I've Been Hosed.

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Big Pupi has ISSUES.

When the clock strikes 4:30 PM my brother and I begin begging for our 5:15 feasting. We are never late, nope. Not ever. It drives mom crazy!! We stare at her, silently screaming through body language. Every time she looks up at us, I lick my lips and step gingerly from the right paw to the left. This is a polite way of saying: FEED ME YOU USELESS HUMAN!!!!
This goes on for the better part of an hour, and will not end until we are fed. Staring makes humans feel all squirmy and uncomfortable. It's pretty awesome!

A few nights ago, during my begging, my mom noticed that I was the one looking uncomfortable for a change. I tried to hold my gaze but kept feeling the need to tend to my manliness. As a beast which normally has laser focus, this was a tip off that something was indeed very wrong, and it didn't take long for my mom to realize that I once again suffered from a case of Angry Weebelitis. Again!! Why??!!
I immediately fell into a depression. I knew where this was heading - straight to the Place of Tile and Steel where I will be poked in the most inappropriate of places and handled in the most inappropriate of ways. DANG WEEBLE! Why must he spend the entire summer giving me grief?!

Mom and my vet were concerned about putting me on another dose of oral or injected antibiotics since this problem seems to continue throughout all of the warm weather months. That makes for a LOT of medication and a majorly increased risk of breeding some sort of super bacteria in my manliness. This sounds rather unpleasant, and I happen to be a big fan of my weeble. I don't want to harm him.

So the vet gave my mom some tools to bring home. I got all excited, thinking for sure that Dr. lady had set my mom up with some super awesome stuffy tools for my construction endeavors, but NO. What she got was this:
Sure, it's seriously better than the torture element she was given last year, but c'mon. Is this a stinkin' JOKE? I don't come up with these sorts of things and use them on people? What the heck is wrong with you humans?!

Unlike last summer's dentist's-looking monster device (which would inspire me to get outright violent with mom [a first], and which was never again attempted after I made my thoughts on it clear), this new device hooks into a soft rubber tube with holes at the end.
The evil contraption gets shoved a few inches into my manliness! THE HORROR! Then the medicine gets flushed through and when it's all done I get to feast on some serious cheese. Actually... I have to be honest with you... it's not so bad, especially compared to its predecessor. As long as my medicine is warm I'll stand there Like Good Boy for the few seconds until it's over with, and so far it hasn't made my weeble fall off. I know this for certain because I spend much time checking on such important matters.
I haven't had one single hint of Angry Weebelitis since this process began. I guess this is a good thing. E. coli of the wee was never all that enjoyable.

Once it is all said and done I feel the need to protect my manliness, and so I sleep with my legs in crossed protection positioning. That stinkin' hose can't get in here!
While all this torture and cruelty is happening to me, Stanislaw is being all Lounge Boyish in his man cave and mocking me for my weeble disorder. Whatever. He's got a bad case of noodlebutt and he knows it.
After a traumatic event my singing stuffy elf always makes me feel better, and so I thrash the heck out of him and force him to sing "Jingle Bells" about 3,543 times over and over and over again. I do this just to make my mom go insane and to remind her that even though she's got that hose thing, I've got the power in this place.
Oh, and don't think this whole event is going to deter me from staring you down for my dinner, dearest mother. Heck no. In fact, I'm thinking of pushing my start time up to 4:15, so I can get a FULL HOUR of slightly unnerving staring in every single day. Yeah, that's right. For as long as that hose is in the picture there will be staring contests and singing stuffies. Deal with it.

From a disgruntled dog with a happy weeble,
Big Pupi

Fashion Nugget

Just yesterday I was all busy snoozeling and being that sweet and angelic boy of innocence that you all know me to be...
...while my Stinkbutt Brother, the evil beast prone to the hatching of plans both evil and beastly, sat perched in his stuffy nest. And what is done in a nest, I ask? Things are HATCHED in a nest. Like evil plans, for example.
I should have known to stay away from Big Pupi when he began to separate his tool stuffies from the other stuffies (ones which lack all usefulness when it comes to building and construction).
Before I knew what was what I found myself donning my brother's latest creation: The Squirrel Vest.
He checked it for size and, upon realizing that he didn't know a Small from a Medium (let alone how to measure), declared the slightly-too-snug Squirrel Vest to be his best invention to date.
"It will keep you toasty in the frostiest of weather!" Big Pupi trumpeted before he clamored back in to his stuffy nest. "It'll fight a chill, battle fashion faux-pas and beat boredom! In fact, once I get my hands on a few REAL squirrels, this vest will offer private hunting lessons!"

Being the lovely-in-spirit, gentle-in-manner and sweet-in-temperament beast that you all know me to be, I decided to pose all nice-like for Big Pupi's fasion look book (available next March).
He then paid me in chewies. And by "paid" I mean that he didn't beat me up and take my chewie away within the first 10 seconds of my quality chew-time.
I do have to give my brother some credit... this squirrel vest does good things for the ol' figure. Just wait 'til you see my hiney in this!

Check it.
Stanislaw

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P.S. - Big Pupi just got his 2010-11 Rabies titer result and once AGAIN his test came back as "protective"!! That means his last Rabies shot is STILL providing him with adequate immunity and there is no need to vaccinate. Actually, according to BP's vet, he's got a far GREATER ratio of antibodies than is required to "pass" the test.

BP hasn't received an actual Rabies vaccine injection since 2004, which means he's going into his 6th year of viable immunity from just ONE shot. Not too long ago my brother and I tested "protective" for our DHPP and avoided those vaccines as well. Mom wishes she could send Big Pupi's results to the Rabies Challenge Fund to help in their quest to reduce Rabies vaccination schedules to 5 and eventually 7-year increments. So far Big Pupi has proven that the 3-year vaccine (which is essentially the same as the 1-year) is viable for twice that time. Not too shabby.

In case you don't remember, my folks decided to stop vaccinating us through injection a few years ago because of a health scare. When Big Pupi received his last Rabies injection he developed a large lump at the injection site that grew hard and didn't move with his skin (movement would indicate a cyst and be less cause for worry). It lasted for over 2 years, and just as the vet was going to biopsy the lump to check for cancer the mass began to shrink. THREE YEARS after the original injection the lump went away.

Because of his history, our new vet doesn't want to vaccinate Big Pupi ever again for anything, and my folks couldn't agree more with this decision. As an added bonus, I also get to avoid any injected vaccines with good titer results. So... here's hoping for many more years of "protective" titer results and two healthy beasts!