I'm depressed

Please forgive me, but I'm a little depressed. No, not because Hillary Clinton was just projected by NPR to be the winner of the New Hampshire Democratic Primary (although her still having a realistic shot at the nomination is a good reason to jump off a cliff). [For you Fox News junkies, NPR is an acronym for National Public Radio... a legitimate news source where educated and insightful folk get their news.] No, I'm depressed because I just spent a fabulous three days over the New Year's weekend with my dog pals - Berkley & Ole Erickson (aka The Erickson Boyz), and Theo & Tucker (the Fargo wiener dogs). You can view pictures of our New Year's weekend here in case you missed them in yesterday's post. Then, just as I was about to go into a deep depression after New Years 'cause I missed the boys, I found out I'd be staying with my good buddy, Remmy, for a few days. I don't get to see Remmy as much as I'd like, so I was thrilled to find Remmy at the end of a very long and anxious ride from Robbinsdale to Rosemount. I don't like car rides, so I pant the whole time and drip druel all over Stew's backseat. He loves it. Anyway, Remmy and I had a blast for two straight days. We wrestled... we played tug-of-war... we took naps (LOTS of naps)... we ate two square meals a day... and I even got to sleep on Aunt Dee's bed! Aunt Dee also handles the affairs of Sammy the Cat. As you might have guessed, I'm not a huge fan of cats. For the life of me, I cannot figure out why a human would want such an arrogant, selfish creature living in their home. Regardless, I trust Aunt Dee's judgement. So, even while I played and napped, I kept one eye open in the event Sammy the Cat should decide to attack. I watch the Discovery Channel, so I know how sneaky cats are. That said, my guard dog instincts kicked in from time to time, and I kept a close eye on the downstairs quarters where Sammy the Cat is known to reside. And despite the presence of a feline nemesis, it doesn't get any better than getting away for a few days. But, now I'm home. Home - where I'm lucky if I even get a meal. Home - where I'm not allowed on the furniture (even though I used to sleep on Momma and Stew's bed when I was a puppy). Home - where the little human we call "Claire" tugs on my ears, my tail and my back hair. Otherwise, she's trying to grab my nose or pluck out my eyeballs. Don't get me wrong. I absolutely love Claire! But, sometimes a fella needs time to be alone when he's got the blues.

Speaking of Claire, here's our little angel showing us her best Annie Oakley impersonation at Christmas (she's carrying Grandpa Bob's new fireplace starter). And don't get all crazed about a toddler playing with a gun. I mean, c'mon... it's not even loaded!