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.