Weight Watchers

Below is a picture of me getting weighed just before the race meet yesterday. This has never happened before, and I don't want anyone to make any cracks about me just "hanging around" at the race meet yesterday!



It was ironic because after my last post Lucy left a comment asking whether I ever ate weight watchers. I couldn't imagine such a horrid thing. Then I thought to myself, well, I often do weight around and watch my owner make food -- sometimes I weight quite a while. But it's certainly not a pleasant experience. I wish she'd let me prepare my own food - I'm sure I could save her a lot of time! So then yesterday, there I was, getting weighed while everyone else watched!

Anyway, aside from that whole "hang 'em high" fiasco, it really was a fun day. In fact, one of my most favorite people showed up. His call name is George:



George runs a whippet summer camp with its own sun bathing area and running grounds. There are always a lot of other whippets to play with. When I was growing up I used to go there with my sisters... that brings back a lot of fond memories of long ago...

Well, not only was George there yesterday, but Lucy showed up too! She never goes anywhere these days without her agent, and of course Tula came along to scope out the refreshments.



My male owner was also there, although I'm not sure why. His role on my team is more in the behind-the-scenes stuff: driving me to parks and walking paths, keeping me mentally focused during the off season, public relations, and so forth. Perhaps he felt he needed to see how the whole operation works start to finish, and so he thought he should attend a race meet... On the other hand, it could be that he's trying to steal some of my spotlight. Here's a picture of him trying to soak up the spotlight, but Gilly was willing to help me make sure he didn't get too much of it:



Of course my racing assistant was present. And it's a good thing she was around, to get me out of that compromising position... then again, she's the one that got me into it in the first place!



I make sure my assistant joins me on all the big races. Sometimes I do a quick race without her, such as when I chase deer through the park or do practice laps around the yard. (The hardest part about the practice laps is keeping the wild, crazed look on your face; yet it's very important during races, and you need that game face on at all times.) For all the big races like this one, I like to keep her nearby in case I need something: limimnit (or whatever that stuff is called), pep talk, water, coloring books in between races, Cheetos, etc.

Her most important role is choosing a prize immediately following the race. I don't like to appear vain, so I have her accept the award on my behalf while I weight in the van. She probably gives better acceptance speeches than I would anyway.

But if I would have given a speech yesterday it would have gone like this:

"First of all I'd like to thank God. And then George, because whenever he's around fun things happen. And then Lucy, who's been with me through thick and thin...mostly thick. And finally, all the other little people who give of their time and energy to transport me, walk me, feed me, and so forth... you know who you are. And quit trying to steal my spotlight!"

Smart Choices

It's good to know that some people still care. After reading my last post, which contains some subtle hints concerning my emotional state, a care package arrived. Some good friends who are moving far away (India, I think) brought over a freezer full of food ... all for me!

I know the food must be for me, otherwise it wouldn't go into the freezer. The way I look at it, if it's in the freezer, it's mine. That's why I get upset when the male owner eats my waffles and ice cream. But, hopefully he'll catch on soon.

These friends also brought some snack foods for me. I'm glad they thought of it, because I've really wanted to develop my snacking skills. The regiment around here doesn't make that easy. Here's what they brought over for me - as you see, it has my name written all over it (not to mention my fat count):



Here's another product that is made just for me, as the name says:



All that healthy stuff gets a little tiring, though. If I want to eat healthy I'll have another helping of tripe. Till then, you could send these my way:



Yes indeed, that's my choice alright! Send some of those my way, and I promise I'll still keep my fat count down. I promise with sugar on top!

* * *

PS: We'll miss you, Haydens! When you get to India, please visit the Taj Mahal and tell me if it's as cool as it looks in the pictures.

Smarty Shuffle

Hey, have you heard of the Smarty Shuffle? It's all the rage!

Ever since my last post, people (both whippets and others) have been asking me to publish some of the pictures from the recent photo session. Curious to see the latest Smarty pics? Wait no longer!

Here's a recent picture:



Now, obviously the puppy is the center of attention here. So it's hard to see me because I was locked on the patio like a common criminal, but it's possible that you might see a reflection of me in that big round alien signaling device.

How about this one:



Well, okay, I didn't make it into that picture either. But that's my friend Emily. And that two-headed snake toy that causes endless entertainment - yep, mine too. No one even asked if they could borrow it or said a simple thank you, but I'm glad everyone is having such a good time with it. And that fuzzy brown paw near the bottom of the photo -- no, no, that's not me either, but is is my monkey. Again, they could have at least asked...

And here's another picture:



Now, obviously that's not me either but yet another puppy. (Yes, they're cute, I know, I know...) But you notice how intently this one is looking forward? That's because she was at a race meet where I happened to be racing in case anyone noticed.

Okay, maybe I'm a little upset that no one wants pictures of me these days. I hope it's not showing too much. I'm just feeling a little bit lost in the shuffle.

And that's what I call the Smarty Shuffle!

Still Surviving

Welcome to another installment of Survivor: Smarty Spot. I don’t know if you’d call this a reality show since it’s not on TV yet. Perhaps you could call it a reality blogcast for now. In any case, it couldn’t be more real. I’m fighting to maintain my place here, and need all my fans to keep voting for me so I don’t get booted off the island!

Here’s the week’s recap:

On Sunday we had a photo shoot. The photographer was very professional. With such talent, I assume the pictures showed up in Tiger Beat or maybe Whippet Watch. Probably on some of the fan sites, too.

To increase ratings, they had one of the stars from last year show up. Some of you would remember her by her earlier stage name, “P*wder” (her agent would kill me if I revealed it). But after last season, she found a new agent, cleaned up her act, and reappeared as “Lucy” which is the name she uses exclusively now.



Oh, speaking of Lucy’s agent, here she is – trying to dip into this year’s talent pool!



From what I understand, anyone who ends up with her as an agent is quite lucky. She even has two servants that take care of her clients whenever she’s away from the house. What a great setup!

Well, back to the photoshoot. I was actually quite worried because I didn’t make it into many of the pictures. They were more interested in the younger talent. Now, I wasn't born yesterday, but it was only a year ago! Of course, in dog years, that would be... heck, I don't know. But they acted like I was really old, like four or something.

So I wasn’t feeling too good this week.

Until today.

Today was the big competition of the week, and it turned out to be something I’ve done before: breaking out of those boxes and chasing the bunny down the track! I got some good breaks and ended up doing pretty well. Maybe I didn't look so old after all!

So I survived another week. I won the approval of the only vote that really seems to matter...



To my surprise, two others were voted off today. Both were boys. I figured that was close call, since I'm a tomboy. They were escorted off the field and shuttled to Atlantic City where I assume they’ll start the talk show circuit. And then, if they’re lucky, they’ll end up with an agent as good as P— Oops, I mean, Lucy’s agent.

Meanwhile, you can cast your vote for your favorite remaining whippet by clicking the comments button and typing S-M-A-R-T-Y.

Come to think of it, one of things working in my favor is that I have a name. Kind of hard to vote for some of my competition since they don't have names yet!

Survivor: Gilligan's Island

A new dog is visiting our house, named Gilley. I can only assume her name is short for Gilligan, which means we now have a full Island.

I don't think there's room enough here for everyone. Which is what I've thought for about six weeks now, but now I really think it's time to start voting the weakest links off the island! (How's that for a mixture of TV references?)

My first thought was to vote the humans off. After all, there are certainly enough animals here to form a strong majority. But then I realized, well, I kind of like them. But more importantly, they're basically our kitchen staff - and unless we want to start thawing our own dinners, we should keep them around. Plus, I would never remember to run the dishwasher (not that it's such a big deal).

Then I realized that Scoche is already starting to form her own dark coalition, as you can see:


So who should I team up with?? I considered teaming up with the one they call "Mousey." I bet she has good survival skills -- she seems energetic and adaptable.













On the other hand, this new Gilley character seems pretty comfortable with Island life, too.



Maybe I should team up with her. After all, what's an Island without a Gilligan?

Juuuuust, sit right back and you'll hear a tail...

Street Smart

I learned a new phrase today on TV: street cred.

When you have street cred it means you are a cred-it to your breed. You make other dogs stand up and take notice.

I want some.

The problem is, my owners don't let me go into the street. Usually when we're in the street I have to settle for being in the van... in the very back... in a crate. That doesn't really make anyone stand up and take notice. In fact, sometimes when I get out of the crate, other dogs in the neighborhood scoff at me. You know the type -- those effete snobbish types with their own invisible fence. Hey, at least I have a real fence!

(Did you like how I used the word "effete" in that last sentence? I learned that word on a different TV channel. Some people were yelling at each other about politics. I decided to stay out of that one and changed the channel back to VH1 real quick!)

So anyway, the only time I figure I earn any street cred is when the male owner and I do our "a boy and his dog" thing. He drives the car with the windows down (well, partly down), and I stand up in back, put my head out the window, and let everyone else take notice! I love it most when we drive by those yard-bound pampered types. I get to shout out things like: "I dare you to leave your yard! I double dog dare you!"

It's all in good fun.

But as far as street cred goes, I'm not exactly bankrolled. So I've had to resort to things like earning "yard cred," "couch cred," and "bed cred." While not exactly glamorous, I'm hoping that if I save up enough of these, I can eventually cash it in for some of the real bling.

And if you don't know what bling means, well, what can I say...



(Neither do I.)