I Am Shiba.

Critic's Review: Ketchup and Mustard

2008-06-21T05:33:00.001-07:00

I am both a gourmet and a gourmand. I enjoy good cuisine. I enjoy traveling to find good cuisine. I enjoy sending My People out to find me good cuisine.

Ketchup and Mustard, a locally owned hamburger shoppe, is one of these place to which My People were dispatched.

This restaurant has been in my home area for a few months, and the people have visited it twice. There is no terrace, so I have to stay home, waiting for them to bring me "a doggie bag" of their leftovers (a rather undignified manner in which to obtain scraps) so automatically, the restaurant loses points in this category. I hate being left at home. When good cuisine is involved and nice summer weather, it is unfair to leave me locked in the house while others consumed Fresh Onion Rings and French Fries.

However, the food is beyond reproach.

This is the meal brought home for me. Ooooo, smells good!

Hello! I am Hungry (and Impatient)!

This will be my dinner as soon as everyone stops taking pictures and let me eat it!

Chomp. Chomp. Chomp.

I admit it. The meal pleased me. I will demonstrate a moment of enthusiasm toward My People for sharing such fine cuisine with me.

I Am Shiba. . . . . . . . . . . **BURP**

It's too Hot to Care, Employee Picnics, and Happiness is Cardboard

2008-06-15T07:09:00.001-07:00

The Woman has been too hot and too busy to tend to my needs. She is back in School and she is still working, finishing up her year of terrorizing the Youth of the America. She "claims" that it is too hot for me to go on car rides, take long walks in the afternoon or evening, and that crating me at night is borderline abusive since it limits my water access. Well, I like this idea of having an open crate at night and the ability to sleep near the people but the rest of this whole issue is just too confining. If her car had better air conditioning, this would not be an issue. But I must agree, it has been a tad tepid here in the Great Northeast and so, as a result, I have decided to shed some more just to keep everyone around me a little busier.

Last week, we did a meet and greet with all my other canine colleagues who are Pet Therapists. Despite the heat (and the bugs), it was an enjoyable event where I was able to eat grilled foods, potato salad, and other treats- provided that everything served to me was on a plate and not on that dirty ground. It's bad enough I am expected to clean the kitchen floor when someone drops something; I don't have to eat fallen objects covered in dirt as well. My best friend on the workforce, Sampson, was there with his people, and he was looking as regal as ever (His People even brought their own bottle of wine- how appropriate that folks who work with a Bichon Frise bring their own wine to a barbecue). With the exception of some minor disagreements with a Golden Retriever puppy, I was exceptionally well behaved and exemplified all that is regal about Being Shiba.

Alice, That Other Woman Who Insists That I Heel, brought Sangria. The Women deemed Sangria as "Very Good" but That Guy says that Sangria is very deadly to him and his ability to function later. I was not allowed any of this Sangria, but then, I am not really fond of fruit anyway.

One interesting thing which happened from My Canine Perspective. As all the dogs wandered in and the cooking began, mellowness was the key. Even a potentially hyper Dalmatian/Terrier/God Only Knows What Else mix was quiet and subdued. However, this all changed with the arrival of

Meekoh.

Meekoh is everything that is Not Shiba. He barks Greetings to Everyone. He is Frisbee Obsessed. He Follows his Person off lead. He Listens to Commands and even knows Commands that eliminate any shred of dignity to a Canine.

Meekoh is what is better known as a "Border Collie" which I personally think comes from "Borderline Personality Disorder Enmeshed with Mania and Hyperactivity." It just sounds easier to call them a "Border" of something.

And to my horror, That Guy actually played with Meekoh and his Frisbee. And He Liked It!

This disturbed me deeply. However, it appears as if That Guy has given up on the momentary thought of "Let's Get a Dog that Actually Comes when Called" and returned to the attitude of "You know, You can be a Real Asshole Sometimes" which I think is directed at me but as I am not really listening, I can't be 100% sure.

But Life has returned to normal in our household. The temperatures have decreased. I am getting car rides again, and the Mailman has been once more arriving at his normal time.

The Mailman and I truly have a love/hate relationship; I hate it when He walks by but I love it when He arrives with packages. Recently, I took on a poster tube that arrived from Australia, and successfully tore it into small little pieces, despite any attempts from intervening parties.

I Am Shiba. I Am A Weapon Of Mass Destruction.

Notes from The Woman:

Allan's Angel's Therapy Group decided that its yearly donation should be made to Bolton Veterinary Hospital "Allan Leventhal Memorial Fund". This fund assists individuals who can not afford surgeries or animal care, or to take care of wild or feral animals that are brought in for treatment. The hospital can be viewed at http://www.boltonvet.com/ and look up the AAL Memorial Fund if you are interested in donating.

Allen's Angels is the Pet Therapy Group that Allan Leventhal created. The Cast of Canines can be viewed on the Bolton website, as well as an explanation of how a dog can become a therapy dog. Meekoh's Person is the photographer for each dog, and provides excellent pictures upon request. She can be reached at BVCphoto@aol.com.

The Queen of Shiba

2008-05-30T11:46:00.000-07:00

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?

2008-05-23T23:50:00.001-07:00

I Am Shiba. I Keep Busy.

Rescue Shiba 911

2008-05-18T03:58:00.000-07:00

**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

2008-05-11T18:08:00.001-07:00

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

2008-05-03T05:57:00.000-07:00

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.

April 25, 2007

2008-04-28T05:57:00.000-07:00

It has been a year since Michael Vicks went under investigation for dogfighting. On December 10, 2007, he was sentenced in Federal Court to 23 months in jail for dogfighting across state lines, and potentially being involved in the death and torture of dogs. He received his to due a plea bargain agreement, but he still awaits state charges for many of the same charges of animal abuse and dogfighting.

In the U.S., dogfighting is considered a felony in every state except Wyoming and Idaho. Despite that fact, according to The Humane Society, it's estimated that somewhere between 20,000-40,000 people in this country take part in this multi-billion dollar industry. American pit bull terriers account for 99 percent of the species involved in dogfighting, and a pit bull puppy can cost as much as $5,000. An average dog fight carries a $10,000 purse.

Forty-eight dogs were rescued from Michael Vick's dog yard "Bad Newz Kennels", and while only one was euthanized (for medical reasons), most have been placed in sanctuaries while a few are being re-trained for adoption. Most are unadoptable (for obvious reasons) but will live out their lives without fear of the ring. The few that are adoptable were taken by several organizations to be fostered and taught how to be dogs. Some were sent as far away as Utah in order to find individuals who could undertake this difficult task of rehabilitating dogs who have been taught to "do or die."

Michael Vicks is still in jail as I write this. For the sake of all dogs, I hope he stays in there for a lot longer.

I Am Shiba. I Have Spoken.

Cave Canem!

2008-04-25T02:59:00.001-07:00

I Am Shiba. Ask Not at Whom the Shiba Barks; I Bark at Thee.

Spring has Sprung!

2008-04-19T13:40:00.001-07:00

My screen door is open again!

The Woman left without me again!

But within one day, her tulips blossomed, and she seemed so happy!

There are rides in The Car, Yard Clean-Up, Lawn Seeding, and Lunches on Terraces.

Life is Good again.

I Am Shiba. Tomorrow, We Barbecue.

The Dog Whisperer Might Be Right This Time

2008-04-05T09:34:00.000-07:00

The other day, there was an episode involving a rescued Shiba. Well, of course, I had to sit down and watch, as I have a personal interest in this topic.

What ended up happening completely surprised Me, The Woman, and That Guy. The Dog Whisperer told them The Couple that they needed to get rid of their dog.

His reasoning? "Don't get the Dog you want. Get the Dog you need!"

The Couple had rescued a Shiba, and almost immediately a variety of problems appeared. Everything from food aggression to attitude issues (yea, like I have THAT problem) to the eventual problems with other household animals and biting the people in the house. The Shiba in question developed into a fearful, aggressive dog who received mixed messages from his people regarding how to behave. At the end of the episode, The Dog Whisperer told The Couple that he would take the dog, and gave them a dog better suited for their needs.

While I personally do not agree with The Dog Whisperer's training techniques (I am not one who responds well to a pulled leash, shushing, or soft tapping), I do agree with him that while Shibas are cute, bright, adorable and highly evolved, we are not a fashion accessory nor are we for the feint of heart. The first seven months of living with My New People, I made their lives very difficult as we all attempted to establish the hierarchy of command. I knew that The Woman was Numero Uno but That Guy and Those Felines, well, that is where the difficulty arose. But I admire My People for their consistency.

- They seldom yelled at me.
- I was included in all activities, whenever possible.
- I was consistently instructed where I should be during their dinner time or snack time.
- I had a definite bedtime.
- I had a usually usual rising time.
- I quickly learned when my dinner time was, and when snacks were distributed, and under what circumstances I could anticipate a snack.
- If I snapped or growled while eating my food, I lost my food privileges until I calmed down. Or one of them gave me little pieces at a time. I have permanently lost my bone privileges due to my inappropriateness (The People call it "food assertion issues"); it's only recently that I have been allowed to have smoked tendons which I can chew down in less than an hour. And at any time, The Woman or That Guy can come and take it away, ask me to sit, and then they always give it back to me. It's bothersome, but it reminds me that to get good stuff, I have to be good.
- I am not allowed to snap at a dog if I am on leash (unless they smell my butt without my permission- I just hate that!!) If I do, the walk is over.
- I am not allowed to growl or act macho toward another dog while I am on leash, even if they are loose. Or in my park. Or on my street. Or just somewhere in eyesight. If I do, the walk is over.
- I have been taught that on leash, there are rules. (God, I hate it when The Woman makes me Heel) If I do not abide by these rules, I am left at home. I do not like to be left at home. Hence, I have learned to follow the rules.

There are other rules in the household that I consider ridiculous but The Woman and That Guy consider necessary. Like I am not allowed in the kitchen when The Woman is cooking (she drops stuff and I am supposed to clean it up!!) nor I am not allowed downstairs where That Guy works and The Remaining Feline stays. I have to stay at a certain point when my food is being placed in my bowl and I am told when it is okay to approach my bowl to eat. Ridiculously, this is done with a hand signal so like I have to pay attention when all I want to do is EAT THANKYOUVERYMUCH! And I do not understand why The Woman gets frustrated when I destroy boxes delivered by the evil intrusive MailMan. It's fun to tear cardboard into little tiny pieces. Now, The Woman places the cardboard boxes on the counter and I have to wait until That Guy brings me the box to destroy (and then we have alot of fun together ripping it into tiny little pieces). Then The Woman complains about vacuuming, and . . . well, you get my drift.

It is very hard for Shibas to follow rules. We are not a "generalist" breed; a Shiba requires a rule for every specific situation. I am not allowed to chew this book because That Guy told me I could not, but he did not tell me that I could not chew this one! What ends up happening when People and Shibas meet is that we all come to a point of understanding and acceptance with the added entertainment of my breeds continued inventiveness while the rest of the household learns to keep things off the floor.

So the question becomes, who really needs a Shiba? People who don't want slobbering Labradors or high maintenance Poodles or energetic Hounds or overly bred German Shepherds. The People who need Shibas require just a little bit of chaos, an aloof attitude regarding the household hierarchy, and a furry beast that shows its love and adoration by simply sticking around.

Unless there is a squirrel, of course.

I Am Shiba. Get the Dog You Need, Not the Dog You Think Looks the Best.

I Have The Power!

2008-03-29T06:57:00.000-07:00

Lately, the weather has been quite beautiful. A tad chilly, but otherwise, sunny. Hence, The Woman has been leaving the front door open so that I can lie in the western sun and view my kingdom from behind the glass door.

I am alerted by the sound of approaching footsteps. My heavenly sunbathing slumber has been disturbed.

I am not amused.

I therefore jump and stand erect, tail straight, fur raised, and sound a full five-alarm howl that there is an intruder alert.

The Woman is sitting on the couch, watching her afternoon television program, folding laundry. She looks over at me as I repeat myself.

She sees a hand slip something into the door handle as I rush at the glass door in full fury of being disturbed from my afternoon nap (not to be confused with my mid-morning nap, my noon nap, my early afternoon nap, or my late afternoon nap).

I hear the footsteps move off into the distance.

I run over to The Woman to inform her that there is CHANGE on our front yard, that the door is different, and needs her immediate attention as I am the Watchdog and I Watched something CHANGE on the door.

The Woman gets up, and makes a mental note to make sure that the door has survived the winter windstorms and is secure for my summertime observations. She opens the door and removes the CHANGE that was left behind by the footsteps. I stand on my hind legs, smelling it, because it could be dangerous.

Or something good to eat.

The Woman then sits me down and shows me a magazine that was called "Awake" (which is exactly what happened to me!) and stated that I just scared off some Jehovah's Witnesses.

Me. I put fear into the hearts of individuals empowered by Jehovah to bring enlightenment to all people. Me. All by myself. I stopped them from delivering their message.

I Am Shiba. I Have The Power to Stop God's Mission.

Volunteer of the Month

2008-03-21T14:35:00.000-07:00

(click on image to make larger)

I Am Shiba. I Am The Pet Therapist.

It's been a crazy two weeks!

2008-03-13T14:15:00.000-07:00

Man, I don't even know where to begin.

The squirrels are everywhere, The Woman has been putting the petal to the metal, and it looks like Spring may actually stick around. My door is open for a few hours a day now so that I can view my 'hood, and yet at night, I still get to lie next to the heater and warm myself before retiring to my crate. The cool mornings make for magnificent walks; the warm afternoons are perfect for driving and adventuring. This is Shiba weather!

Things were tough there for a bit. The Woman seemed indifferent to many things happening in her life, and she had difficulty leaving the house and leading her normal life. I stuck by her, and I never left her alone, until she finally broke from her funk on a very sunny day, and the two of us went to visit That Guy at the place that he works! I was so excited to see him there, that I actually jumped up on him and one of his colleagues (who I found out later is a cat person, not a dog person, but hey, no one is perfect). I was very happy to see where That Guy goes during the day. There are no Shibas there, so I immediately clamied his office building as part of my territory.

It's tough when The Woman is feeling down. I don't know what to do except to stay close and make sure that she is okay. But she always pulls through, and then the two of us are back to having fun. For example, just yesterday, we went and visited a new person on our client list. Although I was working, I was observed by a black cat, which made me a little nervous because I think he was taking notes, but otherwise it is good to be working again and being adored by the masses. When people are ailing, they need a Shiba.

But this spring, instead of my normal bath in the tub, I was taken to Pet Smart (the greatest store in the whole world) and I got a bath and I got blow dried and I got my fur thoroughly brushed and I got my nails clipped and my teeth cleaned, and when The Woman came to pick me up, I felt so good that I just bounced through the store and showed myself off to everyone. No one can resist a sparkling Shiba! Everyone was laughing as I bounced through the store and my presence was definitely noticed.

I can not ask for more than that.

I Am Shiba. I Can Smell Spring!

Kibble Hockey

2008-02-24T10:40:00.000-08:00

Kibble hockey is by far the greatest game invented by myself and That Guy. The rules are simple: he shoots a piece of dog kibble across the kitchen floor. I must demonstrate my hunting prowess by stopping the kibble before it goes underneath the kitchen table or by finding it if That Guy does something tricky like shoot the Kibbble on to the carpet (which is officially offsides).

So the game goes like this. First That Guy says: Let's Do It!

So I get ready. Damn, I look good, don't I?

I watch the line-up, counting the number of Kibble that I must find and retrieve.

Then, he starts shooting them, and I chase, hoping that I can stop the Kibbles faster than he can skitter them across the kitchen floor.

If I am attentive, I can stop them right after the initial shot.

And when I am really good, I stop the Kibble before it barely leaves the starting gate!

Kibble hockey is a sport that I recommend for all ages, but particularly for Shibas who are not allowed to run free chasing squirrels, but are rather confined to hunting the food in the walls of the household.

I Am Shiba. I Never Turn Down the Opportunity to Chase.

The Things That They Carry

2008-02-18T09:06:00.000-08:00

Note: This was a submission for a Literature class that The Woman is taking online. She was busy this morning so I thought that I would help her out.

The Things That They Carry By Cortez Squirrelsbane Shiba-san

It is 7 AM, and they scurry like rats
Trying to get out the door and across the door mat
I have been fed and watered, and given my walk
But these two people don’t even have time for a talk
Instead, they grab their purses and cases
Tying their shoes with flashy new laces
They fly out of the house with their lunches and keys
Dreading, starting their cars in the deep winter freeze

The Woman spills her purse, the contents fall to the ground
Her wallet and coupons are scattered all around
Pencils and pens for which the children do borrow
Peppermint candies for when breath smells like bone marrow
Her key chain of Amethyst rock, a present from Maman
Skitters out of sight behind the garbage can
She curses because she is late again, the third time this week
Finally she finds the car keys, seeing the can and taking a peek

That Guy sets up his iPod in his Mustang so red
The loud techno music blasting into his head
His Dell Laptop is snug on the back seat
The case is covered with dog fur and dirt from my feet
His company ID is attached to a chain
Since he has lost it more than once, and damaged it in the rain
His wallet and cell phone are in his jacket pocket
It’s all about speed, traveling as fast as a rocket

She checks her school bag while her Aveo drips snow
It’s orange like me, and her jacket zipped up ready to go
The children’s assignments are ready to be returned
Although the children would wish that their grades could be burned
Her books she is reading for class and for fun
Are also packed inside for when to MCC she does run
I have been there; it’s a fun place
Green grass with rabbit smells and open spaces to race

These people I live with, The Woman and That Guy
Have bags and purses and cases no lie
But inside the Aveo, is the most important bag of all
It has inside a blanket, a harness, a long leash and a ball
For this bag is mine, safely packed in the car
Because when we go hiking or to the park or travel afar
I too have my belongings so I am ready to go
For any adventure, either the forest, the beach or in the snow

That Guy Returns

2008-02-17T07:02:00.001-08:00

That Guy took off again this week, and returned home yesterday. It was nice to see him. He brought me a bone from the Atlanta Pet Smart. Personally, I would have rather gone to the Atlanta Pet Smart but I never turn down a tasteful and tasty gift.

The Woman did not suffer from her normal Agoraphobia in That Guy's absence and so we ended up driving all around town running errands, and going for two really nice long walks- something we had not done together for some time. Both walk days had great weather but then a horrid snow/sleet/rainfall came that kept us both indoors. So then she terrorized me and the feline with the vacuum cleaner and disrupted our lives with noisy music.

We did watch the Westminster Dog show together but I went to bed after the Shiba did not even place. I was most disappointed.

How can I get my daily nap when she is making so much noise for two days in a row?

But now life is back to normal. It is Sunday. That Guy and The Woman read the paper, and I get a walk and some attention. Later they will make noise with their computer and then bother me as they move about the house doing stuff.

I Am Shiba. I like Routine.

Do Shibas Shed?

2008-02-09T10:29:00.000-08:00

This is a question that is posed to many Shiba owners. A person who is captivated by our intelligent look and magnificent carriage, compliments our perfection and dignity, and when inquiring to the nature of what is Shiba, the inevitable question arises asking "Do they shed?"

There is an easy way to answer this question.

This is after my Sunday morning nail clipping, teeth cleaning, and quick brushing (about five minutes worth of attention and grooming). Hygiene is, of course, very important to a Shiba and thus, with our People's assistance, we can continue our contribution to the gorgeousness of The World. Please note that My People have a carpet the same color as me.

However, here is another Shiba- Tierce- from the website of The Misanthropic Shiba- who decided in the middle of winter to start to "blow" his coat, which means- shed out another Shiba. Shibas are not made by normal methods of breeding but rather, our fur is gathered together and breeders made new Shibas out of the old. It's like single-celled critter division.

And from the Northeast Shiba Rescue Website, I bring you Pogo, with his full black and tan goodness on a white quilt!

So, as our viewers can see, on a daily basis, we shed. Then we have our partial sheddings which involve our People's attention for more than five minutes but less than an hour. And then, finally, we have what is called "the blowing of our coat" which means you better be ready to brush daily as well as follow us with vacuum cleaner because we am gonna let it all fall out!

I Am Shiba. Shedding is Merely My Contribution to Household Decorating.

I Am Back, Baby!

2008-02-02T05:15:00.000-08:00

And I might add, that I am just a tad excited about my ability to run, play, and do all the things that I love to do! My stitches are out, the vet says I am in good shape (and should stop reading medical books), and I am ready to return back to the world to show everyone who and what it is to be Shiba.

I still have a shaved spot on my hind leg but I am successfully hiding this blemish from photographers. After all, with Franklin D. Roosevelt, they only photographed him sitting or from the waist up as a consideration. The paparazzi shall do the same for me.

(photo edited to avoid embarrassing the easily embarrassed).

I Am Shiba. Sometimes, I Just Get a Little Too Excited.

I Am Not Patient at Being Patient

2008-01-26T07:20:00.000-08:00

Well, it appears that recovery is not what I thought it would be. Bones delivered to my feet daily, tasty morsels of extra food tossed into my bowl "to keep my strength up," and frequent massages to maintain my level of comfort.

Instead, I am given pills, get scolded if I give attention to my stitches, and am not allowed to chase squirrels. I am not being taken in the car as frequently as before, and I am not having my normally scheduled playtimes with my toys.

I am not having fun.

I have five more days before my stitches are removed. There better be a party waiting when all this is done and over.

I Am Shiba. I Am Not Good at Being Good.

Recovery Time Has Started

2008-01-21T19:20:00.000-08:00

My surgery went well. I am now home and resting comfortably.

I have an incision on my leg that is about one inch long, and am seriously considering removing the stitches when The Woman is not looking. I really don't want to go back to the vet's office again.

To aid in my recover (and distract me from my stitches), The Woman bought me one of those really cool smoked tendons that I love to chew on. This time, I finished it in one day. It was that good.

It is difficult to pee. I can not raise the one leg, nor can I balance on it. So, I have to embarrass myself by stretching. I hope that no one was watching during my evening constitution.

In ten days, I have my stitches out, and I should be ready to hit the streets once more. Thank you all for your prayers and good wishes; soon, the world will be once more blessed with my presence.

I Am Shiba. I Opted Out of Botox this Time.

Yesterday I Killed a Cantaloupe

2008-01-19T09:15:00.000-08:00

There are moments where life is far more exciting than I expected.

The Woman took me in the car yesterday as she needed to purchase the evening meal (which included French Fries!) However, the store did not have all the ingredients she required, so she was forced to drive to another store to obtain the rest of what she needed. Not a problem for me; a nice car ride is always fun and I enjoy going places and seeing the sights.

But this was a new store, a new environment, one that had never encountered a Shiba marking so it was mandatory that I be removed from the car and allowed to mark my presence on the obviously expensive shrubberies.

As we returned to the automobile, there was another individual close to us, loading bags of groceries into her car. One bag tipped over, and the contents spilled on to the ground.

And out rolled The Cantaloupe.

And The Chase was on.

Trained by That Guy to seek and out destroy anything that is thrown or tossed, I immediately set out to obtain my quarry. With The Woman in tow, I lunged and attacked this rolling fruit with the vigor of my 6000 year old ancestors attacking a wild boar. I grabbed it with my paws, and sank my teeth into its rough flesh.

It tasted horrible.

But I was not dissuaded. After two more bites, I secured a grip, and ripped open the skin revealing some wonderfully delightful fleshy goodness that needed to be shredded and thrashed around the parking lot immediately, The Woman, of course, wanted to end my hunt before I could fully destroy my prey but I was faster, smarter, and more agile. It took mere seconds for me to tear The Cantaloupe into smaller pieces, and toss them to and fro.

It took me longer to spit out the seeds than it did to destroy this delightful new toy.

The Woman, although amused, attempted to discipline me for my actions. I, of course, believed none of her babblings about "leave it," "heel," or her calling my name and pulling on the leash. I am a trained killer. And to kill what moves is what I do best.

I Am Shiba. Shiba:1; Cantaloupe: 0.

An Announcement

2008-01-14T07:27:00.001-08:00

It is with great trepidation that I announce that I will soon be undergoing surgery. While I am nervous about the entire procedure, the medical staff has assured me that the process is safe and I shall suffer no ill will. My comfort shall be entirely attended to, and the recovery process quick. I should be back home resting comfortable on the same day.

I am afraid to admit that I am "blemished." Last summer, The Woman noticed that I had a wart on my left hind leg. She thought nothing of it, and just took care when brushing me as to not disturb it. She never told me that I had this unsightly marking on my well-defined thigh. Well, my winter coat arrived, and as I was grooming myself one day, and I found it. Imagine my shock that something as common as a wart would place itself upon my body.

Well, needless to say, after consulting a few medical books, I decided to remove it myself.

My operating skills have been unsuccessful.

In fact, now I have a circle of missing fur on my left thing with that ugly blemish right in the center.

So on January 21st, I shall venture to the vet's office and undergo plastic surgery to have my leg looking normal once more. I suggested that we do a hair transplant, The Woman has opted to merely have the wart removed and let nature take its course. While this displeases me, I suppose that I can suffer through waiting for my fur to return. I just hope that the paparazzi does not overindulge themselves on pictures of my imperfections, but rather, focus on the fact that I have the will to overcome the obstacles that life places in my way.

I am not Brittany Spears after all.

So I emphasize, there is no reason to panic or send cards. I shall alert the media when I am ready and able to resume more normal life again, and then, once more, all the world will be enlightened once more by that which is Shiba.

I Am Shiba. Shiba = Perfection of the Mind, the Body, and the Soul.

My First Role in a Major Motion Picture

2008-01-09T12:53:00.001-08:00

And I must say, I am fabulous!

I Am Shiba. I Am A Star!

Happy New Year!

2008-01-01T06:33:00.000-08:00

I Am Shiba. I Was In Bed by 9 PM.