Wednesday, October 14, 2009

Rescued: missing ID tag!

Just when it feels like everyone’s running around acting selfishly, I have evidence to prove that some people feel it’s important to do something nice for others.

So, I lost two ID tags within two weeks. The second one was just like Sparky’s, made out of long-lasting stainless steel, heart shaped of course, that had to be special ordered. I do a lot of shaking (just got to get that handsome skin to settle right on my bones) and Dad hadn’t fastened the loop properly, so off went that new tag—somewhere.

We figured it was lost at one of my favorite places, the Lake Waban path (even though it sometimes makes Mom cranky to go there because nearly all the pups are off leash despite the signs saying DOGS MUST BE LEASHED). You know how people think rules don’t apply to them? That drives Mom crazy (and me too—I love to romp around like a wild thing!) But despite looking and looking, sniffing and sniffing, we couldn’t find the tag.

This week, faith in humanity has been restored. Some really super nice and thoughtful people not only found my tag, they got out an envelope, stamp and even wrote a note, and mailed it promptly to our family. That’s a bunch of extra steps for which not everyone would take time, and we all really appreciate that effort. If I ever become lost, I definitely want to get home. I mean, I know I’m famous, but just in case. Thanks, great people!

Wednesday, October 7, 2009

Handsome, fabulous me—and Wordle!

Have you ever tried Wordle? It makes cool-looking word clouds that weight the size of the words depending on how often they are used in a text.

So it makes sense for me, who is often called handsome, with beautiful markings, and large, to try out a word cloud on my blog to see which themes come up most often. Did I say I was handsome, beautiful and large? So large, in fact, people who are stymied by my handsome, beautiful (and large) looks ask if I am a giant beagle. Let's try out a Wordle and see what it looks like.

Speaking of words, did I mention I am stubborn, obstinate and recalcitrant? And very, very handsome? Detailed definitions to come.

Sunday, October 4, 2009

Newton Centre harvest fair today!

Mom is singing with her new choral group, Basically Broadway, around 2ish in Newton Centre at the city's Harvest Fair. I helped her practice last night, especially with the low parts and the "doo-do, doo-do, doo-do, doo-do" sections on Can't Take My Eyes Off of You. I have to say, I sounded pretty good!

That reminds me of one of my favorite books, The Dog Who Sang at the Opera by Marshall Izen, based on the true story of a Russian wolfhound who insisted on sharing the great stage at the Met. I love the book, but I prefer the original cover illustration which had the hound front and center. We hounds, not only do we love to warble, we crave attention!

Saturday, October 3, 2009

E-mail, not p-mail

Just one of the many recent email fan letters I have received:

Dear Cousin Tucker:

I heard about you from my parents and I just had to read your blog!  I must
say you are very handsome and I like your sad eyes and big nose (just like mine).
You seem to be quite an adventurer too!
I am very jealous about your meatball extravaganza—I only smell my mom’s meatballs and I gain weight!  You know how it is at my age (10 years old already, can you believe it?)
I hope to meet you sometime soon, but for now I’ll send this photo.
Cousin Pazzo

Thanks, Pazzo! I know your name means crazy in Italian. Good to know I'm not the only goofy one in the family. Ciao, bella!

Friday, October 2, 2009

The Plop O'Doom explained

I have earlier referred to the Plop O’Doom, of which I am a master, and here I will explain it for those who would like to attempt this difficult, yet highly effective, maneuver. The Plop O’Doom can be simply defined as a contrivance to gain control. In its essence, one stops and plops until one gets one’s way.

The Plop can be performed anywhere. It has physical, emotional and metaphysical components. At its most masterful execution, the Plop is massive, heavy and portentous. With consistent practice, The Plop can be learned, but to take it to its most immovable state, it must become metaphysical.

The physical component: settle down into a large and comfortable sitting plop.

The emotional component: stone faced. Do not appear ruffled or in any kind of a hurry. Appear intent on your planned destination, irresponsive to any commands, pleas or entreaties.

Note: The mastery of this emotional component is essential to take the Plop to its most doomful level. Think heavy. Think bulky.

Now, the metaphysical. Become one with the ground, cemented in, or better yet, melted.
Remain in this welded state until convenient, or you become bored. Once you have downgraded your plop to a simple sit, proceed in the direction in which you were originally headed, which is opposite of that which your handler intended. One can always re-employ the Plop when necessary. Masters can perform it at will.

Sunday, September 27, 2009

My main squeeze

Medically speaking, is Dr. Edward Schettino at VCA Westboro. He's smart, patient, explains everything and has a great sense of humor, which often is necessary during my frequent visits! I love, love, love him. I also really like Larissa and Tania and everyone else there, who all think I am both handsome and adorable. They don't seem to mind my stubborn streak at all. In fact, I love everything about VCA, especially leaving. That's when I head over next door to Especially for Pets for a bone, which Mom hopes will entice me into the wayback of the wagon.

I really think I'm getting too old for the wayback. First, I can't open my own window. Second, because of the pet "barrier" (the word must be used loosely, just as in the "squirrel-proof" bird feeder outside the kitchen window) the options for curling up in a cushy corner are nil. Major bummer. It's a long drive back and forth, and a hard-charging pup like me needs his rest.

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

On top of spaghetti...

OK, so it was rigatoni, and the meatballs—there were about a dozen—weren't on top of anything, yet.

Dad left a pot of sauce and meatballs on the back burner tonight while he went out to shoot a few hoops. Mom wasn't home, having taken my sister to her singing audition. I was feeling a bit abandoned, you might say. Dad usually gives me a bit of meatball for a special treat, so I figured, why not help myself?

Not sure how I'll feel tomorrow, but they sure tasted good. And my family? Well, they had to make a quick run up to Tilly's for dinner. Their chicken parm tastes just like homemade, or so they said. Somehow, I was too full to try it.

Monday, September 21, 2009


Had a super playdate with a new friend. Bella's eight months old, part black lab, part hound (love her for that!). She was adopted just last month through Petfinder.

Anyway, we ran around like the maniacs we are while our folks sat on the patio in the sun and gave us treats whenever we seemed droopy. We showed off our tricks, bayed at the neighbors and generally caroused. Fun, fun, fun. Thanks, Bella!

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

Foxhound meetup!

I'm sort of famous around my neighborhood and beyond, which is both a good and a bad thing.

The great thing is being recognized around town. Today, Mom was walking me, and a woman rolled down her minivan window. "Is that Tucker?" she asked. The same phenomenon occurred while Mom was shopping at her favorite gourmet grocery, Tilly and Salvy's Bacon Street Farm. In fact, it is the only grocery she deigns to enter. I was just hanging out, hoping to go in, and and, bingo, someone recognized me.

There's a downside, too, of course. First, it's really easy to tell which dog is doing the baying. At least I don't bark like so many of my neighbors attempt to do (those incessantly yippy creatures). But it's a sure thing that I can be heard many, many, streets away. "Oh, yep, that's Tucker," another neighbor says he thinks every a.m., around 7 or so. Nothing like a good deep bay to clear away that morning frogginess, uh huh. You should hear it ring right across Lake Waban, waking up those Wellesley girls.

Mom always was glad there was another Dalmatian in the neighborhood, just to serve as a body double. Truly, though, she was offended anyone could have mistaken the other, far less handsome one, for le grand Sparky. There really was no comparison.

So I was thinking, it might be good to team up with some other foxhounds for a bit of a romp.

Looking for: energetic foxhound (is there any other kind) to play, play, play for a good hour or so. Remember, must be kind to rabbits, and, no jumping in the fish pond.

Tuesday, September 15, 2009


So, if I hadn't chewed my toy bin to pieces, my sister never would have made this cool basket for her bike, right?

One day I was bored, just staring at my toy box. I didn't want to play with all the old stuff, so I thought, hey, why not play with the box
itself? It was wire-framed, with a fabric covering—flowers–not really my style.

My sister is
so resourceful. The bin looks much better now that it's laced with ribbons, and it's functional, too. Martha Stewart would be proud: it's a good thing.

P.S. Martha, Mom is thrilled about today's news that you're teaming up with
Home Depot. While you're into teaming, how about teaming up with Dreams du Dog? We realize you're partial to the Daily Wag, but change can be a good thing, too.

Psst...She noticed that my sister's bike basket is way more creative than the flower trimmed, store-bought version featured in a craft how-to on your website. Remember, necessity is the mother of invention!