Shedding, Part Deux

I Am Shiba. By Tomorrow, I Will Have More Fur To Spread Around.

How to Torture a Shiba- Part Deux

As is well known to my readers, I enjoy riding in the car. I am not a "stick my head out the window with my tongue flapping in the wind" car dog, but rather I enjoy sitting in the back seat, being chauffuered around, and finding new and interesting spots to pee when we stop. I look forward to The Woman running errands with feigned interest but it is an important part of my lifestyle and responsibilities.

Our household is a two car household. The first car is The Women's car. It is a small Chevy Aveo hatchback, the same color as me (of course), that can hold one Shiba, several bags of groceries (including whatever is needed for afternoon cocktail hour and barbacue), a few shrubberies, one trip to the Salvation Army, and a few yard sale scores assumed during the course of a Saturday afternoon cruise. The Woman, being of small statuture, loves this little Aveo. I wish it had air conditioning in the backseats.

The second car of our household is That Guy's car. It is a 2000 Red Mustang. He uses it to get back and forth to work, and this is the car that we travel in to take long trips. The back seat is very comfortable. I can stretch out as we drive to our destination. I never have to share this back seat with shubberies.

Mustangs are Real Men's cars. That Guy is a Real Man. So am I. We relate on the level of the importance of owning and riding in a non-practical car for an environment that can have any kind of weather over the course of an hour and be undrivable for half a year. It's all about style and look.

And I make that Mustang look good.

So lately, That Guy has been going to work early because he has to be working with people across the Ocean (which involves waking me up early so then I get The Woman up- who is seldom amused- but the day has started **chop** chop** everyone!) But because he has been going to the office early, he has been coming home early.

And this leads me to the Shiba Torture #2.

Early this week, That Guy came home right as The Woman and I were getting ready to leave errands. He pulled into the garage right as we were exiting. So we stop to say hi, they exchange those silly human pleasantries and I see that we are right next to the Mustang! This means that we are going on a nice trip somewhere so that I can see new sites and claim new country in the Name of All that is Mine.

But noooooooooooo.

That Guy gets out of the Mustang, The Woman drags me away even as I attempt to squeeze myself into the back seat, and I am thrown into the small Chevy Aveo only to be surrounded by groceries, unessential shopping bags, and whatever else distracts her for that day.

I really tried to get into The Mustang. It was there. The door was open. It was an obvious invitation. We should be going someplace fun! My disappointment was unimaginable when the doors were shut and I was dragged off to the lesser of the two vehicles.

Don't tempt me with the Greater of Two Treats and then Force Me to Take the Lesser. It's just not fair!



I Am Shiba. I Deserve a Roadtrip.

Sunday Feb 8th continued

Not only did I get brushed, but the weather was so nice that The Woman and That Guy took me for a really nice long walk. We did have to avoid several water puddles so that my little toes did not suffer the indignity of getting wet.

We met new Shiba in the neighborhood, a cream named Roxy, whose owner told us that she went to obedience training for one day and then was asked to leave as Roxy attempted to take on the entire class.

Roxy's Woman told me that I looked like one of those Shibas in the calenders.




I Am Shiba. Don't Hate Me Because I Am Beautiful.

Spring is Incoming

Forget that Groundhog. The best sign of an early spring is A Shiba.

This was Sunday morning after about five minutes.



I Am Shiba. I Have Only Just Begun . . .

How to Torture a Shiba- Part 1

Buy a slow cooker.

The People have some silly rules which periodically affect me. One of those rules is while The Woman is cooking, I am not allowed in the kitchen (there was an incident of me attempting to clean the floor when The Woman turned around and deliberately stepped on me, causing me to "yelp", and then somehow in all the mess of her interference of my duties, she was lying on the floor and I was standing over her, wondering why she was lying in the spot I was attempting to clean. Since then, I can't clean the floor until after she is done).

Sometimes, I sneak in when there are really good smells. Like when she microwaves up some salmon or leftover Thai food. I like to sit underneath the microwave and just smell the air as the belly goodness of food smells journeys to my sensitive nostrils. It is glorious, and as long as I do not attempt to go to the side of the kitchen where The Woman is, I am safe to savor the essence of reheated cuisine.

But this Christmas, The Woman told That Guy that she wanted a slow cooker for her present. That Guy was not surprised. Usually for Christmas she asks for something related to the kitchen. I guess she and I have differing views over what we perceive as "toys."

The slow cooker arrives to the house, and at least once a week, it is used. This means, that at least once a week, the delicious smells of red beans and rice, or stew, or subtle blending of curried spices are spreading across the chicken for 5-8 hours. 5-8 hours!! And often times, the people are not even home while the belly filling deliciousness is delicately cooking and I suffer, alone, knowing that not only can I not reach these delectable goodness of magnificent mixtures of tastes and smells, but that I have to have this around me ALL DAY!

The person who invented this machine had no love of Shibas.

So while I enjoy the end result of what this machine so mysteriously creates, the eight hour wait is almost intolerable. So I sit, watching this machine, meditating that somehow it will mysteriously fall to the floor, and I can sample its belly teasing goodness before The People return home.



I Am Shiba. This May Be The Right Time to Recruit The Feline for Assistance.

/Sigh

It's snowing again in Connecticut.


Color me surprised.




I Am Shiba. I Am Ready For Spring.