Thankful.

My mom has today off so I get to spend the day with my tongue stuck to the couch alternating between snoozing and blogging and getting treats which is my favorite kind of day. And as I lay around, I think about what a lucky dog I am because nine months ago I lived at a puppy factory and I wasn't very happy even though I got a lot of sex. I know people think that getting a lot of sex is a very good thing and that it will somehow make them happy, for dogs, having a nice mom and dad and good food and a couch to stick your tongue to is a lot better. So I'm just saying that I am very thankful and I want to post some Web sites of places that help Boston terriers like me get out of the sex trade and into the world of couch licking and treats and kisses (and razberries on my belly which I don't like and make me growl.)
The first two groups that I am listing are the groups that helped me directly - MidAmerica Boston Terrier Rescue and Wisconsin Boston Terrier Rescue. Thank you rescue groups for all your help!
http://www.adoptaboston.com/
http://www.petfinder.com/shelters/WI196.html
http://www.midwestbtrescue.org/
http://www.petfinder.com/shelters/nebraskabostonterrierrescue.html
http://www.btrescue.org/mn/


And this is a picture of me being thankful.

Charm School.

Fifteen days until my mom and dad go to California to visit Atticus who is a baby and babies wear the best underwear. Too bad I can't go because I am too big to fit under the seat so I would have to fly in the plane's belly and I don't ever want to be in the belly of anything, ever. So no baby underwear for me. When they go, I have to stay with Tory the trainer who I took a class with a while ago and I was top of my class of two dogs. The other dog was a miniature pincher/chihuahua mix named Tucker, and he was a total spaz who peed all over all the time and who used to bounce like a grasshopper but he was my best friend. So I will stay with Tory who is ok, I guess, but since I don't really trust anyone but my mom and dad, my mom is really nervous which I am too. My mom said that Tory is going to help me with my "social skills" and I think that is stupid because I have social skills - jeez I have friends in Singapore and Australia and all over the country now. Maybe my mom and Tory need to work on their social skills because I think I am fine.
My grandma comes over two times a week to take me out to pee and I don't even try to bite her anymore and she gives me food and it's not that bad now that I know she isn't here to kill me. In fact, I only shied away from her when she put my leash on today and I ran and pooped at the same time because it's so cold here - that's multitasking!
So off to Tory's soon where I get to learn to be a dog who likes everyone even though I'm really happy with my mom and dad.
Here's a picture of me looking charming.






And here's a video of me doing a trick I learned in Tory's class.

Nicknames.

So I have all these nicknames and sometimes I don't even know my real name anymore and a few months ago at Halloween, my mom and dad started calling me Ikenstein which has turned into Stein or Steiner. They pretty much only call me Ike if I'm in trouble which is hardly ever because I'm such a good dog but sometimes they call me Ikey, Iken, Iko, Ikos, Iko-iko-eyenay, Ikenbuddy, Buddy or Dufus but mostly just Steiner which will change soon I'm sure. Do any of the other blog dogs have this problem and what do your moms and dads call you?
And here's a picture of me because I'm sure you want to see me because you are looking at my blog. This is my Godfather face (minus the hair of course.)

I fought the Cuz and the Cuz won.

So my mom bought me a Cuz because all you other Bostons love the Cuz so much you have tribute photos and stuff. And now my mom thinks something is wrong with me because I only like my Cuz when he has peanut butter in his foot and I prefer my chewies because I can eat them and we all know I like to eat. So what's with this Cuz thing because I don't want my mom to think I am weird. Here is a picture of me not playing with my Cuz. (Notice the bacon tongue.)

Bacon tongue and -10 degrees.

So this morning, when I woke my mom and dad up, it was snowing. And then later, the snow brought cold. I'm not talking open the freezer for some Frosty Paws cold, I mean can't let your tongue hang out or it will turn black and fall off cold. So I pretty much had my tongue in my mouth the whole time I was outside and my mouth was crowded. This is a picture of me wearing my sweater, jacket and boots. I just came inside from pooping. Notice, no tongue.
I don't know if you know anything about my tongue but it's really big and pretty much doesn't fit in my mouth at all. Sometimes only a half inch sticks out, but usually it's a lot more. If it sticks out too long, it gets really dry and crusty and my mom and dad call it bacon tongue, but it's not really fair because my tongue hardly ever gets near bacon. A while ago, my mom bought silk pillows for the couch and I really like to lay on pillows so I did and now they all have rings on them from drying out my tongue. Now the cats sleep on the pillows because my mom thinks they're gross and she doesn't want to put her face on them. She said no more silk pillows which is lame because I like the feel of silk on my tongue.





This is a picture of me kissing my dad with my tongue.















And here's a picture of me when my tongue is about to get all bacon-y.

Tribute.

My mom asked me to do a tribute post to the dog who came before me. Her name was Meg and I never met her, but my mom sometimes still gets teary eyed about her. I want to be a good dog because good dogs get more treats so I said I would do this for her even though I don't really like other dogs. Meg was also a Boston terrier - the regular kind. She had something in her brain that ended in oma and something in the brain that ends in oma is always bad. They rescued her too and they only had her for a year and a half which isn't much time at all.
My mom gets worried because Meg was six and a half when she died and I'm six now which is really pretty young. But I don't have any omas. If anything is wrong with me, my mom takes me to work to see the doctors who say I'll be fine and I always am. I get better medical care than most people in this country which is good for me but not good for people. George Bush was on the moving picture box saying he would fix that but my mom doesn't believe him. I don't believe him because he looks like a ferret and ferrets are weasels and weasels are sneaky.
So Meg had her oma thing and had lots of seizures and then my mom and dad helped her go to heaven faster because she was scared and didn't recognize my mom or dad anymore and they said that was horrible.
Meg won an online photo contest at pamperedpuppy.com and she was featured in the reader's section of Modern Dog. She got a lot of press for a dog who used to live on the couch all the time. I don't know if we would have liked each other, but this is a tribute to her because my mom and dad loved her so much. This is Meg.

This is what I think of cats.

My mom said I have to introduce the other creatures in the house. And when I say creatures, I mean cats. There are three of them. And mostly I just ignore them, but sometimes I play "get the Duncan" where dad hangs Duncan above me and Duncan swats at me and I jump around and tease him. Duncan thinks he's tough, but I could really kick his fluffy little butt if I wanted to which I don't because I'm a good dog and I don't want to get into trouble because that means no treats and no treats is really bad. He's very naughty because he's one year old. And another thing. Sometimes Duncan gets turds stuck to his foofy skunk tail which I love 'cause then I get to eat them. The kitty bathroom is blocked off, so it's a rare treat. And one more thing. When Duncan gets in trouble, they put him in my cage which he can sometimes get open and I wish he would teach me how but he won't cause he's a cat and cats are like that.


And then there's Odin. He's the cranky old man. He's fourteen. He loves mom and dad and everyone in the whole world (except me and Duncan.) If someone robbed the house, he would offer to hold the bag. Mom and Dad call him the ghost cat. Not because he's white - they're not that dumb - but because they will be sitting on the couch watching the moving pictures box and then they realize that he is on their lap purring and they have been petting him and they have no idea how long he's been there. Sometimes, even though he doesn't like me and only if I'm wearing a sweater which tricks him, he will lay across me which I hate because I don't like cats laying across me. Here's Odin.


And then there's Saffron. She's mom's little girl. She's nine. She sleeps in her special basket all day. And Mom says she never does anything wrong except when she's on the back of the couch she purrs and pulls Mom's hair and bites her head which makes Mom scream. I wouldn't scream, I would bite her back, but then I would get in trouble and trouble means no treats and we all know no treats is bad. We pretty much leave each other alone. Oh, and she's orange and a girl and girl cats are not really supposed to be orange like Boston terriers aren't supposed to be brown which I am so we sort of have something in common. But that's it.


And here's a picture of me because it's my blog and who wants to look at cats anyway. Mom says I'm being selfish, but it is my blog. And below, this is what I think of cats.

Say it loud.

Hi. My name's Ike. I'm adopted. I used to live at a puppy factory in Missouri or something. But last summer they decided not to keep me anymore. So I lived with these people who had my balls cut off and my rotten teeth pulled and they gave me really good food that made me feel a lot better. Then these other people came over and played with me and now they are my mom and dad. They're the only people in the entire world I trust. I know you're probably like "whatever ... the only people," but it's true. They want me to like other people and I guess I'm kind of working on it, but hey, if you were a six-year-old ex-sex worker, you might have some trust issues too.
So I live in Minnesota where they say it snows all the time. Well it doesn't - until recently. And now there's enough snow outside to cover all four of my feet. It's really cold. My mom said that I think the snow is ookie. I think the snow is just really cold and gross and I wish she would stop saying ookie because it makes me sound like a huge wus. I'm not a big chicken-dog, I'm just basically naked and I'm not used to this crap.
I used to like to poop by the fence in the park. Now it's all covered in snow, which really sucks a lot, so I poop on the sidewalk. I hate it when people don't scoop the snow on the sidewalk in front of their houses because it makes me limp. And I think there is a law about shoveling so dogs don't limp. When it's really cold, which it is a lot lately, my mom makes me wear boots. I walk all weird and look like a total dufus, but between you and me, it's way better than walking on the snow. Sometimes, I wear a sweater and an overcoat and I still shiver. I remember when I first came here in July and I would lay in the sun and pant and it was the best. Now it's cold, and I have way too much time on my paws 'cause there's nothing to do.
Oh, and another thing about me. I'm brown. Yep, all you hoity-toity Boston people can kiss my brown ass. I know I'm not "breed standard," and I don't care. I'm brown, and I'm proud.