Surfer Girl

Dang dawg, so much has happened! It was a rough week without my BARF (Best Amigo Ratcatcher Forever). I'm not talking about my big sis pictured here at Summerland Beach. I'm referring to my human ratcatcher amigo.

Dad.

Sure, we did get to go to the beach with Mom. But there were these gargantuan creatures there. I barked at them as they went by. I gave them my meanest woof. I heard a human yell to Mom, "My dog is bigger than your dog!" as they zipped by. I heard my mom yell after her, "And so is its duty!"

What a lovely pile of manure left by this mighty creature! I believe the creature is called a "damn horse." I made a beeline. It wasn't easy in the sand, but I leapt, twisted in the air, and landed square on my back in the sweet-smelling dung. Still on my back, I wriggled with delight.

Then I heard my mother's screams.

To this day, I can't understand why humans don't enjoy the sheer pleasure of rolling in crap. Or eating a few turds for that matter. Rolled in kitty litter? Almond Roca! Perhaps it's an acquired taste. At any rate, I suddenly found myself under cool, running water. I grunted to let my mother know how refreshing that felt on such a miserably hot day.

Meanwhile, my sister Garbo was running up and down the beach laughing hysterically as if Westminster Kennel Club was on the phone. Finally, I found a cool spot underneath some rocks. I chilled there by myself for awhile. I really missed my BARF.

Then this morning, a surprise. My mom let me and Garbo go with her when she left the house early. I'm not crazy about riding in cars, but I'd rather withstand a little nausea if that means I can be with Mom. As I rode in the car, and Garbo barked annoyingly at each motorcycle, I wondered, "Where is Mom taking us?"

It seemed like ages and finally we stopped. The door swung open. It was my BARF! My BARF! My BARF was home! My tail, although critics contend is stumpy, could not stop wagging.

Searching for Linda Blair

Today, my mom took me and Garbo to the largest Earth Day celebration in L.A. Dad had to work and that is too bad because he is my favorite human playmate. When my mom put a leash on me (which I hate!) and we meandered to Woodley Avenue Park in Van Nuys, I kept looking back expecting to see Dad lagging behind. It took me a while to realize that my playmate wasn't there.

But off we went. When I learned that animal activist extraordinaire Linda Blair would be there, I swaggered into the fair. Regan has long been my hero for her activism with abused and abandoned animals. I couldn't wait to meet her.

Once there, I learned more about cruelty to animals than I ever imagined in a million dog years. At one booth, one giant poster showed the face of a cow saying, "Don't eat a cow, man!"

Vegans aplenty. There was even a vegan baking party thrown by Bismark of the Beast with vegan doughnuts, cheesecake, muffins and black forest cake. The nice lady gave us a card that said www.myspace.com/getdownbakelove. She said I looked like an Ewok. I was a little insulted, but then she gave me some meatless pastry.

We learned that minks need their fur more than you! And we saw horrible photos of doomed minks trapped in rusty cages awaiting slaughter. We saw cages chock full with faux chickens, de-beaked and toes trimmed, showing what actually happens during the hellish life of chickens raised for meat.

"I am not a nugget!" one chick in a photo exclaimed. Same for pigs. And chimps, don't get me started.

Anyhow, by 5 p.m., I was pooped, ready for a siesta. But I wanted to wait for Linda. At the information booth, the kind lady assured us that Linda Blair would be at the main stage at 5:15 p.m. sharp. I begged my mom and she finally agreed to wait with me and Garbo.

At 5:15 p.m., as sure as I'm lounging on my suitcase blogging right now, a man stood on the stage and introduced "a fine actor and dedicated animal activist..."

"COREY FELDMAN!"

What? Before I knew it the former boy actor who wore the black glasses in "Stand By Me" and doesn't like Michael Jackson was telling the crowd about his 25 years of vegetarianism and how his baby son "has not had an ounce of meat from the moment of conception." We learned that Corey buys planet products in grocery stores.

"Whether you're a doctor, lawyer, dog or a cow, you are important to this planet," said Corey, who lives in nearby Chatsworth. He was addressing me! Corey was talking to me!

An obviously drunk young man with a nearly shaved head who was wearing jeans so low his underwear was hanging out, kept yelling, "I love steak!"

"Whatever he said I'm sure it was important and funny," Corey replied, trying to put the drunken youth in his place. But the heckler kept screaming the same disturbing mantra:

"Steak! Steak! Steak!"

Despite interruptions by the rude carnivore, Corey introduced his young, pretty wife Susie, who he said was public speaking for the first time. She apologized for being an "eco-Nazi," (huh?) before telling folks to visit 1planet1people.net, where she sells jewelry. I don't wear jewelry, but was glad to hear her wares don't fuel conflict in the planet.

"No endangered stones are used," she promised, reminding me that I really could use a new dog collar.

"Win the war of positivity over negativity!" Corey urged us. Before I could figure out what the heck he was talking about, another man entered the stage and began discussing all of Linda's wonderful efforts rescuing downtrodden creatures. My Linda Blair! Might she show up, after all?

"She's a wonderful person...," the man said. "I think she's already packed up and left."

Drats! When the man implored the crowd to save the dolphins, and the belligerent youth replied, "Eat the dolphins!" we left.

Disappointed, but still high on Corey's message of positivity over negativity, Garbo, I and my mom slowly headed for the car. A passerby said I looked like "a wise, old professor," just one last crack to add to the humiliation of being stood up by Linda.

Then my mom took me to the beach. I tell you, happiness is rolling on the sand.

Meet My Sister Garbo

This is my big sister, Garbo. I can see why she was named after Greta Garbo because she thinks she's a beauty icon and the ultimate star. But she never wants to be alone. Ever. When our favorite humans are not around, boy does she howl.

OOOOUUUWWWwwwwOOOOOOO! OOOOooooooUUUUuuuuuuOOOOooooUUUUU!

I try to mimic her but I sound like squeaky breaks. I used to like to wrestle her, but she's a little taller than me now and has an unfair advantage when she can just jump on me like that. My motto is never let a bitch get you down.

Who needs to mope around wearing a hangdog expression? Wait a minute, I think that adjective smacks of dogism. I don't want to mope around wearing a hanghuman expression. That's better.

Just one last thing, if you see me and my sister at the dog park, please refrain from exclaiming, "Oh look, the beauty and the beast!" You want to see a mad dog? That really gets my Capra hircus.

Well, see you on the radio!

Your friend,
Hitch

It's a Dog's World After All

Woof and welcome friend! My name is Hitch. I'm small in stature, but have a big heart. I was named after Alfred Hitchcock, whom my parents insist I look like. I'm a Brussels Griffon. Yeah, yeah, like Verdel in "As Good As it Gets." But don't even think about shoving me down a garbage chute.

I have three sisters — a chocolate and white Pomeranian named Garbo; a calico cat, Isabella; and a flame point Persian, Frida. We live in the San Fernando Valley.

Things I love: Rolling on the cool grass, sitting in the breeze under a tree, being carried, belly rubs and string cheese.

Things I hate: Hot days, riding in the car, having mom and dad leave the house and being told I look like a werewolf.

Thanks for visiting my site. I hope you enjoy reading about my daily life. Good night nice human! I'm off to my favorite hangout — a suitcase I converted into my own doggy sofa.