How Music Does Not Soothe the Savage Beast

I will be the first to admit I live in a dysfunctional household. And it is not my fault. Between The Felines, The Man, and The Woman, there is no peace for The Shiba. I am constantly caught in conflict.

So what is the big issue that became evident to me this last weekend? Music. And how did this become evident? Because The Man accused The Woman of listening to crap, and The Woman responded by turning up the volume louder. The Man returned to his Cave and responded by upping the volume on his music. They meet in the hallway, shouting over the noise, each attempting to prove that the quality of their music is better.

Not that this bad in and of itself except that these noise wars do interfere with own's ability to nap.

The Woman listens to Pop music, Ambient, Jazz, Slow Songs, Top 40, Dance, Foreign Music, cd's of Drums and Animal Sounds.

The Man listens to Punk, Techno (of many sorts which I can't differentiate except that they all have Bass at different speeds), Heavy Metal and Souxsie and the Banshees.

It's amazing the two of them were ever able to cohabit or get married. I can barely stand a dog that has any different opinions from my own; I could not imagine living with a canine that preferred tennis balls to squeeky toys.

Don't get me wrong. The Man works hard to find CD's that The Woman will enjoy. Electronic Jazz, Ambient, DJs Micro and Skribble, and has even purchased Moby CD's for her despite his extreme distaste for The Commercial Sellout (he told me all about this one night on the back porch over beers and barbacue). The Woman concedes by not playing her music when he is around which makes it evident right now that he is not, as 6 week old Top 40 music is blasting through the house.

So this weekend, the music wars recommenced in full force. I was crated and the bilayers of music blasted the walls and shattered the tranquility of the usual nighttime peace. The parties lasted every night of the four day weekend, for peace to only resume once the long weekend was over. Monday morning, when every one left, I think that The Felines and I both slept for the first time in days.

And now I lay here on my blanket next to the heater, guarding as The Woman works, listening to Shakira and Pussycat Dolls, wondering, will it ever end?


I Am Shiba. Whatever happened to Shakuhachi or Biwagaku?

Thankful for Thanksgiving

What I am thankful for:

Dirty plates
Dirty green bean casserole pan
Dirty turkey gravy pan
Dirty mashed potato bowl
Dirty stuffing bowl
Small pieces of turkey that drop on the floor

and

whipped cream.



I Am Shiba. I Am Full.

Mes Parcs

This morning, The Woman honored me with a magnificent gift. We went to one of my parks, and chased my fuzzy, squeeky ball. We have not done this sport in months, and it felt so good to be loose and running. This park is the only park I can be unstrapped because there is a fence that keeps me from running off into traffic. I enjoy the freedom that this park offers.

There are five parks that I own. Each has been acquisitioned for its own reasons, which I shall now explain.

As all good kings, I have a garden park surrounding my castle. I have gardeners that attend to flowers, shubberies, and trees, and who maintain its neatness and order. I do not pay them for their services as we reside in a feudal household. When they need protection, the gardeners come inside my castle and I keep them safe. Medieval Japan is alive and well in the palace.

Squirrel Park I have mentioned in previous posts. This is located within the town square and is the park that I keep for when I am interested in doing some local hunting. I go there regularly to make sure that the Game is abundant and available. Sometimes I see other Canines attempting to poach what is rightfully mine. Justice is always dispensed quickly.

The Nature Park is my local walk in the woods. Also near the house, it is where The Woman and I go for me to enjoy the smells of local wildlife without a long car ride. It is not a complicated park; I do not require that the gardeners maintain it for I like its "wilderness" feel with the native plants and trees. Often, I see squirrels but also many other creatures that excite my senses. Sadly, other Canines use this park when I am not present so I am forced to leave constant reminders to them that this is my territory and they enter at their own risk.

Like Leopold the Second, I have my Congo. Now, this park is difficult to govern as it is a distance from my homeland, and requires travel. There were primitive Natives present when I acquired this territory and while I attempt to keep some semblence of local order, its vastness lessens my influence. I keep this park, however, because it has critical habitat for my second most favorite animal to hunt: the chipmunk. Filled with stone walls and fallen logs, I can hear them whistle and seek out their little holes. While as fast as squirrels, these critters are smaller and harder to chase. Hence, they are second to the larger, more formidable gray fuzzy rodents that I prefer.

And finally, there is the park that I mentioned at the start of this post. It is my exercise park where I can run free and without interruption or straps, playing with my toys and enjoying the feel of grass, dirt and mud between my toes. It is not the grandest of the parks that I keep, but this one suits my purposes for when hunting is not my priority. I don't worry about other Canines using this park since its purpose is not for game management; I allow others to enjoy it without worry.

Sometimes, I amaze myself with my ability to share.



I Am Shiba. Squirrel Chasing Should Be An Olympic Sport.

A Peek into My Life

I love toys. This one is my favorite. It is large. It is fuzzy. It has multiple squeekers.

It must be destroyed.



These are The Felines admiring my work.


Here I supervise The Man while he gathers the leaves for his collection. I contemplate his dirty socks.




Notice how much I move when I supervise The Humans at their work. Management is about brain power, not wasting stored energy resources.

A squirrel could come running by at any moment and I am ready.

Others feign being Shiba. I exemplify its essence.


I Am Shiba. This is My Message.

The Politics of Dirty Socks

The Man is no longer yelling at the Television. Every morning for the last few weeks, he was yelling at the Television. Now, the noise has ceased. It appears what was angering him is no longer happening.

This is strange.

Usually in this household, someone is up in arms about something. Even The Felines have opinions about mundane issues of no relevancy. I am like Mussolini. I make sure that all trains run on time within these four walls.

As the autumn leaves tumble, I can smell the decay. I can also smell the dirty socks after The Man and The Woman gather these leaves (they seem to enjoy collecting them- they make huge piles of this debris and then keep them safe in bags- go figure).

So I have been thinking. Up until Wednesday morning, The Man was yelling at people on the Television. Then The Woman and The Man go out and collect leaves. Then they leave dirty socks on the floor which I get to smell.

So the people that The Man was yelling at obviously don't collect leaves or have dirty socks. And now that he has stopped yelling at the Noisy Box, there must be people who collect leaves and have dirty socks on The Television.



I Am Shiba. I Like The Smell of Dirty Socks. And Sweaty T-Shirts.