Future Tense

Speaking of the future...

I try to keep up with the cartoons so I know what's happening in the world... or what will happen. One cartoon showed how in the future, people won't eat real meals anymore - they'll just take little pills that contain all the nutrients they need.

I really, really like this idea! You see, if humans reduce their diets to those little tablets, that will leave a lot more food for the rest of us! See how big and happy that dog is? And yet consider how small and needy I am. This could all be changed with a different food distribution system.

However, a terrible thought occurred to me. What if the unthinkable happened? What if my meals became microscopic?



Look closely at that picture... I'm working pretty hard to find the food in that bowl! And look at poor Scoche...



She's too old for this. She doesn't even know the "one paw" trick.


If you can't see what I mean by the "one paw" trick, just click to enlarge. How I wish that I could do the same for my meals!

This hit an all time low yesterday...

Like a scene from a terrible science fiction cartoon, I was taken to get a microchip. Can you believe that? I don't want my diet to consist of microanythings, let alone microchips! If anything I want macrochips, with mucho salsa.

So what they did was take this tiny eating utensil, and they put the microchip onto it. That's right, there was only one chip. Who's ever heard of such a thing? They didn't even let me eat it in a civilized manner, from a bowl. Instead, the eating utensil put it directly into my system... and then they scanned me to make sure I had "eaten" it.

If I remember correctly, the dietician laughed as I left his office and said, "Remember, Big Brother is watching you!" I have no idea what that meant but I'm gonna find out.

Some of my religious friends wondered if this microchip might be the "mark of the beast." I hope not, because, speaking on behalf of beasts everywhere, we'd prefer something a little more substantial!

My Present Condition

Last week was my birthday, so there's been a lot of newsworthy activity around here... or at least gossipworthy. So before another news source such as "The New Yorker" or "Tiger Beat" reports the latest, I figured I'd print the juicy details myself...

So first up I'd like to report that my sister Holly has become very refined indeed. Living in Connecticut becomes her! She sent a birthday card that arrived promptly on my birthday.

Okay, the one flaw is that I should have received a Smarty's Day card and this is a St. Patrick's Day card. Smarty is a 2 year old whippet who lives in New Jersey, whereas Patrick was a fourth century slave who became a missionary in Ireland. But it's a very nice card, and it certainly shows that Holly is well on her way to becoming the most ladylike of our litter. Best of all, the card came with some cool raffle tickets - thanks! I think I have a good chance at winning since I've always considered myself pretty lucky... luck of the Irish, perhaps? I do have red hair, after all.

Another cool present arrived the other day -- a duck with a jetpack!



Scoche was very suspicious that this was some kind of "Trojan duck" and insisted on a full investigation.



But the Trojans were part of ancient Greek civilization, weren't they? Why would they be bothering us? Hey, maybe that jetpack is actually time travel gear - that might come in handy! Don't worry, though, if I travel into your past I promise to mind my own business, mostly. Unlike some whippets we know...



Enough already, mom, you're embarrassing me!

And finally, here is another gift I received... It's not unwrapped yet but I can tell what it is. Not because I've travelled into the future (yet) but because the wrapping paper is transparent:


Though I admit to being a little confused. Nursery organizer? You do realize I'm two, right?

Maybe I'll have to read those gossip columns after all, to see what they have to say about this. Or perhaps I'll use that time travel gear to go forward into the future a few months and see what is really - or was really - going on here!

Handful of Birthdays

This picture is of me and my sisters when we were pups. That's Lucy on the far left - and believe me, her politics have taken a similar turn. You would think she'd keep up with "Fox" news since it's marketed to political animals, but I think that living so close to New York has given her a progressive sensibility. That's me in the middle, "fair and balanced." Next is Pinch, who lives on the west coast now - what fun! And then there's Holly, who's living it up in Connecticut.

But the big news is this: each of my sisters turns TWO today! Happy birthdays! I'm so glad I checked my calendar to remember this... I almost forgot, since I was so excited that today is my birthday too!

Now you might think it's strange for four whippets to have their birthday on the same day, but it really isn't. However, for all of us to be sisters and have our birthday on the same day -- well, that does seem pretty unusual. But then again, we always did do everything together, so why not celebrate birthdays together too?



But here's what's surprising to me. I was thinking Scoche was a lot older than me. I don't know if I just assumed this because she's my mom, or because of her racing ribbons, or because she's lived so many places. But her birthday, as you may remember, was only two weeks ago! So she's apparently just two weeks older than me... Wow, that makes me feel so, so... unaccomplished!

But mostly it's just plain weird.

But wait... Is Scoche younger than I'd assumed, or am I older? Hmm.

Perhaps the best way to find out is to look at someone else who has a birthday today... Hildegarde Fillmore's birthday is today, too. She reads this blog and writes an advice column - and I assume in that order. Where else would she get the advice from? Her birthday is today and her profile says she's 99 years old! In dog years, you would divide by 7 so that would be, umm, about 14 years old.

Now let's see, if I'm two years old... in human years that would be... 14 years old! So we are indeed the exact same age!

Wow, what a birthday... turning 2, 14, and 99 all in the same day.

Can I take my pick?

Now You're Speaking My Languages!

"His bark is worse than his bite." While that sounds like an insult, it's actually a compliment. Think about it, if I say my owner's English is better than his Swahili that's a compliment, because it shows that he speaks more than one language.

But... he doesn't. He's just another monolinguistic American. He tries to read some ancient Greek, but I never hear him speak it. I doubt I ever will. Even when he tries to sing it sounds like he's still just talking everday English... except that no one talks back, and they go running away instead.

He may not speak more than one language... But I do.

Naturally, I both bark and bite. I wouldn't say one is better than another. This common misconception is made because barking is a more common tongue whereas biting is more refined, reserved for just the proper moment. It's the "Queen's English" of the animal kingdom. A whippet of elegance needs to know just the right moment to bite: say, at the end (but not beginning) of a big race, when you've landed on the bunny; or, whenever food is kindly offered.

Specific dialects of biting include chomping, gulping, devouring, and snagging. I got in trouble the other day for nibbling on something that was left on the table, but when else would I get to practice this particular mode of speech? There's nothing worse than a dead language.

Speaking of dead languages, I also know Pig Latin. I learned this as a pup because some said that I looked like the type who could learn it...



Not sure whether to take that as a compliment or not.

Another language in my repertoire is body language. The male owner has not mastered this language, however. I try to make it very simple for him by repeating the same moves each day, hoping he will catch on, but he just has no command of this language.

For example, each morning I do this:



While I intend this to be a stretch, he takes this to be a bow. He thinks I'm prostrating myself before his ownership: that really is a stretch. I love the guy like a brother, but I'm no court jester.

Next I run outside:



This is called going hunting. He calls this going potty. It's completely embarrassing.

I try to make my wishes for breakfast crystal clear:



But in almost every case he needs to bring in an interpreter...



He and Scoche go way back, so somehow she's learned how to communicate with him. We usually don't get breakfast until she arrives, when everything is suddenly all cleared up.

I would like to publish Smarty Spot in different languages some day. Along with Body Language, Egyptian hieroglyphics would be neat and maybe Smurf.

They don't call me Miss Communication for nothing.

Happy Birthday, Scoche!

Yesterday was my mom's birthday! Happy birthday, mom!

Woops, I forgot... She prefers that I call her Scoche. In fact, if she had her way I would call her by her more formal title, The Scoche. As you can see, we have a somewhat curious mother-daughter relationship.

Here are some things Ms. The Scoche got for her birthday:

1. A year older. She's eight! Can you believe that? I for one could not believe my ears when I found out.

2. A nice walk!

And best of all,

3. Ground rabbit!

What I wonder is this: what kind of rabbit isn't a "ground" rabbit? Are there rabbits in the trees? In the sky? I may need to expand my search... those walks are about to get a lot more eventful!

I wonder what they'll invent next: flying squirrels?

Anyway, this was just a quick post to say happy birthday to The Scoche. She deserves the best!

At least until I write my tell-all memoir...

Happy Birthday, Scoche!