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

****

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!

Fumes and Flowers

Hey feaster folks! I'm here today to tell you all about my mostest favoritest thing: feasting.

Last week, my people made another one of those fabulous trips to the meat packer and came home with backpacks filled with deliciousness for my bro and me (mostly for me). In between my excitable shrieks I heard them talking about a special dinner that was planned for us, and man-oh-man let me tell you... it was CRAZY TASTY.
We each got a fresh marrow bone and a few ounces of succulent beefiness attached to its side. NICE! I'll have mine rare, please. That green stuff on the side is some broccoli and carrot baby food with a digestive enzyme hidden below.

Because these feastings were what my mom calls "project meals," my stinkbutt bro and I were made to eat in our crates. When we get feastables that require a bit of work, we tend to toss the meats about and sometimes can get into a growling match with each other. I don't know why they have a problem with me tossing my marrow bones around the apartment. I personally don't mind it one bit.
I LOVE my project feasts so much, my tail never stops waggling and I purr. I must have gotten to an especially good part of this feast at the end of this video because I start cooing really loudly:

It didn't take very long for me to finish and give my mom begging eyes for my next course. Certainly this was the appetizer, no?Big Pupi wanted to take his newly nakedized bone out of his feasting cage and onto the sofa for some quality snugs. My folks put a stop to that right away. They're always party poopers.This is my handiwork:Nice job, right? Because my bro and I went on a long run earlier that day my people thought we could use the extra calories and fat of a whole marrow bone. (Normally we're only allowed to eat 1/2 in a day.) But this time around... they were right!! My body needed that extra feasting so badly that it held onto it for another 24 hours, and my hiney tooted with joy and celebrations. I made sure to let everyone know what I had for dinner by baking air biscuits in the elevator and forcing people to abandon the ride early and take the stairs. They were probably running to get their own feasting marrow!! They can thank me for the dinner idea - and the extra exercise - some other time.

A few days after my feasting adventure my humans took my brother and me on a hiking adventure. SO FUN! It was a perfect day to drag dad around by his waist leash for a 7-mile bird-hunt through the woods.
I trudged ahead like the wild beast hunter extraordinaire that I am.
My brother is more of a gentle soul and observer of flora and fauna. (I prefer to eat flora and sometimes the fecal leavings of fauna - whatever "fauna" may be.)
We got super crazy muddy jumping into rivers and kicking up dusty trail dirt all over our bellies and legs. AWESOME! I enjoy a little grit between my toes. Everyone knows that hiking is all about getting filthy, testing the home cooking of the local wildlife while your people aren't looking, leaping head first into algae-coated water, and bringing about 10 ticks home on your ears.

I guess that last bit wasn't very much appreciated by my people because Big Pupi and I wound up getting a scrub down, having full body checks and getting our ear furs shaved down to nothing so those nasty little buggers could be plucked from our tasty meat-feasted bodies. Mom says we have pancake heads now, and I'd agree in BP's case~
~but nothing can take away from all the handsome on this face.
In the life of a beast there's nothing quite like an awesome feast to fuel an afternoon hunting in the woods. Yes. Yes, indeed.

Your good-looking, sweet-smelling, tick-free friend in feasting,
Stanislaw

It Had to be Done

Clover stuffy deserved it.
He'll never mock me again in front of his stuffy friends.
I sure showed him who's boss. (Normally it's mom. But this time it was me.)
I knocked the stuffing right out of him.
Then stretched his guts to make a point.
Point being: You don't mess with a Stanislaw
Word out to my homies from the snuggle ball.

Irish Yet Unlucky

***
Big Pupi isn't pleased:

You may have noticed that I have been blessed with devilishly handsome freckles. For this reason, mom calls me her "Irish Son" (making my pierogie-loving brother her "Polish Son"). Despite my clover-bearing heritage and the fact that I happen to look smashing in green, St. Patrick's Day is not a lucky one for me. Why, you might ask?

St. Paddy's makes my weeble angry.

The first time I found myself being horrendously violated by my doctor for an infection of my manliness was on this same Irish holiday one year ago. And this year, on the day us Irish folk should be drinking from green water bowls and getting kisses, I was back at the vet with another bout of Angry Weeble-itis.

If you remember, I have a "condition" which makes my manhood a little exaggerated for a beast of my proportions. When you add this to my amazing flexibility (I can hike a hinder up perpendicular to the ground when marking my territory), it makes for some weeble-flopping-on-stuff action. I pick up some nice bacteria doing this, and it always hits as soon as the weather warms up - which is March in my neck of the woods. Or city.

The doctor had to do the most horrible of horrible things to me at the Place of Tile and Steel. She actually took a little red rubber piece of tubing and SHOVED IT where I'm pretty certain it was NOT supposed to go, and then flushed sterile saline all over my privacy and I'm pretty sure I never ever ever want that to happen again. Humans are totally insane and I truly think they enjoy a little cocker spaniel torture every once in a while.

If I could have blushed through my freckles I would have. And to add insult to infection, I overheard my mom saying that I was a "neutered" male. What? No way. After a few bark park discussions on what "neutered" actually means, I assured my people that I, in fact, knew where my balls where and upon our return home from the doctor I brought one out to show my mom.
See? I think this qualifies me as "in tact," although I really don't like labels.

I spent the remainder of the evening gripping my ball as tightly as possible so as to ease any concerns about the degree of my masculinity. Or maybe it was just to reassure myself. I also made certain to check on my manhood often, as I was very concerned that I would try to run away after its day of horrors.
Thanks to an antibiotic, my weeble is no longer angry and seems to be doing quite well. But now mom holds me back when I mark my territory so that my manliness doesn't come in contact with anything anymore. This really screws with my aim, and it creates a problem of grand proportions since I like to lift my leg no less than a 1,000 times on every walk. I call it "going shopping," and a beast can't make any purchases if he can't hit his mark.

But... I guess all's well that ends well, and at least I've got my stuffy balls.
Your in-tact friend,

Big Pupi

Why I Love My Feasts

I swear that this photo wasn't inspired by some serious snoozely brotherly snugging. That being said, shortly after this picture was taken I insisted that I be taken to the Place of Tile and Steel for a cootie vaccine and general dork prevention. I think mom understood my dire state, and Big Pupi and I were whisked away to the Place of Tile and Steel for a check-up.

She called it our "annual" and if I had known that a cootie test involved needles, ear checks and vet techs taking my blood without my permission - I would have never made the request. What a mistake! Big Pupi suffers from some serious White Coat Syndrome and is immediately turned into a pile of shivering mush the second our doctor walks into the exam room... and for no good reason, because our doctor is especially nice and generous with the skritches and sweet talk. I think she is totally awesome and I do my best grunty bummy hops when she scratches between my hip bones. The Place of Tile and Steel isn't all bad!

Doctor lady had lots of nice things to say about us. Our weight is ideal (I'm pretty sure this means that I am a beast of massive proportions), our ears are clean and our teeth are perfectly pearly white. We were also deemed Extreme Athletes because we have a heart rate of 60 beats per minute, when a normal heart for a dog our size beats 100-140 times per minute. This is really big news for Big Pupi. When he was adopted he had to be treated for full-fledged heartworm, which can often leave scars on the heart tissue and surrounding arteries. This damage can make the heart less efficient. It's nice to know that Big Pupi's ticker is at its absolute best. I think we owe this to all of the fast hunts that I drag my humans on. They can thank me later.

Because of Big Pupi's age and his history of iffy kidney values, he had to have extra blood stolen for a senior blood panel. It came back perfect! Every single organ value was right on target, and his creatinine levels have kept a steady, low, healthy number. This is huge news, because when my folks first took BP home his post-shelter blood work showed that he was at risk for kidney failure. His doctor recommended that he be checked every 6 months for his kidney values (creatinine and BUN), and the result of each test got worse and worse as time went on. Eight weeks after introducing the raw diet, mom had his values checked again and to her surprise they had dropped well within the healthy range and haven't budged since. This latest blood test confirmed that his kidneys remain in perfect working order and are no longer cause for any concern whatsoever. What a relief!

And to top it all off, our titer tests came back positive for immunity AGAIN, which means that we get to skip our DHPP vaccine for the third year in a row!! Makes you wonder why we are injected every single year with these vaccines, right?! That would be like your humans needing their tetanus, polio, diptheria, rotovirus, and meningitis vaccines every single year for their entire lives. It's a little much, especially when you know that over-vaccination in pets has been linked to malignant cancers. And I'll take any excuse to avoid a needle.

We've been elated after this vet visit. They haven't always been this good in the past. And it was our start on the raw diet that marked this sudden change in veterinary events. Thanks delicious feasts! All the more reason for me to eat more raw meatables. Right? RIGHT? I'll let you know how dinner works our for me tonight.

Happy feasting my friends. Your healthy manly bud,
Stanislaw

I Can't Believe My Feast-Finding Peepers

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Big Pupi writes in fear:

To my absolute horror I have discovered that my mom's torturous reach has extended far beyond my hallowed home. For this, my fellow canines, I am sorry.

Many of you may remember my brother and me being subjected to such cruelty... an act that many humans would call "getting toasty" or "bundling up." I grow furs for these purposes and do not need my manliness compromised by the crushing nerdification and undignified "doggy sweater." And to add insult to fuzzy cotton/blend knittings, my mom sells said devices-of-horror in her Etsy shop. It would seem that her reach is far greater than I ever anticipated.

Sure, it gets cold where I live. So cold, in fact, that if my danglies hadn't been cut off they'd have frozen off about 2 years ago. But when donning such cozy duds I must turn my face away from my friends, lest they recognize me and commence mocking. Could you even imagine if they caught me in this?
or (GASP!) this??Okay, okay... so that skull one is a little bit more bad@ss and more befitting of a beast of my proportions. But how do you think Stanislaw feels being forced to step out in public in this??Can you just FEEL the desperation on our faces? The sadness? The WARM AND SNUGLY HUMILIATION??

Brace your beastly selves. It only gets worse.

Mom has attacked one of my nakedest and shriekingly beastly friends.

Photo courtesy of Tadpole's Life Pond

Oh my dearest Tadpole. See how he cringes? Watch as he is forced into a zen-like state of meditations just to keep himself from totally panicking and heading for the snow-covered hills.

Photo courtesy of Tadpole's Life Pond

And take note of the concern on his sister's face. She can't bring herself to say it, but I know that Fig is contemplating this sudden and shocking lack of raging beast that was once the great and masculine Tadpole.

Photo courtesy of Tadpole's Life Pond

Oh Taddy I feel your pain. In fact, I think I shall call you T-Pain from now on. Perhaps a career in rapping will restore your street cred. Just don't do it in that sweater.

I just can't believe this...

Big Pupi

Raw Food Diet, Day ? (We're seriously off track)

So, at some point our counting went completely bananas because January 30th was our 2-year anniversary of feasting on raw meatables. Seriously... get with the program MOM!! Even I can add better than you. Check it:

1 goat
+ 2 rabbits
+ 7 oz. green tripe
+ 1.5 chickens cut into quarters
____________
1 majorly delicious feast fit for a Stanislaw

See? My IQ is 234,003. My friend at the bark park has his PhD and he gave me the test, so I KNOW that number is correct. Don't even try to argue, mom. Your IQ is 7. My friend told me that too.

Anyways, we're sorry for being so absent lately. My humans are so busy with work and school and making sure there's cheese money for my feasts that there just hasn't been much time. But don't fret, I am still a spoiled beast and have been kept in fleece blankies and tasty chewies. I'm really good at not letting stress get to me...

...unless mom appears with the buzzy beard-stealing machine. In the cruelest of cruel acts she removed my manliness. I mean, C'MON!! She said something about "stink" and "matts" and I assured her that I don't give a flying poople about those things if it means I have to end up looking like this:Horrors! Do you see the crazy frowny face I've got going on? But I do enjoy giving my bro a hard time about his shaved dorkiness. I can't even believe that one dog could possess such a high degree of dork!

I mean, my bro is so nerdy he's all about being Good Boy. He even passed his 2010 therapy dog certification test with 152 out of 150 points. Yes, you read that right. He knows so many tricks that he got 2 extra points for it. And mom didn't even have time to study with him! He just did it all and was all about feasting on cheesy bits. I don't get it. To top it off, he was welcomed into a second therapy program that has a 1.5 year waiting list... and he got right in. WHAT GIVES? I'm a fun dude and like to play with kids. You just jump all over them and lick their faces, right? I CAN DO THAT!!! I'm really GOOD at that!!!

We haven't been totally out of the loop and with much excitement we threw our hats into the ring for our first year of Mango Minster. It's totally awesome. I'm in for the Sporty category because that's where the beasts belong and Big Pupi is up for Working because that's where the dorky Good Boy dogs go. WHATEVER! Please vote for us! We're in for some major competition with the other canines in our groups.

'Tis all for now, my beastly friends. Stay toasty, which I would do if mom didn't take all my manly furs. It's time for a dude-like prancing in protest.

Stanislaw

Raw Food Diet, Day 572- Just Say 'No' to NASCAR

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Big Pupi might need anger management:

I never realized how much I detest NASCAR... until my mom came home with this toy. The evil, possessed little thing makes the most horrible growling sounds and is actually able to run away from me ON ITS OWN!! That's totally not kosher!!! Toys are supposed to be submissive, and accept their fate in my jaws. But this angry little bugger does not obey the rules and it just filled me with hatred and the need to bark and do some growling of my own. I REALLY don't like rule breakers!

It was time for me to release the beast, and the NASCAR toy got it. Try not to let the video or my rippling beast muscles of fury intimidate you. I can't help that I'm such an animal.

Rest in Pieces, evil toy.
Big Pupi

Raw Food Diet, Day 560- It's That Time of Year

To all our feaster friends: Your beastly buds,
Stanislaw and Big Pupi

Raw Food Diet, Day 654- I Was Right

I was totally on it. Santa did come early. He must have seen my beacon of Good Boy light shining brightly through the chilly Chicago sky and decided to make a special trip just for me. Too bad he didn't leave any venison along with my presents, but I suppose I'm not too down about that.

We only got one present so far - we have to wait for the rest. But this present was a SUPER CRAZY AWESOME and when my folks brought it out to us I was so totally jaw droppingly pumped!!!Big Pupi couldn't believe his googlie eyeballs either.
It was our very own, Joe Stains-inspired nuzzle nest. With my smooth moves and delicate, manly-like prancing I managed to beat my stinkbutt bro and was the first to model the nest for mom. I made sure to have spikeysaurus with me for my photo shoot.
Big Pupi watched from our bolstered blankie sofa protector thingy and gave me the stink eye. He was so jealous!
I tried my best to show him, in no uncertain terms of body language, that this was the most comfortable nest of nuzzliness that my bahonkus had ever rested upon. (Notice the delicious yogurt remnants around my feasting hole. I'm saving that for later.)
I made sure to nuzzle my schnozzle deep into the fuzzled bed of heavenly squishes.
And when my folks weren't looking, I sent my brother mocking messages.
And that stinkbutt sent them right back to me.
In an attempt to make me jealous, he created a stuffy and blankie nest of his own. It totally doesn't even compare!
I quickly discovered that a bed made of 1/2 nuzzle nest and 1/2 human is probably the best. The front part gets scritches from your person while the back portion remains in bum-cushing luxury. It's handy to be as long and masculine as I am - you can stretch to both places.
Big Pupi did not approve of this attention, and began to flirt with mommy from the (un)comfort of his not-so nuzzle nest.
To prevent a war from breaking out, my humans gave us a set of chewies. We are allowed to have Wholesome Hide chewies and only while my people are home. I have beastly jaws of steel, and these are the only rawhide bones my humans can find that are super thick, use only one rolled sheet of rawhide, and are completely made in the USA. (You can read this Whole Dog Journal article to find out what to look for in a rawhide chew, and why a USA-made chewy is so important if you live in the USA.) There are no compressed pieces, and they actually take me a super long time to work through. My brother, on the other hand, can hardly make a dent!
I made sure to stare my chewy down while providing a munching it will never forget.
When Big Pupi doesn't want to chew any more, he holds the bone in his feasting hole and carries it around - all so I can't get a hold of it.
But I didn't want his chewy anyway. It's half the size of mine! Plus, I'd have to leave this bum-pleasing nuzzle nest to harass him. So he got the day off. I was one happy, content boy.
My parents don't realize it yet, but Santa also gave me another present... both of my folks are home today! Dad has a big exam tonight and he stayed home to study. I've learned that "study" means that I lie across his chest and nibble on his book corners. Mom got to stay home because she used her hand as a resting place for an Xacto knife at work yesterday. So as long as I make sure to ask for scritches on her right side, I'm good to go.

Thanks Santa!
(But where is that venison I asked for?)

Stanislaw