Buttons--A Dog's Blog

Buttons On Linkedin

2009-03-11T18:06:00.002-04:00

My humanoid mother posted a blog entry about a phenomenon sweeping the country these days. It ia a business networking site called Linkedin. Now my dear readers I have to tell you that one thing and one thing only comes to my mind when I hear the word Linkedin. Do you know what I am talking about? Linkedin is forever assoicated in my mind with the word CHAIN LINKED. Now in my world a chain link is not a good thing. I have no time or energyb to be tied into a chain link fence. First of all I cough a good bit when anything is around my throat, I don't even wear a collar because of my condition, second why would I want to be tied to thirty three million people all at one time from countries that I didn't know existed and certainly cannot spell?So actually what she didnt write about was the downside of being connected to all these people with everyone running around with chains on themselves. The parental unit must not be too linked in as I havent seen the chains laying around anywhere. Stupid idea if you ask me but then what do I know? I, Buttons, have no intention of linking or connecting myself to anyone or anything not directly related to cheese or treats and I am aware that neither of these items requires any chains or links.
Cheers,
Buttons

In Like A Lion Out Like A Lamb

2009-03-02T13:30:00.002-05:00

Snow, snow, snow. It is everywhere around our house. Boy was I surprised when I went outside this morning to do my morning constitutional. As I ran down the steps I landed in a pile of white fluffy stuff that was up to my nose. My Mom was right behind me with a shovel. She shoveled away some of the wretched white stuff. bane of my existence. I didn't much care for the whole adventure. But after I came back inside she told me that if March comes in like a lion it goes out with a lamb. I was very confused. Why would a lamb go out with a lion unless she was sucidical? Lions, last time I checked eat lambs they may even use a tad of mint jelly. So my humanoid parental unti explained that it was just a saying that meant if the weather at the beginning of March was wild, wooly, snowy or rainy that it would be nice when the month of March ended. Gentle, she said, like a little lamb. I'm still a bit concerned there might be a lion hiding underneath the back steps. If he is nearsighted he might confuse me for an ovine. Yikes I better start going outside in battle mode. Readers beware,keep your lambies inside the barn until the end of the month.
Cheers,
Buttons

Phone Menage A Trois

2009-02-18T21:28:00.003-05:00

My Nana lives in an idyllic rural community in Western Pennsylvania Yesterday I decided to give her a call. When I dialed the her number a strange man answered the phone. It wasn't her so I hung up, redialed, and again the same man said, "Hello?"

"Hello" I barked, "Where is my Nana? Do you have her held hostage? Put her on the phone right this second."

Finally he said, "Who are you calling?"

"I am calling my Nana." He didn't know who my Nana was?

"Well I don't know your Nana. Where does she live? And where are you calling from?"

Boy this guy sure was nosey. I hung up.

Soon my cell phone began to ring. It was not a number I recognized but the area code was the same as Nana's. I answered and thank goodness she was on the other end.

I asked her, "Nana why are you calling us from this wierd number?"

"Buttons, it's from my home phone."

"No Nana the number on the phone isn't yours."

She suggested I call her back on her new, but not her, phone number. I did and yep she answered. Boy was she steamed. She said she was going to call Verizon and give them a piece of her mind or maybe even someone else's, hope it's not mine.

Later she called to clue me in to what happened. As it is today, Nana is getting Joanne F.'s phone calls, Dick A. is receiving my dear Nana's, and Joanne is getting Dick's. Hmmmmmmmm. . .

So I have to call Joanne's number to talk to Nana, call Dick A's number if I want to talk to Joanne, and if I want to talk to Dick A. I call Nana's number.

My head hurts and my paws are tired from typing all this craziness. My best advice is to call the mayor, Sam C. and let him straighten it all out.

Buttons Life At The Moment

2009-02-17T14:53:00.004-05:00

Hi Everyone,
I surely have missed blogging. My humanoid factor is always hogging the computer and she does not share well. Thought maybe it was time to catch everyone up on what is spinning in our world.
The C-A-T wants his own B-L-O-G. Now I ask you what could that filthy feline possibley have to say that would be of interest to anyone who lives on this planet? He is thinking of calling it Salem's Sentiments. Gag me with a spoon, knife, or fork.
As I write this sitting on the bed with the electric blanket warming my frigid paws (Yes I do have the flair for the dramatic.)You know who is laying beside me, front paws outstretched touching me. I told him he needs to keep his paws to himself and not touch me. Like he listens to me.
The second thing going on in our house is that Mirabella is waiting to hear from colleges that she applied to for the fall semester. After she leaves I want her room so I can stop sleeping with my parental unit. Apparently the C-A-T has the same idea. I suggested we paw wrestle for it but he would cheat no doubt.
The boys who live next door to us love to go outside and play basketball even in this weather so I often feel compelled to go out in the back yard and give them my opinion on their shots. Mostly they ignore me but I give them a good barking to let them know I can see them and they play really sloppy ball. I am available for any type of coaching relate to balls.
Hope all of my dear readers and friends are doing well. If not call my Nana, Mom, or sister.
Love & Licks,
Buttons
PS A special thanks to Mary Lou and Herb B. for my Valentine. Absolutely guys I would love to be your Valentine especially since I know that means treats, presents, gifts, food, trips, cruises and anything else that is expensive. Hooray!!!!!!

New Year's Resolutions

2009-01-18T10:25:00.002-05:00

Happy New Year!
I have been a bit slow in blogging. December was a blur. Believe you me all I did during the last month of the year was wrap presents, bake cookies, and decorate the house, Didnt get a speck of help from either my sister, Mirabella, brother, Salem, or the parental unit. All of them were completely useless during the holidays.
I finally got some relief when we went to visit my Nana. Did you know she fell down the steps while going to feed her cat? By the time we got to her house on Christmas Eve she was in a lot of pain but we had quite a feast for dinner. Glad she did all the preparation before she fell. The stomach is the most important part of the anatomy. My motto is to, "Eat first and worry about everything later. She is healing nicely and didn't break a bone. I know exactly how she felt because I have fallen off the bed at home and it hurts. Of course it is always the C-A-T-S fault. He torments me continually and then acts like butter would melt in his mouth when the humanoids are around.
Well anyways my New Year's Resolution is not to make one. I thought about it and decided it was too much work. Besides I am mostly perfect anyways so why bother?
Cheers,
Buttons

Fried Bologna And Other Delicacies

2008-11-17T10:58:00.006-05:00

I love food almost as much as I love my red ball. Cheese is my very favorite delicacy but I also have developed a penchant for fried bologna. As Rachel Ray says, "Yummo."
Now there are alot of many different sandwiches in the world but none can compare to the magnificent taste of "lone-lone." I get very excited when the parental unit brings home that white butcher wrapped paper with those heavenly thin slices of my favorite deli meat. Oh it is glorious.
The other day when she and my sister were gone I decided to have a little feast. But first I got online and scouted for some great fried boloogna recipes. I found some great recipes .
Soon enough I had the skillet on the stove, a dab or two of butter in the pan, and a pound of that decadent lunch meat on the counter waiting to be fried to a lovely shade of pale brown. Whooo Whee was I excited!!!!!!
Just as I was about to slap that meat in the skillet, guess who shows up? You know it. Good old filthy feline, most rotten cat of the century. He said he was in the kitchen for lunch and since he was there he decided he might as well have it with me.
I really had no intentions of preparing a gourmet feast for that beast. It was all for me, or so I thought. The baloney was frying merrily on the stove and the most enticing of scents was permeating our kitchen.
I was excited beyond belief. The Wonder Bread was buttered with a thin layer of yellow mustard. Ohh my mouth was watering in anticipation.
But while I was watching Food Network the C-A-T and someone or something turned up the heat on the meat. Before I knew it the kitchen was filled with smoke. Now the alarm was making that shrill, annoying, ear-piercing, sound.
Salem sauntered, undisturbed, back into the room and said, "Hey kid, your lunch is burning."
Filthy, filthy, filthy, unhelpful, mangy, nosy C-A-T.
He continued with, "Why do you have the heat on the stove turned to H?"
Ha I know the answer to that one, "Because it means Hot."
He shook his head, just like he always does. "No boy it means High. You've incinerated your lunch."
He began spraying my lunch with white foam that looked like shaving cream.
Now I'd watched an old Stooges clip where they were eating baloney with whipped cream. Hmmm . . . Maybe my lunch could be saved after all.
Unfortunately my sister arrived home way too soon. She charged into the kitchen and began scolding both me and Salem and told us we better get the kitchen cleaned up before Mamacita arrived home.
But Salem had to help because she thought lunch preparation was a joint effort and I wasn't going to tell her any different. After all he was the one in the fireman's hat and had the extinguisher between his two paws.
As you can figure out I got no bologna sandwich, no lunch, and have chapped paws from all the scrubbing.
Please take pity on poor Bun Bun and send baloney sandwiches to me as soon as possible. Any size, flavor, and type is appreciated.
Cheers,
Buttons

Saving Our Trees

2008-11-13T10:18:00.006-05:00

Do you love trees? We do at our house,but because of this we may be in the fight of our lives. We are trying to save the two sugar maples in the front yard.
It all began yesterday when my adopted parental unit and sister arrived home from school. I was barking like crazy, trying to tell them that there was a man with a very large can of orange spray paint making huge X's on our sidewalk and in our mulch.
My sister came in the house to tell me what was going on. Mom stayed outside and started talking to the man in charge, well, he was in charge of the spray paint can. She was pretty steamed up and began to question why he was defacing our property and wanted to know if they were going to destroy the trees.
Then he in no uncertain terms told her the maples belonged to the township as did the sidewalk. Hmmm. . . I could have told him that was not the way to handle the old girl. We have a NO KILL policy at our house whether it be indoors or outdoors in the yard, which means the trees are included.
I tried to tell my sister not to be concerned because I had a solution.Buttons aka T Bone Hound knows how to solve the issue. Dear readers you can always count on me, no matter what the problem.
My sister became engrossed in the History Channel, which bores me to no end. As she was pondering the civilizations of the world I slipped into the garage and began assembling the rescue plan which included--a big rope, lots of duct tape, video camera for You Tube segment, cell phone to call local TV stations, and a heavy chain.While my mother was talking I was acting.
When she came in one door I went out the other, finally got all the stuff to the curb, and all was going well. I just needed a something to tie to the trees.
Well guess who showed up. Filthy C-A-T just couldn't keep his snout out of my rescue plan. However as he was sauntering over to my cache of tools my plan suddenly became clearer.
I welcomed that old boy with open arms. Told him to check everthing out and give me his input. Meanwhile I was measuring him with a ruler and had begun to cut strips of duct tape to match his length, width, and breadth. Tricked him by telling him I was buying him a new coat for Christmas and needed his measurements. He really is stupid.
I was rubbing my paws together, as this really shaping up nicely. Although I was having a bit of trouble deciding how to split him between two trees but I figured that sticky wicket would work itself out as I went along. In fact I was delighted with myself, my family was going to be so proud of me, as they should be. I could envision it all and I said to myself, "Buttons, old boy, let the taping begin."
Just as I waS about to put that first piece of tape over Sal's mouth guess who shows up?
You already know, the purveryor of all good things to eat, Mom.
She wasn't looking too happy.
"Buttons what are you doing out here? Why do have all that tape cut into pieces?"
Like I was going to tell her.
"This was all Salem's idea. He wants us to save the trees. We are going to tape ourselves to a tree and put the chain around us and forever link ourselves."
She was eyeing me suspiciously. I didn't think she was buying it one bit.
Of course that mangy cat pipes up and says he had no part in this hair-brained stupid scheme. He said he was going in the house to have a snack. Which of course left me with the parental unit and a mess.
So I did what any intelligent canine would do under the circumstanes. I rolled over and showed her my belly.

Cheers,
Buttons

My Love Affair With The CC

2008-11-09T11:52:00.003-05:00

It is time to confess all. I, Buttons aka T Bone Hound Mitchell, of sound mind and chuffy body do solemnly swear that I am in love with the CC. It wasn't a love at first sight kind of experience. But I do think it is the longlasting kind of love and admiration. Sadly I think my love is unrequited.
Iam constantly seeking out the CC who is usually on the bed. What a lovely thing she is, about 8 inches in length, an inch and half in girth and a half inch high. We are perfect together. She doesnt talk which is great cause I always have lots to share. Although she listens well or seems to. My favorite part of her is that she has many different buttons to push as she is quite accomplished. Where ever she is Iam close by, I go to sleep next to her or even on top of her and wake up the same way. She doesnt snore so we are definitely compatable in that respect.
I cannot imagine life without her. I have desperately tried to express my feelings, I give her licks and nudges but no response. I suspect she might be playing hard to get. Any courting tips would be most appreciated, as she is qute reticient.

Cheers,
Buttons

Payback For The C-A-T

2008-11-06T09:15:00.004-05:00

Hey Everyone,
I have fantastic news. The C-A-T has finally gotten some payback for his despicable treatment of me the other day.
Let me tell you the story. Yesterday morning the parental unit and my sister were on their way to school. The C-A-T bailed out before the two of them could shut the door. See he thinks it's some kind of wierd game. He runs out the front door and my sibling or mom are supposed to chase him around the yard. Eventually he hides under the pine tree and they have to get down on their hands and knees and pull the filthy thing out. He then gets a lecture and put back in the house. Usually they are on their game, and he doesn't outsmart them too often, but yesterday they were preoccupied and he escaped.
But they were in a hurry and Mom said,
"Oh just let him go I will get him when I come back."
My sister was only too happy to agree as she hates to be late for school. So off they went.
When she returned I was happy to see her and we played ball for a bit and then she said she had work to do on the computer. I like it when she does that because I can get a few winks of shut eye. All was going well until about 12:30pm. By this time I was in slumberland and loving every minute of it.
Suddenly my adopted parental unit says,
"Buttons where is Salem? Oh my gosh I didn't get him back inside when I got home this morning. He has been outside for five hours."
Now I am thinking to myself this is the best news I have heard all week, maybe all month. That filthy rotten beast is finally getting his just desserts. I was hoping he hopped a ride to another state. Although I was feeling kinda badly that she was stressed.
To make matters worse the lawn care service was out in the front yard with three big leaf blowers making extraordinary amounts of noise. It was awful.
So she runs out the front door calling for the C-A-T. Nothing, nada. I begin to bark as a way of being supportive. Then I watch her as she goes over to one of the guys and asks if he has seen ole Sal. She gets nowhere with him at all.
Then she looks under the pine tree, no cat. Goes all the way around one side of our house, peering under bushes and calling, "Salem, Salem, Salem." No feline. Oh I am praying hard the boy is G-O-N-E. Yes, Yes, Yes.
Then she shifts her focus and goes around the other side of the house, still calling his name, and lo and behold there he comes thrashing his way through the ivy,squalling his guts out. I suspect he was chastizing her for abandoning him in the wild and for not playing the game properly. I don't speak "Kitty" too well but that is what I think he said.
It was truly a sad moment for me, as I was certain the boy had gone bye-bye for good. Unfortunately, she brought him inside and gently placed him on the chair and rubbed his head. I went over, jumped up and tried to give him a good bitting for being so S-T-U-P-I-D. Of course he ignored me and went to kitchen to have his lunch.
Since there was nothing else to do. Yours truly went back to the family room just in time for an afternoon siesta. It was all so anti-climactic and obviously he is alive and doing well in the Garden State. You know where to send the sympathy cards.

Cheers,
Buttons

The Cat Has My Demise On His Mind

2008-11-05T18:20:00.007-05:00

My dear readers,

My blogging almost came to an end earlier this week. Good ole Salem and yours truly were playing on the big bed in my humanoid mother's room as we do so often.

It all began innocently enough. I ran up the ramp, bounced over to Sal who was asleep, and gave the boy a hello lick. He didnt seem too excited to see me but he gave me a half-hearted swat with his paw. That is always the way the old fella greets me. After a few more lickes he finally woke up and then the fun began.

I have developed a few new techniques in my fighting bag of tricks. One of my best moves, is to roll over on my back and fight hard with my paws. I like grabbing Sal and putting him in a headlock. It was all going so well. I decided to try a new move and as I was rolling over to reposition myself you know who PUSHED ME. Yep, you read it right, he PUSHED ME, and I rolled off the bed. I ROLLED OFF THE BED ONTO THE FLOOR BECAUSE SAL PUSHED ME WITH INTENT TO DO ME HARM! That C-A-T tried to get rid of me with one huge push. He is a wicked, wicked feline. What a rotten, insensitive cad.

Well as soon as I came to my senses, as I was knocked unconscious for at least three hours (that might be an overexaggeration). As soon as I could, I ran back up the ramp and got my rawhide bone, took it to my parental unit and began to chew. It was the only thing I could think of to help me orient myself and deal with the trauma of almost meeting my Maker. Even as I type this I am seeing double and have an excruciating headache, still, days later. While I was close to my Mom that wretched C-A-T stuck his tongue out at me. He pretended like he was taking a bath but I knew better. He never even asked if I was all right. So in addition to being a potential murderer he also has atrocious social skills.

Mom rubbed my head, held my bone, and called me "Lovey."After I began to feel a bit better she gave both of us a lecture on playing nice. I listened intently. You know who went to sleep. Can you believe him? He took a nap and he snored towards the end of her speech. Then my parental unit left the room.

I must confess I was glad she left us alone because I did what any red-blooded canine would, I waltzed over to Sal and jumped on him. It was great, as he was unaware that I had recovered from his battery and assault attempt. As you might have guessed dear ones. a new fight broke out. It was glorious. I was winning until the Big Kahuna aka Mamacita returned. She broke us up and was pretty steamed about the whole thing. She said we didn't learn a thing from being her talk and then Sal was sent to the couch in the living room.He needs to lay on the couch all right. Yours truly was sent to the family room to lay on the floor. So sad really, especially since I was way ahead on this one.

Send cards of cheer, bones, money, and pigs ears to Buttons aka T Bone Hound. Any and all would be appreciated .

Cheers,
Buttons

The TIgers Who Live In Our Closet

2008-11-02T09:24:00.003-05:00

It's true, two tigers are living in our closet. I know because I have seen them, in fact I have fought them. Just ask my humanoid mother. She's beem finding fur all over the place. These fights are vicious. We haven't fought to the death yet but it may turn out that way. I cannot for the life of me tell those two wretched C-A-T-S apart. They both look the same. Weird isn't it? Personally I think you know who is behind all of this. I think S-A-L-E-M has called in recruits and is housing them here. Oh here he comes right now. I am going to confront him.

"Hey Sal!"

"You talkin' to me boy?"

This cat is one filthy animal. "Yes I am. I want to ask you about those C-A-T-S in our closet."

"Whatever are you makin' a fuss about?"

Oh he thinks he's so clever and oh so condescending.

"Sal you know what I am sayin'. There are two tigers in the house. Don't deny it."

"Okay dog. So what?"

See what I mean. Look at how awful he talks to me. Me and Rodney Dangerfield don't get no respect.

"Well we aren't allowed to have wild creatures in our house, no zoning."

Ha the stupid C-A-T cannot argue with the zoning board. At least I think he can't.

"Boy you are delusional."

By this time I am gettting really angry with him.

"I know we have a bad case of tigers. Because I've been fightin' 'em."

"Dog you are one stupid canine. Go ahead and describe these wild critters.'

Now I know I have him backed into a no win corner.

"Well, they are furry, large, brown and black stripped, lots of whiskers, white muff and a hole in their backs, towards their heads. I can't tell them apart."

"Dog?"

He could at least address me as Buttons.

"Yeah?"

"Those are tigers all right. But they aren't alive."

"Oh yes they are." I replied a little haughtily.

"Son, those are. . ."

I jumped im.

"Wild, wild tigers. They are scary and I am going to whip 'em."

He shook his head in dismay. Cleared his throat and said, "They are not alive. They are Mom's slippers."

"What???????" I was atymied. "Mom's slippers??????"

Oh that C-A-T was looking ever so smug.

"Why do you think they have holes in their backs?"

"Because they don't know any better?" I asked somewhat plaintively.

This was not going as planned. He just sauntered off and left me sitting there outside the closet door. I think I need new glasses.

Your blind as a bat,
Buttons

Physics--

2008-10-29T21:03:00.004-04:00

My dear and faithful readers I am writing to you today about a problem my sister is challenged with. It is one that I hope is not catching. Maybe if it is, one of you can tell me. My sister has Physics. Now I am not certain exactly what this is. I have heard Nana talk about being physicked. But everytime she is in this state of being she spends a lot of time sitting on the porcelain throne. This is very confusing because my sister is Physicked four days a week, always second period and at school. Now when she is at home she does Physics while sitting on the love seat in the family room. Sometimes she even goes in her bedroom but never goes into the throne room. It's very odd. My sis also has a book with her and she uses a pencil and paper. Nana never uses a pencil but according to her she does use lots of Charmin. I guess that's fancy physics paper. But Nana doesnt use a book, so I am guessing she is lots smarter than my sister. Well Nana's lots older too, so that makes good sense to me. Dear ones, if you are ever physicked my best medical advice is to take a book to the potty room, use the paper there and everything will be fine. But if you are quite physicked it's best to go to school and do it during second period. Questions? Don't hesitate to ask me. I'm now in the Charmin loop and praying I don't get physicked too. I cannot climb up either the porcelain throne or the love seat and don't know how to get to school.
Cheers,
Buttons aka T.Bone Hound

Tree Climbing As A Survival Mechanism

2008-10-28T14:20:00.004-04:00

Greetings one and all. I have been recuperating from a grave travesty and I am just now able to write about it. It is because of this trauma that I am now assuming a new identity,T Bone Hound. Which is in no way related to T Boone Pickens although I might wish that I was, as he could be a grand purveyor of bushels of bones. I know, I know, Buttons is my Sister given name but it's time for a change at least for this blog entry. Technically it should be T Bone Hound aka Tree Warrior.

Let me explain. This past summer I was out in the backyard with my humanoid mother. She swings while I go off and explore the unknown, which is the ground ivy that encircles a very big tree next to the swing. The ivy is so high all that can be seen of me is my head. So for the most part I am incognito and quite the mercenary.

Well it was getting late and my adopted parental unit thought I had disappeared. She began calling my name, "Oh Buttons, come out wherever you are, Buttons." Of course there was no response from me. What kind of an adventurer comes when his mother calls him. Ponce de Leon didnt and neither did Christopher Columbus.

She was getting louder but unbeknownst to her I was behind the tree. I had discovered a treasure trove of the most splendiferous scents and was not about to be dissuaded to come when she beckoned. My mom was really beginning to annoy me. Eventually I decided to venture forth. Instead of going around the tree I made the decision to climb up the tree. Salem does it all the time and since he is a stupid C-A-T I knew I could too.

As I began my ascent I saw a huge branch veering off to the right of the trunk that was about three feet off the ground. I was already climbing up the trunk and suddenly I felt the urge to take a shortcut and maybe even surprise my humanoid mother with a Tarzan like move. I began to inch my way out on the branch, all was going well for the first five seconds. I was even dismayed that I didnt have my camoflauge outfit on. It would have lent so much credence to what I was doing.

Soon enough my parental spied me and began calling my name even louder. But this time she spotted me and began to scold me for climbing the tree and then for being on a branch that she deemed wasnt wide enough to support me. So in an attempt on my part to turn around I lost my footing. I hung for a few seconds by my front paws but eventually I couldnt support my body weight and I went PLUNK right down into the ivy.

She was coming for me barefooted and wild eyed, crashing through the forest er I mean ivy. yelling like a Banshee. So I did what any tree climbing mercenary pooch would--made a mad dash for the steps into the house.Praying my sister would be there to let good ole T Bone in, but no such luck. Mom was mad and said she was putting me in "Time In" for the rest of the night.

Let me just say that this was all the C-A-T's fault, He told me last week he was going to teach me how to climb especially since both of us want a tree house. He likes to be up close to his feathered friends and I have taken up spying on the neighbors.

None of them are ever outside and I suspect they are engaging in all sorts of criminal activities like dog-napping. Wish it was feline napping because I know where they could get a great one. I'd give that boy up in a minute, for free, but no such luck. Well old Sal didnt give me the promised Tree Climbing lesson and he is never, ever around when he's needed. So he's out in the backyard and I am sitting inside looking out drawing diagrams for the birds in case they want to dive bomb him. Go Robins, Blue Jays, Cardinals,and Wrens.

Go Phillies Your Doxie Fan Is In Front Of You

2008-10-27T11:19:00.004-04:00

What a glorious Monday this is. My beloved Phillies won last night in the fourth game of the 2008 World Series against the Tampa Bay Rays. Score 10-2. This baseball team is very near and dear to my heart and my home. I have adopted them as my own for a variety of reasons. First, they love to play with balls and so do I. In fact my favorite red ball is just about the size of what Cole Hammel and Jamie Moyers throw from the pitcher's mound. My favorite part is when one of the Phils like Ryan Howard, Chase Utley, or Shane Victorino gets a hit and those Rays go running like crazy to fetch it. In our house my humanoid mother or sister is the thrower and I am the catcher, just like Ruiz, although he seems more skilled than I am. The good news is that I dont have to wear all that paraphenalia. It would greatly impair my ability to get my favorite toy.
Second, the team wears red and white uniforms and I am red.In fact I bleed red if I cut my paw just like they do, although I don't think the players have paws. So we are simpatico.
However there are a few ways we are different. First, all the players "spit." No one in this household is allowed to engage in this behavior. My Mom says it's "filthy and disgusting." But Salem and I have been practicing behind her back. We do seem to be quite challenged to create that puckered mouth phenomenon. As of today neither Sal nor yours truly can do it. But we have decided when we have mastered it we are gonna practice in the backyard and the squirrels are the targets.
Second, the Phillies take off their uniforms and theb they are no longer red. I dont wear a uniform and even if I did when I took it off I would still be red and furry.
Third, the guys have a manager Charlie Manuel, and all me and Sal have is our Mom and sister. Neither one of them looks like Charlie, and both of us are glad.
Third they are playing ball in Lincoln Financial Park and I am in the hall or the backyard.
Which brings me to the final difference they have a lot more balls than I do.
Go Phils, hope you win tonight and then we will be the World Champions.

Your buddy and biggest fan,
Buttons

Where I Have Been--It's Good To Be Back

2008-10-26T12:30:00.004-04:00

My dear readers I apologize for my lack of blogging these past few months. It's all my humanoid mother's fault. She was working on a new book and insisted that I help. My job was to hold the index cards while she checked website URL's (fancy word for a canine, huh?), phone numbers, and email addresses. It was so boring that most days I fell asleep, and according to her I snored profusely. I think she made it up as an excuse to wake me up. As I do not make loud noises while napping. So for the last four months I have been held captive by my adopted parental unit. This chick needs to get a life.
My only recreation was to go outside in the backyard and chase rabbits and squirrels. Notice the word "chase," not "catch," because I didnt capture a one. Filthy, little wretched, fast critters. So my entire summer was comprised of working like a dog (ha, ha,ha) with no vacation. Well we did visit Nana for a few days and I actually slept with her in her king-sized bed on Saturday night. My sister and mom went to look at colleges. Obviously not for me, because I am not even in kindergarten yet.
But I digress, let me tell you about Nana and her night singing. You want to talk about a snore job, not a nose job, although that might help. Lordy, this woman could be used as a weapon for national defense she probably could break the sound barrier. I need HELP because I will be visiting her at the holidays and she keeps me awake. Please send your recipes, tips, and stories for "Snore No More" to good ole Buttons here at the blogspot.

Cheers,
Buttons
PS GO PHILS!!!!!!!!!

In Love With The Golden Arches

2008-06-22T11:38:00.002-04:00

My dear readers I have been quite traumatized by the latest antics of the C-A-T. My feline brother is either suicidal or crazy. You can decide for yourselves.

As you recall on our last visit to Nana's he twice tried to put down the window and leap onto I-95. Personally, I was rooting for the boy. But my mother and sister wouldn't let him go, wbich is very unfortunate for all of us as you will see.

Once again, my feline brother, humanoid sister, parental unit, and yours truly had to vacate the premises for the cleaning ladies to work their magic. One of us is obsessive about cleanliness which causes me no end of distress. Personally I have no affinity for water, especially if it's on me. My favorite form of H2O is Evian in a stainless steel bowl inscribed with my name.

Anyways, Mirabella said she'd carrry the C-A-T to the car and Mom could take me. I was excited to have a ride in air-conditioned comfort. We took a leisurely stroll to the Subaru. My sister and Salem were on some sort of delay as they didnt appear for at least five minutes. Finally they came through the back gate with MB looking like a storm cloud. Whoo Whee was she angry.

Here's what she had to say, "This cat makes me sick, He ran from me, I had to chase him and then I fell down. Look at the grass stain on my Guess shoes. My ankle hurts and he looks like a circus performer. He's wiggling way too much."

By now the C-A-T was standing on his hind legs, scratching at the window. Mom put the car in reverse and we were off. My lovely sister was starved so it looked as if Mickey D's was the best choice. Playland here we come. Not. It was all his fault.

Salem would not stop crying. I began to voice my opinion and told him to hush or there would be no Golden Arches in our future. Naturally he took great offense and jumped two seats back to get to the rear of the vehicle, still squalling his guts out.

Mom was telling Mirabella to get him up front and stroke him to soothe him and get him settled as he was really creating a ruckus. Fat chance of that happening. Both of them were telling me to hush, why I have no clue. My lunch was in jeopardy and I could smell those fries from afar.

Believe it or not we eventually rolled into the drive thru line at one of my favorite places. The box that talks took our order. Mom even ordered a special cup of water for me. Yummy, a liquid and a carbohydrate, two of the main food groups, right?

When she placed the order Salem was in the backseat but as we paid for our edibles he suddenly appeared. Jumped right behind my mother and sort of draped himself on her shoulders. Uh-oh somebody is in deep kitty litter and for once it wasn't me.

By the time we rolled up to the pick up window the cat had his head up against the drivers window, Mirabella had a hold of his tail and Mom had her hand on his head. He paid no mind to either of them. In fact he whispered to me that he was going to make a break for it.

My response was, "Go kitty. Be free. Live out the rest of your ife in a McDonald's parking lot eating free fries and Big Mac scraps." I barked to him that there was no time like the present to establish his independence.

"Jump kitty jump" I told him.

Now the food server at the window didnt seem the least bit interested or amused by our predicament. Mom couldnt open the window to get our lunch for fear the cat would jump.

"Oh jump kitty jump. The Delaware Memorial or Benjamin Franklin Bridges would be better. But a drive thru window will do. Jump kitty jump."

Sadly there we were, a C-A-T hanging onto the window, a sober, unamused fast food employee, a sassy sister who was yelling at me to stop yapping and a mother who was holding Salem's head while putting down the window and taking the food.

She was successful, the cat's plans were thwarted and finally we were going to get some sustanance. I was starved to death and had really worked up an appetite with all the drama that had occurred.

My sister began complaining that I smelled and my odiferousness was permeating the flavor of her Quarter Pounder. I took a good whiff of myself and thought, "I do smell--fanastic, that is." She must have been mixing me up with you know who, Mr. Stinko.

To confirm my suspicions we all turned around to look at him in the backseat. Well "Mr. I Want All The Attention" was calmly laying on the back seat, taking a bath. We all know why, he stank and he knew it, as it surely wasnt me.

Cheers,
Buttons

Praying For Sis

2008-06-17T10:24:00.002-04:00

This is a very special blog today as it is dedicated to my dear friend Sis Wright. She had a heart attack two weeks ago and had to spend some time in the hospital. Sis I am sorry it has taken me so long to blog about this but I have been trying to put together a very special prayer group for you. Last evening I was sucessful.
We had to meet in the backyard because my humanoid mother said that the Burger King parking lot was way too dangerous.All this was based on the prayer meeting I had for Mary Lou Butler a couple of months ago and was almost obliterated by the Cherry Hill Fire Department.
So Sis I finally got it all together.
Here is the attendance list: one chipmunk, a bluejay, Cody, the golden retriever from next door, yours truly and the C-A-T. I didn't want Salem to be there but my Mom said he had to come as it was his backyard too. When I shared with them what happened to Sis all of a sudden the chipmunk, blue jay, and golden retriever all began experiencing heart palpitations and fevers. I had to come inside and get my stethescope and thermometer. When I got back in the yard the C-A-T wanted to play nurse to my doctoring. The chipmunk got scared and ran up the swing post and wouldnt come down. The blue jay didnt mind me listening to his heart but he got really squawky when I put the rectal thermometer in its proper place. Salem by this point had taken a great liking to the bird and was licking his head. He said it was to calm him down while the thermometer stayed in place. But he was salivating very vigourously and had a wicked gleam in his eye. I told Mr. Blue Jay to go sit in the tree by the swing. Salem was all torqued off at me but it was my meeting. After Cody saw what happened to the bird he suddenly was feeling lots better and decided he didnt need medical attention at all. Cody said it was just a bit of indigestion and I gave him a Tum.
So I asked "Now is everybody ready to pray?" They all nodded in agreement.
"Okay I will go first. Now close your eyes and bow your heads. Dear Lord please help my dear friend Sis to feel better. Let her feel your arms around her supporting her, holding her up. . ."
I opened my eyes just checking to see what was going on with the others. Such blasphemous creatures. The chipmunk was digging in his ear, the C-A-T had climbed the tree and was inching closer to the bird who had his eyes closed but was snoring ever so slightly, and Cody was bathing his genitals and burping, all at the same time.
So I began yelling at them which in my world is barking. My indignance woke up the blue jay and he began swacking like mad. Salem jumped out of the tree and came over to give me a good cuffing and a fight ensued. I certainly wasnt going to put up with an insolent feline especiallyu when we were supposed to be praying. Cody came over and watched but by now he had foul odors rolling out both ends of his body, and the last I saw of the chipmunk he was high taiing it underneath the gate.
All of a sudden we heard some thunder rolls and saw a bolt of lightning. I told Salem that was a message from the man upstairs telling him to knock it off and we both ran up the steps like mad to get inside. Now dear friends there is no way that God made any C-A-T-S so they must have come from the D-E-V-I-L. Please pray for Sis and Salem well he is on his own. I did offer take his temperature though.

Mother's Day Trip To Nana's

2008-05-11T21:39:00.004-04:00

Hey everyone I had to write and share my weekend adventure. My humanoid mother decided we all should go home and celebrate Mother's Day with Nana. Remember my Nana? She lives in an ungated, idyllic community, in a town called Addison. It's about five hours fron our house. It's very pastoral, and I like it because she has a huge yard and a brand new pig pen. More about the pig pen later.

Riding in the car is one of my favorite things in life. Sometimes I think NASCAR is calling me, as well they should be. I do have mad driving skills. I was less excited when I discovered the C-A-T was included. Filthy thing is always butting into everything, at least anything fun and exciting.

Friday morning, the day we were to leave it was raining like crazy. Mom went to school to pick up my sister, Mirabella, and then returned to get both the cat and yours truly. I had the position of honor, sitting up front on my sister's lap. Salem had the entire back seat to himself. Mom fixed him a perch, she put a pink fuzzy blanket over a huge box so he could look out the window. But he didn't like that. Every five minutes he was trying to come up where I was, he is such a loser. My sister continued to try and convince him to stay where he belonged. He wouldn't listen. Finally, in an attempt to direct the attention to himself he put down the window. Now I ask you how intelligent is it to decide you need a breath of fresh air flying down I-95 at 70mph. I was yelling, "Jump kitty, jump. You can do it. Jump kitty jump. The road is calling to you. Go ahead Sal you can do it." Mirabella was yelling for Mom to put up the window. It was so disappointing. He didn't get to complete his Superman re-enactment. Pity, then I could have my family all to myself.

The next catastrophe was my mother needing to go potty. According to her we were about sixty miles outside Baltimore when she discovered it was time to take a bathroom break, however in the interest of time she decided to wait until the Fredrick Rest Stop. She seemed to be in a hurry but there was so much rain and fog we couldnt' drive too fast. My Mom surely was wiggling around a good bit. When we were about a mile away she began to relax and said to my sister, "I can't wait, we are almost there."

Just when I was about to settle down and go back to sleep I heard my parental unit say, "Oh no, oh no, oh no the rest stop is closed. See that huge orange sticker covering part of the sign? I cannot believc it. This is not a good thing." I suspected that she needed to take a peediddleroon. My suggestion was to get off at the next exit and seek a fast food haven and let it fly. So for once my advice was taken. Only problem was we drove right past the fast food restaurant and had to park in a lot next to Mickey D's. My mother catapulted herself out the door, flying high with her purse. She stopped and looked back, which was strange for her. Little did we know that the Golden Arches Palace sat at the bottom of a very steep hill. The grass was wet, the bank was steep, there were no steps, and one wrong move and she would find herself rolling down the hill right out into the drive thru traffic which would put a whole new spin on a Double Quarter Pounder with Cheese to go. Apparently she was successful, because before too long she reappeared and told us the whole story, sadly no snack was forthcoming. I assumed she ate it all on the way back to the car. Coming back up the incline was more challenging than going down, or so she said. She swears the hill grew into a mountain while she was inside and the grass was more treacherous than an icy ski slope. How quickly the landscape changed in five minutes. Don't you just hate it when people embellish their stories? I never would do such a thing.

Soon enough we were back on the road heading west to Nana's. Too much drama for me. Finally I thought I was going to get to take a well deserved nap when Mirabella and Mom began singing along with the George Micahel CD. Now mind you they were belting out the songs at the top of their lungs. Hope these two don't give up their day jobs to take it on the road, because they aren't ready to be showcased on American Idol . I covered my ears with my paws and prayed we were almost to Addison. Then I came up with a genius plan. "Oh Salem, I really am hot, how 'bout a bit of fresh air? Mom said it was okay. So go ahead, you know you want to. . ."

Move Over Sigmund--It's My Couch Now

2008-04-28T15:48:00.000-04:00

Today seemed like the right time to write about my human mother's occupation. She's a psychologist.
Sometimes the C-A-T and I are allowed in her office when she is working online or on the phone. Both of us like it-- she uses a different tone of voice with them than she does with us. It's very rhythmic and soothing.
We have never heard her say, "Cut that out," "Hey, what are you doing, " or "You are not allowed to. . ." Not once has she ever yelled at her clients. They all must be very well behaved, apparently we are not-- well, Salem isn't.
I decided it was time to avail myself of my mother's therapeutic skills. My sister, Mirabella, has a love/hate relationship with Mom’s "shrinkness." When Mom is being all supportive and helping her figure things, out she loves it. But, there are times when Mirabella says she is being analyzed and pathologized.
Uncertain of what that is, I stay out of it. My guess is, pathologizing means someone is going down the wrong path and agonizing over it or eulogizing it.
Feeling kind of left out, I decided to experiment a little and see if I could be a client for a session. After my adopted parental unit left the other morning, I climbed up on the couch, rolled over, and assumed what I believed to be the correct position for some analysis.
There was a chair for her to sit on which was positioned behind the couch, and I even put a pad of paper and a purple pen on it, so that we could begin as soon as she got home.
I didn’t even hear the door open, but there she was, peering down at me. I had fallen asleep on my back, all four paws exposed to the elements.
"Buttons, what on earth are you doing? Why are you on the couch, rolled over on your back?"
As you can tell she is a tad slow. Finally she spied the paper.
"Now maybe she is going to get it, " I hoped.
"Are you pretending to be in need of some psychoanalysis, lovey?"
I like it when she calls me that, although I never heard her address anyone else like that besides me. No, not even the cat or Mirabella.
"I'm not Freudian, but for your sake I'll play along for a bit. Now lay back, clear your mind, and we will do some free association. Tell me whatever comes into your mind."
Mom couldn’t see my face, which is a good thing because I was sticking out my tongue. I was also thinking I was relieved to know the association stuff was free, as I had spent my last allowance on a new bone.
As I was preparing to share my thoughts, Salem jumped up and laid down at the other end of the couch.
"Excuse me, but this is not a two-fer deal. Get off the sofa C-A-T. I had first dibs."
He never moved except to readjust himself in a more comfortable position Finally, I gave up and began to do some deep breathing as a way of preparing myself.
"Now, where was I?"
My mother was saying nothing, just waiting for me to begin.
Well . . . I didn't have a whole lot on my mind and "you know who" had begun to snore which was distracting me.
Mirabella came into the room and looked dismissively at all of us, as only a teenager can. She, being her usual sarcastic self, said, "Oh this isn't too weird. Mom, what are you doing? Whatever. Audrey's coming over soon, so could you wrap this, this, whatever this is up? This family is so freakin' weird!"
I hadn't even begun to associate, freely or otherwise. Besides, my mind is clear most of the time anyway, just like my nose is. By now, I’d lost my place and I was getting hungry.
It felt like I was on this piece of furniture for a whole day. It was definitely time for a revised plan. I rolled over, jumped down, and went to see what was on my plate in the kitchen.
Let Mom have a go at Salem, he is about as dysfunctional as a feline can be. My biggest relief? She didnt charge me or try to change me.
Last time I checked, she and the C-A-T were both asleep. He probably bored her to death. Go figure.
Cheers,
Buttons

Yoga Toes

2008-04-05T22:36:00.004-04:00

Yoga toes, for those of you who don't know, are gelatinous objects-- yes, like jello-- that fit between your toes. We have a pair at our house. According to the marketing pitch, they can be used to promote relaxation, cure bunions, hammertoes, and plantar fascia. Without a doubt, I know that each of my paws has at least one of these conditions.

One of my pen friends, Sis W., had a severe case of plantar fascitis last year, and I could so sympathize. The pain is horrible. In fact, I had it at the same time she did. We commiserated over my Christmas vacation, while I was visiting at my Nana's. Sis and Nana are best friends and I think she is one of my closest friends too.

Both of them live in Addison, population 216. In fact I told my Nana all about the Yoga Toes and she ordered a pair for herself. She needs to read the instructions to get the best she can out of them. In fact her second toe laps over her big toe, just like mine, it probably is genetic.

I know my adopted parental unit purchased these Yoga Toes just for me. They are blue and blue is for boys, right? Both my mom and sister have worn them although neither seems to have had them on long enough to get relaxed, at least the way they act most of the time. Those two truly are pathetic. How they managed before I came along is a mystery to me. But I digress, read on.

Apparently there are some tricks to attaching them securely. Water is key. Slide aformentioned Yoga Toes beneath warm, running water, push toes between gel-like open slots, sit down, relax, and wiggle, the toes that is.

Looked like a no brainer to me. Since my paws are killing me from all the ball rolling and blogging I do, I made the decision to use them last night. My first problem was deciding which paws to use them on, since I have four and there were only two Yoga Toes.

My plan was to relax after I got them on, do some deep breathing exercises, and take a nap. Not complicated at all, piece of cake.

The first problem I encountered was lack of running water, that I could reach. At this point my canine creativity kicked in. I decided my saliva was quite similar to H2O, maybe even better than.

A good licking ensued and when the YT were well lubricated I attempted to slide them onto my paws. This is when the difficulties became apparent. A whole paw fit in one slot. Please make note that there are five slots per toe stretcher.

With this revelation I knew I was going to have enough for all my appendeges. The only problem? I couldn't move and I was getting a fierce backache from being in a horizontal uttanasana11 position. This wasnt working out as I expected.

Then over comes "You know who." He thinks he is so wise. I pretended to be asleep but finally opened one eye. He was staring at me in disbelief. Finally he said, "Boy," I hate it when he calls me that name.

He continued with, "What in the name of heaven are you doing?"

"I am doing yoga and was about to take a nap. What does it look like?"

Sal shook his kitty head and said, "Yoga? Boy, you are one crazy canine. If you want some deep spiritual cleansing you first need to tend to your outside. Take a bath. That'll do more for you than laying there all bunched up like a possum. The Savasana pose (the corpse) is what you're gonna end up with if you keep up with this craziness."

By now I was pretty exhausted. "Hey C-A-T throw me my purple yoga yogi towel and leave me alone." He did, and it landed right on my nose. Filthy thing has no respect for ancient traditions. I'd give him a good chasing but it's going to take me awhile to get out of these things.

Cheers,

Buttons.

Headbutting As A Form Of Communication

2008-04-03T21:17:00.008-04:00

Headbutting seems like a strange topic for a canine to write about. But it has happened at our house. It is an arcane form of communciation my human mother has taken up with the C-A-T.

We, meaning she and I, were watching a show the other day and an animal trainer was waxing eloquent about how to connect with felines (he was definitely delusional). He suggested, then demonstrated, with a cheetah, the art of headbutting. Apparently this is "hello," in their world.

Ah, my adopted parental unit was all excited about this new piece of information. She promptly told me that Salem was in for the greeting of his life. "Just wait and see Buttons. He's gonna love it." Foolish, foolish woman that she is.

The next morning Salem jumped up on the counter and the head butting commenced. The boy went wild, while I watched in canine amazement. My mother dipped her head down and went right for his forehead. He started meowing like crazy and hitting his head up against hers, reminiscent of Zadine and Materazzi in 2006.

The two of them kept up this ridiculous activity for the next sixty seconds. Neither of them were acting like they had any sense at all. I said to myself that no good was going to come of this experiment, but I didn't share my thoughts.

It didn't take too long before my predictions came true. This morning at 6am Salem strolled into the bedroom, leapt on the bed, and began headbutting my mother. It all would have been fine except for the fact that she was sound asleep, and so was I.

What happened next was not pretty. She sat straight up in bed and started yelling. Not to be outdone, I began barking, and that mangy, wretched thing jumped down and began scratching the back of the love seat with his claws.

I ran down my ramp, yapping like mad, telling him to run like the wind, because good old mom was pretty steamed up over the whole incident. She said she had cat fur in her mouth, but that's only because it was open from her snoring. Maybe I shouldn't say that, but what the heck, it's true.

She is always saying, "You don't have to tell everything you know." So I left out the part about her sleeping in the buff and taking my sister to school in her snowman pajamas and dachshund socks. She justifies any of her behaviors by always wearing perfume and lip gloss, no matter what.

Neither of us, that is the feline and yours truly, care how she clothes herself or what she smells like. We are most interested in being fed and sleeping on her bed. One thing on which we both agree, is that she should stay away from morning television.

Menopaws

2008-03-31T09:27:00.003-04:00

Hey everyone. How are you? Right now I am struggling with a condition and am uncertain of the origin. Last night I overheard a conversation between my mother and sister. My Mom said she was really "burning up" and needed to open the window. Meanwhile, my sister was in our bed huddled underneath the covers, being warmed by the electric blanket, saying how cold she was. Then the two of them talked about something called "power surges." When this happens my mom either goes outside, rubs ice cubes on the back of her neck, or flings open a window or two. I think the old girl should harness this power thing, generate some electricity and light up a city or two. But anyways, my sister (she's the smart one of the family by the way) said, "I am not looking forward to menopause." Uh oh, menopaws? My ears perked up immediately. Did I hear her correctly? Menopaws? Oh my! Immediately I took my pulse and began to feel my paws and found them to be warm, hot, actually, and I thought I had a fever in my appendeges. I began barking trying to tell them that I have menopaws too. No one paid any attention, story of my doggy life. I was getting more panicked by the second. My thoughts were that I needed to go outside and lay on the ground to cool off. So, that is exactly what I did. The C-A-T was in his lair and eventually came wandering over. He looked at me laying there and asked me what was the problem. At first I ignored him, because I am still ticked off at him from the trip to Kinko's. But finally I confessed what I had discovered about myself and my ailment. He looked at me quite disdainfully. as only a feline can, and said, "You are one dumb animal." That isn't quite the response I was hoping for. He continued with, "Menopaws? Brother, that is a female thing and it ain't related to your paws at all. Now let me tell you what it really is." I wasnt certain he was telling me the truth but it was worth a listen. Besides, the fire in my paws was subsiding a considerable amount. This is what he told me, "Menopaws happens when men are around women, the female gets all shy and bashful and she pauses when she speaks." Huh? Somehow I don't think this is correct.So if any of you know the truth, please let me know, cause I think ole Sal is pulling the proverbial wool over Buttons eyes.
Cheers,
Buttons

An Afternoon In Kinko's Parking Lot

2008-03-24T22:46:00.003-04:00

Hi everyone! Sorry I havent written for a week but I have had to recuperate from all the birthday celebrations. Ah it was a grand day for a bonnie lad such as myself.
Moving on to other activities, such as a car adventure with my brother, sister, and mother. You know, every now and then my mother gets a wild hair and decides we all should go for a car ride. Last week my sister had a lot of errands to run and my mom said the C-A-T and yours truly should go with them. Let me just say, this was not a good idea from the beginning, but no one listens to me.
I walked to the car with my mom but my sister carried the big tub of lard Salem. When we all got in the car I wanted to sit on my sister's lap but the wretched feline was already there. So I just crowded up against him, in hopes he'd move over since my sister doesnt have a large lap. The boy would not budge, so I just plunked down on him. He saw no humor in the seating arrangements at all. Finally, he jumped into the back seat and started meowing. What a loser this guy is, so not to be outdone I started barking. My sister was yelling at both of us and then my mom started hollering at all three of us. It was very noisy.
At some point my sister went to Audreys house (her best friend) and picked up a suitcase for her trip to Mexico. As soon as she put it in the backseat Salem jumped on it and laid down. At least he shut up for a minute or two. Then we had to go to Kinkos for my sister. Mom said she would stay in the car with us. That was a big mistake. First off, I had forgot my sunglasses so I was pratically blinded by the sun's rays, second it got really hot and I began to pant. My mom put down the window a bit but then I got cold. So as you can see I was both blind and roasting or freezing. Then old Sal decided to come up with us and get down on the floor where the gas and brake pedal are located. Now I ask you what interesting things could be found on the driver's side of a Subaru??????? But in an attempt to be sociable I jumped down to be with him. He did not appreciate my attempts to be a good sibling. So in his imbecility he jumped up on the console and then into the back. Well I must confess he is a bit more agile than I. Sadly, my mother had to give me a boost and put me on the passengers seat, a place I had no intention of staying. I rushed the old girl and leaped, well, climbed ambitiously, back into her lap. She didnt seem all that excited to be that close to me, I cant imagine why. However, the mangy feline was not going to allow me to outdo him, so he leapt on the back of our seat. By this time my mother was very frustrated and decided to call my sister to see how soon she would be finished. The phone was under the front seat and she was determined to retrieve it. Dear readers have you ever worn a girdle? I haven't but am certain the experience I had with her was quite similar. You see I wouldnt get off her lap and she wasnt about to give up on retrieving it. So everytime she leaned forward she squished me. I would then bark to let her know how rude she was being. Meanwhile ole Sal was sharpening his claws on the back of the seat. Why he decided he needed a pedicure at that moment is a mystery. My mother was becoming more frustrated so I decided to give her a good kissing on the face. She was not appreciative of my displays of affection. At a loss, she finally put the seat back all the way, the cat went flying and I was certain I was dying and she still couldnt get the phone. About that time my sister appeared. I wss so relieved that I climbed right into her lap and went to sleep. The next thing I remember was my mom carrying me inside and putting me in my bed for a nap. I did hear her say to my sister, "I am not taking those two again for a long time." Believe me when I say it was all the cat's fault.

Happy Birthday To Me

2008-03-17T08:49:00.003-04:00

Happy Birthday To Me, Happy Birthday To Me, Happy Birthday Dear Buttons, Happy Birthday To Me. This is proving to be the most wondorous of days. When I turned on the television this morning I discovered millions of people across the USA are celebrating with me. Did you know that there are parades everywhere? Someone certainly has been spreading the word about this being my special day. The only thing I am confused about is the leprechauns and everyone wearing green. Now I dont have anything against the color green but it isnt my favorite. I like red because thats what I am. And this leprechuan thing--how did these little guys get all mixed up in my celebration? They are short, a bit hairy, and seem to have a major attitude problem. I dont like them one iota. Besides, I saw them advertising cereal. Now let me assure you I dont like a breakfast treat unless its oatmeal and I want no live creatures in my food first thing in the morning. Any self-respecting canine on their birthday eats string cheese and carrot chips not some yucco cereal with colored marshmellows floating around in a sea of cow juice.

My Mom and sister bought me a new soccer ball and come to think of it the thing is green.Oh boy I think there is some kind of conspiracy going on. Maybe there is one of those little green men inside the ball. Let me go check.

Oh by the way thanks so much to Sis W. Mary Lou and Herb B., and my Nana for my cards. They are awesome and are arranged alphabetically on the table next to the Easter basket. My Nana also sent me big box for my special day. Inside was a package of string cheese, my mom calls it a binding agent, whatever that means. A bag of carrot chips, a foam ball which I dessimated in two minutes or less and a fuzzy ball. This last present was taken from me because I chewed the fuzz off of it and then promptly puked my doggy guts out all over my mom's clean sheets. She was not impressed. Bet I wont be seeing that thing for a loooooooooooooooooong time. It tasted pretty good going down but my tummy had a revolt and you know the rest. It was so horrible I had to lie down and have a cool cloth put on my head and a big drink of Evian. My mom said the toy was in retirement, guess that means it needs a nap.

Tonight for dinner I am having filet mignon and ice cream. Yummy, Yummy, or as Rachel Ray says "Yummo." Now there is one woman I would like to live with, can you imagine what life must be like at her house? A constant barage of delectible edibles. Oh Rachel today is my birthday, bake me a cake, we can have a picnic on the lake. it wont be a mistake. Call me soon, I will sing you a little tune.

Well anyways the last thing to report on my day is the card I received from you know who, I will give you a hint. He is older than me, weighs about 15 pounds, and is the hairest thing this side of Big Foot. Here's what it said,

For My Brother

Your not a mighty motor mouth

a monster or a meanine

and I am sincerely sorry I ever called you weenie

You're not a stupid dipstick

no matter what Ive sad

a screwball

or a slimeball

or a great big doo doo head

you're not a barf breath

a numbskull

or a nut

a nitwit or a major pain

right in the you know what

you're not a total wierdo

or a raving maniac

and if I ever called you creep

I hereby take it back

Yet in spite of all those silly names

we might have called each other

today I'm proud

to call you friend and a pretty darn good brother.

Happy Birthday

Salem

So I went over to him to give him a little birthday thank you and the boy cuffed me and boxed my ears a good one. Ah well so much for brotherly love.

Happy Birthday to me.

Cheers,

Buttons

Confessions Of A Bone Burier

2008-03-06T18:13:00.003-05:00

Its true, I need to go to BBA aka Bone Buriers Anonymous. I have this very annoying compulsive habit of burying my bones before retrieving, and then devouring them. Its my own personal game of "Hide 'n Seek." Take today as an example, my human mother gave me a Dentabone, (those things are gross) but that is for another blog. Well, anyways, true to form, I began searching for a place to hide it and keep it safe until I was hungry for a snack. The living room was too obvious, the dining room too easy, but the bedroom, mine of course, was perfect. A grand place to bury my latest culinary treasure. There is a real art to this activity. First, I dig a little and then bury the treat under the many pillows on the bed. But today, Salem was in my way, curled up against the plump, puffy, envelopes of bliss. This was not in my plans at all. After thinking about it very briefly, I lived in the moment and buried it under the felines tail. This boy was so out of it that he didnt he pay me any mind. But it wasnt exactly where I wanted it, so I gave that bone a good strong nudge with my beautiful nose. Apparently, I pushed a little too far, because he seemed highly offended, jumped up,and smacked me on the end of my schnozola with great aplomb and a lot of vim and vigor. At this point in time I decided to take the matter into my own paws and gave that ungrateful creature a good cuffing. A fight ensued. Just when I was winning, my sister broke it up, spoil sport that she is. I had to go sit in "Time Out" and he got put out in the backyard to cool off. Now I ask you how fair was all of that? The rotten feline was in my burial garden of bliss sleeping it off, he has drinking problem, but dont let on I told you. My mother says he is polydipsic. But, I digress. So, given the fact that the boy was in a drunken stupor passed out on my resting place I know I did the right thing by putting it where it fit best, ungrateful puss that he is. Unfortunately, I have to go back to my special place before I get caught on the computer.
Cheers,
Buttons

My Prayer Group

2008-03-03T08:51:00.002-05:00

To all my readers I apologize for the delay in blogging. Honestly, I have been organizing my prayer partners for a meeting. See my pen pal Mary Lou B. was quite ill and had to be hospitalized. I was very sad and scared for her because I have been to the canine hospital and it was yucky. I surely hope they didnt put her in a cage like they did me. The worst part was going peediddleroon on the floor. Do you think she had to do that? I understand in a human hospital one wears a gown with no back in it. I didnt have to do that. Yours truly was buck naked my entire hospital visit. That certainly made it easier to let it fly when I needed to. I think what happened is that Mary Lou got a cold from her backside being exposed to all the elements, no wonder it took her a few days to get home.
Well anyways, after I discovered she was ill I decided that I needed to do more than just pray for her at night when I went to bed. So I went in search of some prayer buddies. Mary Lou I am so sorry but the best I could come up with was a flock of seagulls. Now let me just say that these guys are the squawkiest birds ever. They put Blue Jays in the minor leagues. We all met in the parking lot of Burger King and Shop Rite. They wouldnt agree to any praying until I went to the drive through window and got them some fries. Then of course they were thirsty and said they couldnt participate until they had a milkshake which gave them all a "freeze headache" and they had to have that "Head On" stuff rubbed on their foreheads right above their beaks. Finally I got them fed and settled down and the praying commenced. I know they did the best they could but not a single bird would keeps its eyes closed. They told me it was against Seagull Rules to pray that way. Finally, I acquiesced and told them to at least bow their heads but the problem with that was that they were all finding things to eat on the asphalt. So they were eating and praying at the same time, which was very rude, to pray with your beak full. Eventually the meeting broke up because one of our city's fire trucks came roaring into the parking lot, sxcAred the boys and they all went flying. I was thinking of inquiring if the firemen would like to join me but they didnt look too cooperative either. Mary Lou I hope you know I tried and that God does surely understand and will watch over you and bless you.
Love,
Buttons

Snow, snow, snow

2008-02-22T17:01:00.002-05:00

Today, we had our first major snowstorm in New Jersey for the winter. Now let me remind you dear readers that I am short, very, very short. My body is only about two inches off the ground, the stupid C-A-T is taller than me. I imagine you can see where this is going. If it snows more than a modicum I get totally buried in the white stuff. Now I want you to imagine that you are sleeping very nicely in a warm bed but are awakened because Mother Nature is calling your name loud and clear. You cannot ever give this chick a busy signal. So that means I have to get up, shake myself, run down the ramp, flit through the family room, hop down the back steps and position myself in a pile of very high, very white, and very cold stuff. At this point I have to raise my leg to go, maintain my balance, and let it all fly. This would be akin to you going outside to take a whiz, but after your pull down your bloomers, your private parts are kissing the frigid ice concoction that covers the grass and you are doing it all while holding one leg in the air. Ha Ha not possible for anyone but a canine of great distinction, of course that would be me. Please send snowboots to Buttons via Fed Ex, USPS, DHL, or Airbones, oops I mean Airborne. I am not picky about the color but I do like velcro.
Cheers,
Buttons
Major P.S. Many Kudos to Herb and Mary Lou B. for the care package of Carob Cookies. Let me tell you those are some tasty treats. My mom gave me one, I ran with it and consumed it on the bed. Salem wanted a bite but I told him to get his own fan club that sends gifts. Thanks again guys for looking out for this starved canine in southern New Jersey. Maybe I can vacation with you two this summer.

For The Love of Kleenex

2008-02-20T09:24:00.004-05:00

I love Kleenex. In fact it is something I am passionate about, all the time. I first met my mother and sister in the pet store almost four years ago. Alan, the animal tech took me out of the cage and put me in a play area to interact with these two. First thing I did was climb into my future mother's purse. My soon to be sister said, "Aw look Mom he must be so exhausted he's in your purse." Silly, silly girls that they were. I wasnt tired I was going after the Kleenex that were sticking out of the open bag. What a treasure trove that was--white, fluffy, sweet smelling tissues, hundreds of them, well that might be a little bit of an exaggeration. Oh boy, I thought to myself, old Buttons has hit the mother lode this time. Sadly, they pulled me out of the purse and plunked me into a hard plastic cage and set off for my new home. I cried some on the way but that was my grief reaction at being separated from my first love. It took the two of them a long time to discover how much I really love Kleenex. If my mother leaves her purse on the floor anything in it is fair game for me. Although I have no interest except in one thing and you already know what it is, so I am not going to repeat myself.
Last night there was a bit a problem with my penchant. My mother put her purse on the floor, fool that she is, and I of course decided to have a bedtime snack. Unfortunately for me the beloved Kleenex piece somehow became wrapped around one of my back teeth. I couldnt swallow it or get it out of my mouth. I was making all kinds of strange gestures with my mouth but in a subtle kind of way. Once my family discovered what I had been up to I knew I was going to get scolded. Well let me tell you these two were all over me like a cheap suit, once they discovered I was ailing. My sister grabbed me and put me in a Hulk Hogan chokehold. She pried open my mouth and began fishing around for the problem. She said to my mom, "Hah I can see the problem, this boy has been eating you know what and its stuck in the back of his mouth." Then I did a half Nelson, broke free and began running away. Unfortunately, I wasnt quick enough and she caught me again. So I being a canine of some importance, relented, and allowed her to remove the errant piece of tissue. Hope she doesnt choose dentistry as a career because that girl is rough and tough and maybe even full of fleas. Ha ha I just said that to get back at her for being so disparaging about my hobby.
So I am certain you have already determined that if you are going to be a K snatcher you have to be slick and quick.
Cheers,
Buttons

Why Is The Sky Blue

2008-02-19T15:20:00.003-05:00

Why is the sky blue? I was pondering this question as I laid on my back with my paws in the air. If you ask me I think the sky should be red, yep, a Buttons kind of red. Now I know the sunset and sometimes the sunrise are crimson and cinnamon colored but that's not the same as that all day blue. So what is blue in this world-- jeans, robin eggs, the ocean in the Carribben, M & Ms, and sad people. Red is my color, vibrant, brilliant, eye-catching, candy apple red. Speaking of candy apples what sadist came up with that idea? When I was at the carnival the other day I had one and it was quite sticky. When I bit into it the shiny sugar coating stuck to everything--tongue, fur around my mouth, nose and my hairy chest. So I being a canine of great intellect decided to hold it between my paws, unfortunately it stuck fast to my front paws. Not being a dog who is easily daunted I attacked it with both my back paws. Suddenly all my paws were plastered to this piece of red fruit that was fast becoming almost as hairy as me, which is how I came to be looking at the sky anyways and yes I was mighty dang sad, the bluest of the blue because my momma had to rescue me with a bucket of warm water and shampoo. Till next time.

Cheers
Buttons

Being Rotarized

2008-02-15T07:33:00.004-05:00

Every Friday my mother is Rotarized. The actually meaning of this term, rotarization eludes me. I am thinking it is something akin to being sanitized. Cleanliness, is not one of my top priorities. I, mean, really, how many baths can one take in a day or a week. This whole idea of being spic and span is way overrated. A little dirt and doggy smell never hurt any canine, dead or alive. Personally I think one can catch pneumonia from to much H2O, in fact I know it. The best use of water, is to drink it and then with a practiced aim pummel Salem's outside lair with the end results of a large bottle of Evian, a fancy French water my Mom buys. But anyways, I suspect when my Mom goes to her meetings it involves a rotating, spinning, hot tub. This would ensure both a clean and well spun individual. Apparently every week she looks forward to being with Joel, John, Richard, Toni, and anyone else who dares to sit with them. The mysterious part to me is how do they all fit in one tub? Is the water hot or cold? Do they use bubble bath? Do they become ill from all the twirling around, does this process involve snacks? If so, I am definitely in. Gotta run I think Im going to take both the pledge and the plunge on this chilly Friday morning.

Elderberry

2008-02-14T06:01:00.004-05:00

My sister is sick and stuffed up, no offense to her but I hope I dont get what she has. When she gets like this my Mom says she has a virus and gives her elderberry capsules. Yuck and double yuck! So here is what I suspect, just between you and me, I think my mother knows some one who is putting the elderly into capsules and giving them to my sister. Exactly how one would do that I am not certain, seems rather labor intensive if you ask me, I mean how does one go about doing such a thing and is the berry part the flavoring aspect of this whole process? Does the person roll around in some type of fruit dust before being encapsulated? It is all very confusing. The only other alternative is that there are very old berries that no one knows what to do with and some company, somewhere, encapsulates these ancient fruits into pill form and touts them as a cure for wicked winter bugs. I myself dont care much for bugs except for Bugs Bunny and he doesnt look like any insect I have ever seen. Ah but I digress. So I am thinking, as I am certain you are too, that this might be a great gig for the CAT. It would give me tremendous pleasure to roll that boy in any kind of a substance and stuff him into a capsule. Oh what fun that would be. . .Salem. . .
www.vitaminshop.com

Griz

2008-02-13T12:23:00.003-05:00

Greetings one and all. For my more hip readers Yo, whose your daddy now? I want to introduce you all to my new penpuppy Griz. He is a ten week old Pit Bull, granddog of Sam and Judy McClintock. I received a letter from him yesterday and thought his comments were worth blogging about. He tells me that he eats food morsels off the floor from behind the furniture. Griz, baby, that is a No-No. Buddy you gotta position yourself both by the refrigerator and the cookie jar. Let me help you here, whatever comes your way, as in falling from the hands of the kitchen angels take it and run. Run like the wind to a place where you can eat in peace, then if you have wind no-one will notice. Secondly, never, ever, ever, take a pee-diddle-roon in your grandparents bedroom, well actually let me modify that, dont take a whiz where anyone is going to step on it. Here's the trick, go behind the door, under the bed if you can squat or on the cat if you can find one. My favorite outdoor spot is the front bush to Salem's lair. Stupid cat doesnt even seem to care that I water his door with my scent. Lastly, suck up to the humans as often as you can because believe me buddy they are your tickets to sweet treats and a long life. I am looking forward to showing you the raw bones about life as a canine, I am here for you all the way.
Your buddy,
Buttons
www.petsmart.com

American Idol

2008-02-12T11:05:00.000-05:00

G'day everyone, thats my Australian hello to all my fans and readers. Speaking of fans just wanted to let everyone know I tried out for American Idol, Fox's hit television series that showcases aspiring singers. As I am certain you can guess by now, none other than yours truly was at the Hyatt at Penns Landing for the auditions. To display my vocal abilities I yodeled "How Much Is That Doggie In The Window.' As a finale I cartwheeled across the stage. Apparently I was so impressive that Paula and Simon were speechless, couldnt say a word for at least thirty seconds. It could have been my outfit--striped red jodpurs, white shirt, red bowtie, black beret, I was a sight for sore eyes. The top twenty four can be found at the following website:http://go.philly.com/idol24.
My name must have been inadvertantly omitted. Very strange.
Cheers,
Buttons

Valentines Day Looms On The Horizon

2008-02-11T11:51:00.001-05:00

Yo readers Valentines Day is just around the proverbial candy corner. I, myself am hoping for a large box of Paydays. Chocolate is bad for canines so no Godiva for me It's so sad but it's better not to indulge than to find oneself in a box on our kitchen shelf with two very dead but very cremated felines. There are C-A-T-S everywhere in this house, deceased ones, a live one, its pathetic. But are there any dogs around this place either dead or alive, other than yours truly? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. I am thinking of protesting, but then again I have been doing some reading on Valentines Day and I understand there was a massacre of some sort, doesnt sound very lovey dovey to me but then what do I know? I am rubbing my diabolical paws together as I hatch this wonderous plan. Bet you cannot guess who is in the running to be fricassed, is that the same as massacred? Well anyways I think its close enough. Here kitty, kitty. kitty, here kitty, kitty, kitty. Salem, I have a new game for us to play.

Meatballs

2008-02-10T09:01:00.000-05:00

Our house is smelling pretty fantastic this morning. Today my human mother and sister are participating in a cooking contest. They are making these special meatballs that have to cook all day. I kept running around the kitchen hoping someone would give a little taste to old Buttons but no such luck, yet. Since they arent giving me any little treats I have decided to share their recipe, they would be pretty mad at me if they knew what I was about to do. Ha they will never know because neither my mom or my sister even know I blog, sometimes they fit in the same category as the C-A-T.

Sweet n' Sour Meatballs
1 bag frozen appetizer meatballs--about 75
1 can jellied cranberry sauce
1 bottle Chili sauce
2 cups light brown sugar

In a crock pot add all the ingredients listed above and cook on high setting for 6 hours. Trust me nothing to it.
The most confusing part of all of this is the meatball thing. Why on earth would anyone want to roll their meat into a ball? My mom cuts mine up and puts in on a nice plate. Now all of you know how much I love my balls but I would not ever want a "meated ball." How does one roll such a contraption and where? I am not allowed to spin meat around on the floor anywhere and if I took it outside it would get grass and sticks all over it, then it would be gross and I wouldnt be allowed to bring it back inside. I guess the next best idea is to pilfer some of the ones cooking on the counter. So I have invited my good old buddy Salem to participate in my quest for a few of these delicacies. He is to jump on the counter, slide off the lid to the crockpot, and knock one or two out, and I, canine of great distinction will catch them mid-air. Bon Appetite!
Check out more fantastic recipes on www.foodnetwork.com.

Paw Fascitis

2008-02-06T10:46:00.000-05:00

Yep its true, I have a condition called Paw Fascitis very similar to Plantar Fascitis in humans which affects their feet . Of course this inflammatoy state is much more painful in canines. My condition has developed because of all my blogging and chasing my balls. My friend and penpal Sis Wright has it too, so we are simpatico. Poor thing I feel so sorry for her that she doesnt have paws, I try not to act too superior. However I do try to share my "paw care" tips with her. Most recently I have been soaking all four of them in Epsom salts twice a day. It is no small feat getting in and out of the bathtub all by myself. I have been trying to convince my mother I need a massuese, maybe some of you could reason with her. I have to blog and I have to play and my paws hurt something fierce. Salem doesnt seem to have this paw problem, of course he sleeps all day and wanders around the backyard at night. Last night we looked out the back door and there that stupid cat was asleep on the swing. Its the middle of winter here in Jersey but he's too dumb to know anything about the seasons. We have lots of seasons in our cupboard-- cinnamon, cloves, allspice, sage, celery seed, cardamom, etc. For some strange reason I thought there were only four of them, guess I was wrong, because I just looked and we have quite an array in the cupboard. Oh well just another of the mysteries of life. Maybe Sal and yours truly could barter. I could explain the seasons to him and he could rub my paws or in his case, lick them. This boy needs to get a job then he could afford my physical therapy and wouldnt be napping all day. I read on the net that the best cure for my problem is to sleep in a warm bed with my paws elevated above my head. So I am going to have to stop because I cant hold the computer upside down and type. Uh oh here comes you know who, gotta close so he doesnt take my favorite spot on the bed.

Tuesday--Both Super and Fat

2008-02-05T08:37:00.000-05:00

This is very confusing. I heard this morning on the news that today is both Super Tuesday and Fat Tuesday, First of all how can there be two Tuesday's in one week and why is one super and the other fat? So I decided to embrace both. I have on my Mardi Gras Beads--both purple and green as I type this and let's not forget my feathered mask. Ohhhhhh do I look awesome. And the "fat" thing I have down to an art form. Although I think "fat" is rather derogatory, chubby is much more refined. So for one day a year I truly fit in and I am lovin' it. Long live Fat Tuesday although I am campaigning for the day to be changed to "BunBun" Tuesday, then instead of Al Roker being the Grand Marshal of the Mardi Gras Parade in New Orleans it can be me. Trust me I fit the criteria, especially the overweight part but I wouldnt take up as much room as Al. I probably really should give him a call. As for the Super part, guess I should get ready to go vote, since I do live in New Jersey. Uh oh as I was walking out the door I was told I cannot go--apparently I'm not old enough, am the wrong species, can't drive-- too short to reach both the pedals and the steering wheel at the same time, have an extreme case of hirsutism, and have no forms of identification except a dog tag. But on a cheerier note there are 21 other states that might be interested in what I have to offer, of course I dont know what those states are, in fact I dont even know what a state is. Cheers!

Post Super Bowl Musings

2008-02-04T08:55:00.000-05:00

What an exciting game, those last two minutes were amazing!!!!!!! I didnt get one wink of shut eye the entire four hours. My sister went to a football party, she said it was for the food, too bad I wasnt invited. Because as you know food is my passion and according to her, Jen's house has some of the best in the state. But instead I hung out with my Mom and brother. The filthy feline went outside in the backyard for most of the game. Oh but when he came inside he jumped up on the arm of the chair and laid beside my Mom. He was trying to make nice. He really is disgusting and dont think I am jealous because I cant fit or sit on the arm of the chair, that isnt it at all. He is just an attention hog. But on to the more important things who wants to fill a blog with true but not so nice comments about the C-A-T.
In my humble opinion the Patriots lost the game because they didnt take me up on my offer of Salem and his athletic prowess. That cat could have changed the outcome of the game. Its probably my fault. Things began to go awry on Friday when my parental unit caught me trying to stuff Salem in a Fed Ex box. I dont know why she was so upset I had poked a few air holes in it and it was the biggest cardboard container I could find. The black tail hanging outside was a dead giveaway. So I got grounded, scolded and he never made it to Phoenix. And to tell you the truth I am more afraid of my mother than I am either Eli or Tom.
Speaking of the two quarterbacks were you aware of how much those boys licked their fingers during the game? I was expecting my mom to yell at them. Because let me tell you if my sister does that my mom is all over her like a cheap suit. She says its unsanitary and says you get colds and all sorts of yucky stuff by doing that. Then after the lick they would throw the ball to their fellow team mates or someone on the other team. Apparently this is called an interception which is not a good thing well, for at least one of the teams. Now I tell you even though those all those boys looked fabulous on the field who would want a hunk of laced pig skin that someone had spit all over? Just digusting ! Although I must confess that sometimes I lick my paws, but never before rolling my soccer ball. Maybe it would help me but I have to do it when you know who isnt looking because he will tattle tale on me and I will be in big trouble.
So my friends the more I think about it the more I realize it is Salem's fault the Patriots lost not mine and I am once again absolved from all responsibilities for the outcome of the game. But I am wondering how Sal feels about hockey. He is rather puckish at times. Oh Salem. . .
PS If you want to watch the commercials go to: http://myspace.com/superbowlads

The Superbowl--Pigskin A La Carte

2008-02-01T10:16:00.000-05:00

The New York Giants are playing the Boston Patriots in an event this weekend called the Superbowl. When I first heard my mother and sister discussing it I got very excited. Superbowl implied to me that some very large amounts of food were going to be placed in a Supersized container, like driving thru the fast food lane and saying "Supersize it please." I eat my meals off a plate but I would be willing to eat out of a bowl if it was very large. But the strangest part about this is that the game is played with a ball made of pigskin. Huh? Whose idea was that? But between you and me I am relieved it isnt made from dog skin. I suspect that some very sharp knives are involved and I 'd much rather be a live canine than a dead porcine. Hope I have this part correct but according to my family twenty two very large men in very tight pants chase this pigskin thing all over a three hundred foot field. They throw it, jump on it, jump on one another and are very intent on getting the ball over the line at the end of the field, which is then called a touchdown. Good thing they dont use a live pig cause he'd be squished for sure. I dug around in my toy box and finally at the bottom found an old football. I didnt know pig's had strings on their back and I never saw a brown pig that small. Someone needs to notify the NFL that they have been duped. That's no dead pig those boys are throwing around, I am uncertain exactly what it is but it aint a porker. However as a display of team spirit I would like to offer up my brother Salem as a replacement. Trust me this boy is tough and he wouldnt mind a few laces up his back. He thinks he is so lithe and agile, I say let him prove his worth. It would be a Super Day for me (even without the bowl part) to sit in front of the squawk box and watch my brother get tossed all over a field by a bunch of gladiators. Gotta run I've got on the Roger Goodall on one line, Fex Ex on the other. Oh Salem how'd you like to spend the weekend in warm place like Arizona?

Being Of The Canine Persuasion

2008-01-30T12:01:00.000-05:00

I dont know how many of my readers are canines but I have to tell you its not all that its cracked up to be, especially if you are short and hairy. Just to name a few of my issues--I cant jump up into the car by myself someone has to lift me, when I take a walk I am exhausted after the first two blocks and then I have to be carried. My mother got the bright idea to buy me a pet stroller, yep, you read it right, a stroller. Now I am thinking to myself, strollers are for babies. In dog years I will soon be four and in people years thats twenty-eight. But the worst part is that the contraption is PINK. What kind of color is pink anyways? Once a vibrant red color watered down by some lackluster white. Yuck. Pink, for such a masculine fella like myself? Would you, my masculine friends want your mother to plunk you in a bright pink wheeled cart? To make matters worse it has a zipper attached to mesh so that once you are in the stupid thing you are zipped in as well, not ever a chance to break free. Oh she thought she was so clever and decided that we should all go for a walk in the neighborhood and we live in a very large development. My human sister was saying things like, "Oh doesnt he look so cute" Well as soon as we had hit the sidewalk I began to bark. I barked and barked and barked. In reality I was communicating with my fellow canines who were out and about. My message, "Dont let your family buy something like this and then display you as if you are some kind of circus amusement." My mom and sister were getting pretty annoyed with the whole adventure as I would not be quiet. By the time we arrived home every dog within hearing distance of my message had joined in the chorus, there was a massive uprising against pink strollers especially those with dachshunds inside. My human companions paid no mind to those who had joined in my ranting. Both of them agreed that it was the noisiest walk ever attempted and neither of them were going to repeat it. But my dear friends here is the best part of this sad doggy tale of woe. Once we got inside and I was set free the stupid C-A-T blithley jumped into the thing and laid down. How dumb is he? But the good news is that I only ever had one ride in the "Cart from Hades". Now Salem is the blessed one who goes for rides around the neighborhood. The boy has no sense about him and is obviously color blind.

Electric Blankets

2008-01-29T10:59:00.000-05:00

The Electric Blanket

One of the great joys of my life is to sleep on an electric blanket. For anyone who is interested, I have a king-sized bed in my room which I kindly share with my mother. If you feel compelled to make comments about this Oedipal condition please contact my mother on her blog (www.juliannmitchell.blogspot.com) and she can help you with whatever you think or feel. Trust me I talk to her all the time and you should hear some of our conversations. Maybe I will blog about it in the future. You could also contact my sister. She could write a poem with you to help you express yourself. But I am not certain how you could reach her because my mom wont allow her to have a Facebook or a My Space account. But if you do contact either one of them let me know because I get a cut of any business I throw in their direction and I need bone money badly. Think "Bones For Buttons."
But I digress, back to the blanket. Underneath the covers lurks the most wondrous of inventions-- a blanket that warms the entire bed. Glorious!!!! My red ball likes it too. How do I know this? Well it told me. Because you see the red ball, cheetah bone, and rawhide chew all sleep with us too. My mom puts them in my toy pile but I always get them out, run up my ramp, and put them on the bed. By the way do you have to run up something to get into your bed? What a pain. See I have very short legs and cant leap up on the bed, besides my Mom says no jumping on bed. However you should see that stupid C-A-T, Salem. He jumps on the bed all the time. We play this little game, he jumps on the bed, falls into a deep sleep, and then I rip up my ramp and jump on him. He really is dumb especially because he thinks if he washes my face I will stop. Now I will admit that I dont wash my face as often as I should, in fact I dont ever remember washing it but that's beside the point. For whatever reason this imbecile of a feline cleans my face. As a revenge move I lick his ears, oh you should see the look on his face, NIRVANA. Between you and me it's just a ploy on my part to lull him into thinking I am his friend. I don't like his ears which are filthy and mostly he is a disgusting species but dont tell my mom cause she says we have to play nice.
Sorry I have to go because someone else needs the computer and I have to go take a nap, yes, on the electric blanket.
Cheers,
Buttons

Valentine's Day 2008

2008-01-29T10:14:00.000-05:00

Once again it has fallen to my beleagured paws to write this Valentines Day letter. First we need to discuss this buck naked angel boy flying around with a bow and arrow. And apparently the bow is not the kind one puts on a gift. Personally I have never seen him and am not certain I want to. Is he a figment of someone's imagination? Does he live in New Jersey? How old is he? Most importantly how much does this fella weigh? He looks kind of chubby if you ask me. I am struggling desperately to discover how a half deranged deity shooting an arrow into your heart would cause you to fall in love with someone. This just doesnt seem sanitary at all. Does he only have one arrow or an entire cache of those pointy, sharp things? If Cupid only has a single one does he recycle it? I mean here in Cherry Hill we have a strict recycling program so if he keeps them he'd have to put them out on Thursdays in the big white bin. Another concern of mine-- what if he had been partying the night before and wasnt feeling his stellar best? Then his aim might be off and Oh-la-la I bet a misplaced arrow would not feel good, although an arrow anyplace seems kind of dicey. He also could be a poor shot and other more important body parts could be in danger. Oh one more thought how does one apply for this type of gig? I am naked all the time anyhow, slap a pair of wings on me and I am good to go. I may need a little practice but I have the perfect C-A-T, oh Salem, kitty, kitty, kitty.

Let Me Introduce Myself

2008-01-28T10:37:00.001-05:00

Name: Buttons

Nicknames: Bun-Bun, Sir Bunaparte, Hot Pants

Species: Canine

Breed: Long-haired Dashchund

Hair Color: Red

Eyes: Brown

Height: 8 inches

Weight: 17 pounds

Length: Very long

Birthdate: March 17, 2004

Birthplace: Kansas--"Toto we ain't in Kansas anymore."

Current Home: New Jersey

Favorite Food: Cheese & Ice Cream

Hobbies: Blogging, rolling my yellow soccer ball, fetching my little red ball, sleeping, barking, and chasing my cat brother, Salem. Dieting.

Family Members: My sixteen year old sister who is a student and a poet, cat brother, Salem aka Rico Suave, and my Mom who is a author and a liscensed psychologist. There is also my Nana who lives away from us in an ungated idyllic town in Pennsylvania (pop. 216) close to a great lake that isnt Erie, Huron, Superior, Michigan, or Ontario.

Penpals: Sis, Mary Lou & Herb

Favorite poet: My sister, Mirabella and Ted Kooser

Favorite artist: Warhol--The Dashchund

Dislikes: C-A-T-S