Tag: french bulldog

Wally’s Great Adventures (5)

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tgif everyone. i had a great night’s sleep. i get up once or twice a night and bark so mom can take me to go pee pee outside. dad doesn’t get up because he’s tired and he said that it’s mom’s job because mom and dad have divided up responsibilities between them so it’s fair.  in other words, dad plays with me, and mom does everything else. dad is an awesome playmate. i love my crate, it’s my safe place. i sleep in the crate until about 3:30 am when i see bright lights on, then i know dad is up reading. i bark because I’m cold and lonely lying in this crate all by myself —  i see dad nudge mom to get up to get me. mom gets up and she carries me into their bed. i wiggle out of mom’s hands, run across the bed to give dad some kisses and then i skootch under the covers and cosy between dad’s legs. i love my crate but this is a much better place to sleep.  dad takes me out for adventures each morning in the backyard where i get to hunt in the rock pile. dad keeps saying “stop eating dat.” “stop eating dat. “stop eating dat.” i bark at him telling him he doesn’t have to repeat himself, i’m not stoopid, and if he gave me more snacks i wouldn’t have to eat grass and sticks. i climb from the top of the rock pile and then bunny-hop into the bird bath. dad was so proud of me, he took a picture and sent it to mom. mom yelled at dad saying that he shouldn’t put me up on high places, cause i could fall and hurt myself. i bark at mom to explain that it wasn’t dad but she just kept yelling at him. i don’t understand why mom nags at dad, because he let’s me do whatever I want and he’s always right anyway. dad’s been talking about taking me to cove island park this weekend, mom didn’t look all too happy but I’ve come to learn that dad will do whatever he wants anyway. so i have to go now.  it’s nap time. have a great weekend!

Wally’s Great Adventures (4)

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hello everyone, happy hump day. dad said that i can only take a nap after i write my post. so here we go. eric’s friend dana said the other day that she loved how i crossed my legs when i sleep. dad pounced on that and said that was totally unacceptable. that’s how ladies sit, and sleep, and that i needed to “man-up.” i really didn’t know what that meant but dad was really proud of me when he showed me this picture: “wally, what a good boy.” i like it when i make my dad smile, it doesn’t happen often. it’s getting cold here. mom took me outside for poo-poo and i carefully laid it down on the concrete patio. mom didn’t look all that impressed but i didn’t want to walk out onto the cold, wet grass. dad said he didn’t care where i go poo-poo so long as it wasn’t in his office. dad’s been taking me for short little walks in the backyard. he said that i’m an excellent rock climber. right after he said that i tumbled head first and fell behind the rock fence, and rolled around in the leaves a bit. dad brushed me off, told me to get up and stop being a baby. my head hurt a bit. dad said “after that little performance, i’m not ready to go on morning walks with him.” i barked at him and said it’s not like he hadn’t fallen and rolled around on the rocks writhing in pain, and he was a lot older than me. dad told me not to talk back, so it looks like i have to wait a bit longer before i go on walks with dad. anyway, its been like 3.5 minutes and i haven’t sat on mom’s lap. it’s so warm there and she’s so nice, so i’m going to go now.  talk to you all soon.

Do wah diddy diddy dum diddy do

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Arrival this afternoon.  Name still pending.

  1. Benny?
  2. Walter / Wally (cousin of Sully)
  3. Bruce (for The Boss)?

Not exactly sure why, but I can’t get Do Wah Diddy Diddy out of my head:

There she he was just a-walkin’ down the street, singin’‘Do wah diddy diddy dum diddy do’Snappin’ her his fingers and shufflin’ her feet, singin’‘Do wah diddy diddy dum diddy do’She He looked good (Looked good)She He looked fine (Looked fine)She He looked good, she he looked fineAnd I nearly lost my mind

Before I knew it she he was walkin’ next to me, singin’‘Do wah diddy diddy dum diddy do’Holdin’ my hand just as natural as can be, singin’‘Do wah diddy diddy dum diddy do’We walked on (Walked on)To my door (My door)We walked on to my doorThen we kissed a little more
Whoa-oh, I knew we was falling in loveYes, I didAnd so I told her all the thingsI’d been dreamin’ of
Now we’re together nearly every single day, singin’‘Do wah diddy diddy dum diddy do’A-we’re so happy, and that’s how we’re gonna stay, singin’‘Do wah diddy diddy dum diddy do’
Well, I’m hers his (I’m hers his)She’s He’s mine (She’s He’s mine)

Sully’s Great Adventure (IV)

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Grandpa was moving slowly this morning. i could tell that he didn’t want go to the park. it was so cozy under the covers. i didn’t want to go either.

Grandpa then went pee pee. I sit right in front of him when he’s on the toilet. he said “it would be nice to have a moment or two of privacy” so I just sat there, turned my head so i couldn’t see his private parts, and licked his toes.

Grandpa then stepped on this black thing on the floor. it must be very mean because Grandpa gets so mad at it most mornings. he just keeps staring at the numbers yelling “it just can’t be right.”

we drive to the park.

i get out of the car.  there’s 3 deer eating grass! they have such white, fluffy tails. i felt Grandpa pull on my leash: “there’s no chance I am chasing you all over God’s Creation, not today, no sir.” i was so sad — the deer stared at me wondering when i was going to come and play.

we walk into the park. Grandpa usually walks very fast.  i usually have to move my little feet so fast to keep up.  and he’s constantly yanking on my leash. it’s a good thing i have a thick neck or Grandpa would have detached it from the rest of my body from all the yanking. “Do you have to piss on every f$&cking shrub in the  park?” i look up at him and tell him that my friends wouldn’t know i was here otherwise. but since Grandpa has no friends, i understand why he doesn’t get it.

today, however, i noticed that I’m pulling Grandpa, and he’s moving very slowly. Continue reading “Sully’s Great Adventure (IV)” →

Sully’s Great Adventure (III)

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i had trouble getting to sleep last night. my tummy hurt.  could it have been the peanut butter and grape jelly sandwich Grandpa and I shared last night?  or the so-sweet, so-juicy chunks of watermelon. i tried to jump up on the chair at the kitchen table to beg for more, but Grandpa pointed at me and told me to get down as “even he had limits.” i didn’t understand this limit thing because he doesn’t seem to stop snacking.  and when i gave him my sad eyes look, which usually works, he said: “i’m 5x your size, so get down.” so i sat back down on the floor and pouted.

at 2:30 a.m., I had to go poop.  i barked at Grandpa because he wouldn’t get up, and i just couldn’t hold it any longer.  he mumbled “good boy Sully for not pooping on the bed, because Grandpa doesn’t know how to wash the sheets and put new ones on.”

i ran out in the rain and did my business and then came back and cozied up to Grandpa under the sheets. my tummy feels so much better.  i tucked right under Grandpa’s belly, it’s so warm there.  i saw Grandpa was reading something on his phone…now he can’t sleep. maybe he should go outside and go poop too.

i heard Grandpa get up out of bed. wow, i must have fallen asleep for a long time.  Grandpa is putting on my rain jacket. i hate this rain jacket, it is so itchy. i won’t lift my feet because that makes it harder for Grandpa to put the jacket on.  he curses at me, and I bark at him to tell him that it is not nice to curse, and that he curses a lot.

we drive to the park. there are no people here.  Grandpa seems happier when there are no humans around.  it is blustery and raining. the stupid rain jacket is itchy, and it is chafing my armpits because Grandpa doesn’t know how to put my clothes on. i miss Grandma. i hate this rain jacket.

i run up to the point at the park.  there are lots of rocks here and i can smell so many cool things. i hear Grandpa yelling, but then it gets quiet. it has gotten very quiet. it’s not like Grandpa not to be yelling at me every 3 minutes.  i run back up the hill, something is off.

Continue reading “Sully’s Great Adventure (III)” →