This Is One Seriously Good Suggestion

In case you forgot - cheese rules my life. (Silly you. How could you forget something so vitally important?)

I am as obsessed with cheese as I am with seagulls, hiding rawhide bones and barking at the dog in the skylight that weirdly enough looks a whole lot like me. (I think he’s stalking me for my special rawhide bones so I hide them in rooms with no skylights. I’m super smart that way…)

Luxating Patella Surgery Fund is seriously eating into Cheese For Sasha Fund. At least it was until my former foster mom with NWIPR sent an email to Diana with a grand suggestion.

She had a totally simple but sweet idea. She recommended that we research vets in beach/coastal towns because they see a ton of dogs with messed up knees from running and playing in the sand at the beach.

Diana is insistent that we find the right vet - not the cheapest vet or the priciest one - but the one with superb recommendations, the most experience and highest success rate. I want to get back to jumping so high I can almost touch the sky.

Thanks to my foster mom, the Cheese For Sasha Fund jar is filling up quickly again. Soon we will go to the store and get at least 500,000,000,000 packages of the organic string cheese I adore so much. (Diana says we only need one package. I think we need more because what if we have a natural disaster or something and can’t get to the store for a few days? Running out of cheese would be horrifying.)

This makes my foster mom one of my favorite people in the whole world for a whole new reason other than because she’s awesome and cool. Doggie Foster Moms make the world a happier place one bark at a time.

Do you know someone who is making the world a happier place one bark at a time? Tell me about them so I can add them to my upcoming Barks of Honor Page.

^ . . ^ Woof!

Always Be Yourself Exception No. 1

I am not a chicken. I am not a “fraidy-cat”. I am not a wimp that runs away. I stand my ground. I bark in the face of danger. I am true to my terrier ancestors.

Until I heard coyotes.

Diana, Michael and I went on vacation to the beach recently. Awesome, by the way. The place we stayed at had a nice deck so I could look out over the bushes to the dunes. (Really sweet of them to build it for me, don’t you think?)

I made the deck mine. After dinner I stuck my head through the railing begging (so said Michael. I say asking nicely) to go on another walk on the beach.

Anything or anyone that caught my attention got a welcoming barking at. People love it when I bark at them. They smile and say “cute doggie”. Not really the response I was going for, but ok.

On our second evening at the beach, we heard coyotes - off in the distance.
Cool.
Bark. Bark. Bark.

On our third evening at the beach, we heard coyotes - 20 feet away.
Not Cool.
Gulp. Gulp. Gulp.

I decided to revisit that wimp thing and opt for safety on the sofa, underneath a blanket.

I usually go for the “always be yourself” motto. I say to be me is to bark. This time I went for the “quiet dogs live longer when coyotes are staring at you” motto.

What do you think? What would you have done? Bark back at me. I’m open to suggestions (sort of).

I've Been On Vacation

Sorry, I've been unavailable for a while.  


I've been rolling in stinky dead crabs on the beach at Ocean Shores and yelling at red squirrels next to the Worlds Largest Spruce Tree near Lake Quinault.


I have a ton of new stories.  


Bark at you soon with all the details.


^ . . ^ Woof!