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Me & my mom in the snow

Waiting for dad to throw a snowball for me to catch!

In case you didn’t know, this past week more than a foot of snow fell here in NY! It was AWESOME! Mom wasn’t too happy about it, but once we started playing in the yard, she had fun. Speaking of which, I got to go out and play in it almost every day! My mom & dad chased me, I chased them, I dug holes (I wanted to make sure the grass was still there underneath!) and they threw snowballs for me to catch. Except… you can’t catch snow. So I just ate them. *shrugs*

I love you, mom & dad. Thanks for picking me, and thanks for being so patient with me through my housetraining, and my chewy phase, and all the other little idiosyncracies (I had to look that word up in the thesaurus) I’ve had. You’re awesome parents.

Now get me a baby sister or brother. It’s lonely here when no one’s home. On that note… there are pupcakes calling my name.

My most favorite toy, my oldest friend, my beloved Kong was taken away.

Well, actually, all three of my Kongs were taken away.

Apparently, you’re not supposed to rip pieces of the rubber off. Unfortunately, if you stuff it with treats, and I can’t get them out by tossing it around, I’m going to chew them out. That’s just common sense.

And that means that dad confiscated my two Kongs. I can smell them in the garbage can. I cried and howled for them, but he told me I couldn’t have it anymore. Then he left, and came home with a brand new one!

OH MY GOD I was so EXCITED. He opened the package, I could smell it!! It was alllll mine and brand new and I could chew it and throw it and it’ll bounce and OH MY GOD I LOVE KONGS. So my dad stuffed it with treats. And I played with it. And nothing came out. So I took it into my bed and layed down and started to rip off the rubber to make the hole bigger, so the treats come out. Duh.

And dad yelled “NO!” and ran over and took it away again. When he took it back to the store, the manager asked him what kind of dog he had, and insinuated that I was a monster of some sort because these things are supposed to be the strongest toys ever. Hmph.

I have a feeling there’ll be no more Kongs for me, since these were the black Extreme Kongs, and they don’t make any stronger ones. And now that I’ve “learned to destroy” them, I can’t have them anymore.

Poop.

Not only that, but a brand new rope chew toy that dad bought me was taken away too. I guess you’re not supposed to tear the rope?

In short… there are now even fewer toys I can have! Damn. Sometimes it sucks being an awesomely strong, incredibly handsome dog. Indestructible my paw, Kong people!

(I know, I’m a handsome devil)

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This is my new blog. I guess I should start by telling you a little bit about myself, but I’ll make it quick since my mom & dad really don’t let me use the computer & they might get angry if they catch me. I dunno, some nonsense about how computers are expensive and my paws might break the keyboard… whatever.

I’m a mix. What am I a mix of, you ask? Well, my mom and dad (more about them in a minute) got a doggie DNA test done on me, and found out I’m part Labrador Retriever, part Staffordshire Bull Terrier, and part English Coonhound. They say they can definitely see the Lab and the Staffie in me, and mom says she can see where the hound part comes in  ’cause I always have my nose to the ground on walks, sniffing stuff out (I have webbed feet too). I’m stubborn, but I’m also a genius. My first day in my new house I knew how to ‘sit’ and just a few days after that, I was giving them my paw. I can do both, depending what hand you put out for me. I also give a mean high five! Now I know all sorts of stuff, I give kisses, lay down, and play dead. That trick is really stupid though, so I refuse to do it unless there’s a really delicious treat on the line. Then I do it half-heartedly. I hate that trick.

I’m roughly 95 lbs, about a year and a half old, and I was adopted by my family last January. I was at North Shore Animal League, and while it’s a great place & I’m really grateful to them for saving me, I was pretty bummed. It was loud there, my neighbor wouldn’t stop barking, and I was lonely (and the food wasn’t nearly as good as the stuff I’m getting now, but that’s besides the point). I came up to NY from the South somewhere (I don’t remember where, I was only 5 months old at the time). Thankfully, I was only at North Shore for two days before I found my family. They say they adopted me, but I like to think I adopted them. I wormed my way into their hearts as soon as I saw the big guy walk over to my kennel. When I licked his hand, I knew I had him. Before I knew it, they were signing the papers to get me outta there (and I was already chewing my mom’s coat buttons and sticking my face in her bag… hey, it smelled good in there, I thought there were some treats, turns out it was just her hand lotion). They took me to Petco right away and bought me tons of stuff! Toys, treats, yummy food, anything and everything a dog could dream of.

Me, when I was little, in my first snowstorm… I love snow.

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Thankfully they re-named me Indy, my name at North Shore was Monty & I didn’t really like that much. I kept thinking of Monty Python movies. Not that they’re not good, but everyone laughs at them. I don’t want people laughing at me (unless I tell a joke, in which case that’s cool). Indiana Jones is a much cooler namesake, and I definitely live up to it. I guess now is a good time to tell you that I have singlehandedly demolished two crates, both built for dogs 80-100 lbs. I was about 35 lbs at the time. I hate crates. I didn’t have any way of telling mom, dad & grandma & grandpa that I wouldn’t pee on the floor or chew the computer cables, so I had to take matters into my own hands. I broke out of the first crate a few times before I just finally destroyed it, and dad came home and found me chillin’ on the bedroom floor, chewing on my first favorite toy- a big green rubber toothbrush. Then he got rid of that piece of crap… but don’t get too excited like I did. He bought another one. *sigh* Yeah I know. Totally untrusting. But still, I can’t blame him. I wasn’t housebroken yet, but I was trying. I never intentionally peed on the floor, but I had a few accidents. And I was teething pretty bad back then, to the point where I’d be bleeding, and I was pretty uncomfortable unless I was chewing on something, so I know they just didn’t want me to eat something I shouldn’t (like mom’s L.A.M.B. bags or Ugg boots). So the new crate came, and while it was much cozier than the first, I still hated it. So I broke that one too. Finally, dad realized I was getting a lot better with the training, and probably more so that I just refused to be contained. Ha! I win! So no more crates for me. I got my own bed, with a blanket handmade for me by my Aunt Yoyo (check out her site and look at the pics of my friend Tyson!). Much more comfy.

I was little here too… I prefer my own bed now. Who wants to sleep with their parents? That’s for babies.

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So now I’m out of puppyhood, and I’m the house protector. If you slam a door outside and I’m sleeping, I’ll get up and bark at you, so watch it, buddy. If you ring my doorbell, you better have earplugs in. Yep. This is my house, and you won’t disturb our peace. I get it from my dad I think, he’s a cop. I’m here to protect, too. Serve, not so much. I’m very protective over my mom, I keep my eye on her at all times. If she leaves the room, I watch her, and sometimes sit outside the bathroom and wait for her to come out. If I hear her yell or say “ouch”- I’m there, no matter what I was doing. If my dad touches her in a way I don’t like, I have to keep him in line, even though she’s laughing and telling me it’s okay. You never know. She’s my mom, it’s my job. I have an Aunt Jen who’s pretty funny, we have fun together, when she doesn’t force me to watch ’90210′ reruns from 1990 (jeez, Aunt Jen, my birth mom wasn’t even born then! That’s OLD!) I have two grandma’s and two grandpa’s, and three great-grandma’s. How lucky am I?

I love the dog park. I only go when it’s warm out, because afterwards means bathtime. I do NOT like bathtime. No sir. Water is for drinking, people. And I hate having my nails trimmed, so I bite them myself to keep them short. What? You don’t believe me? Didn’t I tell you I was a genius?

I love my family- they’re crazy. They’ll provide lots of material for this blog, I know that much. But they also treat me really good and give me all the love and attention I need (and let’s face it, want). Uhm… but I gotta go now. Dad’ll be home soon, so I have to go lay on the couch and pretend to sleep. Bye for now!