I'm Cuter Than That.

Whatever it is, I am cuter. And I know it too. Mom says this makes me a hot ticket. I like that.

Ask Gerbil. Every morning when he comes to pick up Girl I make him giggle. Like a girl. He knows I am adorable.

Today I found a bug, a live one. It came off the wood in the wood box. I chased it with my paw, and then I tried to eat it. It felt very strange so I shook my head very, very hard. Then I went back and tried to get it again. I bit into it and it tasted awful. Mom said it was a stink bug. I'll say. Bleck!

But this is cool, and smells wonderful -

This is my new toy. It has sliding doors and little cups for mom to hide treats in. I already figured out one. And I can smell more, and I want them. Mom says I have to do it myself. I will, if it takes me all night!

We did puppy push-ups today; lots of sit - down - stand - down - stand - sit. We did it until I got very bored and then mom let me play with pink pig. She threw the ball for me, too. I am beginning to understand the word "ball". When she says it I look right at it most of the time, and sometimes I go and get it.

We also practiced "off", and mom got pretty serious about it when it was Boo she wanted me to get off of. Apparently he is "old" and I have to "be nice". He is slow in the morning and I get frustrated and jump on him to make him move. I see this as motivational. Apparently mom has other ideas.

Mom noticed today that when I get bored with a toy, I sometimes put it back in the basket and get a different one. Not all the time, but sometimes. She says this makes me smarter than any of my human siblings. I think it just makes me tidy. I do not like messes. Unless I make them. I like to drag my crate mat out of my crate for some naps, then back in for others.

In fact, speaking of messes, here we are in the second week of my residence in this new place, and not a single potty accident. I ask to go out when I need to, and if mom doesn't get right on it the minute I first ask, I get very vocal and let her know I am not into waiting.

I love my crates. Mom doesn't even shut the downstairs one unless she is going outside and there's no one to supervise me. I go in it when I am tired and need a nap. Last night at bedtime I ran up the stairs with mom and when she opened the bedroom door I ran right in and went into my crate. Then I came right back out because I remembered that there should be a cookie, and I didn't want her to forget. She might, if I don't remind her.

The thing called Mel and I had a talk tonight. Up until now I have been tolerant of his refusal to acknowledge his Shiba-ness and his failure to play with me. Tonight I was at my limit and I let him know I was feeling frustrated.

Mom made me stop, but not before I got some good yelling in. I don't get it. He's orange. He's my size. Why won't he just PLAY? Uggh!

Tomorrow is school at night. I can't wait to go back to school. I like it there. There's other dogs, and mom hands me kibble treats like nobody's business. I hope I remember my come-when-called. Pam makes it hard with the food bribes. It's hard to hear mom over the smell of yummy things. Wish me luck!