Raw Food Diet, Day 188- Ready, Aim...

Okay.  I'm going to be honest here.  I've got a little problem.

You see, I'm a manly beast of a dog, and as such I need to mark my territory on a regular basis.  The state of Illinois is a lot of territory to cover, and so it would be best if I were efficient in my efforts.  Big Pupi's got the marking skillz.  He can hit a pole 3 feet up if he so desires.  A blade of grass?  No problem.  A pebble that he finds particularly worthwhile?  Done.  Another dog's head?  Consider it the Property of Big Pupi.  As for me?  Well, it's another story.

My aim is less than adequate.  I get lucky sometimes, but more often than not I dramatically miss the fence I'd like claim is my own.  I can't hit a barn wall unless the wind blew in my favor.  Sure, I don't really concentrate enough to ensure accuracy.  Usually I weeble on the move, which requires a 4-paws to the ground posture so that I may continue to hunt birds and bits of bread left in the grass from helpful folks trying to fatten up my pigeons.  I don't get a whole lot of aiming practice, and when I do I try to walk while hoisting one knee to the heavens.  This, as I have recently learned, has dire consequences.  

I weebled on myself.  

I did.  I hit my front legs.  Both of them, above the knees.  My chest fell victim as well.  My dexterity did not impress my humans and they carried me into the apartment and plopped me straight into the tub.  There was no treat and no dignity.  I was soaped, scrubbed, rinsed and it was repeated many more times than I'm sure the shampoo bottle required.  I was scoured until I squeaked and all my manly smells swirled helplessly down the drain.  

Big Pupi, who had been locked inside the bathroom with me, was pulled from his hiding place and thrown into the place of cleanliness and girly smells.  He too was washed until his whites were white again.  Did I weeble on him too?  Sorry man.  Next up was a game with the hair dryer (we totally love the hair dyer) and a break from grooming while the Comcast man came into my territory to replace the human's cable box (for the third time).  I tried to harass him with my most ferocious barks, but how was he to know there was a beast in there without my doggy smells?!  Once he left we were attacked yet again by that dang buzzy thing and it stole, (yet again) my manly beard.  

Big Pupi opted for a new look this time around.  

Mom shaved a baby mohawk into his head.  It was partly inspired by Hero, who has the fiercest 'hawk of them all.  It's also a Rally Mohawk, which he hopes will inspire the Red Sox to pick up the pieces and fight their way to the playoffs.  They better clinch a playoff berth, or else Pupi gets another visit from the buzzy thing.
He thinks it's pretty sweet, but it needs to grow out some. 

As for me, I got my normal 'do, shaved belly and all.  It's been pretty hot out so I'm glad to be a bit more naked.  But now I've got to start working on getting back those manly smells again.  Another trip to the bark park should take care of that.
What I've really got to focus on is my territory marking skills.  If they had a class I would take it, but I probably wouldn't pay attention for more than 2 seconds.  I can't even make it through a weeble without getting distracted!  Oh the plight of an ADD cocker spaniel!  Poor me.  I'm going to go drown my sorrows in some string cheese.

Attending target practice,

Stanislaw