Raw Food Diet, Day 113- I Missed the Dog Dance Party

I got an invitation to attend a dog dance party at a local bar last weekend.  Unfortunately, my humans decided that it would be best for me not to attend due to my excitement issues.  What's wrong with getting a little revved-up once in a while?  The loud music, all the people and dogs - those are some serious reasons to get excited.  Plus I am a party animal.  Whenever I hear "We Like to Party" by the Vengaboys, I start sprinting around and busting out some sweet dance moves like The Play-Bow.  "Shipping Up to Boston" by the Dropkick Murphys also gets me particularly fired up.  This song gives me the courage to steal my brother's toys (he always kicks my bum afterwards) and jump up on my kitchen table to wrestle my humans' dinner away from them (I get put in time-out afterwards).  I'm just saying, I would have been the life of the Dog Dance Party.

Thrashing around as if in a raw meat rage.  Drinking hard from the toilet.  Flying through the air onto strange humans' laps.  But no.  My humans wouldn't let me go because I am too "excitable."  I wish they would stop cramping my style.

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Big Pupi on the issues:

Stanislaw and I delighted in some excellent feasting yesterday.  There were many courses and many snacks, as we played very hard at the dog park and that makes us two very lunch-hungry boys.  Nothing was too out of the ordinary... a chicken-neck breakfast, scrambled egg and cottage cheese lunch... but then mom went to Trader Joe's for some groceries and came back with what she thought would be a healthy high-protein snack for us pups.  She got some dehydrated chicken breast.  No preservatives, no coloring, no-nothing but nice lean chicken meat.  She gave Stan and me a little sampling and we snarfled it down on the sofa.

It was a rather bland late afternoon snack.  Our metabolisms were in high-gear after all that exercise and generally that prevents food from sticking around for too long in our bellies and makes for an extra walk or two in the afternoon.  (Extra feasting = extra walks... win/win!)  But on this particular occasion the tasty goody was not budging.  It sat in its own bland juices and it swirled and bubbled in our tummies, creating friction and producing energy and making us somehow toxically and dangerously... gaseous.

Stanislaw let a particularly ripe one rip right in front of our humans and it was enough to stop their talking and make them stare for a while.  Stanley replied to the silence and gawking with saucer-round eyes and another massive fart.  I agreed with my brother and relieved myself of the internal pressure-cooker, but once that egg was laid I bailed and left to take a nap in another room.  Let them deal with the consequences.

This gas was enough to wake us from our sleep with a start, and as mom worked in the office she'd catch glimpses of Stanislaw and me as we levitated off the ground and ran tail-tucked away from where we had been napping.  Those things can scare the poobles out of you if you're not prepared for it!  More often than not I'd rouse myself from my nappy zone on the sofa, come into the office to set one free.  That way I could contain the poisonous stench and preserve my utopian sleepy spot.  It's also an excellent way to make a point - my point being that those chicken thingies were dangerously delicious.

We continued to bake air biscuits through the night, making our crates a veritable war zone and forcing our humans to leave the door open as their eyes watered and we all gasped for air.  By morning we were all half-expecting to find police tape and men in bio-hazard suits preparing to take us all into quarantine.  To our surprise we were able to make a mad dash out to the elevators and outside, where Stan and I made a wild mess of the lawn.  I went through 3 pooble bags myself.  It was a record-breaking morning and I am rather shocked and proud of myself for being able to pull that one off.

We got breakfast as usual with a little L-glutamine added to the mix to help our tummies recover from the chicken catastrophe.  This morning has been uneventful thus far, and I plan on spending my afternoon trying to contact the Guinness Book of World Records to see if my 3-baggy affair is worthy of any notoriety.

Breaking records,

Big Pupi