twice as effective.

Having inverted eyelashes does come with its benefits, though. Actually, it only comes with one benefit, but it's a good one: I wake up every morning with the yummiest goo in the side of my eye.

I came to know of its yumminess a few years ago when I licked some off of Tiia's finger a few years ago, and now it's kind of become a tradition with us. That, and cheese.

Who's got an in at the Children's Television Workshop?

Dan's always thought he'd be the perfect replacement for Jim Henson as the voice of Kermit – my dog, he practices it enough in the shower. But I think I've got a leg up on him. I defy anyone to figure out which one of these is not like the other!

Just Cuz

When Dan and Tiia go away, I stay with my cousin Jackson. That's us coming back from the beach last winter –> Jackson picks on me for not lifting my leg when I go. As far as I know, there's no rule that says you have to – it's not machismo, and it doesn't make the territory any less marked.

The great thing about staying at Jackson's is that he's got this HUGE people bed he gets to sleep in! I'd love to know how he convinced Auntie Julie and Uncle Josh to move to the spare room. I've been trying for almost three years and have gotten nowhere. I've covered the bed with sand. I've puked on the sheets. I've even woken Tiia up by sitting on her head. Nothing. Argh.

Wagon's East

Dan and I have a few different morning routes, but my favourite one takes us east along Queen Street because of the bowl of cookies that Heel Boy keeps out for me. And you should see Dan try to resist grabbing a few for me – you can actually watch the conflict play out in his face.

There she is...

Every day you walk on by,

you sexy little bitch.

You wink your eye and wag your tail

and scratch my primal itch.

Your owner's always walking fast,

you're never far behind.

You act all prim and proper but

I know what's on your mind.

You'd love to meet me in the park

to run and jump and play.

You'd love to hang off each and every

bark and woof I say.

You'd love to take a swim with me

and roll around in sand.

Just like that river twisting

through a dusty land.

That 80's pop song reference

was the best that I could do.

Which means, elusive stranger,

that this ode to you is through.

I hate....

...when Dan gives me the "thumbs up". It's like he's mocking me. I wonder if wagging my tail at him has the same effect? Back to sleep.

It just occurred to me...

...that it would be easier to solicit grandparent nicknames for Helen and Ed if people knew what they looked like. That's them over there. –>

I'm off the Bubbie and Zaidie train, I think. It doesn't fit. And anything beginning with G is off the table, too.

What about Eddie and Helsy? Hmmm...I like it. I wonder if they will? How can I get Dan to start working it in to casual conversation? This might be a Tiia job.

Taking a stand by taking a seat.

Every time I ride public transportation, I see other dogs on the ground – and I don't get it: the floor is filthy and sticky, and people's shoes smell like feet.

I wonder if "no dogs on the seats" is the official rule? "No dogs on the bed" was the official rule at my house...for about 25 minutes. Either way, it's floor no more for this pooch. I'm moving up in the world. Literally.

You know when you're jumping to catch a frisbee...

...and just as you're about to make a routine catch, the wind carries the disc just a little bit higher and you have to adjust your entire body, reach your neck back and defy gravity by going that extra little bit to make an outstanding tooth-tip grab? That's my second favourite part of playing catch. My favourite part is Dan's expression when he throws the frisbee and I just stand there staring at him until he goes to get it. He's so my bitch.

Woofafa

I'll never forget the first time I met Woofy because he sexually assaulted me. He did that a lot. One time, at the dog park, he tried to get jiggy with a boxer. It didn't end well.

Woofy died a few weeks ago of a brain tumor at the ripe old age of 91. I wish I had gotten to know him better but what I did know was that he was one of Dan and Tiia's best friends. They used to tell me about how when they lived on King Street and Woofy would come over for months at a time; and how he'd wag his tail every time they'd say his name, even when he was sleeping. I can't do that. Yet.

Woofy, if you're reading this, I'm sad that I won't be subject to any more of your advances (they were great for my ego) and I hope the farm is everything you hoped it would be.

Becoming a grandson

Grampa scratches my chin every chance he gets, and Gramma actually gave me a bumrub last Saturday (kudos to her aesthetician, by the way). It's high time I started getting the verbal recognition, too. Enough of this granddog nonsense...I want to be a grandson!

And it's not like I haven't tried: I never pull when they walk me. I always follow Grampa to the bathroom. I even stopped putting my face in their crotches during dinner – although, that was only fun with Great-Grampa 'cause there was usually food there.

I think what's been holding them back is nomenclature (yeah...I said nomenclature). I think they're uncomfortable with the terms "Gramma" and "Grampa". And I get it. They're not good titles; their spellings are weird and I feel like they're a bit dated. Tiia always talks about her Vanaisa. That's a good title. Besides the whole ethnic thing, it's strong-sounding and commands respect. "Grampa" sounds like it should be followed by "what was life like during the depression?"

Maybe Bubbie Helen and Zadie Ed? Hmmm...? Gammy Helen and Gampy Ed? Nope. Helen the Wise and Ed the Benevolent? BenevolEd?

I'm open to suggestions...

I started today by...

...throwing up on Tiia's cashmere sweater. I would argue that it was her fault for leaving it on the bed when she went to work and not, in fact, my fault for eating corn out of the garbage last night. If I give her "the look" it might work. I bet Dan would back me.

Tiia's gonna kill me...

I saw Homie in the park today. Man, I love chasing that guy. I used to love chasing everyone, but not so much anymore. Dan says I've become more selective. I choose not to respond to that. I did, however, choose to run through the sandbox about 10 times and then jump on to Tiia's side of the bed.

Oh, and I peed on a nice lady in the park today. I really did. Never done that before. Haven't decided whether or not to make a habit of it.

This must be what writer's block feels like.

I can't think of a single thing to write. Looks like Dan's feeling the same way. Must be why he keeps going to the fridge. Maybe next time he'll come back with some cheese?

I'm back...

A lot's happened since I last blogged. For example, I now use "blog" as a verb. I'm also now sharing the house with Dan, which would be great, except that he never puts his dishes away after lunch. If it were me, I'd cook, eat and clean all in one activity so it was done. Of course, if it were me, I'd be pretty rich right now.