The Queen of Shiba

I have just finished spending a lovely Memorial Day weekend. There were steaks to be shared, long walks to be enjoyed, a very wonderful game of European Football in the park (with my very own regulation soccer ball), and several drives to and fro. There was also time to supervise yard work, and sleep in the sun, particularly as The Woman and That Guy have now started their summer cocktail hour once again. The unofficial start of summer has begun, and I am pleased.

However, I must relay a story that will shock. 'Tis a tale of disbelief, but yet. I have recovered from this traumatic experience. It is a tale that would freeze any Shiba's blood, one that divides the Real Shibas from the Wannabes.

What started off as being a nice long walk through our residential neighborhood, was interrupted in horror. As we approached a street corner, a minivan pulled around and stopped right in front of The Woman and me. The door opened. Out jumped three small children and two Shibas. There were also The Others who came out and screamed happily about seeing another Shiba and while The Woman spoke to The Others, I had three children attach themselves like Velcro.

In the meantime, the Black and Tan Male Shiba attempted to show his dominance by peeing on a nearby tree. I tried to move away, but I was being held hostage by six small hands and a very tight leash. When this BTMS decided to move closer, I decided to show him that this was my neighborhood and he needed to respect my reign over these lands.

That is, until The Queen presented herself.

The Red Shiba was a 14 year midget of manginess, with an almost white face and the stiffened walk of something wearing an overstarched fur coat. She walked up to the three kids, the BTMS, The Woman and myself, and surveyed the situation with such an undeniable air of regal authority that all six of us were stopped in a moment of time. She walked around in her elderly manner. The children reached out and petted her. The BTMS immediately laid down. The Woman offered The Queen her hand, and the Queen ordained it possible for The Woman to touch her head.

Then, the Queen turned and looked at me.

I was surrounded. There was no hope. I had no back-up, no chance of leaping forward, no support from any party present. I had to submit. The Queen marched around and sniffed "my area" and I stood there, accepting the situation for what it was. There is a greater force out there, and She travels with a strong pack.

Fortunately, the Queen and her entourage were only passing. While the entire ordeal took a few minutes, my entire life passed before my eyes. All the dogs I had dominated, every morsel I had consumed, every marking I left was all in vain as there was one Shiba who stood out mightier than myself, and she had a crowd to support her every whim.

I finished my walk in silent, retrospective thought. While I can accept that there is one stronger and mightier, she is older and requires a larger army to accomplish her goals. Me? I am still young and strong, requiring only myself to subdue the masses. But before The Woman and I resumed our constitutional and as the van of The Queen et al. drove off into the sunset, I peed on the tree that the BTMS marked early in our exchange. I was not going to let that opportunity pass.



I Am Shiba. I Am An Army Of One.

So What Are Shibas Good For?

I Am Shiba. I Keep Busy.

Rescue Shiba 911

**chomp**chomp**chomp**

Knock on the door.

**chomp**chomp**

The People get up and leave their dinner table to answer the door. It is a salesman. They are not amused.

**chomp**chomp**chomp**

They asked me, Why didn't you bark, and alert us to the situation?

**chomp**

Excuse me, but I get 2 fifteen minute breaks a day. Like a policeman in a donut shop, my mealtimes are my own time. I am off duty. So please, don't expect me to get upset that your dinner was interrupted by the doorbell since I chose not to respond so that I can enjoy mine.

It's not like it was an emergency or anything.

Unlike the other night.

When I was asleep and the entire household was awoken by a large crash and thump. Okay, modify that. I was the only one who was asleep and awoken by the large crash and thump.

That Guy had decided to microwave himself a bowl of chicken with noodles, and with Pepsi in hand, walked down the steps to his basement. About half way down, he fell and everything went flying. There was pasta and chicken everywhere. So, the feline was placed in another room, and The Woman called me down into the basement to help with clean-up.

While The Woman removed the large Pepsi stain, I immediately identified my task as the Noodle-Chicken Carpet Remover. Much to my pleasure, That Guy had made himself a rather big bowl of the meal. I even found a stray noodle or three that had traveled further from the scatterings than most.

I certified that this crime scene was safe, and returned back to bed. To add to the sorrow of That Guy's situation, there was no more noodles or chicken left for a second meal.

That Guy, the next morning, had a huge bruise on his left leg that The Woman deemed "impressive."

Bummer for him. Happy Moment for Me.


I Am Shiba. I Both Walk a Beat and Work CSI.

Pet Smart

Last year, The People made a decision to refinish the tub in their bathroom. It is now all nice and white, and squeaky clean but an issue came about that The Shiba could no longer be placed into this nice shiny tub since it appears that I have claws and these could injure the tub.

Not that this bothered me. I have never been a fan of baths.

However, this spring as my coat has decided to blow, That Guy offered to pay for me to go to Pet Smart to "get groomed." Sounds suspicious. Pet Smart is for buying toys and treats. The only dogs that get groomed are those poofy dogs that sit on people's laps and bark all the time. But the arrangements are made, and at 9 am., I find myself inside Pet Smart just as the Puppy Socialization class is starting.

Now, The Woman is very intrigued by this. There are, in her opinion, some very cute puppies present and she fawns over several of them before class begins (**yawn**). Things got interesting when the puppies decided to socialize with me.

First, there was a Boxer puppy who insisted upon jumping on my head and pulling at my ear. I batted her down with one paw, and she howled like I was using a large stick. This got the attention of a Husky puppy who immediately jumped on my back, causing me to have to flip around and knock him to the ground. The third puppy, something white and yappy, immediately began to rush at my feet so while I was defending myself from the Husky, I stepped on the white yappy thing, and it screeched its way back to its person and hid behind her. By this point, The Woman is dragging me away from the arena and toward what I hope is a dog spa rather than just a sink and a hose.

At least I did my part in socializing the puppies.

So I get washed, vacuumed, brushed, nails clipped, and wait for The Woman and That Guy to pick me up. Which they do. I see them on the other side of the wall, in the waiting area, and I know that I am going to get out of here RIGHT NOW because I am done with being touched by strangers. However, between me and them is an obstacle.

A black pit bull who needs her nails clipped.

The Woman steps forward and shouts to the handler to be careful, but the Pit Bull Owner says "oh don't worry, my dog is friendly." I start to make my move on the Pit Bull, getting my karate ready because the Pit Bull is in MY way, and The Woman says something like "watch out!" or "Shibas eat Pit Bulls for appetizers," and the two handlers are able to separate me from the Pit Bull who merely is standing around looking confused.

The path to My People is clear and I am ready to go. Even when other dogs attempt to approach me as we are leaving, my mission is to get out the door as soon as possible as to avoid any further contact with other dogs. I have already proven myself a worthy opponent; now it is time to go home and celebrate my Shibaness.

Oh, and I might add, I look great too!


I Am Shiba. I Am Now A Lean, Mean, and Clean Fighting Machine.

French Fries at Midnight

Last night, I was politely woken from my crate by the delightful smell of greasy potatoes being cooked to crispy perfection.

"Take my love, take my land
Take me where I cannot stand
I don't care, I'm still free
You can't take the sky from me"

The Woman and That Guy had turned on the movie "Serenity" and invited me to join them for a late night showing and snack.

"It's Love. He loved his sister and he knew she was in pain. So he took her somewhere safe."

While I did not find the movie as entertaining as they, the French Fries were cooked to perfection.

"Start with the part where Jayne gets knocked out by a ninety pound girl. 'Cause I don't think that's ever gonna get old."

I retired to my crate when the French Fries ran out. That Guy went to bed around the same time I did.

"I don't care what you believe! Just believe it!"

I could hear The Woman watching the rest of the movie but she did not make any more snacks. So, I opted to stay in my crate rather than lie next to her as she cheered for River and Mal, and mourned Wash's passing.

"Love. You can learn all the math in the 'verse, but you can take a boat in the air that you don't love, she'll shake you off as sure as the turning of the worlds. Love keeps her in the air when she oughta fall down, tells you she's hurting 'fore she keens. Makes her home."


I Am Shiba. I Am A Leaf on the Wind. I Am The Love That Makes A Home.