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The inner workings of the mind of Malcolm, distinguished canine.
Thursday, October 23, 2003
Log 004:
I am in need of a bath. I am curious as to when the next one might happen. Lisa seems distracted of late; by things such as watching movies, reading some large tome with a boy wizard's likeness on the cover (it looks positively ridiculous) and, I shudder to say, walking Callie in the dead of night. My general hygiene is taking a backseat to her folly, and I am very displeased.
Would that I could enter the bathroom, shut the door and draw a warm bath. I would prefer an unscented soap, as I am a firm believer in the concept of retaining one's masculinity by not allowing oneself to be doused in fruited perfumes, especially for smaller canines like myself. I would thoroughly wash and then clip my nails and dry off in a civilized manner. After my bath, I would drain the tub and apply a soap-residue removing spray to prevent mildew. But, alas, the good Lord chose to put me on this earth without thumbs, so I cannot take care of myself. I must wait on Lisa's leisure.
I simply do not see the appeal of walking that drooling oaf around the neighborhood. I have accompanied them on several walks, and I am able to keep Callie in check with my civilized, slower gait and induce her to slow her pace and exhaustive breathing patterns. I am proud to say I am training her well. However, the humans in the household undermine my work when they take her out alone. Callie--short for Calliope, I am told-- seems to enjoy pushing the limits of their endurance. She seems to derive great pleasure from straining on her collar and leash, causing Tom and Lisa to pitch forward and walk in very undignified manners to bring her from yard to yard, where she will indescriminately urinate with nary a confimation sniff. Why Lisa would chose to take this friendly simpleton out for a final walk at night, alone, is beyond my understanding. For I sit calmly and patiently and implore her with my eyes to please bestow attention on me. I do not demand the base forms of "play" that Callie does (she carries that outrageous stuffed 'hedgehog' toy about in her overly wet mouth and squeaks it for her own amusement and I have to walk away to keep from laughing in her line of vision), and I am cleaner and drier in general. I know she prefers my company, yet the Large Red One behaves like an overfed toddler on caffeine. So yes, in some ways, I can see why I need to be patient and wait. Until that one learns some manners and humility, we all have to make concessions.
I have thoroughly enjoyed this time of sharing.
--Malcolm
I am in need of a bath. I am curious as to when the next one might happen. Lisa seems distracted of late; by things such as watching movies, reading some large tome with a boy wizard's likeness on the cover (it looks positively ridiculous) and, I shudder to say, walking Callie in the dead of night. My general hygiene is taking a backseat to her folly, and I am very displeased.
Would that I could enter the bathroom, shut the door and draw a warm bath. I would prefer an unscented soap, as I am a firm believer in the concept of retaining one's masculinity by not allowing oneself to be doused in fruited perfumes, especially for smaller canines like myself. I would thoroughly wash and then clip my nails and dry off in a civilized manner. After my bath, I would drain the tub and apply a soap-residue removing spray to prevent mildew. But, alas, the good Lord chose to put me on this earth without thumbs, so I cannot take care of myself. I must wait on Lisa's leisure.
I simply do not see the appeal of walking that drooling oaf around the neighborhood. I have accompanied them on several walks, and I am able to keep Callie in check with my civilized, slower gait and induce her to slow her pace and exhaustive breathing patterns. I am proud to say I am training her well. However, the humans in the household undermine my work when they take her out alone. Callie--short for Calliope, I am told-- seems to enjoy pushing the limits of their endurance. She seems to derive great pleasure from straining on her collar and leash, causing Tom and Lisa to pitch forward and walk in very undignified manners to bring her from yard to yard, where she will indescriminately urinate with nary a confimation sniff. Why Lisa would chose to take this friendly simpleton out for a final walk at night, alone, is beyond my understanding. For I sit calmly and patiently and implore her with my eyes to please bestow attention on me. I do not demand the base forms of "play" that Callie does (she carries that outrageous stuffed 'hedgehog' toy about in her overly wet mouth and squeaks it for her own amusement and I have to walk away to keep from laughing in her line of vision), and I am cleaner and drier in general. I know she prefers my company, yet the Large Red One behaves like an overfed toddler on caffeine. So yes, in some ways, I can see why I need to be patient and wait. Until that one learns some manners and humility, we all have to make concessions.
I have thoroughly enjoyed this time of sharing.
--Malcolm
Monday, October 20, 2003
Log #003:
Lisa has recently attached a basket on her bike handlebars and I am happy to report that I am now mobile.
I enjoy using my mental capabilities to persuade her to ride me around Scottsdale. I am able to observe many goings-on and happenings this way. I keep a watchful eye on the duck situation down at the lake (are they becoming overpopulated? Are they keeping their surroundings neat and tidy?) and checking up on the conditions on homeowners' yards as we ride past. I am always a stickler for overgrown, weedy yards and broken down automobiles. I believe a neighborhood should be a sanctuary of peaceful harmony between law-abiding citizens and the laws themselves.
On a more disturbing note, I fear Lisa is becoming agitated at having to type this blog for me. I read a note she jotted in her journal that said she is "afraid of becoming one of "THOSE" people who have Web sites about their pets, and even write in their voices. That's just sick and pathetic." Based on this writing, I am concerned about her mental well-being. I will try not to tax her too much, but I do need her to type for me (no thumbs, remember?). And if she doesn't see the inherent wisdom of being my willing assistant, I will just have to get a new typist. I happen to know for a fact that I am her "good boy" and a "cute baby," so I am sure she would miss me if I were to pack up and move on to the next young thing.
Until next we speak,
--Malcolm
Lisa has recently attached a basket on her bike handlebars and I am happy to report that I am now mobile.
I enjoy using my mental capabilities to persuade her to ride me around Scottsdale. I am able to observe many goings-on and happenings this way. I keep a watchful eye on the duck situation down at the lake (are they becoming overpopulated? Are they keeping their surroundings neat and tidy?) and checking up on the conditions on homeowners' yards as we ride past. I am always a stickler for overgrown, weedy yards and broken down automobiles. I believe a neighborhood should be a sanctuary of peaceful harmony between law-abiding citizens and the laws themselves.
On a more disturbing note, I fear Lisa is becoming agitated at having to type this blog for me. I read a note she jotted in her journal that said she is "afraid of becoming one of "THOSE" people who have Web sites about their pets, and even write in their voices. That's just sick and pathetic." Based on this writing, I am concerned about her mental well-being. I will try not to tax her too much, but I do need her to type for me (no thumbs, remember?). And if she doesn't see the inherent wisdom of being my willing assistant, I will just have to get a new typist. I happen to know for a fact that I am her "good boy" and a "cute baby," so I am sure she would miss me if I were to pack up and move on to the next young thing.
Until next we speak,
--Malcolm
Friday, October 17, 2003
Log 002:
I was reading Shakespeare's The Taming of the Shrew last night, and I realized I had more than a passing fancy for the character of Kate. How fiery, how full of zest she seemed. If I were to meet a female-- human or otherwise-- with that sort of joie de vivre, I would be a very happy gentleman, indeed. Ahh, Shakespeare.
For the record, I wanted to state that I do not appreciate the nickname that Tom has bestowed upon me of late. He has taken to calling me "Cheesestick" because, a few nights' past, Lisa was offering up samples of delicious American cheese and in her exhuberance, she tossed a exiguous slice in my direction and it landed on my very chest. Needless to say, the slight tacky surface of the cheese immediately adhered to my fur. I was unable to shake the cheese off, and to my humiliation, Lisa had to remove it herself. I was mortified. Callie, my oafish housemate, laughed and I could see in her eyes a moment of satisfaction at my misfortune. She is large and has quite the appetite; I believe she would have eaten the cheese right off of my body had she the chance. She is sweet, but it is quite obvious her training did not touch onto grace and dignity.
I will log off now. I wish you all well.
--Malcolm
I was reading Shakespeare's The Taming of the Shrew last night, and I realized I had more than a passing fancy for the character of Kate. How fiery, how full of zest she seemed. If I were to meet a female-- human or otherwise-- with that sort of joie de vivre, I would be a very happy gentleman, indeed. Ahh, Shakespeare.
For the record, I wanted to state that I do not appreciate the nickname that Tom has bestowed upon me of late. He has taken to calling me "Cheesestick" because, a few nights' past, Lisa was offering up samples of delicious American cheese and in her exhuberance, she tossed a exiguous slice in my direction and it landed on my very chest. Needless to say, the slight tacky surface of the cheese immediately adhered to my fur. I was unable to shake the cheese off, and to my humiliation, Lisa had to remove it herself. I was mortified. Callie, my oafish housemate, laughed and I could see in her eyes a moment of satisfaction at my misfortune. She is large and has quite the appetite; I believe she would have eaten the cheese right off of my body had she the chance. She is sweet, but it is quite obvious her training did not touch onto grace and dignity.
I will log off now. I wish you all well.
--Malcolm
Thursday, October 16, 2003
I, for one, would never do THIS.
Log #001:
Today I believe I will lounge about in the afternoon sun. Perhaps I shall work on that compressed natural gas engine I found discarded behind the shed. They don't know I have it. I have been keeping this engine a secret for ages now. But, God willing, soon I will complete the work on the manifold and get it running. It will be perfect for the 1947 Ford truck I have squirrelled away under the tree--the one on the east side of the yard. My goal, or dream, if you will, is to create a classic car with a CNG engine to make better use of our natural resources. Of course I still need to rebuild the entire engine mount system to accommodate the upgrade, and the fuel lines have been completely replaced already, but the work is coming along well. I am quite concerned with the environment, of course. Had they not taken my manhood, I surely would have been a strong paternal presence in the lives of my pups. I am concerned for the young. For their future. And the future of all.
That is precisely why I must continue my work. Granted, had I thumbs, the work would come easier. But I cannot allow that to squelch my ambition. Thank goodness for the mechanical system I have set up under the bush (under the laundry room window)... its hydraulically-powered arms have shouldered (pardon the pun) the lion's share of the work. The solar panels need replacing, to be sure, but it's merely a matter of a few blown cells. I can handle it with my adorable brown eyes closed.
I will log off for now. I truly enjoyed this time we have spent together, my friends.
--Malcolm
Today I believe I will lounge about in the afternoon sun. Perhaps I shall work on that compressed natural gas engine I found discarded behind the shed. They don't know I have it. I have been keeping this engine a secret for ages now. But, God willing, soon I will complete the work on the manifold and get it running. It will be perfect for the 1947 Ford truck I have squirrelled away under the tree--the one on the east side of the yard. My goal, or dream, if you will, is to create a classic car with a CNG engine to make better use of our natural resources. Of course I still need to rebuild the entire engine mount system to accommodate the upgrade, and the fuel lines have been completely replaced already, but the work is coming along well. I am quite concerned with the environment, of course. Had they not taken my manhood, I surely would have been a strong paternal presence in the lives of my pups. I am concerned for the young. For their future. And the future of all.
That is precisely why I must continue my work. Granted, had I thumbs, the work would come easier. But I cannot allow that to squelch my ambition. Thank goodness for the mechanical system I have set up under the bush (under the laundry room window)... its hydraulically-powered arms have shouldered (pardon the pun) the lion's share of the work. The solar panels need replacing, to be sure, but it's merely a matter of a few blown cells. I can handle it with my adorable brown eyes closed.
I will log off for now. I truly enjoyed this time we have spent together, my friends.
--Malcolm
