Smarty Spot

Sym-Pathetic

2009-04-21T17:00:00.000-04:00

It's hard to find a more pathetic sight than this one:

Look at that poor animal, cast outside with some sort of bizarre sign of social stigma affixed to its head! Scoche is normally not very sympathetic, so you know that if she feels bad for you, you must really be in a pretty hopeless condition.

I'm pretty sympathetic, as you probably realize if you read this blog. I'm always an advocate for the underdog, always concerned for the rights of the poor, always seeking to make the world a more equitable place. Yes, I admit, this sympathy is usually extended to myself--but if I'm the one who needs it, what can I say? I just call 'em as I see 'em.

Which is the case again this time, I must say... because the animal in that picture is me!

Here's the mug shot:

I wish I could tell you what happened to make me deserve the shame...the ridicule...the all-too-frequent "bumps in the night" as my new XL head tried to make its way through doorways. But if I deserved it, then I wouldn't be able to show myself sympathy anymore--since sympathy is reserved for the innocent among us.

Poor, innocent, and outcast.

Well, at least it's in the past.

Once the conehead came off, I was taken up to New Jersey. I assumed this would be a time of much-needed rest, recuperation, and advanced psychological treatment to help me re-enter society.

Instead, I've been undergoing an unusual battery of tests. I'm being examined by some kind of medical practicioner (I'm not sure she's even a real vet), who keeps poking and prodding my feet.

The worst part is they keep telling me to smile, as if I'm supposed to enjoy being their human guinea pig.

What are they up to? I fear that my competition is trying to find out my secrets. It kinda makes sense, because "said competition" is here too and she seems to be calling the shots... Needless to say, I sleep with both eyes open.

You notice there's a guard permanently assigned to me, too, but let's just say that when if it comes time to escape...I'm not too worried.

Lucy's up here, too, but of course she's treated like a queen...

I'm not sure what's going on. They say there's a purpose for all our trials, and this is certainly making me more sympathetic, as in "sym-pathetic." Even em-pathetic!

I trust my trials are doing the same for you.

PS: Note to my owners--if you're out there reading this, please make sure that Scoche doesn't eat my share of the evening treats! And don't wash any of the bowls after her meals, I'll be back to lick them clean soon!

My Birthday! Over the Hill...or Sneaking Around it?

2009-03-15T08:30:00.000-04:00

Today I turn four!

That's almost 30 in human years which would mean, of course, that my best years are waaay behind me.

Fortunately, I know how to out-Smart the system.

First of all, "30 is the new 20." So that gains me a decade right there. Subtracting for my generally sunny and youthful personality brings me down another notch, so let's say that brings me to about twelve. Finally, compare me with those around me...and you easily cut my age in half. That brings me to six. Then, rounding down to the nearest number divisible by four...you get...let's see...four!

So, I'm four. I can handle that.

But I decided that I do need to begin thinking about growing older, if only to help others less fortunate than myself. It's time to add wisdom to my resume.

So, where do I turn? To my master? Ummmm... nah. How about to my good friend Joel? He's an old soul, and he'll be able to help.

A quick search on his blog leads me to a list of twenty (!!) suggestions about how to grow old with dignity. The first on the list is "Don't move to California." That's a manageable goal. The second suggestion is "Do not watch TV news shows or read tabloid newspapers." That's impossible--I have to keep up with these just in case I get mentioned in them. Brand management is hugely important to me.

Okay, you know what, there are 18 more suggestions listed. Twenty suggestions?? I will definitely grow old if I spend my time reading all of those.

So I Google "what's the one thing I need to know about getting older (not that I'm really getting older)" and I come up with this: "Two things are certain: Death and taxes."

I've never paid taxes in my life! So at best this little piece of insight is batting .500.

You know what? I'm just going to stay young. People who get older don't seem to know what they're talking about.

Two's Company

2008-10-19T20:31:00.007-04:00

Do you notice anything unusual about the picture below?

If you guessed "Hey Smarty, you're chained to your mom and a baby!" you're exactly right. How embarrassing... Try doing anything productive in that condition! Can you imagine trying to chase a squirrel through the park like that? I think the squirrels might be a little tipped off when they hear, "Okay, everyone, on the count of three...1, 2, 3, go!" Not to mention the sound of squeeky wheels bouncing over the landscape, or the sudden choking sound should Scoche and I head off in two separate directions.

And what about attending a race meet? Aside from obvious complications concerning entering and exiting the box, there are these moral dilemmas: Do we run with the veterans (for Scoche's sake) or with the puppies (for the baby's sake)? How do we divide the points and the prizes? And how do we squeeze that contraption under the wicket?

So I decided... Two's company but three's obviously a crowd. I've cut Scoche out of the loop and teamed up with the boy!

This has made life around the house much more pleasant...

I haven't resolved all the racing issues yet. But I think it could be kind of cool, like a "Batman and Robin" setup. I'm the Batmobile (of course) and he's the little sidecar.

Some might wonder whether I'm in a really big moral dilemma now - one of "lifeboat" proportions. Was I right to team up against my very own mother? The one who whelped me and, when given no other option, stuck with me all these years?

Something to think about...

Fortunately I'm thinking about it on a full stomach!

Double Take

2008-07-29T16:33:00.006-04:00

Someone recently asked whether I was on vacation. The answer depends on whether being laid off counts against your vacation time!

You see, we were recently in production for a new post all about grizzly bears. We had hired the stunt doubles and everything, and were beginning to figure out how to best shoot the scene. In fact, here's a picture of me attacking the bear:

As I said, we had already hired stunt doubles - for both me and the bear. The one on top is my own stunt double, and the one below is playing the part of the bear.

Sadly, this "bearish" economy kicked in, and due to some budgetary limitations we never were able to film the scene in full costume.

I might just have to start earning some extra money on the side...

Hey, maybe I'll become a stunt double! After all, my double sure does get to see a lot of action: He spends all day walking around on all fours, putting things in his mouth, getting fed big meals, napping... in short, all the things I would normally do. I think the owners even take him out racing, because he's often carted off in the van and he comes back very tired.

That's a great idea. Why didn't I think of it sooner?

Oh, I know... because he probably did!

Waitaminute... The double is taking over everything, isn't he? How did I not catch onto that?

He'll probably even have his own blog soon if I don't regain control!

The Very Best of Smarty Spot

2008-05-16T05:29:00.003-04:00

In June, I will have been writing Smarty Spot for 14 dog years. So I thought it would be fun to celebrate! I was thinking perhaps having a Smarty Spot Gala Dinner. We could invite a few celebrities (John Denver and Tula come to mind), all my friends (Lucy, Holly, Emily, George, and everyone else), and the many little people who have made this site such a success...

Of course the most important part would be the dinner itself. Well, it would actually be a tie between dinner and dessert.

To create some buzz, I've created a list of my Top 10 favorite posts from the past 14 years. You can vote for your favorite in the comments section if you'd like. And if you'll leave your name and, more importantly, the phone numbers of 14 friends, we'll hire some telemarketers or callbots to promote the heck out of this event! That should create the needed buzz...

Anyway, here's the list!

SMARTY'S TOP TEN
by Smarty

Mom’s Etiquette Advice, June 23 2006
The Happiest Place on Earth, July 18 2006
Survivor: Gilligan's Island, September 9, 2006
Lefty Behind, Dec 4, 2006
Postcard from Camp George, January 2007
Take This Game and Chuck It, January 5, 2007
Entrapment, June 28 2007
Behind the Scenes, July 23 2007
Nature of True Virtue, Sept 21, 2007
Smarty WRCH MSW LCSW MFCC, October 30, 2007

Treatise on Love

2008-04-26T22:10:00.010-04:00

It may seem I haven't written in a while. This is because I've been encouraged by those around me to tackle some of the great issues of humanity, topics like love and justice and ethics and all that stuff.

Not being human, I wondered whether I should put my hand to this task. Yet these topics are actually the warp and woof of my writing thus far - you only have to dig a little below the surface to see these themes poking through. But it's a point well taken that we all reach a point where our writing must move to the next level, if we are to pass along to the next generation something of enduring value. (When I say "we all" I refer to myself and those who came before me: Plato, Aristotle, Augustine, Shakespeare, the prophets - you know, us.)

So I decided that my first major treatise would be ... love.

As you can see, this is a topic I'm acquainted with. See that shirt? It says "loved by a whippet" - and if you look closely, you'll notice that I am that whippet!

So, when did I first realize I loved this little human?

It wasn't the other day, when I caught this little drummer boy using my dinner bowl and my spoon as his own little drum set! No, it wasn't then.

Was it as I waited - yet again - for our walk to begin, only to find we had to go through another round of pictures? No, it wasn't then.

You'll notice Scoche, by this point, was banging her head against the wall. Even the little boy was wondering when this would all end.

So when was it that I decided I loved the little boy?

Well, you see, this is where my treatise breaks new ground. I love unconditionally. What does this mean, you might ask. It means that I love because it's part of my nature, not because I receive anything in return. (Although donations are accepted. I will gladly accept gently used jars of fruits and vegetables, potatoes that drop to the floor, a chance to play with those cool blocks, etc.)

But unconditional love can take a lot out of you. This is because, as noted above, you don't receive anything in return. (Although donations are accepted. Did I mention that?) Fortunately for me, I am able to refill my little whippet love tank:

I absorb affection very effeciently. And this affection is then able to be turned into unconditional love throughout the day. By the way, affection always tastes best with a banana!

So, that's my treatise on love. I think the moral to the story is - and again, you heard it here first - love others the way you would want them to love you. And if your love tank is running low, let the T-shirt do the talking!

Sad Animals

2008-04-01T07:00:00.001-04:00

They say to count your blessings. What if you don't have any?

That's when you have to remember those less fortunate than you. But I don't know anyone less fortunate than me! There are two reasons for this: First, it's hard to get to know your neighbors when you can't see over the fence. Second, my own feelings are so forceful that they demand all my attention and energy; I'd love to show compassion and empathy, believe me, but it's all I can do to control my own emotions! They're exhausting.

Fortunately my owner helps me to understand the plight of others to help keep everything in perspective.

The other day he took me here...

It smelled nice. It has my name, or at least most of it, on the building. But... Boy was this an eye-opening experience!

Not only was animal cruelty fully sanctioned here, and even celebrated, under the thin veil of "pet grooming." But I saw things like this there...

Do you see that?? These are low fat dog treats! How can the words "low fat" and "treats" be used in the same sentence? What poor animals have committed crimes worthy of punishment like this?

And that wasn't all. Right next to the "Pork Earz" and "Mammoth Bones" - perfectly healthy, normal appetizers - were something called guilt free treats. Guilt free treats? That's like saying "treat free treats"!

With treats like these, who needs enemies?

It all became very clear to me... There really are some animals out there who are truly sad. Probably in need of intensive, professional mental health care in fact. I feel like I've received treatment myself--this whole experience was like "shock therapy"!

Here's what my owner bought me:

Mmmm... Fat... Guilt... Buy one get one free... Yes, I think I see my blessings more clearly now!

In fact, could I have another one of those blessings while we're on the subject?

(Actually, since it's "buy one get one free" maybe I'll take two. Or four...)

Party Animals

2008-03-17T07:00:00.003-04:00

* * *

It's time to reveal the winner of the Birthday Puzzler!

Oh, wait a second. We only had one response. This might put my plans for a talk radio show on hold, at least temporarily, while I gauge my ability to ask provocative questions. It's too bad, because I've always wanted to be a "shock jock," but it looks like perhaps I'm too nuanced. I guess as I get older I'm becoming more fit for NPR than for AM radio.

Wait! Did that just say "as I get older"? That's right! My birthday was on Saturday!

However, if you answered "Smarty" to Saturday's Birthday Puzzler, you don't win the Big Prize. The answer, like the question, is far more nuanced than that.

Let's review clue #2:

You notice there are three animals in this picture.

Well, there was not just one birthday on Saturday but four! (Do you feel the nuance yet?)

The three pictured above are Holly, Lucy, and Me. Below is the original picture that the cartoon is based on:

We're obviously far cuter in the original picture. "Artist's renderings" just don't quite capture it!

You'll notice if you look very closely that there's a fourth puppy who is dodging the camera - that's Pinch. Her birthday was the fourth one on Saturday. But why is her back to us? I guess she didn't want to be in the picture - she was always a little more shy than she let on.

Notice that the cartoon makes Holly look somewhat sad. Actually, she's not sad, she's just thoughtful. The cares of the world - you know, poverty, war, the urgent need for universal pre-K - tend to occupy her mind. Here is a rare photo (actually, one of about 923) from her early days:

Too much New York Times, that's what I always say. The rest of us never let the whole universal pre-K thing distract us from a good party!

So, happy birthday sisters! Isn't growing up fun?

Birthday Puzzler

2008-03-15T21:34:00.008-04:00

* * *

Guess who turned three today?

You only get one clue:

The answer will be published in an upcoming special birthday edition of Smarty Spot. The person who guesses the answer correctly will win a life-size autographed racing photo of me (provided they take me racing, take the photo, and provide me with a pen).

Here's your second clue. But remember, you only get one, so you can only use this clue if you didn't use the other one. This photo helps to answer the birthday puzzler:

Look closely, now! And come back on Monday for the answer to the Puzzler!

Released Back Into the Wild

2008-03-03T07:03:00.003-05:00

Apparently that last post I wrote - with a little gag at the end about taking the little one captive - was taken too literally. The child was whisked off to an undisclosed location this past week, probably to an underground bunker or treehouse. This left me and Scoche to completely fend for ourselves, with no human supervision whatsoever!

Oh, I guess if you count this guy then we had a little "quote unquote" supervision...

But actually, we had to keep him under control. Left without his female counterpart, things weren't always pretty. I suppose this is what happens when he's released back into his own natural habitat.

This wasn't so bad, but we were a little bit worried for his state of mind. He gets a little freaked out when left alone. This actually made us feel a certain weight of responsibility I for one had hoped to avoid now that we finally had the run of the place.

Fortunately, I was able to translate this into some daily routines that worked out to my benefit. You know, the walks, the bones, the tummy rubs, the long late-night discussions about life, the universe, and everything. I was able to absorb some attention that's been lacking - attention that is, and I say this humbly, owed to me by right.

Yes, it's been an acceptable week.

And yet... Yet...

To be honest, I find myself hoping that they'll bring that kid out of hiding again. I guess I have to admit it... I kind of miss the little fella.

So, if you're out there somewhere, reading this...

Come back, little guy! We miss you!

* * *

SPECIAL NOTE: Scoche celebrated her birthday this last Thursday! Happy Birthday, Scoche!

Don't Leave Me Out!

2008-02-22T07:04:00.004-05:00

I don't like being left out of anything. If the van is leaving, I want to be in it. If food is being eaten, I want to taste it. If affection is being lavished, I want to be the lavishee. You get the picture.

As a pup of my generation, I also don't want to be left out of any technological trends. Face it, you fall behind even one day and the next thing you know you're irreparably passe. I mean, could you imagine living in today's world without your own cell phone, iPod, or 3D glasses? I for one cannot, and will not!

Which is why I worry when I see something like this:

What's going on here? It looks like the little human is being trained to fly his own spaceship, which I've wanted to do since I was four months old. This is very unfair.

And check out this new little eating contraption:

I think it's called an iBowl. You eat out of it like a regular bowl, but it comes in fancy colors and the food is downloaded straight into your mouth. You can only imagine how much I want one of those!

As you can see, I can't afford to fall behind any further. Next thing you know, they'll invent a way for dogs to let themselves into the backyard and I'll still be standing at the door waiting to be let out by someone else, looking like a complete idiot! Pass me the lava lamp and the 8-track tapes while you're at it...

There's only one thing to do: Begin advanced negotiation techniques.

Hand over the iBowl and you can have the kid back!

Identity Politics

2008-02-12T16:09:00.000-05:00

Today is the presidential primary in our state! I was very excited to get my first chance to vote, and made it a point to ride with the owners to the polling location. It turned out to be very animal friendly, as you can see by these signs they posted to direct the different species to their respective polling places.

In my opinion - which I think is a pretty educated opinion, since I overhear commercials and saw some signs on the way in to the polling place - we need a change in Washington. We need a president who is a "man of letters." So I narrowed down my choices to the two candidates with the most letters in their names - Dennis Kucinich and Mike Huckabee. Both of these candidates were pretty funny when I saw them on Comedy Central, and a sense of humor is important to gain my endorsement. "Huckabee" is a little more fun to pronounce, which is vital because the main duty of the president is for us to talk about him.

Two things pushed Huckabee over the top, though. First, he is still in the race and Kucinich isn't. That didn't hurt. But I usually vote the issues, and not just electability. And the issue most dear to me - raw food availability - seems to be Huckabee's strong suit. He himself once ate a squirrel that was popped to perfection in a popcorn machine! Litmus test completed, turned in on time, and graded with an A+!!

I waited patiently in the car while the owners voted. By "patiently" I mean that I barked the whole time, just to make sure that I wasn't forgotten. But I wasn't! Sure enough, they came back out for me.

Or did they?

Once they returned, they drove right off - talk about voter suppression! How is my voice going to be heard?

Fortunately for me...

I'm a superdelegate!

(All I really wanted was the cool sticker anyway.)

Heaven Help Us

2008-01-30T22:25:00.001-05:00

I'm predicting rain.

Why? Because there are a lot of animals being gathered together around here. Take a look for yourself:

I've heard all about Noah and those animals, and so I couldn't help but notice all these animals. And such variety! The last time this happened, things got real wet real quick. The good news is, there are still plenty of animals I don't see here - it might be a while before little Noah Jr. here obtains his own panda bear, for example, or even his own squid. Oh, I guess a squid can survive a flood, huh? Well, in any case, this little animal gatherer is not very mobile, so I'm guessing we still have some time before we're "singin' in the rain."

In the meantime, I'll enjoy hanging out with the big green bug and the disproportioned moose. But there's one little animal visitor I'd rather avoid:

I don't know why I don't trust this one. Maybe it's his self-congratulatory nature. I mean, I have feet, hands, and a tummy. I know the tummy is harder to see because of my slender whippet waist, but it's there, barking out orders all the time...trust me. But I don't go around advertising my body parts like I'm some sort of floozy.

And that smile! What's up with that? Everyone knows that smiles are to be used sparingly, especially if we are indeed going to experience a wet worldwide judgment. How can you talk about the end of the world with a big, goofy grin? Try this look instead:

See? That look will gain you respect and maintain your dignity. Much more reverent, too.

Of course, some of us take this a little too far...

This moves things from "prophetic" to "pathetic." That's not good for anyone's religion!

Well, we'll keep working on this. Like I said, we have plenty of time... I think. I might just leave "The Weather Channel" on in the background, just in case!

Camp Smarty

2008-01-09T07:00:00.000-05:00

You've no doubt heard about Camp George. When I need a break from the workaday world and its daily demands, I go to Camp George to let my hair down, have my feet rubbed, play, and just be a puppy again.

Well, over the holidays it was my turn. I was given a promotion and tasked with hosting a camp of my own - Smarty's Christmas Camp!

My owners left rigorous instructions for me, explaining how to run the camp while they were away. I'm actually not sure if they have any "executive" camp experience - and handing me off to George doesn't count if you don't stay for the initiation rites. That's probably why the owners tasked me with the Christmas Camp: I may not have officially run a camp before, unless keeping Scoche out of trouble with Bo counts...but I have been apprenticed by the best.

Here are some excerpts of the instructions I was left:

Smarty is 2 yrs old. She is a “people person” and accepts as much affection as will be given to her. But she is also exceedingly food-motivated and wants her breakfast, dinner, and snacks not just on time but early. She has a vivid imagination. She is basically Snoopy, if you’ve ever read Peanuts!

Each day at one of their two meals please give them either a spoonful of yogurt each (it’s in the fridge) or split a banana between them. There’s no science to this so don’t worry. BE WARNED: If you eat a banana, Smarty will look at you with a “That’s MY banana!” look (try it, it’s funny).

I tried to follow these instructions as closely as possible.

Not only was I told how to run the meals, I was also told how to run the games:

When feeding Smarty, make her act like a lady – she understands “Wait!” although she will pretend not to. You don’t want her to attack the food before it’s on the ground. She loves to eat, so she’ll adjust to you if you are firm – whatever it takes is her motto.

Smarty will want to go out immediately after waking up. But she’ll need to go later because her mind is already on breakfast and sometimes she only pretends to go!

I love playing pretend! But hey, who doesn't? That's why it's at the heart of the Smarty Christmas Camp. But ultimately it's hard work being camp director. I have new appreciation for all the sweat equity George has to pour into his camp. For example, here's a picture of me serving as playground monitor:

Obviously I would have preferred to be playing too. But the last thing you want is for someone to get hurt on your watch - even if playing "pretend" only results in imaginary injuries.

Being Camp Director has its rewards, though. I was given a handsome salary:

That's clearly far more than George ever made. As you can see, the humans I took care off also posted a blog about their experiences. They did so in a literal fashion, physically taping it to the bag of treats they left for me! (Speaking of which, shouldn't I have some better access to those?)

Blogging about one's experiences at camp is actually quite important. It follows that long tradition of "what I did over school vacation" essays. It also helps with publicity - word of mouth is probably what will bring people to Smarty's Christmas Camp next year.

So... start saving now! Only 357 days left till next Christmas Camp!

Christmas Slideshow

2007-12-25T05:00:00.000-05:00

I'm a visual animal, especially when it comes to presents. So here are a few pictures from our family Christmas, without any commentary from me.

My gift to Scoche:

Scoche's gift to me:

I was assured that this is the style now.

One of my owners gifts...

AKC Papers?? What? How did he find out he didn't officially own me till now? He must have read my November 30 entry. I better start being more careful what I post! I hope this doesn't go to his head!

And here's one I don't really understand:

(click to enlarge)

Now, I don't really get the joke... Blogging vs. barking? Why not both? Clearly that cartoon was created by a human -- they're so polarized!

Oops! I said I wasn't going to give any commentary this time. Well, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! That's right -- both!

Christmas Lights

2007-12-23T18:01:00.001-05:00

The other morning, my owner and I went to the beach and had a great time. Notice what's missing in the picture below? That's right -- a leash!

Running wild and free is a favorite pastime of mine. Of course, you may wonder why I'm not running in the above picture even though I am clearly both wild and free.

The reason is that the beach is so distracting. I am always hoping to find some buried treasure -- an arrowhead, a cannon ball, or any other evidence of epic struggle. If I ever get a metal detector, I'll really be in business.

During the summer, dogs aren't allowed on the beach (crazy, mixed up world!) and so we have to spend our time dodging the fuzz. When you finally are allowed on the beach (which is, ironicallly, in the "off" season) , you have to dodge the foam:

Yikes. It's more scary than it looks. Who knows where that foam has been?

But did you notice all those lights in the sky? I love 'em. I'm a huge fan.

Apparently they're Christmas lights. My owner says that Christmas is about "light shining in the darkness." I'm no theologian (yet) but these lights certainly seem to display divine handiwork.

So speaking of darkness, we went back to the ocean last night to "see the lights." Which was a strange idea not only because it was nighttime, but because it was hard to see anything ... since I was stashed in the trunk!! Okay, okay, I wasn't in the trunk per se -- but riding in a dark crate in the back of the van isn't really much more glamorous.

I begged to ride on the roof, which would have been really snazzy. But as usual I was told "next time" -- which is a polite way of saying, "Stuff that dog into the trunk!" I wonder if that little baby human got to ride on the roof? He always gets special treatment... oh, wait, he probably didn't because the female owner was there and that usually affects those privileges.

So this was basically my view from the "trunk":

I do admit that the crates are slightly better than a trunk in terms of air flow. But it's really not a huge improvement when Scoche is riding next to you and **comment removed by editor**!! No offense intended.

In any case I guess didn't miss much in terms of the beach light show. I heard the owners using words like "tacky" and "gaudy." This was obviously not the light display that I saw:

Natural lighting is clearly the way to go. Or rather, divine lighting!

Naughty or Nice

2007-12-11T11:41:00.000-05:00

I'm a bad influence.

At least that's something I'm trying on for size. I got the idea during one of our road trips when the owners were listening to an audiobook called Marley and Me: Life and Love with the World's Worst Dog.

At first I thought, "Great! After listening to this, they'll appreciate me a hundredfold!"

But no.

Instead, they were just smiling and laughing and all I heard about for the next two weeks was Marley this, Marley that.

Well, then, Marley this!

That's right. These teeth are powerful enough to rip through anything in this house. I could rip through the tile, the brick walls, or even a whole roll of toilet paper. Let that be a warning.

Yes, I am a bad dog. I am the world's worst dog! Or at least second worst if Marley has the other title copyrighted.

Some of you might be wondering whether this has been effective. Hard to tell. It's at least gained me a following -- Scoche has taken to imitating my bad dog ways. Specifically, she's taken up drinking:

Yes, I know, she doesn't look as "bad" as she thinks. With sidekicks like this, no wonder I'm not taken seriously!

But I've hired a promoter to gain me some real notoriety:

Uhhh...

Maybe I should write a book instead: Smarty and Me: Adventures with Myself. But where would I ever find enough material?

True Submission

2007-11-30T05:48:00.000-05:00

I'd like everyone to look at the above picture. Some of you visual types have already looked at it, some of our newer more literary types don't even look at the pictures on this blog. But go ahead - take a look.

Okay. What you see in this picture tells me with absolute certainty whether you are an owner or an animal.

Do you see a trained pet, submissively awaiting the evening dinner routine? If so, you are an owner. Sorry.

Or do you see a true success story? If so, you have risen above the fray and are indeed an animal!

You see, humans think that they create "routines" for their "pets." The little animal waits for its food, with its cute little ears, on its little black mat, for a little while, until the owner chooses to feed it. Of course there is some truth to this: the ears are cute and the meal is little.

But what's really going on here is that the animal has successfully put its "owner" on a routine. It understands the owner's little insecurities and little values, and how to leverage these into a lifestyle of leisure and little pleasures.

You see, owners like routine: it makes them feel that they are in control. It massages their fragile egos. But once you understand how much the owner likes routine, anything becomes a routine. I got to go for a walk today? BAM! That's a routine. I got to lick the extra food out of the container tonight? BAM! That's a routine too. I didn't get kicked out of the bed when I jumped onto it at 3am? Now that's a routine too! And it only takes about 10 or 12 of these to make for a pretty cushy lifestyle.

It's frightfully easy.

In fact, just last night the new little human didn't want to go to bed. So he cried. And one of the owners carried him around, giving him an extra little awake time and a free ride around the house. And as he passed by me, he winked.

See? So simple even a child can understand!

Documentary Evidence

2007-11-28T20:13:00.000-05:00

In an effort to expand the reach of Smarty Spot, I've been trying for a while now to produce a dogumentary that would appeal not only to current fans of this blog - who tend to listen to AM radio and country music - but also to the PBS crowd. You know, the type who find 20 hours of black and white photos about baseball or the Civil War, or the two combined, entertaining.

How was I to know that the master of slow moving documentaries himself, Ken Burns, was a reader of this blog! It even seems likely that his next 10-part series will be based on this blog! Well, there's certainly plenty of material. It will simply require converting the photos to black and white and carefully extracting the humor - leaving only the bare historical research remaining.

So, in honor of Mr. Burns, I've begun documenting a little "Civil War" that's been going on right now, right near the Mason-Dixon line.

I figure the documentary can start out with this chilling photo, showing a once harmonious relationship (almost a mother-daughter relationship) torn in two.

You'll notice I colorized the photo to make it more appealing to the younger generation. Plus, black and white photos always make me look black and white -- I guess that's the price you pay. But why bother? I figure the older PBS crowd can wear sunglasses and get the same effect, or listen to the documentary on cassette tape to avoid all that color.

Anyway... As the documentary moves to the question of the cause of this civil unrest, the camera can pan over this photo that shows the culprit.

She looks so innocent, doesn't she? Who would have guessed that this mother of nine could be such a warmonger... such an expansionist!!

Pan in on her rear and you'll see what I mean. (Hopefully this won't bump us into an "R" rating.)

A-ha! You see that! Look just a tad bit closer... who's that under there, being crushed by Scoche's Blitzkrieg?

Don't tread on me! And you wonder where I've been lately... sheesh.

This was not a war I entered into willingly. But as you know, I will fight for my freedom!

Alternatively, I'd be willing to negotiate, compromise, or - if it's time for evening snacks - possibly even surrender.

But whatever it is we do, it has to fill up about 10 DVDs. So I guess we have plenty of time to figure it out!

Lost in America

2007-11-18T08:01:00.000-05:00

Well, you may have recently read something on my owners' blog concerning a recent road trip. You may have read something about their trip, the baby, and some of the people they visited.

Ahem.

Once again, there's more to the story. Specifically, there were two other travelers involved who apparently were lost in the shuffle. Me and Scoche!

Granted, we had the "cheap seats" -- sometimes referred to as "crates" -- and did not publicize our travels with all sorts of fanfare. And granted, we didn't know we were going on a trip and were caught off guard: I didn't bring anything to read, any snacks, or my compass. Scoche always travels light, which makes it easier for her to brood and strategize; but even she was caught off guard and her thinking cap hadn't been fully charged. So we spent a lot of time trying to figure out just where it was we were going.

I suggested Switzerland. Not only was it somewhere we'd never been (and our owners tend to end up in new places quite frequently), but I also noticed that the longer we drove the more hilly it became.

We were finally let out of the van and given some clues. Switzerland was ruled out swiftly:

The nice trees also proved my second guess - the Bahamas - wrong. We were clearly in either the United States or at least among allies. Which probably meant we were still in the States. Perhaps Alaska? Maybe the Virgin Islands, are they part of the United States?

The scenery actually looked somewhat familiar, however. There was a sense we had been here before... Those sidewalks... those squirrels... those colorful trees...

Wait, don't tell me! I remember this one!

Scoche finally figured it out.

Yes, it was indeed New Jersey! I was just about to say that, or at least something that rhymed with it.

Doggonnit! Why does Scoche always win these games? Even on the way up, Scoche won the license plate game. I couldn't see a thing out my crate, but Scoche just kept rattling off one state after another. She said she saw license plates from all fifty states, plus a few from other countries and even one from the moon!

Scoche is so smart.

No wonder Bo likes her so much!

Smarty Rewind: More to the Story, Part Two

2007-11-13T05:46:00.000-05:00

So I'm looking through USA Today yesterday (I know that sounds contradictory, but it's not), and I run across a story called "America crazy about breadbox on wheels called Smart car." Hey, wait a minute! I remember the Smart Car! And so should you!

I reported on the Smart Car thirteen months ago, in an October 12, 2006 scoop entitled "Smart Mobile." Nevertheless, there is no mention of my name or my story in USA Thirteen Months Ago's "original" piece.

Just to prove my point, I went deep down into the archives to find my original post. I had to venture into the crawl space (we don't have a basement), fight through the cobwebs and dust, and pull the story off an old roll of microfilm. But I did it, just so you can see - again - the whole story.

Serving as a media "watchdog" sure takes time and effort!

Anyway, here you have it, from the archives:

SMART MOBILE
by Smarty
October 12, 2006 (see??)

Have you ever Googled your own name? Be honest. Sometimes it turns up interesting information.

Sometimes it can be downright scary.

Here's what I found when I Googled my name: someone has designed something called the Smart Car. Now, you might think the name is a coincidence (although, c'mon, how common a name is "Smarty"?) -- but you won't think it's a coincidence when you see this photo:

It's small. It's red. It's buff(ed). And it's called the "Smart" car.

I hope they give me royalties.

But actually, I'm thinking something more sinister is afoot. They are only making these in Europe right now... but I suspect they'll show up here soon - at our race meets!

This is totally unfair. If you look closely it's obvious these are "non-pedigree."

On the other hand...

It just might be that they can't keep up with the real thing anyway!

More to the Story, Part One

2007-11-10T21:57:00.000-05:00

Welcome once again to the new media. And in case you were wondering -- yes, I am the new media! Although I already have enough responsibilities resting on me, this is another role I'm forced to assume.

Why? Because you just can't trust the mainstream blogosphere anymore. It's not what they say, it's what they conveniently don't say.

For example, the owners' blog recently reported on their "Textbook Baby." You may have seen this picture:

The story seemed believable, especially with the photograph. And of course it was an easy sell because hey, who doesn't love a cute little baby? Invoking the children is a time honored way to reach the masses.

Fortunately I'm assigned the photography duties in the house (I told you I had a lot of responsibilities) because it allowed me to snap a few undercover pics. I can't tell you how I obtained these or they won't trust me to read over their shoulders anymore, but I promise you these are authentic.

Here's the cover of the book they were reading:

Now, I don't understand why this information would be hidden from the reader. It seems something to be proud of. Clearly this baby is being taught what he needs to know about the world in an age-appropriate manner.

Plus, there's even a picture of Scoche inside:

Notice the resemblance?

In fact, here's that same frisbee catch that Scoche did, but from a better angle:

Again, why wouldn't you report these details? Surely that would make the story appeal to a wider audience and, to tell the truth, it would make it a lot less boring.

Speaking of less boring, there are pictures of me in the book too. Here's one that was lifted from my blog:

And you'll notice me in this one, too (hint, I'm the red one):

Actually, that's a bit of an embarrassing picture. All the dogs were running around, but I was busy eating acorns, dirt clumps, old arrow heads, and other things that were laying on the ground... sometimes it's so hard to choose between running and eating! I usually choose eating, though.

So, now you have the whole story. Now you just have to decide -- is the bias you're getting in the mainstream blogosphere intentional, or simply an inattention to details? I'm not sure what I think. Both options are very troubling.

And sad.

After all...

** Stay tuned for part two!

Smarty WRCH MSW LCSW MFCC

2007-10-30T05:43:00.001-04:00

I've had a variety of visitors ever since we started living in the beach house. Things progress along the usual relational spectrum.

I'm sure you've heard it all before. You know, that first awkward moment...

Followed by that person bearing their soul to me - sharing their secret dreams and fears, while I listen compassionately and nod knowingly...

This is followed by some act of kindness on my part, usually a physical gesture to let the person know that in this cruel, unforgiving world, there is in fact someone who understands, someone who cares.

And finally, appreciation is offered to me, perhaps in the form of a smile, a donation to my college fund, or a donation to a favorite charity. My favorite charities, by the way, would be Smarty Spot, my Food Pantry, and my college fund. I must say that in this world of small tippers, I'm seeing more and more people offer just the smile.

And there's nothing technically, legally wrong with that. A smile is nice. It doesn't pay for the paper, crayons, and erasers I'll need in college, but that's a long way off anyway.

Well, this past weekend, I received one of the best thank you gifts in a while - an all-expense paid round trip to the dog park! It was a gift from a newly engaged couple, along with the other usual suspects. All that listening, encouraging, and affirming finally paid off big! Not to mention my decision to include premarital counseling among my advertised services.

I still am accepting donations to the college fund, however. It's not that I think I need an advanced degree obviously, but it's almost like you need one (or two) to be taken seriously these days. I can't tell you how many times people have thought that Smarty Spot is a humor blog instead of a serious academic endeavor, and it all goes back to how many fancy letters you have (or don't have) after your name. It's crazy, I know, but that's the world we live in.

Besides, if I can earn the degree online I can pretty much have the whole thing completed during TV commercials and while my music is downloading from the internet. That also saves money on supplies, commuting, and even tuition if you lowball it. Plus, as you can see, I'm already doing enough work to count toward an internship. So really, it's no big time loss either.

The point is, stop by anytime and visit. I'm here for you. And I'm all ears.

Trick or Treat?

2007-10-23T20:23:00.001-04:00

As everyone knows, I'm not one for conspiracy theories. Theories are far too complex. If there's a conspiracy, I just want someone to tell me so I can get on with my life with the appropriate degree of anger, paranoia, and alarm.

Well, turn your alarm clocks on, because you're about to learn what's going down. Take a look at this picture:

And this one:

Notice what's going on here. They've broken Scoche's will! They've reduced her to a piece of entertainment... a circus act... a show dog!

Somehow using the treats to turn Scoche into their private plaything, their personal puppet!

Look closely and you'll see them pulling the strings, like true puppet masters. (You've wondered where humans earned the title "master"?)

I would have never thought it possible. Me? Sure! I'll do anything for a treat. But Scoche? No way! I'm not sure how they did it... Are the treats tainted? I've heard about Halloween horror stories like this. Or, is this what awaits all whippets when we get to be Scoche's age?

This second possibility actually cheered me up. I realized hey, I'll never be that old! Scoche is like, forever years old - I think she's eight or nine even. Maybe a hundred.

But then I started thinking... not theorizing, mind you, but thinking. And I started putting pieces together. A lot of scary things have been going on lately.

Take for example my recent trip to the vet. In my experience, the vet is to animals what a pool hall or ping pong parlour is to humans - a place to relax, hang out, meet friends, play on the tables. But this last time, I go there, and some weird lady sticks me with a giant needle and literally draws blood out of me (seriously!).

And I'd like to mention that it hurt.

Then, I get another "opportunity" to go somewhere fun - at least that's what the tone of voice implied - and I end up abducted, in a headlock, and nearly drowned in a tub!

They haven't broken my will yet. I'm only pretending to be amiable, needy, and submissive while I figure out their endgame.

Meanwhile, those qualities really do help you to get more treats. And who can argue with that?

Overstimulated

2007-10-18T10:00:00.000-04:00

What a weekend... I got to see all those friends I wanted to see and I got to use my EZ Bake oven to bake my owner a delicious cake!

Not only that, but I made a killing on what I charged for the cake, which is the beginning of a wonderful new business that could allow me a little extra pocket money. In fact, I might need to spend my first profits on buying some pockets! This will also allow me a place for my pocket knife, which will be my next purchase.

Between friends, baking, and the birthday party it was hard to do much else. But I also got to race! I usually try to nap in my crate prior to a big race - it's one of my secrets, along with [top secret information removed by editor]. But my mind was doing the racing this time, especially because I was relying heavily on a student workers to do a lot of the party planning:

They did a great job, but they were so small I found I had to micro-manage them. So by the time it was my turn to race, I had to catch a nap at the very last minute. And I do mean the very last minute!

But all in all, it worked out pretty well. Out of 120 dogs, I came in 5th! And when I raced again I came in 5th a second time! I'm still waiting for that third and fourth race... apparently we're on a little break.

I do need to give a bark out to Tula, who apparently did very well. Here's a picture I snapped (yes, yet another little chore I had to tend to) between flour fights and quality control seminars:

Congratulations, Tula! I knew when you signed with Lucy's agent you'd do well - especially with that early morning regiment she puts you through! (Don't think I don't know about the cultish techniques used at her "training camp" - no one should be deprived of that much sleep. I'm planning an expose but I'm still waiting for my mole to send me the secret video tapes.)

So, I had a good time even though now I know what they mean when they say "be careful what you wish for." This weekend might have been better spread out over a whole month! In fact, it might have been better to spread out those 5th place finishes into 5 different 1st place finishes.

At least that's what some of my fans have told me. Here's one of my fans at the beginning of the day... Notice she was a little nervous, knowing I had a lot on my plate... and I don't mean a literal "plate" unfortunately...

But by the end of the day she seemed to wear her cool Smarty Gear a little less boldly...

I'm sorry. I take full responsibility for the actions of my interns and promise to intend to do better next time - specifically, to have more cake to feed everybody and also to hire a bigger crew so I'm not so distracted by seminars, sleeplessness, and incredibly fun times.

Thanks to everyone for coming to the big party!

Birthday Wishes

2007-10-10T08:00:00.000-04:00

Okay, let's be honest, all this babysitting is getting a little old. I was happy when my chore was just to fold the laundry. Helping with the baby's bath wasn't so bad - although it left me dangerously close to getting one myself! But now that I'm starting to be the baby's primary guardian, I'm finding the job a little more demanding than I'd been told.

I started looking into child labor laws, and determined to blow the whistle as soon as I was assigned diaper changing duty. But then I found out -- a holiday is approaching! Maybe a little break is all I need.

One of my owners is having a birthday in October. And we all know what birthdays are for - presents. So although it's rather late notice, I'm trying to put together a list of what I'd like to get for her birthday. It's hard to choose - there are so many things I want her to get for me!

In a situation like this, it's usually best to not ask for too much. Because if you do that, you'll just get one or two of the things you ask for - or clothes. Instead, it's best to ask for one thing... but one thing that somehow combines all the gifts. (For example, instead of asking for "raw food" ask for a frozen cow.)

This year it will be tricky, though. What I'd really like is a chance to see some friends, such as Lucy and that agent of hers...

If at all possible I'd like to find out how my old babysitter Emily is doing...

Of course no party is complete without George...

But as much as I'd like to see all these friends I'd also like my present to include a little exercise. Or maybe even a lot!

But, I'd also like to travel...

Hmmm... The problem is that these gifts don't seem to naturally combine into one giant gift from what I can tell. After all, I can't ask to race Lucy, George, and Emily - I'd leave 'em in the dust and never get to really enjoy their company. Plus the whole dewclaw envy issue... And if I ask to go to Camp George, that kind of changes my travel hopes - I was hoping to head south this time around, see a new place.

Well, I'm sure I'll come up with the perfect present to ask for. If only I could get some time to myself so I can just think!

Putting the Beach back in Virginia

2007-10-01T06:30:00.000-04:00

We arrived in Virginia Beach early in the summer, and I was so excited about doing some snorkling and sandcastle building I could hardly sit still. I even made up some blueprints of the perfect sandcastle and ordered my own trowel off the internet. I never received it because I listed our address simply as "THE BEACH!!" After all, I thought that's where we'd be spending most of our time.

Well, that didn't happen... But after a couple months of "Virginia" and not a whole lot of "Beach," we finally made it to the Promised Sand!

If you look closely, you'll see that's me and Scoche in the crowd. Scoche was in a happy, friendly mood...strangely enough. Whereas I know that at the beach - also known as THE BEACH!! - it's best to play it cool.

Which was hard because my owners didn't bring the snorkle, or the flippers, or even suntan lotion. They brought leashes. That's great if you're able to do things like walk on water, but not if you want to film underwater caverns. Lifelines are great, but when they're wrapped around your neck that sometimes doesn't qualify as "water safety"! (I'm sorry for being sarcastic. Sometimes I just have to vent my feelings in my private online journal. The owners read me like a book, and this is the one place where I can be alone with my feelings and the online community.)

Okay, back to the story. Snorkling was out since there was, uh, no snorkle, so that left sandcastle building. Which sounds easy enough, right? I have four paws, dewclaws and all that, what else do you need? Well, it depends what kind of sandcastle you want to build! Remember, I had a lot of time to draw blueprints over the summer.

I named this one "How I Spent My Summer." If I would've had my trowel it could've been even better. I think the paws look a little bit too much like fingers. I had wanted to add some paint, tinsel, and laser beams, but -- well, we don't need to talk any further about what the owners did or didn't pack. As a result, it came across a little more dark and disturbing than I had planned.

After all this work, it was lunch time! It turns out the owners did pack all sorts of great food! All is forgiven...

Then again, I was a bit disappointed in my portions. This weekend visitor ate my sandwich and brownies!

Not quite sure who she was. Apparently the babysitter... and apparently she's pretty new at it - she made some pretty big mistakes, like going for a walk but forgetting the whippets! She must have looked very foolish, pushing that stroller around the neighborhood without the dogs. As we know, humans don't always know how to "pack."

I forgive her, though. She's just a little wet behind the ears.

Which is more than I can say for myself!

But at least I have sand in my toes.

The Nature of True Virtue

2007-09-21T17:00:00.000-04:00

No trees were harmed in the making of this Smarty Spot.

The nature of true virtue has a lot to do with, well, nature. At least that's what the people on TV seem to say: a good person is friendly to the environment.

So I've been thinking about my carbon pawprint lately. Overall, I think I score pretty well! I've never harmed our local rain forest, or sought to depopulate it. If I've upset the ecosystem at all, it's only because my environment was invaded first.

So, I think that as far as virtue goes I qualify as a "good dog."

Okay, okay, it is true that I've requested my share of rides in the family van. With the air conditioning on. And my own can of Mountain Dew (it has to be in a can, otherwise it's not carbonated enough).

Oh, and there was that incident where I accidentally pumped the gas into the wrong person's car... through their window... But that's because I didn't grow up pumping gas - I'm originally from New Jersey, where they pump it for you. I'm not taking the blame for that.

Oh, and it's also true that I've eaten some of the environment... just the low lying part, though...

But that's not harmful to the environment, is it? I mean, not to its emotions. It's a sign of appreciation!

Besides, half of what I eat turns out not to be biodegradable anyway. My motto is "eat first, ask questions later." And that must be good for the environment!

So, I think my good deeds outweigh my bad ones, and that my carbon pawprint is bigger -- oops, I guess I mean smaller -- than average. I am very proud of myself.

And I guess that means I should look down on all of you. That's the way virtue works, right?

Shame on the rest of you!

Hmmm...

You know...

It's lonely here at the top of the virtue food chain. Plus, there's not much to eat. I might just need to go munch down a few acorns or throw a soda can onto the lawn so I can be back down there with you less virtuous folks...

Amazing grace, how sweet the sound...

Stare Down

2007-09-14T07:30:00.000-04:00

Eating is a concentrated effort.

You must keep your eyes open and your mind engaged at all times. The body likewise must be subdued, with all its muscles and members working together to maintain poise and readiness.

While this mealtime mindset is required all day, it is especially necessary as dinner becomes imminent.

Always count the bowls and containers and, most important, never let them out of your sight.

Now, this kind of concentration is not gained through osmosis. Which is a good thing, because lately it's been kinda hard to get much sleep. The new human seems to have been programmed wrong because he talks all night long! Not that I can actually understand him, all I can say is there's a lot of noise coming from his crate. (No fair that his crate has a sunroof, by the way.)

Then again, maybe he's not defective. Now that I think about it, one of the other humans talks in his sleep too... I've actually lost plenty of hours of sleep as I've had to listen to him babble on and on, and then I stay up even longer transcribing what he said. You never know when that may come in handy, after all: Some day I plan to publish these late night monologues... But first I have to figure out what "mom make me another bowl of smurfberry crunch" refers to exactly. Certainly I didn't miss something that was put into our bowls, did I? Impossible!

Anyway, you learn to sleep through the chatter. You have to, if you're going to keep alert when it most matters.

Scoche has had trouble sleeping through all this, though...

...which clearly affects her concentration at mealtime.

And that's why I'm always happy to help her finish!

Ahh yes... now I can sleep!

Babysitting

2007-09-07T06:47:00.000-04:00

Is there a babysitter's union?

Monday was Labor Day, which seemed to mark my transition from carefree gazehound to a more "responsible" young animal.

I'm not sure what the word "responsibility" means. I used to think it was a scientific word that involved being responsive to the proper stimuli. And believe me, I've always felt pretty good about how I respond to stimulating events. I'm quick on my feet, as they say.

But apparently the word means something different, something that has to do with household chores and allowance. For this reason, I've been very busy these last couple weeks -- especially taking pictures of this new little human. You've probably noticed how many pictures of him are on the owners' website -- those didn't just get there by magic! Yes, once again, my opposable dewclaws come in "handy."

I'll tell you what gives me a little hope, though... did you see this picture?

Yes... with that set of wheels, this could one day be a beautiful relationship! If that little vehicle can get up to about 35 miles per hour - and I think it can, based on the times the male owner has raced it downhill - there could be some very nice advantages to having this little guy around!

The babysitter will become the babysat.

And that may indeed be the case... look at this:

For now, though, let's just hope that this shirt fits someone around here! All this sitting is making me itch for a little more walking... or running... or for that matter, even skipping, dancing, or flipping. Hey, I'd even do agility. Just get me out of this "sitting" mode for a little while!

No Animal Left Behind

2007-08-24T23:07:00.001-04:00

Now, what would have happened if Noah had entered the ark without the animals? Not such a great story anymore, is it? Plus, the world wouldn't have remained as fun a place - could you imagine a world without whippets? I for one cannot.

Last weekend Scoche and I were left behind for a while. At first I took this to mean that we were given greater responsibility - which I've asked for, since I'd like to start owning my own pets (an aquarium for starts, then maybe work my up to some pidgeons and rabbits). But when I found the doors were all locked, and no spending money was left out for me, I realized my privileges had probably not been expanded.

I had almost grown bored of making prank phone calls when the owners finally came home. And now it all makes sense.

Believe it or not, but I think my owners are practicing to become parents! The reason I think this? They brought home this real life-like doll to experiment with, and they've been busy ever since. Here's my favorite picture of this new little squeaky toy:

It sure is good that they are going through all this rigorous training, because they clearly have a long way to go. For starters, they hardly have authority over this thing. He seems to call all the shots, a clear case of the tail wagging the dog (if you pardon the expression). And they're keeping him up all hours of the night, which hardly seems appropriate for a young baby.

Someone, get this child a village!

So how long before they graduate and are able to get a real boy? Well, it may be a little while. Now, some might think this prospect would worry me -- after all, where would that leave me?

Actually, I'm not too worried. God made sure that Noah took all the animals on board, but he also made sure Noah's whole family was in the ark too. That's because animals need quite a few humans around if their needs are going to be met promptly and with a smile. In my opinion, we could use a few extra hands around here.

Come to think of it, I think they would agree!

On the Lookout

2007-08-10T15:34:00.000-04:00

Well, I finally got that EZ Bake Oven that I requested. There's a problem, however... I'm the one being baked!

This whole week has been an oven outside. I think I'm walking outside, but instead I'm walking right into someone's idea of a joke... And it makes me wonder who's laughing. Or is it, perhaps, someone's idea of a meal?

This can't be good.

But it might explain why I haven't received my BB Gun yet, even though I've been checking the mail every day. It has probably been intercepted by this Chef Boyardee wannabe.

You can imagine what this will do to my walks. Not only are the walks much less comfortable at feels-like-110 degrees but now someone is most likely watching my every move through my own shock-resistant scope! He...or she?...is probably just waiting for me to be "well done," which might not take too long since I went from "rare" to "medium well" in only 20 minutes yesterday.

The hunter has become the hunted. I guess I shouldn't be surprised now that we're further South... but I'm not going to baked, bulleted, basted and buttered without a fight!

Hey, wait a minute... it's raining now! If that snorkle came in the mail, I might gain the upper paw in this war of anonymous aggression.

Ha! Now look who's laughing!

Impending Birthday Party

2007-07-29T16:28:00.000-04:00

I think I need to get registered.

I've been receiving a lot of gifts this summer. If they're birthday gifts, the senders seemed to ignore the list I put together for my March surprise birthday party, which included a BB gun, snorkle, and an EZ Bake oven. I had wondered why the surprise party never happened, but now that gifts are arriving I've caught on -- a birthday party in August really would be a surprise since my birthday was 5 months ago! You guys are too much.

On the other hand, these also could be early Christmas gifts. If this is the case, I need to overnight my Christmas list to the North Pole, because I'm not sure what kind of logic is behind some of these presents.

For example, my vet sent me some gifts:

Obviously these are for me. But what's this??

I don't think I ever asked for a blue body suit. Unless it's meant to be protective covering in case someone fires back at me with their own BB gun...

And then there's this...

Yes, it's true that in my last communication with Santa I said I wanted "my own set of wheels." But don't get me wrong, I like to walk! It's not that I want to get pushed around, I just thought I might be able to cruise the parks a little easier if I could drive there on my own.

Similarly, this gift arrived the other day:

Now I admit, I did ask for a car seat. But what I meant was that I wanted to sit in a car seat as opposed to in a crate - I like to look out the window too, you know! Ideally, I like to ride shotgun.

Which brings us back to that BB gun issue. It needs to have a shock-resistant scope, like this one, and a heat sensor would be cool too. It will only be used for hunting squirrels and I promise not to aim it at any humans except as a joke.

Thanks!

Behind the Scenes

2007-07-23T20:50:00.000-04:00

Smarty Spot is published once or twice per week. Between posts, more preparation takes place than people realize. Believe me, it may look easy, but it's quite a production!

In order to prepare just one post, an entire crew is needed:

Not only do we need to get cleaned up to meet the high ethical standards of Smarty Spot, other crew members need to ensure we are camera ready:

And of course, with a large supporting cast, all of this process takes even longer...

Of course, I always come to the photo sessions prepared. Take for example this picture, which showed up on the June 13 post "Three Wishes."

Even though I was ready, and knew all my lines, it still took several tries to get things just right. This is because there are always some who seem to never know when they're needed or where they're supposed to be.

Pardon me! Can't you see we're trying to work around here?

I'm not sure if this cast member (who shall remain nameless to protect her career) was just trying to get extra camera time, or if she just didn't know when she was supposed to come on stage. Part of being a professional is to have patience, but as you can imagine it's not always easy!

Okay, are we ready for the sunrise shot? I don't want to be here all day...

Ready, set, action!

And it's a wrap.

Good Night and Good Luck!

2007-07-18T08:17:00.001-04:00

Ever since the Fourth of July, I've been thinking about American values. Overall, I think I like them.

As American as apple pie. Count me in!

The great American melting pot. Just let me lick it when you're done cooking!

Consumerism. Absolutely! Show me what to consume, and I'm happy to oblige.

Pragmatism. I definitely consider myself pragmatic. More in a practical way than in a theoretical way, though.

But there is one value I'm not quite sure about: diversity. Take a look:

Every night I have certain expectations. And what are you supposed to do when one night you get the scrawny little treat to the left, and another night you get a big slice of bacon and the next night a chicken filet? It seems like it would be better to go with another American value, the well-balanced meal. A chicken filet, with bacon, and a little garnish of "power bone" please!

It seems that this would fulfill that great American dream of E Pluribus Unum: "Out of the many, one."

Now, recently, things became pretty scarce. We had worked our way through the evening treats, and the cupboards were getting pretty bare:

This led me into a very Great Depression.

But we went to Petsmart yesterday, and me and Scoche got to engage in a little bit of freedom of choice. Notice that we did what all true Americans do, we super-sized it!

Now that's all American. Not only is it really, really big... but it provides justice for all!

Run of the House

2007-07-13T06:15:00.000-04:00

I'm the first to admit my mistakes. This is because no one else notices them - they're subtle. And also, my mistakes are generally not my fault.

Take for example the squirrel situation around here. They have been emboldened lately, and part of the responsibility lies squarely with me: I've let them get away with far too much, because my owners don't let me out the door quickly enough; the deck is too slippery; and society in general has created a situation that is not condusive to solving the problem.

So, yes, I am a little bit embarrassed when I slip past the deck steps, fall down the stairs, and splash onto the little stone pebbles beneath. I admit it's not the most elegant performance. And hearing the squirrels laugh...well, that's frankly uncalled for.

So I was thinking, what if I master a new art - the art of delegation? I thought that would be cool, because I assume you get your own throne and servants.

So I got a throne... one that will keep me from slipping around on the deck:

And I got a servant for patrolling the yard:

Scoche did pretty well. Her technique is admittedly more understated than mine. There was a quiet elegance in her style, resulting in an almost mythical stillness, a harmony of nature.

But you know, I kind of missed the excitement of the sliding and tumbling, the noise of the rocks and scurrying woodland creatures, the laughter, the applause, the Big Finish...

Which only goes to show, if you want something done right you gotta do it yourself!

Let me at 'em!!

The Second 4th of July

2007-07-05T18:00:00.000-04:00

Yesterday was the 4th of July here at our new home. I consider myself American, although I actually have dual citizenship: the USA and the Animal Kingdom. And this becomes a triple citizenship if you then consider the fact that there are two Americas.

For example, in one America you get to come and go as you please, playing with paint and shovels and dirt and all sorts of cool stuff. In my America you "celebrate" your "independence" by being confined to the backyard instead.

This wouldn't have been so bad, but I stuck there in America #2 with Scoche, who insisted on making a continual fuss about it. She tried to play dead to get the owners' attention, but - as they usually do when decisive action is required - they just thought it was an opportunity for a picture...

Before you get worried, though, you should know that we were eventually let inside...after the festivities. But then we were placed in solitary confinement! Well, not quite solitary - I was with Scoche, again - but binary confinement can be unfair too.

Later, the other America went off to a nice barbecue and, I assume, to see fireworks... while those of us in America #2 could only drink lukewarm water and listen to the fireworks.

But you know, as I think about it, not only are there two Americas -- there are two animal kingdoms! The dog park we've been going to lately is a confined, fenced area... and we're forced to wear our collar and leash when we venture outside this "gated community." Meanwhile, the squirrels run around wild and free. And don't think they don't rub it in.

So does this mean I have quadruple citizenship? Boy, politics can be confusing.

And I still haven't even told you about my imagi-nation yet. In that nation, I have a dream... a dream that one day we'll all be free...

Happy 4th of July ... from the rest of us!

Entrapment

2007-06-28T07:31:00.000-04:00

Everyone knows that whippets like to be above floor level. Give us a couch or bed any day, it sure beats laying on the floor like some common house pet.

If properly padded, even a couple beds like this will do the trick:

So imagine my surprise when this was introduced into the house:

What's the purpose of this? Am I supposed to jump into this and never come out again? Is this some kind of trap?

I know, you're probably thinking, "Smarty, that's not for you." I'm sure that's exactly what they would want me to believe. And yet, when I went to the owners' website I saw this con-trap-tion listed in a post entitled "Home Building for TBA."

Don't you get it? I'm TBA!! The Best Animal!

So now you're probably saying, "Smarty, you really shouldn't be reading your owners' blog. It's none of your business what sinister plots are being planned against you." Well, for starters, I don't read the blog... I just look at the pictures.

And speaking of pictures, the plot gets even worse! Perhaps you saw this picture on the owners' blog:

Well, I happen to remember that day... and look who was conveniently airbrushed out of the picture!!

Well, two can play at that game. I saw the picture of the new rug on the blog...

Now, with the help of a little technology, I'll just add a couple members of the family you apparently have overlooked....

Voila! Two can play at this game! Right, Scoche?

You've gotta get up pretty early in the morning to fool this whippet. In fact, speaking of getting up early, isn't it time for our walk?

Won't You Be My Neighbor?

2007-06-22T07:42:00.001-04:00

Strolling through the neighborhood to find furry friends is a favorite pastime here.

By the way, I define "pastime" as "cemented routine that we deserve and demand." For this reason, Scoche and I wake up promptly at 6am to beat the heat for this daily "meet and greet." We give the owner until 6:20 to wake up. After that, it's pastime indeed!

Once we wake him up, he stretches and flaps -- no, wait a minute, that's what we do. He just stretches...a little bit...somewhat unimpressive, actually. Then, after some of his delay tactics, takes us out for the aforementioned stroll.

There's always something worth seeing...

See what I mean?

Or not?

If you can't see what we see... you might need to get outside and take a look! In fact, you are welcome to join us, just show up at 6am any day of the week. If we're not outside by 6:20, feel free to knock on the door, ring the doorbell...really, whatever it takes. In fact, we'd appreciate it!

Three Wishes

2007-06-13T07:40:00.000-04:00

I can relax now. I finally got three things I've always wanted.

The owners have been talking for a little while now about "the baby's room" -- which I could only assume meant my room, since I'm the youngest and cutest resident here. Though I admit I had trouble figuring out which room they meant, the kitchen or the master bedroom. It turns out they were actually talking about my sun room, which they call the backyard.

The first thing I got that I always wanted was a sign for my room:

I've always wanted one of those!

The next thing I've always wanted was delivery service. You know, breakfast (and lunch and dinner) in bed. Well, that wish was granted too. Look what was sent right to my yard:

The delivery schedule is a little odd. They tend to deliver when I'm inside, and currently my "doggie door" - what a demeaning term - is a large sheet of glass. They call it a "sliding glass door" because when you run outside, you slide across the deck. Needless to say, I spend a lot of time outside, waiting for the next delivery.

And the third wish fulfilled...

My own swingset! This was on my Christmas list last year, but I got some other cool stuff instead (see my January 25 post for details).

But wouldn't you know it? They came out with a new swingset model after we arrived here. We saw it on one of our walks:

Well, I'll keep wishing. That's the funny thing about wishes. You never run out!

Reporting for Duty

2007-06-07T06:53:00.000-04:00

Sorry I haven't been able to write as much lately, but we've been very busy. After a long crate ride, we made it to Virginia once again. For this vacation, the owners brought a lot of their stuff! I guess they were tired of going back and forth for so many things. You'd think that if they wanted to bring this much stuff with them they'd just move here. But hey, what do I know, I'm just the whippet.

In any case, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but someone seemed to drive away with the truck that they brought everything in! They gave the guy some money, apparently to run and get some lunch or beach gear, and he just got in the truck and off he went! I have no idea how they're going to get all this stuff back to New Jersey, but I for one can't spare any of my crate space. While the crate may be an example of "modest elegance," truth be told it's not really the most spacious way to travel... though from what I hear it offers more leg room than your average airline.

So anyway, we've all been kept busy. We can't visit the beach until we get all our stuff put away, so we've all had to pull our weight in the unpacking process. Since I only weigh about 30 pounds, I figured I've done my share, but still no beach. (FYI, I still haven't found my surfboard - Lucy, did I leave that with you??)

So the way I've kept busy is by patrolling the back yard...

I keep a close eye out for predators. I've actually seen quite a few squirrels, which assures me that my work is not in vain. Maintaining security is a tiring job, as you can tell from this next picture...

Yes, that's Scoche for you - laying down on the job!

What's tiring about the job is actually the reporting process. Every time I see something of note, I rush back inside to tell the owners -- but, of course, I need them to let me in. Talk about bureaucratic red tape! And then every time they hear me sound a warning signal - for example, a bark or a low guttural whine - they have to come to the door and shout at the perpetrators. I'm not sure they've figured out who the perpetrators are, because they usually direct their messages at me and expect me to handle things from there.

So as you can tell, this is less of a vacation and more like a new job. But hopefully we'll get to the beach soon!

Power of the Pout

2007-05-29T14:25:00.000-04:00

Scoche recently convinced me about the power of the pout. She had told me of this unique ability before, but I was skeptical. Pouting didn't seem to match my carefree persona, and its power seemed but a legend that only the older whippets believed anymore. But it turns out that the power is real! And it's potent stuff.

For example, I used to go outside now and then... But Scoche told me put my best paw forward and pout it out - and sure enough, pouring on the pout got me outside much more quickly. Fortunately it's been sunny because the one thing pouting doesn't seem to do is get me back inside... but I'm still a novice. Pouting also gained me bonus affection time last night, and today pouting was the pathway to a nice long walk!

I guess I should've listened to mom sooner. Truth be told, I actually only stumbled across this though... One day I was trying to see if I could touch my tail with my ears (don't ask why, it just seemed like something I should be able to do) and I strained my eyebrow muscles. Just then, one of the owners ran over and immediately began consoling and loving on me.

I found this very interesting indeed.

Now, I'm not going to be one of those whippets that goes pouting about the house all the time. No, this is just one more tool in the Smarty toolkit. Or perhaps I should say one more warhead in the Smarty arsenal!

In fact, it's best not to use this "nuclear option" too often. Why, just the other day I mentioned moving to Virginia -- remember that? And suddenly, today, everything's being boxed up! Meanwhile I'm boxed in -- the backyard, that is. I've actually had to make this post with my blackberry (raspberry? crunchberry? I forget what these things are called) while I peer in the window and watch the man box up the-- HEY! That's my food bowl!

Well, I better go, I've clearly got some pouting to do to remedy this situation. But if we're really on our way to Virginia, I have to say, pouting is powerful indeed. Maybe too powerful. Am I ready for the responsibility that pouting brings with it?

I think I'm about to find out!

Ponderings

2007-05-24T21:35:00.000-04:00

Lately I've been chewing over some thoughts.

Maybe it's time for a change... maybe it's time for a new adventure. So I started thinking, if I could live anywhere in the world where would it be?

At first I thought, perhaps a chalet in the Alps. I seem to run best when it's a little cool outside, and I love to entertain. But then I realized, well, I actually only like to entertain -- because sometimes hosting others at my pad gets a little uncomfortable (as you can see, there really is only room for one).

So then I thought, my second choice would be Disneyland. That would seem like a very happy place to live. But I'm not sure there's much racing there, and I certainly wouldn't want to dress up in some animal costume.

My third choice would probably be Virginia. We visited there recently and it seemed like a friendly place. My fourth choice would be Petsmart, because it seems like there would be a lot of things to do there, and my fifth choice would be underwater.

Anyway, these are just things I've been thinking about.

Racing with the Stars

2007-05-20T06:56:00.000-04:00

Marlton, New Jersey.

I wanted to do some "live blogging" from the race so everyone could keep up with the action in real time, but they kept putting me into my crate without a computer and - here's the worst part - locking me in! I prefer if I'm going to be in a crate to have the freedom to come and go as I please. You know, get some chips and soda, watch one of the other races, maybe wander over to the little league games and chase a ball. It's too easy to fall asleep when you're stuck in those crates - they're so comfortable (if properly padded)! It's all I can do to keep focused for the next race.

Well anyway, it was quite a day. One of the things that had all the reporters abuzz was that Scoche came out of retirement to race!

I am actually only assuming there were reporters and that they were abuzz; as you now know, I was not allowed to enjoy my leisure time between races. You know what they say about "assuming" - it makes for good journalism!

This picture was from Scoche's second race. For the first race they honored her career with giving her the #1 racing blanket. She placed a respectable third in that race, so she got to wear the #3 blanket this time. I think that's how it works. At the next race she'll be wearing a #14 because she finished the day... oh, I forgot, she doesn't want me to tell you. She must not want to toot her own horn. She's so sophisticated!

Speaking of which, look at camp director George looking snappy in his Smarty Gear:

He was clearly dressed for success. However, to his disappointment, I didn't win the race... but his very own Lex did! So, big congratulations to George and Lex:

George was also deflecting praise, claiming that Lex did all the work. That's not true, though. As all whippets know, the humans do the work and the whippets just show up for a good time.

I know that's not the most flattering picture of me... Although I love to give affection, I get confused about where to put my legs for those "group hugs." So, I kinda blew it, but my intentions were good (as always).

I'm more of a one-on-one affection provider. Others are much better at the whole "group affection" thing, so I'm happy to let them show off their talents...

Like I said, they do the work. We just show up and have a great time!

Smart Shopper

2007-05-14T09:40:00.000-04:00

One way I remember I'm a girl is that I'm a smart shopper. But did you know that dogs aren't allowed in most grocery stores? I've often wondered why, but I think it's because the owners like to keep things a surprise for us... they like small surprises.

However, sometimes if you just act like you belong and don't make too much of a scene you can buy a few things real quick. It sometimes takes them a while to catch on that you're not human, especially if you're carrying one of those little baskets and have a coupon book.

So I bought my mom (Scoche) a card with an appropriate sentiment...

I only had moments to find her a good gift, but I was able to make off with these...

It's too bad dogs aren't allowed to shop more often. I consider myself a pretty intelligent shopper. Look at the size of these treats that I bought Scoche compared to what the owners buy:

Not even a competition!! Like I said, the owners like small surprises. I like big ones! And if dogs were allowed to shop more often, the economy would boom, trust me.

Now, I haven't started Sunday School yet (another place where you have to be careful about being "outed" as a whippet, though sometimes they're more lenient), but I understand there's a Bible verse that says something like "it's better to give than to receive." So I wonder if one could say it's even better still to give and receive? Because I certainly did both in this case.

Now, someone will need to explain this one to me: The female owner was also given a mother's day gift. But I didn't know that guy who takes me for walks is her son! He seems a little older than her, too... But you know, I have a lot to learn about the facts of life.

Fortunately, I have a good mom who can teach me! Even though sometimes she's a little embarrassed to discuss such things...

* * *

SPECIAL NOTICE: The "hound dog" award this month goes to Leslie G., who keeps hounding me to post new updates. Hey, being a whippet is not as easy as it looks! There's a lot to do each day... and then it's off to camp again...

Give 'Em An Inch...

2007-05-06T07:44:00.000-04:00

There are certain things in life that should never get smaller.

1. Breakfast portions.
2. Dinner portions.
3. Appliances used to store breakfast and dinner.
4. Number of cable cartoon and nature channels.
5. Number of windows and dog beds in any given house.

And, while I thought it was obvious, I guess I need to add this to the list:

6. The size of the yard!!

Here is - or was - our yard:

Nice, huh? But now look what they did:

This is not a good direction to go. You should make the yard bigger, not smaller!

So, this is me in our new "yard"... Notice that I'm not running, but eating (before those portions get reduced, too!) -- if I run, I bump into the fence after only a few strides.

Do you like that dog bed, though? Like I said, you can never get enough of them! Of course, they might try to start shrinking these too... that could get very uncomfortable.

So what is it with humans and fences? Don't they understand that when dogs run up to the fence it's not because they like the fence, it's because they want to get to the other side?

Let me out!!

Beachfront Property

2007-04-29T22:45:00.000-04:00

Imagine my surprise when I looked out the window one day last week to see that we had suddenly acquired a home on the water!

When I looked in the basement, I found out we not only had a view of the water but we had some of our very own to play in! I'm not allowed in the basement per se, so I wasn't able to make much use of our new little swimming area. Plus, my water wings were deflated... along with my hopes.

Until later in the week. After dropping Scoche off at the happiest place on earth, My owners took me on a surprise shopping trip for what appears to be a southern outpost we'll be purchasing! I overheard that this relates to the male owner's work... Since his main job is walking me, it makes sense that he'd be trying to find some nice new scenery for me.

When we arrived down south, we got a small room in a hotel. It was cozy. The owner said it was "dirt cheap" and that if you carefully analyzed both those words you'd have a full picture of this particular hotel... It was fine with me although my paws seemed to get muddy just from walking around inside.

This place did have some nice water nearby, though...

The water was a nice touch indeed, but the problem was that it was already occupied by some rather curious creatures.

I'm not sure exactly what genus or species these are, but I think they're known by locals as "teenage mutant ninja ducks." I considered fighting them for swimming rights, but again the problem with the water wings. No fair that they already have wings!

So next we check out this place:

This I like. I may not be able to swim, but I'm pretty sure I can surf! I surf the net all the time, and plus surfing is really, really cool so I can only assume I can do it no problem.

Plus, chicks really dig surfers.

Oh, wait a minute, I am a chick! (I always forget that... how embarrassing!)

Well, I'm back home now. But I look forward to another chance to check out the waves!

Team Smarty

2007-04-16T05:39:00.000-04:00

Saturday I had a chance to go racing. The picture above is me (I'm the shorter one), posing for the cameras before the commencement ceremonies.

Did you notice the new gear developed for our staff? Take a look:

That's just to make sure we all know what team we're on! Or, to be more accurate, to know who's boss!

And it's important to know who's boss, because you wouldn't guess it from the way the boss is sometimes treated!

Believe it or not, that's the way they try to get me warmed up for the races. What's up with that? Truth is, it's simply hard to find good help these days. Team Smarty may have nice uniforms, but they can be a little forgetful... or maybe it's just that they like to socialize more than work... Either way, they were not doing their job and taking me to the boxes!

At least not on my time table.

Prior to this photo I was expressing myself loudly and clearly, but to no avail. So I decided to ignore them, play it cool, use a little reverse psychology, hoping this might coax them back to work.

And it seemed to work, because once I was quiet they seemed a bit more willing to get down to business. I think it's because they thought they broke my will!

Well, they learned soon enough that my will was strong as ever. I was able to start barking out orders once again:

You have to understand, we were a little behind schedule by this point. My clear instruction had been to let me out of my crate immediately upon arrival. I cannot put up with so many delays!

It's hard to find good help these days.

Future Tense

2007-03-24T06:11:00.000-04:00

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

2007-03-19T07:15:00.000-04:00

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

2007-03-15T07:45:00.000-04:00

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!

2007-03-12T07:43:00.001-04:00

"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!

2007-03-01T22:58:00.000-05:00

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!

It's All Coming Back to Me Now

2007-02-24T06:18:00.000-05:00

It takes a while to receive mail in New Jersey. Look what I finally received, sent by my good friends from Indiana... Yet another product that has my name written all over it!

Now, it's not their fault that these treats arrived so late. Nor is it the Post Office's fault. It's the way the mail is distributed here at the house... piecemeal, shall we say.

I think these delicious treats might have been retained in the Dead Letter Office for some sort of religious reason. But I finally convinced my owner that I only eat the treats, I never read the box.

Speaking of reading the box, did you notice that it clearly states on the bottom that these are "training or anytime treats"? This means they should be given either during training or anytime - whichever comes first! Well, I've been receiving them any old time the owner feels like it... but the box doesn't say "any old time" it says "anytime" and in dog language there's a big difference. And at this point, I will be old by the time I finish off this box!

And look at what it says on the side of the box. "Give Smarty treats" -- well, I agree with that!!

It also says "reward and reinforce your dogs good behavior." Well, clearly this should read dog's, not dogs, as the grammar police who read this site will be quick to agree. This is especially important because I am the dog. If you make it plural, which is grammatical implausible, these will just be given willy nilly to any pet who happens to be nearby. We can't have that. The word is possessive...just like me.

I'm not saying I won't share... But it sounds like the "higher powers that be" are happy with my current level of sharing, otherwise they wouldn't describe me as having "good behavior." Thanks for noticing! (Speaking of grammar, who is the genius that came up with the phrase "powers that be"??)

But here's the really interesting thing about these treats. If you read the fine print (and I always do), you'll see that it says that these treats will improve my memory! Look near the bottom:

I have to admit, it's true. In fact, just the other day--

Whoa, there goes one of those memories now!

Watch out, here come some more...

Sorry for these interruptions.

It's actually getting a little hard to get through the day because these memories keep flooding my system. And it makes me wonder, could this be the reason my owner doesn't want me to have these treats? Is there something he doesn't want me to remember?

Hmm, maybe that's the reason these treats are considered forbidden fruit!

I'll get to the bottom of this yet... although I have to admit, so far the memories are fairly pleasant.

Do Not Disturb

2007-02-14T20:05:00.000-05:00

Last night my sleep was disturbed.

Don't get me wrong, I am happy to have my sleep disturbed for any of the following reasons:
1. Breakfast
2. Dinner
3. Snack
4. Yahtzee or Super Yahtzee
5. Racing
6. Woody Woodpecker Show
7. Road Trip

However, last night I was disturbed by dreams.

In my dream, there were dogs of all different breeds... and there were humans of all kinds too. In fact, there were more humans than dogs. And at first I thought it was some kind of canine appreciate day, or (even better) a race.

But no.

In my dream, the closer you got to the dogs the more unusual it became.

First, I noticed they were all on leashes... indoors! They weren't being taken outside for walks or anything, they were just stuck in a ring...marching around in circles. It seemed utterly humiliating.

I'm surprised I didn't wake up in a cold sweat right then, although whippets don't really sweat (we certainly would never let you see us do it!).

Then in my dream, I was able to get closer... as if a TV camera zoomed in... and I noticed that they were not only enduring this cruel hoax, but had been subjected to excessive bathing! Their coats were unnaturally silky and shiny from this...this...bullying! And there was nothing they could do about it because the humans had taken away all their muscle tone... and worse, had broken their will.

And then - I shudder to even think about it - there was a bad man in the dream who was just laughing at them, and poking them, and making sure that they did not have too much muscle tone on their body.

And in the dream one of them said to me, "Help me, Smarty, help me... take me racing, Smarty... Smarteeeeee!"

And then I woke up with a yelp. I flapped myself back to my senses and found Scoche... She was still "sacked out."

Good.

Sleep, Scoche, sleep... we'll never that happen to you.

Just don't let it happen to me, either!

Laid Off

2007-02-09T07:52:00.000-05:00

The other day I saw a show on Animal Planet about "working dogs." They even had a whippet on the program. His name was "Bill" and his job was...racing!

Whoa, wait a minute... Isn't that my job?

But I think there's been a mix-up, because I haven't been taken to the races in a while. In fact, my new job seems to be laying around. That's what I'm told to do these days...

I can only surmise that this must be Bill's job, and they've got the two of us confused. Let this Bill character do the laying, I need to be outside running! That's my job!

It's what I do.

Perhaps I'm hurting myself though. You see, with nothing else to do with my time I've tried to perfect the art of lounging about. I've learned this pose:

And then I saw Scoche do this one:

So I perfected it:

No offense, mom, it's just that the younger generation is always more stylish... plus I have all this time on my paws now.

But perhaps now they think I'm better at laying than running and now I'm trapped. I've been typecast!

But I don't want to be typecast, I'd much rather be stereotyped. You see, to be stereotyped means (I assume) to do two things at once. That's why it's called stereo-type. And I definitely want to live in stereo, doing two things: running and laying.

And in that order.

What will that give this Bill character to do, though? Eating? Walking? No, no, I can handle those too... Well, I'm sure we can find something for him to do, perhaps going to the vet or fetching newspapers. (Now that's a stereotype I'm not into. I'll happily download the news but I'm not one to go fetch it while Scoche gobbles up my breakfast.)

So somebody please issue a new work schedule, turn the temperature up outside, and let's get to the boxes. I've got work to do!

You Can Only Make Me Stronger

2007-02-03T11:50:00.000-05:00

My owner is a weatherman.

In anticipation of impending snow and rain, he took me and Scoche out running in the wild. Actually, it wasn't too wild... it was a well-planned reservation with trails and bridges and well placed trees, the animal kingdom's version of the suburbs.

Anyway, we went running. Here's an impressionist painting of me running through the 'burbs:

If you stare at it long enough you can see the whippet. And the whippet is me!

What impressed me was that immediately after our run through the woods, the snow came. You could not have timed it better. Thus, the conclusion that my owner has an inside scoop on the weather patterns.

But the problem is that he's using this insider information to try to manipulate the system...to get out of his responsibilities! You see, he thought that by taking us out for a run just before the snowstorm would leave us so exhausted that we would sleep away our Saturday.

Excuse me, but it doesn't work that way.

Imagine his surprise when I followed him out of the bedroom at 5am! But you really should've seen the look on his face when Scoche walked out of the bedroom ready for an early breakfast! That's when he knew for sure his little plan failed. I tried to capture his expression on camera but this is all I got:

You can fool some of the animals some of the time, but you can't fool whippets any of the time.

You can't wear us out. You can only make us stronger.

Which is to say, put on your boots - we're ready for another walk!

Fashion Week: Dress Smart!

2007-01-30T22:31:00.000-05:00

Fashion week is here!

I provide this week as a service to humans everywhere. As everyone knows, or at least everyone in the animal kingdom, humans dress very poorly. In an attempt to look like animals, humans do some outrageous things... For example, they try to look like animals:

Ummmm... you're not fooling me...

Though at least that's better than trying to dress animals up like humans:

Ummm... yeah.

Well, thanks to my owner's good friends at One Horse Shy, we now have a corrective to pervasive fashion senselessness seen among humans.

Introducing: Smarty Wear!

Now this is an opportunity to celebrate the animals you love without being ridiculous.

You can see some other samples over at this Cafe Press site. The shirt was originally created as a Christmas gift, but they kept multiplying on their own... Apparently they're a big hit with the younger generation, since they are "classy, yet modest."

Christmas Strikes Again

2007-01-25T06:41:00.000-05:00

I returned from Camp George this past weekend. As always, I was tired from all the activities and relentless schedule. I was looking forward to a bath and a chance to read the new comic books George gave me. Wait a minute, did I remember to ask him for those?

Well, speaking of free stuff, it turns out that Christmas came again while I was away. I came home to find that Lucy's agent had sent me and Scoche some great stuff!

Lucy, I would like to show you a picture of the nice wrapping job she had done... but unfortunately, I wasn't here to open my own gifts!! I mean, c'mon, it's not like I went on a mission to Mars (though I am curious about Camp George's "Canine Cosmonaut Camp")... I could have at least been allowed to watch my present be opened by someone else on the webcam.

The mystery is, of course, exactly who opened my gift...and whether they took a share of it for themselves.

Did the butler do it?

Well, if a butler can be a woman (and who says they can't?), the answer might be yes! You see, while I was away, Scoche had one of her friends over. They have all sorts of private jokes between them... Naturally, I was a bit suspicious.

But I warmed up to her... In fact, a little too warm if you ask me.

But I must admit, these are some attractive coats. (You can click the pictures to enlarge them.) I like the little whippet pictures on mine, although whoever created these doesn't realize that whippets have only two ears. I guess not everyone has quite the eye for fashion that I do... which is why I am declaring next week Fashion Week at Smarty Spot (don't miss it!).

Well anyway, Merry Christmas...again!

Postcard from Camp George

2007-01-14T18:04:00.000-05:00

Dear Scoche,

Greetings from Camp George! As always, it’s been a great time!

I must say, though, it’s been different than I expected. The brochure for the winter session promised snowball fights, hot chocolate, sledding, and building a snow fort.

However, the snow machine apparently isn’t working at Camp George so we had to make do with our normal summer activities: running around like hooligans, drinking water from a communal bowl, and eating pizza.

I also had fun playing Scrabble. I was unofficially on George’s team. Have you ever played this game? It’s very fun. You get points for making the best words.

I noticed that George was only five letters away from having the word “whippet.” This word would use all seven letters and get 50 bonus points! So as you can see, whippet is one of the best words (it’s a very dog-friendly game). Unfortunately, I was caught on camera whispering this to George which is, according to straight laced follow-the-rule types, “cheating.”

I don’t call it cheating, though, I call it helping which is also a 7-letter word worth 50 bonus points. Then you can add a w to the front and make “whelping”! (Speaking of which, mom, you still you haven’t told me where puppies come from – and you promised you would when I was old enough!)

I proposed another strategy later in the night. I told George that if he would just wait until he had the letters s, m, a, r, t, y, s he could spell “Smarty Spot” as soon as someone else put down the word pot. (See? You just add smartys to pot!) Who knows how many points that would be worth! Probably a billion! But, unfortunately, George didn’t take me seriously even though I argued my case...for a while...

Apparently he’s not patient enough to adopt my winning strategy. He was just lucky I didn't offer my talents to his friends who were playing against him. But, even though we have our disagreements, George and I are actually pretty good friends.

Well, anyway, I need to get going now. The other dogs are starting a game of Life and they want my help… but I'm not sure I can give much help with this game until we have that little talk…

Make sure you don’t eat my food! When in doubt, save some for me!

Bye for now!

Your daughter,
Smarty

Take This Game and Chuck It

2007-01-05T22:08:00.000-05:00

I will bring the “Chuck It” ball back after it is thrown.
I will bring the “Chuck It” ball back after it is thrown.
I will bring the “Chuck It” ball back after it is thrown.
I will bring the “Chuck It” ball back after it is thrown.

Oh, pardon me, you’re probably wondering why I’m writing this. My master (make that “taskmaster”) is making me write this sentence 25 times as a punishment. You see, we were playing "Chuck It" yesterday and instead of bringing the ball back I, well, you know, got a little distracted by all the delicacies out there in the field.

I will bring the “Chuck It” ball back after it is thrown. I will bring the “Chuck It” ball back after it is thrown. I will bring the “Chuck It” ball back after it is thrown. I will bring the “Chuck It” ball back after it is thrown. I will bring the “Chuck It” ball back after it is thrown. I will bring the “Chuck It” ball back after it is thrown. I will bring the “Chuck It” ball back after it is thrown.

Hey, that’s pretty easy when you just use the “cut and paste” feature!

It’s even easier if you abbreviate it: I. w. b. t. “c. i.” b. b. a. i. i. t.

I. w. b. t. “c. i.” b. b. a. i. i. t.
I. w. b. t. “c. i.” b. b. a. i. i. t.
I. w. b. t. “c. i.” b. b. a. i. i. t.
I. w. b. t. “c. i.” b. b. a. i. i. t.
Etc., etc.

Good enough. All done!

Now, let me say this in my defense…

The game is called “Chuck It.” So it seems that the onus is on the owner to "chuck" the ball, and really whatever happens from there is fair game. How was I to know that a flying ball implied some sort of elaborate social contract between owner and pet??

It seems my owner was confusing this activity with “Fetch,” a game played by a previous, less liberated generation of animal companions.

But I'm liberated...

... as long as I'm loved!

So please forgive me. I will bring the "chuck it" ball back after it is thrown!

Smarty in High Resolution

2007-01-01T09:41:00.000-05:00

Since I didn't get to go to the practice in Delaware yesterday (ahem), I had time to draft my New Year's Resolutions. Here they are, in order of achievability:

As always, I want (1) a more steady diet. Eating once in the morning and once at night, with some grass nibbling in the afternoon, doesn't work for me. The humans eat far more often than I do - in fact, I am planning an entire expose on this injustice. Which leads to my next resolution...

Imagine my disappointment when I turn on Animal Planet and see nothing but meerkats. And then when they have a "dog show" I see oddities like this:

"Animal Cops" is a great title for a show, but the cops aren't animals!! They're played by humans instead. The poor dogs on the show hardly look like the best Hollywood has to offer, and in my opinion they come off looking like victims. So then I turn on a show that sounds really good: "Dog the Bounty Hunter." But there's no dog, only a very hairy human (or two). I mean, are there not enough dogs in the world to star in these shows?

So my next resolution is to (2) start my own TV show! I haven't decided whether to pitch it to the networks or to Nickelodeon, but if the humans let me I might even try HBO. Working title: "Dog the Bunny Hunter!"

This show will require some better branding, which means that I need to (3) start my own line of sportswear: Smarty Gear. My main plan for advertising is to get my logo on a Nascar, and also have toys that will be placed in McDonald's Happy Meals or Captain Crunch cereal.

Which reminds me of my final resolution: I want to win a few more races so that I can (4) appear on a box of Wheaties. That is, if I don't roll out my own cereal brand first: Smarty Pops!

Happy New Years!

House Hunters

2006-12-27T10:34:00.001-05:00

Housing costs in New Jersey must be very, very low.

As I reported earlier in the month, I discovered that my female owner has a whole different house she lives in during the weekdays. Then, I slipped into the back seat of the male owner's car and followed him one day... and guess what? He has a second big house of his own, too! It's quite large, with a big bonus room for entertaining guests on Sundays.

He has another collection of books there, too. Doesn't he have enough here? It takes me long enough to color through one book, let alone 50 or 100. On the other hand, pop-up books don't take as long to read - although in that case, I usually try to read through them more than once. So I don't know what he needs all these books for, it seems that his life isn't so complex: make some coffee in the morning, read email, take me for a walk... it's not rocket science.

But here's a question: With housing costs obviously so low, why can't this family pictured below do a little better? As it is, they have constructed a little rickety home in our front yard:

Here are my theories... First, it looks like they have a lot of animals. If they feed raw, it might be that this has to be deducted from their housing budget. Also, all those animals would seem to incur some cleaning costs. Cleaning costs must be quite high in New Jersey because the male owner's "other" home office was a wreck... and I'm sure that if he had the choice he would like someone to tidy things up.

I'm not sure if the angel is very expensive or not, since I haven't studied up on the supply and demand. But I've heard that everyone gets at least one for free. I guess it depends if it's a Guardian Angel or not. Perhaps certain exotic breeds are more pricey; I'll have to check that out on Amazon.

It looks like there's a new baby in this family... now, that might deduct from the housing budget. But I've heard rumor about this baby that no crying he makes, so he can't be too hard to care for. Plus, it looks like he received some pretty nice gifts.

In any case, I'm wondering if we should invite them in...

Merry Christmas!

Asleep at the Wheel

2006-12-24T06:39:00.000-05:00

Snow or no snow, winter is here! I didn't quite realize what this would mean for my little bear cub body, which has suddenly started "hibernation mode." This means I have been sleeping far more than normal...even for me!

I try to make it over the computer... but then I pass by my nice warm bed... and I just can't resist.

Is there such a thing as sleep addiction? Well, don't both answering that, because I don't want intervention yet!

However, I've been on the investigative trail and I do have some adventures to report. If you'll just allow me one more nap, I'll be back soon!

- Smarty

Take Your Whippet to Work Day

2006-12-14T06:56:00.000-05:00

Did I ever tell you about my visit to my owner's "workplace"?

I always assumed that if she left me at home all alone all day - well, with Scoche (sorry) - she must be doing something very important that she can't do here. Fighting fires was my first guess, working as a double agent to break up covert criminal cells was my second.

Well, it turns out that she works from home! Only not from our home! Here's her building:

I'm not expecting any fire engines to come roaring out of that door. It's a house!

Well, that didn't quite rule out the covert operation theory. But then we actually got to go inside - and look at what I saw, to my complete astonishment:

She's in an office on a computer!!

What's odd about that, you ask? That's what she does here! In fact, she was even on the same websites.

This doesn't make any sense. Why would she leave me all alone all day only to go off to another house with another computer? I've always been of the understanding that the world revolves around me. I don't think this is a pride issue, it's just a matter of simple observation. But this part doesn't fit.

But if the world doesn't revolve around me...

No, that just can't be it. Too many other things fit that pattern, so why abandon a perfectly reasonable worldview over one little doubtful discovery? Hmm... Maybe this is what the owners mean by "faith."

Either way, I'll get to the bottom of this mystery, just you wait!

Not So Cool

2006-12-11T10:09:00.000-05:00

Let's pretend this last week didn't happen.

But if you want the details, read on...

* * *

Some very tasty things come out of the kitchen freezer. When that door opens and I feel the cool air, my taste buds get ready. A long thawing process usually preceed the meal, but my taste buds remain alert the whole time just in case. They are not called buds for no reason!

Recently, however, my taste buds have registered some confusion. When I go outside, I feel the same cool air usually reserved for the freezer - in fact, last week it was even colder outside than it was inside the freezer! When this happens my taste buds kick into high gear, but eventually realize no food is thawing and abruptly shut down again. I'm very concerned that this may cause permanent confusion.

More confusing still is the cold shoulder I received when the female owner took off on a little vacation with mom (Scoche). They left me "with" the male owner. Now, I put the word "with" in quotes because most people define the word this way:

"With. Preposition. Accompanied by, accompanying."

Mr. male owner apparently defines it this way:

"With. Preposition. Occasionally visit. Stop by once in a while to soothe one's conscience."

Okay, I admit, he was very nice when he was around. I think the little treats were his way of soothing his own conscience, though I was happy to serve in this way. But overall he seemed to be on the go a lot, leaving me alone with the TV, internet, and some coloring books I've been trying to finish up.

But I wonder why the female owner didn't take me with her. She took Scoche! This was so distressing to me that I could hardly concentrate on my coloring books' plot lines and main characters. More than once I found I needed to go back and reread something I had already colored.

I'm sure they had a great time together. I heard there was a race this weekend, so at first I figured they went there without me - which is too painful to even imagine. But then I remembered that last time the female owner went away she went to sunny California. So I realized that while I was alternating between being bored indoors and freezing outdoors, she and mom were hitting the beaches, having a great old time!

I even found this picture on the camera.

Scoche came home with her foot wrapped up. Racing injury? More likely a surfing or water skiing injury!

They tried to make this up to me by taking me "with" them yesterday. Again, notice the quotation marks. This time "with" apparently meant "to leave in the car while visiting the nice family with the cute little girl."

But the worst part was what they made me wear:

Can you believe this? I'd be happy to wear something cool like a racing blanket, a nice new collar, or even a cape. Even a simple bow would be festive, yet tasteful. But what kind of mockery was this meant to be? I am not a clown, I am a sophisticated racedog! Though if you are trying to make me run off and join the circus this is pretty strong motivation!

All will be forgiven on one condition: Next time I get to go windsurfing.

No more clowning around!

Lefty Behind

2006-12-04T20:18:00.000-05:00

I've had so many good playmates this past year. One of them was the little red pup pictured below.

His name is Lefty and it turns out that he's my half brother. That's pretty cool because I never had a brother before, so even a half is greatly appreciated.

Now you may wonder, "What's a half brother?"

I wonder that too. At first I thought it referred to his size. But then I realized I have another half brother who lives in Atlantic City. So maybe somehow you put the them together and it makes a whole brother?

Oh, brother.

Well, anyway, what I really wonder about it where all these half brothers and whole sisters go when they leave here. Who (or half who) would want to leave here? We have food, a backyard, a nice freezer full of food, mom is here (even if a little aloof), a computer, food service, squirrel sightings, breakfast and dinner...

Of course, I know what Lucy is doing -- she's training for the olympics:

But what about Lefty? Where did he go?

Well, it turns out he graduated! Isn't that exciting? This is him... he's the one just left of center, the little guy (hmm, maybe that is what half brother refers to after all).

So now I predict the next question is "graduated from what?"

That's another tough question... In fact, when Ifirst saw the picture I thought it was Lefty with his stuffed toy collection. I knew it didn't quite make sense with all those humans dispersed through the photo, but that one to the far right really threw me off.

So I kept wondering, where did Lefty graduate from and who are all those strange looking creatures with him?

Then I was watching TV and saw a documentary called "Star Wars." It's all about these Jedi Knights from all different planets. And I thought, by looks of it, maybe Lefty became a Jedi. It would kind of fit his personality... he was always kind of thoughtful, wise... but most of all, it would explain all those funny creatures who graduated with him.

Congratulations, Lefty!

And remember, with great power comes great responsibility! Wait, that's from another movie... Well, use your force wisely!

Pictures for Louise

2006-11-27T08:42:00.001-05:00

Hi, Louise! I see my owners have rented out space on my blog. Who knows what they'll do next, rent out my room? Make me share my bed? Or my food? Life is a constant struggle with those two.

Well, enjoy the pictures!

- Smarty

Note from "the owner": Click on the picture so it expands to full size (which is pretty big), and then right click to save onto your own computer. We'll keep this post up for a week or so. Let us know if you have any trouble.

One Track Mind

2006-11-27T06:52:00.000-05:00

Continuing the numbers game... Let me share with you a little secret. Probably the most important key to success, as I see it, is to have one track mind.

This is certainly important on, well, the track. The idea is "full speed ahead," not "some speed in several directions."

But having a one track mind relates to all aspects of life.

If you want dinner, that needs to be the one thing you focus on, completely and totally. Don't think about racing, walking, playing, or sleeping. Believe me, owners know the difference between a whippet that really wants to eat and a whippet that can wait. And wait you will, unless you have a one track mind.

Now, I am not saying you should be impatient. When I am ready to eat, I do indeed wait. I wait for about ten more seconds until I am consumed by a passion to eat. Only at that point do I then make my intentions known to my owner.

At that point, I make it my only aim to obtain my meal. My owners know I mean business when I come to them with my dinner whine. It used to be that I would allow my whine to start from my back toes and run up my legs, across my back, and then out my mouth - this was one way to give it my all. But I realized even this wasn't enough. So now I have found a way to insure that I whine with my entire being. My whine is now more like an aura all around me, radiating from my innermost being out into the room all around me. Dinner usually follows shortly thereafter.

Let me give one more example: sleeping.

Dogs have received a bad rap with this whole "sleeping with one eye open" legend. What's that all about? We're supposed to get rest by an indecisive sleeping method, just because Lassie did it? Look, if the locks on the doors aren't good enough to keep out the invading marauders, we'll deal with them soon enough. But trust me, sleep deprivation is not good preparation for fending off villains... villains in the neighborhood or Villains on the track, for that matter!

So when you sleep, put your all into it! Don't live one of the best halves of your life "half asleep," sleep with all your heart. What I do is close my eyes as tightly as possible, curl into a tight ball on the dog bed, and cover my ears with my front legs as best I can. No one's going to mistake my power nap for a tummy rub request.

I don't think there is anything that defines my personality and beliefs more that the secret I have shared with you today. But if you are reading this and thinking, "I will keep these things in mind," you haven't yet learned what I am trying to teach you. Don't keep "these things" in mind, keep one thing in mind - in your one track mind!

Now go take on the day.

Two Smart For My Own Good?

2006-11-19T16:40:00.000-05:00

Yesterday was a race day! I got to do everything I enjoy: run, compete, attack the bunny, wear a racing blanket, and cross that finish line. This time someone kept crossing the finish line before me, even though I tried assured him I knew the way all by myself and didn't need a "tour guide." Oh well, he seemed to really want to show the way, so I tried to be a good sport, slow down, and let him by. (Congratulations, Odie!)

I heard something afterward about being "number two." I tried to think about what this meant… And I think I figured it out.

First of all, it was a little two wet outside.

Also, in one of the first races I tried a little two hard to get out of the box… or maybe it opened a little two late! See my scar? I think it’s kinda cool. It might help me cultivate a new “bad dog” image. Or maybe I'll write some blues songs now that I've paid my dues!

I also hurt my foot and had to put it intwo a bucket of ice. Whoa, don’t you think that’s a little two cold??

Don't worry, though, I'm getting better. I just need two rest.

But don't count me out! As "number two," I demand a second chance!

Multiple Choice

2006-11-14T22:21:00.000-05:00

Yes, there is an elephant in the room. And I'm not talking politics.

An "elephant in the room" is something important that people are unwilling to talk about. Of course, now I'm talking about the elephant which seems contradictory... This is why English is, again, so confusing. So much simpler to give a couple barks and a low guttural moan. A whippet is never afraid to bark her mind.

So anyway, just what is the elephant in the room? Take a guess. For the following pictures from Saturday's "race meet," you choose the the answer that is most appropriate for the picture in question.

The above picture shows:

A) Me, with two of my half siblings
B) Me, wearing my mom's new collar
C) A relaxing autumn day
D) Me, not racing.

The correct answer is D. Remember, I said which answer is most accurate. And the most glaring detail in this picture is that, while I'm at a "race meet," it looks about as exciting as a "business meeting."

Try again:

This picture shows:

A) Me stretching
B) Not me, but Gilley stretching
C) A relaxing autumn day
D) Not me, not racing

Yes, the correct answer is D again. The most important part of this picture is in the background: A van with a whippet cooped up inside, caged like a common criminal although you would think she would be out there racing with all her friends. Had I been able to reach my cell phone, I would have called Animal Cops.

So as you can see, I spent the whole day:

A) Racing
B) Not racing
C) Not racing and getting very upset about it
D) Not racing and getting very, very upset about it

The correct answer is not D this time. No, the correct answer is more like Y or Z.

I shouldn't say I didn't get to run at all. I did get one chance to go to the boxes, but I could tell it wasn't for real. There were no cheering fans. No crowds gathered at the finished line. No reporters with all their questions after the big run. No prizes or ribbons. No theme music. No linament. (I know a couple or a few of these things are just in my imagination, but I love racing so much it's hard to tell the difference... especially when I haven't had a chance to race in so long!)

You can call it running, but you can't call it racing.

So now what? What do you think I should do?

A) Go on strike: stop all household chores immediately until given a chance to really race
B) Channel frustration into art: use this time to write complaintive country music
C) Co-opt "new media": use cyberspace to get out my message, bringing public pressure on my owners to get me to the race I need and deserve
D) Binge: have an extra big meal, sleep hard, and hope for better luck next time

The correct answer is...

D... Food heals all wounds, as they say. And I'm willing to give my owner another chance. Now it's just a matter of getting her to serve up that extra big meal.

How about that elephant? Mmmm...

Friday Night Reflections

2006-11-11T07:33:00.000-05:00

Well, there hasn’t been a race meet yet in spite of all the hoopla earlier this week. Instead, all we did was sit around and watch the people on TV talk about “the races around the country.” All talk, no action…

I guess it’s important to watch TV though. We’ll be doing plenty of that in the winter I assume, and so it’s good to start practicing. After all, if something is worth doing it’s worth doing right.

And everything you do right takes practice. Consider:

Racing takes practice, obviously. Training your owners takes practice – well, at least to train the female owner. She does not learn quickly, she always has her own way of doing things. The male owner learns fast, though – in fact, I have to be careful that I don’t bend him to my will too quickly. I want him to think that he’s in charge, since he seems to operate best under those conditions.

Now, what was I talking about again? Oh, yes, practice.

Eating also takes practice, if you’re going to do it right. You have to learn how to get your owner to feed you, how to get to the bowl swiftly, how to eat your meal in the fewest bites (the most talented don’t need to chew at all), and of course how to keep the bowl from sliding across the tile floor (hint: it’s all in the wrist).

That last point is pretty important. Early on, I felt like I was playing bumper cars with my bowl, or perhaps hockey. The bowl would glide across the floor and smack into mom’s bowl. While this is fun, it puts your food in jeopardy of being shared. You don’t put that much work into mealtime only to give your food away! This is America, not some communist state! Okay, okay, I have to calm down. I’m sorry, I’m worked up about these things because of all those commentators on TV.

So back to my original point… Wait, what was my original point? Something about air hockey? Bumper cars? Communism?

Well, now I’ve done it. I’ve written myself into a corner. How in the world do those things relate?

Well, speaking of the world, look who showed up on The Wide World of Sports this week:

Way to go, Lucy! Now, that just goes to show that practice makes perfect.

Lucy has clearly learned one of the most important life lessons of all: traction. Even the TV people talk about candidates who have traction, and those who do not. Any candidate for the whippet nationals will need traction, too.

But traction is important in all areas of life. Take a look:

There is no way I’m going to lose that tug of war. Why? Traction.

How can you spring into action at breakfast time if you don’t have traction? You’ll slide across the wood floor like an idiot while your breakfast gets served to those with firmer footing. Mom knows what I’m talking about:

There really isn’t enough traction to go around, as you can see. Like I said, this is America.

Okay, so what was I talking about again? Politics? Tractors? I seem to have forgotten again…

You know, I’m sorry, but obviously my mind isn’t focused enough to write this post.

I think I’ve been watching too much TV!

Camp George

2006-11-06T21:08:00.000-05:00

I’m back!

And what a week it was at Camp George! I had the privilege of spending one on one time with the director of the camp, George Allen. No, not that George Allen:

This George Allen:

We played Nintendo together, made S’mores, listened to country music, and cooked shish kebobs! I can’t wait to go back. For now, I’m just resting back at home, doing a little channel surfing…

And it’s important that I get that rest, too, because there’s apparently a big race coming up.

Now, no one has gone out of their way to inform me about the race (ahem), but there are some tell tail signs.

First, when I’m channel surfing through the cable news stations, I keep hearing about races going on all over the nation. Apparently a lot of races are happening, and they’re “close.” So, lots of races nearby – now that sounds like fun!

Also, just before I left Camp George something intriguing happened. George and I were eating chocolate sundaes and playing Twister, and suddenly all the power went out. At first I thought it was a trick on George’s part, since I was winning. (Hint: it’s all in the tail.) He said he called the power company, but I didn’t hear him talk to anybody – and you would think that surely they would answer the phone in case of emergency.

Then I figured it out: Sometimes big sports events have “blackout dates.” This is something else I learned from channel surfing. So, this blackout was just another sign that a big event was coming soon – and what could be bigger than a multi-venue, no-holds-barred, championship national patriotic whippet straight race extravaganza?!

Now I’m getting very excited.

And I just heard on TV that George Allen is running! Wow. I hope he can do a little better at the races than he did at Twister. Does he realize that it really takes four legs to break out of the box properly? I let him use his hands in Twister, but even if they let him do that in the straight race – well, to be honest it might look a little silly. But I wouldn’t put anything past him. The TV says that he has quite a reputation in the South, so he must have done something right!

Well, I better go get some more rest. The big races are getting really close now – they may even be tomorrow, if I understand this Colbert fellow correctly. And they say a big turnout is expected, so I hope to…

See you at the races!

The Smart Way to Go

2006-10-31T13:21:00.000-05:00

If you're gonna go on vacation, you should do it right! And that's why I choose George's Retreat Center for all my vacation needs.

George's Retreat Center offers:
* Food (in convenient pre-packaged portions, plus little treats that my owner will never hear about)
* Fun
* Friends
* Exercise

And, of course...
* George! (You should meet him, he's nice.)

Not to mention great memories. I've been coming here since I was a kid!

So I'll be away for a few days, but please check back next week for further installments of Smarty Spot!

Sunday Moanin' and Where Has the Time Gone?

2006-10-29T08:50:00.000-05:00

Time is not on my side.

I woke up, as usual, at 7:00 am. As is my custom, I spent the next hour carefully monitoring the female owner’s sleep patterns and subtle movements. In my usual ways, I created an environment condusive to her waking up in time to feed me at 8:00 am.

Now, it’s important to know that this 8:00 feeding time was not my idea. I lobbied hard for a more reasonable time – or times – namely, 6:00 am (appetizer), 6:30 am (few pounds of raw food as a main course), and a third feeding at 6:45 am (dessert, something simple like a fudge brownie cake). So clearly this one little feeding at 8:00 am is not my first choice; it resulted from difficult negotiations and a lot of sacrifice on my part for the sake of this whippet-human relationship.

So anyway, this morning she refuses to get out of bed. I keep illustrating to her how to do it: jump off the bed, land on the floor, through the door, take the first right, slide across the wood floor to the double doors on the left, and there you are – in the kitchen.

But whenever I did this, she was not behind me. Did she fail to make that right turn? Did she slide too far and hit the dining room wall (I know this happens to novices sometimes)?
No.

She was just relaxing away, as if our heavily negotiated trust relationship meant nothing. Soon it was an unconscionable 8:30 am!

About the third time of running from bedroom to kitchen, I noticed something strange. The clock in the kitchen said 7:30 am.

I checked my inner clock. 8:30.

I checked the position of the sun. 8:30.

I checked my level of discontent. 8:30.

I checked the clock again. Still 7:30!

And by now, I am not having a good "time" – literally.

You know, after those horrible negotiating sessions a year ago, I used to monitor the clocks much more carefully. It’s not that I didn’t trust my nice owners, but I thought they might try to save money on food by slowly but surely making meals later and later – until one day you’ve crossed over into the next day.

Okay, now it’s 8:30… again… helloooo?

Well, it’s time to do what everyone else does these days: take the battle to the airwaves and the internet. So while I’m on hold with the local talk radio station, I invite you to take a look at this picture. Is this what you would want to see when you sit down to a meal?

Sure, it’s shiny. But there’s NO FOOD!! Isn't that the important part??

Okay, pardon me, the call screener is going to talk to me now…

What? “Daylight Savings Time”? C’mon, heaping adjectives in front of the word “time” doesn’t change the simple fact that it’s time for breakfast!

What is this, some kind of vast right wing conspiracy?

I guess I’ll call NPR next…

Only Human

2006-10-18T21:41:00.000-04:00

Last night I learned something the owners probably don’t want me to know: dogs are faster than humans!

I saw this on Animal Planet, on a show called "The Most Extreme." And let's just say the humans were not very extreme! Well, maybe extremely slow...

Not everyone knows this, but Animal Planet occasionally lets slip information like this in order to boost ratings among alert homebound pets. Also, there are moles that work at AP (literal ones!) that work to keep animals feeling empowered, encouraged, and ready for – well, I shouldn’t give everything away. Let’s just say it isn’t called Animal Planet for nothing. And let it be known that I’m very happy with my owners and don’t intend to take part in the more radical aspects of “Operation Unleashed.”

So anyway, it turns out that dogs are far more speedy than humans. They couldn’t catch us if they tried! Which explains why they don’t try.

This explains many things.

For example, it explains why they always refuse to race. Have you noticed that even though they walk down to the boxes with us, they never get in?

It also puts the leash in a new light. Whereas we’re led to believe that the leash is an expression of affection – “bound together for life” and all that – in reality they know they can only keep up with us if we do the pulling. They’re riding on our coattails, no pun intended.

If any humans are reading this I have a few suggestions.

First, change your diet. You need a healthy mix of tripe, fruit, and chicken blend. That processed stuff you eat – well, I wouldn’t eat it. Okay, I would, but not if I were in your shape (or lack thereof) (sorry, no pain no gain). And what is that you’re pouring milk into in the morning, some kind of sugary kibble? You should know better. Also, your salads look a little pale – just eat grass outside, it’s much more fresh and comes topped with mushrooms.

Second, you’re wearing far too many layers of clothing to the race meets. For speed, I suggest – well, let’s just say that I was “born to run” and I was also born in my “birthday suit.” A racing blanket is usually offered for modesty’s sake anyway.

And third, you’re really going to have to work on using all fours. We realize that you’re quite proud of being able to walk on your hind legs, but it’s getting a little old. If you want to impress the animal planet, you’re going to need a stride that will enable you to do 200 yards in 11 seconds.

Okay, now you’ve got no excuse. The animal kingdom is watching. Show us your stuff!

Happy Birthday!

2006-10-14T09:24:00.000-04:00

Today is my owner’s birthday!

Now, you may be thinking: which owner?

That leads to an important point. I used to think I had two owners, and now I’m not so sure. The one feeds me and takes me to race meets, which are clearly the two most important needs any whippet has. She also brushes me, cuts my toenails (and when I say “cut” I mean it!), and takes me to the vet – less fun, but bregrudgingly important.

The other one does something important, too – takes me for walks! He does other fun things with me too – plays with me outside, watches cartoons with me, proofreads Smart Spot, and some things I’m not supposed to let the other one know – you know, water fights, jumping on the bed, things like that.

So I thought to myself, do I really have two owners? Or one owner and one friend? Or two friends and one owner… well, let’s not make it too confusing.
In any case, I admit it’s a pretty nice setup.

So hopefully that answers the which owner question.

So what did I do for her birthday? Well, I have to admit I didn’t know it was her birthday till today. You’d have thought I would have been informed about this so I could have been more prepared…

So once I figured out why she was opening a present, I tried to tell her happy birthday in the most exuberant tone I could muster up. But she understood me to be simply begging for breakfast. Granted, once I noticed this I intensified my birthday greetings… I mean, hey, whatever works!

But since I wasn’t better prepared, I thought I’d draw a picture for her to put on the refrigerator:

Okay, I guess the scenery is a giveaway that I didn't really draw this myself. I found it one someone else's site. But it's the thought that counts, isn't it? That's what my friend said about his present, too...

Well anyway,

Happy Birthday to the best owner ever!

Smart Mobile

2006-10-12T20:33:00.000-04:00

Have you ever Googled your own name? Be honest. Sometimes it turns up interesting information.

Sometimes it can be downright scary.

Here's what I found when I Googled my name: someone has designed something called the Smart Car. Now, you might think the name is a coincidence (although, c'mon, how common a name is "Smarty"?) -- but you won't think it's a coincidence when you see this photo:

It's small. It's red. It's buff(ed). And it's called the "Smart" car.

I hope they give me royalties.

But actually, I'm thinking something more sinister is afoot. They are only making these in Europe right now... but I suspect they'll show up here soon - at our race meets!

This is totally unfair. If you look closely it's obvious these are "non-pedigree."

On the other hand...

It just might be that they can't keep up with the real thing anyway!

Smarty By Morning

2006-10-05T07:35:00.000-04:00

It's time I finally unveil the project that has been taking up so much of my time, energy, and thoughts lately...especially since the owners have wondered why I've been in such a pensive mood.

I have started working on, or at least thinking about, a book that would be entitled Smarty By Morning. It would have 365 days worth of insights on life from a whippet's point of view, in a "devotional" format (and handsomely illustrated). I had the idea because at least one reader likes to check up on Smarty Spot each morning, so I can only assume there are hundreds more. So why not have a large, glossy picture book with the same kind of uplifting and pet-friendly material?

But then I got thinking... Why not also market this book as an introduction to an even bigger work entitled The Encyclopedia for "Smart" People, with an online version entitled Whippetpedia? The goal: rewrite every entry found on Wikipedia in a pet and racing and raw food friendly style, so that whenever someone does research on any topic it is guaranteed to result in a better world for all God's creatures?

I started with "Aardvark" of course, but still have a long way to go.

But back to the original project, Smarty By Morning.

The first entry for January 1 is entitled "Life's A Struggle." What do you think of this picture to go with it?

Of course, I can use that same picture for the January 2 entry: "Life's a Ball."

As soon as I get the other 363 entries done I'll let you know!

Oh, wait a minute, what about leap year? See, this project keeps getting bigger and bigger...

Smart Advice: An Open Letter to Lucy

2006-10-01T23:36:00.000-04:00

Dear Lucy,

Thank you for your letter! I’m sorry it took me a few days to get to it. Lately it seems everybody needs advice! For example, one young whippet from California wrote to ask whether she was on a raw food diet since her owner doesn’t add anything to her “raw” kibble.

But you’re my sister, so I moved your letter right up to the top of the stack. Well, almost to the top anyway. I did have to renew my subscriptions to Squirrel Aficionado (which is a little high brow for me, but has great pictures) and Highlights. But aside from those business matters, your letter received priority.

So, let me get to your question: You asked, “Are three whippets better than two?”

This is a good question, and one I’ve been thinking about a lot lately. Clearly two are better than one - that’s common knowledge. But three… let’s consider.

The biggest advantage of a third whippet is that there is more food placed on the floor at once. If you’re quick, you might be able to gain from someone else’s loss…if you know what I mean. This may not be proper behavior according to some ethical theories, but usually the additional whippet is smaller and so probably doesn’t need all its food anyway.

The biggest disadvantage relates to attention span. That is, the span of your owner’s attention will presumably decrease since now she must divide time between three whippets. Now, if you are the quiet type – if you like to read long novels, do crossword puzzles, watch infomercials, etc – this can be a welcome relief from an overbearing owner. But if you demand attention, you will need to put your paw down and keep your owner from creating this attention deficit.

There is an important exception to the rule, though: If your owner has a personal assistant - someone who walks you, perhaps – that frees up the owner to have additional whippets with far less maintenance. And you still get the attention you need, because those assistants tend to be very friendly – after all, if they entered the whippet walking profession they must love animals, right?

Beware, though. There’s something known as “assistant spook.” This is a widely reported phenomenon in which the assistants – otherwise mild mannered, unassuming helpers - react with a bit of shock to the additional whippet. They will sit around in a daze, almost unable to pick up a leash. There have been cases of this reported that have lasted months! Some warn that “assistant spook” is connected to maladies known as “assistant rage” and “assistant gone postal,” but this has not been proven definitively.

Hopefully that gives you an idea of the pros and cons of allowing a third whippet to share your space. So… why do you ask?

Your sister,

Smarty

Weight Watchers

2006-09-24T15:39:00.000-04:00

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

2006-09-20T21:31:00.000-04:00

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

2006-09-18T07:42:00.000-04:00

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

2006-09-16T22:12:00.000-04:00

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

2006-09-09T09:23:00.000-04:00

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

2006-09-05T20:24:00.000-04:00

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.)

Paws and Effect

2006-08-29T18:11:00.001-04:00

It seems the older you are the more likely you are to avoid the rain. As you may have heard, the Garden State has been getting watered lately, and that certainly applies to the Great Swamp where we live.

Here's mom, relaxing indoors during the storm:

Here's me:

I wanted to go play, but I just wasn't sure about getting so wet. Whenever that happens, the owners wipe my feet when I'm coming back inside. I hate that! I think the reason it bothers me so much is because I need constant access to my paws -- I use them for just about everything. Walking, running, wrestling, even eating (can't let that bowl slide away!). In fact, you may not know this, but the secret to a good, healthy bark is all about planting your feet solidly on the ground - it's all in the paws, as they say.

So anyway, moving down into the lower age bracket, here are the young ones:

They didn't seem to mind the rain a bit. They actually built themselves a little camp site! Of course, there are five of them, and it's a lot easier when you have...umm, let's see, five times four...7? 13? 2? Wait, my owner just told me that 5x4 = 20. Twenty?! Wow!

So, as I was saying, setting up and breaking camp is much easier with 20 paws. And with dew claws, who needs opposable thumbs?

It's all in the paws!

One Gilligan Short

2006-08-22T21:20:00.000-04:00

Many may not know this, but English is not my first language. Having been born a dog, and more specifically a female red whippet, my first languages are barking and begging.

For me, English is much easier to write than to speak. To be honest, I don't speak a lick of it.

I'm a bit intimidated by English. And it's not because of the spelling or grammar - both of which are plenty confusing! No, no, it's the idioms. Those little phrases that seem to make no sense unless you're a human.

For example, a radio program the other day was discussing different ways of saying "stupid." One way is to say, "That person is a few fries short of a Happy Meal." Now what does that mean, and how could you be a few fries short if it's such a happy experience? I think you'd have to be out to lunch to talk that way. Another way to call someone stupid is to say "the wheel is spinning but the hamster has died." Kind of morbid. And then they offered this: "That person is one Gilligan short of an island." My owner thought this was quite funny, but I'm still out to sea on that one.

But I will say, the other day I was out gettting acquainted with our new houseguests, and some of the phrases started making more sense. For example:

"It takes two to tango."

"Send in the clowns."

"Don't cry over spilled milk."

"Don't look down your nose at me."

And, of course...

"Go pick on someone your own size!"

I guess that's the thing about English. You really have to experience it to learn to speak it well. Otherwise, people will think you're one bunny short of a race meet. As for me, I'm going to stick to barking.

Reinforcements Have Arrived

2006-08-18T20:14:00.000-04:00

Things are getting a bit crazy around here. The guinea pigs' development seems to have taken a strange turn. As some have commented on this post, they are looking more and more like puppies every day.

As a result, a team of scientists were brought in to assess the situation. I know for sure the man pictured below is a scientist. Possibly a mad scientist. I've heard him even talk about lab rats! His woman helper is nice. Maybe too nice.

The mad scientist and his helper seem to like these little mutant creatures.

In fact, I think I'm warming up to up them a little bit. I know that's hard to believe. I find myself wishing they would let me play with them... even just one of them. But as soon as they arrived, they seemed to have formed their own little clique.

I'll win them over, though. I have toys they know not of.

Gulliver's Travails

2006-08-13T13:38:00.000-04:00

One of my favorite bedtime stories is "Gulliver's Travels." You can tell from the cover of the book that it's the story of a man who ends up in a land of little people, who tie him down inside a big crate.

I guess my mom (Scoche) found out I liked this story a lot, because lately she's been acting it out for me. See?

What a great actress. And she gets those expressions just right! It's too bad she never learned to read, even though she went to school and majored in "sports medicine." You know how it is, though, sometimes athletic dogs like my mom go to school for the scholarship, but they never really complete the homework... if you know what I mean. ("Sports medicine." Right!)

But hey, I'm glad she at least learned to act, because I'm really enjoying these shows she's putting on! I'm sure they're even more fun to perform, although my mom assures me it's more work than I think.

Maybe some day I'll be an actress!

Working Class

2006-08-11T08:07:00.000-04:00

When I was younger, life was carefree. I would get up in the middle of the night, run around like a maddog, wrestle my sisters, sleep, get up in the morning and eat and then run around like a maddog, etc, etc. As I grew a little older I learned the joys of sleeping in, and then taking a more casual stroll to enjoy the morning air before reading the morning newspaper (to be specific, the comics).

But at some point, mom and I were assigned household chores.

That’s right, chores. And it doesn’t seem quite fair, either. All that mom has to do is watch the guinea pigs… play with them is more like it. She doesn’t teach them any valuable life skills such as, you know, knitting or cooking or whatever else moms are supposed to teach you. She just lays there and lets them crawl all over her, as if life were one big play date.

But me on the other hand… I’m forced to help out with all the real work that’s going on around here. The male and female owners have been busy with house work lately, and guess who has to supervise? That’s right, me. One night it was perfectly beautiful weather for a walk but guess where I had to be? That’s right, slaving away. Aren't we supposed to hire working dogs for this kind of thing?

Fortunately, as in the days of Lewis Hine (my male owner's favorite photographer of the past), some pictures are being taken of this abusive underage worker exploitation...

To be honest, I am somewhat proud of my work. But that doesn't change the principle!

And allowance? Well, mom’s been getting extra food for her so-called “work,” while I feel like I’m still making “minimum wage.”

I tell you, this economy is hurting everybody. Everybody and his dog!

Apples and Oranges

2006-08-08T22:45:00.000-04:00

People often come up to me and ask, “Smarty, how do you do it? How does a little whippet like you find a way to eat, sleep, walk, sprint around the backyard, and – on top of everything else – maintain such a culturally relevant website?”

To tell the truth, time isn’t really an issue. I’m able to do most of my writing while I’m watching cartoons, so it’s really just a matter of multitasking.

But the real secret is my Macintosh G5, which is very dog friendly. You use a mouse, and do a lot of clicking and dragging – this saves those who are clumsy typists a lot of time. It has a nice big screen, too. The human owners had this waiting for me when I was born. I know it was mine because it had a big picture of me on the screen.

So, why am I telling you all this now? Because my Mac is in the hospital right now and I’m stuck using the laptop. You may not be able to tell the difference (after all my editing work), but I’m telling you – I’m just not a lapdog.

Typing is a big problem. How is a whippet like me supposed to use this tiny keyboard? It doesn’t even have a mouse! Even if I carefully place my paw on the “y” my dew claw ends up hitting the “j.” So instead of “Smarty” you get “Smartyj.” Or instead of “yo yo what’s up doggy?” you get “yjo yjo what’s up doggyj?” I have tried countless ways to avoid this, but haven’t figured it out yet. So I’ve been doing a lot of backspacing. A LOT of backspacing. You wouldn’t know it, but so far it’s taken me several episodes of Blues Clues to get this paragraph written!

However, the dew claw has been handy (no pun intended) for using the shift key. With only one paw I can make a capital P, L, Q, A, or Z. (As they say, it’s all in the wrist!)

The other part I’m having trouble with is the pictures. It’s so easy with the Mac. But watch, I’ll try to put a picture of me on here…

See, that’s not quite right… How about this…

Ummm, not quite. One more try.

Oh well. Hopefully we’ll have my computer back soon!

Invasion!

2006-08-02T16:18:00.000-04:00

We're under attack!

You see, we live in what’s called the “Great Swamp.”

The swamp is inhabited by a variety of creatures, including birds, squirrels and chipmunks, bog monsters, all sorts of insects, and even possums. But of course the swamp is where I live – and I am of course its rightful resident. After all, I was here first! At least from my point of view, anyway.

In order to protect our domain, I keep constant surveillance on what’s going on outside. One recent development I noticed – the swamp creatures planted a flag on our front lawn.

This is clearly an act of aggression. Very troubling indeed.

But most troubling of all is that the swamp creatures are beginning to do surveillance on me! I’ve caught numerous little bugs, spiders, and centipedes creeping around inside, probably trying to find the penetrable parts of our home. They probably run the messages back to the bog monster itself. Today I even found a few of these guys winging about:

They think they can just fly right in here and take over? Never!

Okay, I shouldn’t have said so much. Now I’ve got mom worried…

Don’t worry, mom! We’re not going down without a fight!

Bring it on!!