The Long and Short of It

Things have been tense around here lately. The biped boss** is frantic over too much work. I say, “Let the servants do everything,” but she insists on doing everything herself. Not that she couldn’t stand to lose a few pounds, but you did not hear that from me, either. Well, OK, as long as there is food in my dish at the appointed hour and fresh water in my two bowls. I have one in the kitchen and the bathroom, which is by management’s bedroom where I stand guard at night. Actually, I used to stand guard. Now I sleep and do not hear the raccoon on the roof. Some people think that I am hard of hearing. That is not true. Unless it is something I want to hear, I see no reason to follow biped orders or respond to silly ideas. “Want to go outside?” when it is raining. Get real.

**(I am the imperial Corgi, master of everything, unless you-know-who has a bee in her bonnet. Then I do the subordinate pooch number. Ridiculous.)

This is really funny.

Management bought a Sara Lee pound cake on sale on Saturday. On Saturday night after she was asleep, one of the homeless cats we take care of for Animal Aid jumped up on the counter and knocked it off. When you pick through garbage cans you get to know good scents like pound cake. I would not admit this to anyone, but this cat really has the knack, if you know what I mean. Usually the boss puts stuff away, but she was tired and had the flu. The dumb cat did not care.

Well, anyway, yesterday management was looking and looking for the cake all over the place. She even looked in the freezer.

It was excellent, although I wish there had been some whipped cream and chocolate sauce to go with it.

Management received a questionnaire from her good friend Mary Philomena W. (to preserve her anonymity). These are some of the questions. I put in my answers.

8. What is your favorite cuisine? American, of course
9. What foods do you dislike? Tofu, dog food
10. Your favorite potato? Cheese fries
12. What kind of car do you drive? I ride in a Mercedes with my driver – well, I will when my significant book advance comes in.
28. Do you have pets? Yes. 1 human
29. Any new and exciting news you'd like to share with everyone? Read my blog every day, and you’ll see.
30. What did you want to be when you were younger? A German Shepherd
43. Croutons or bacon bits? Bacon bits
45. Favorite restaurant? Demon Dogs
49. Favorite fast food restaurant? McDonald’s

Here are some questions I would like to ask :

How much money do you make?

Have you ever been rejected by a snooty club? Which one(s)?

Do you believe in extra terrestrials? Do you know any? If yes, do you think they would write a guest column for my blog?

You do not need Pew or Gallop or Newsweek to find out what is going on. Everyone lies to them, anyway.

Note to M. Philomena if you are out there: go read this story about a frog tea party at Elaine's new blog.

Carrie Hawks, artist EBSQ Art

By now everyone knows that I am a Welsh American. It says so in my profile. It is a true fact.

Management is Irish. She is Welsh, too, but that did not stop her from being a liberal. I have a pedigree, but she is a “mix”, a multi-ethnic Anglo. It is a nice way of saying “mutt”, but you did not hear that from me. Anglos do not have any of their own hot sauces or anything. How can you be ethnic without a hot sauce?

You should see the stuff she gets in her email. EBSQ Art of the Day is one. There were some Corgis a while back. That was interesting. But yesterday was Clancy O’Catty, the St. Patrick’s Day Cat. I just had to show you. Not one of the cats around here knows it is St. Patrick’s Day. They do not even know it is Friday or March or 2006. I think the internet is getting crowded with liberal propaganda. I have rights, too. Where’s my picture – Arthur O’Corgi?

A little bird told me that today tomorrow is Akamaru’s birthday. She is a lot younger than I am, so there are people out there who will say I am a dirty old man or something. Go ahead and gossip if it makes you feel better. I have better things to do. ( She is probably running about the farm managing the property while Elaine has a tech attack.) Happy Birthday to you. Happy Birthday to you. From, Arthur

It pays to have readers who know math. Being the CEO of this enterprise, Arthur Corgi Productions, I do not have to know everything. I can hire talent. And, because I am famous and popular, I get a lot of free ideas from my biped readers who want to be in the same social set as me.

Yesterday, a faithful reader sent me an email about Pie Day. Well, it is Pi Day, but I am only interested in Pie. Pi is something to do with a circle. As I said, I can hire brains. I am the boss. “Do this! Do that!”

Well, anyway, Pi is 3.14. In dog school we touched on this concept briefly, because dogs turn around and around in a circle before they take a nap. I do not have to do this, of course, unless I want to, because I do not live in the weeds like the poor dogs. I have carpet or throw rugs. And my car has leather interior with a cotton blanket on top.

Back to Pi. Get it? 3.14. 3/14. 3 is for March. March 14th. March 14th is Pie Day.

I noticed some cherry More Fruit on the shelf. I would prefer apple or chocolate crème. It is a little late to be telling you about this, but write it down for next year. Maybe you should practice making pies, just in case, and then send me some samples.

While we wait for management’s coffee to kick in, I would like to take this opportunity to wish myself a Happy Birthday. In between naps today we are going to the beach for a walk. Then maybe we will go to the Taco Bell drive-thru, which is not as good as a drive-in, but when unevolved humans are in charge of everything, this is as good as it gets.

I was hoping for chicken McNuggets, but we never go to McDonald’s. Then again, we might go to Popeye’s chicken. When I was a younger dog, I lived with management’s father, so he would not get lonely. He used to take me everywhere, and he did not care about diets or healthy choices. (Have you ever tried to eat a Healthy Choice TV dinner? The plastic tray tastes better, and I ought to know.) Once he handed management a twenty – I was there and witnessed this – and told her to go get him a two piece dinner with dirty rice at Popeye’s and to be sure to get something for Artie. (That’s what he called me.) He was serious, too.

Oh, God, is she making another pot of coffee? All my life I wait, wait, wait to go for a nice walk or a ride in the car or to the beach. You’d think she would hurry it up a little on my birthday. Maybe Dairy Queen is open. I’d better go to mapquest now, since we have so much ground to cover.

UPDATE: It looks like the party is a go. I have to get a bath, so I am pretending that I do not want to get one like usual, so she doesn’t know that I am onto the surprise party. I noticed M&M’s and other treats in the groceries. This will shock you. The M&M’s package used to be 16 ounces for $2.99. Now it is 14 ounces for $2.99. Everyone knows that 16 ounces is a pound, or lb. That is very sneaky if you ask me.

*You’re probably thinking, “Why is Arthur blogging about birds on Friday when that is management’s thing?” Well, here’s why, and this is pretty serious. We have had a coupon for $12.00 off on a Butterball® turkey or other fine Butterball® product for a long time. As far as I know we do not have a turkey in the freezer. I am very concerned.

Really alert and observant readers of my past guest columns on management’s blog will remember that the traditional dinner for my birthday is turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes, broccoli, a salad with cucumber in it and a cake, usually banana and sometimes chocolate. Ahem, as Elaine always says on her blog, uh, my birthday is Sunday, two days from now. And everyone knows that you have to take a turkey out of the freezer at least two days before you bake it, so it can thaw.

This can mean only two things, maybe three: 1.) She has forgotten my birthday. 2.) She remembers my birthday, but is not planning a party or anything. 3.) We are going out to dinner. But there aren’t any drive-ins open in March in the great white north. Restaurants where you walk inside and sit down do not allow dogs, which is discrimination, but I am too upset to call my lawyer right now.

And I am going to be 14, which is 98 in human years. Life is a bitter pill.

Experts say not to get a dog until the biped offspring are in school. Like this is big news. Once again people could save a lot of time and money if they would just listen to me instead of hiring experts and PhD’s and consultants. Biped offspring require too much attention. It isn’t fair to the dog. You do not need a PhD to figure that out.

I was a puppy once. I had to sleep in a cage – management called it the slammer – in the basement all by myself until I was “trained”. Can you imagine what they would do if a biped baby had to sleep in the basement with the light out? Management loved me more than anyone else. That is why I chose her to wait on me and take me for walks. I used to pout when she would go away and would not eat my food, even when a cat walked too close to my dish.

We got to know some school age bipeds in our old neighborhood. They played stick, Frisbee and ball with me. We had a lot of fun. Then they got evicted from their house. Management tried to stop it. JJ came back and brought her flowers from an abandoned lot, so she would not forget him, he said. They moved away. I missed them.

I may have mentioned Hostess powdered sugar Donettes® in a previous column, but management had a coupon, so she bought some more. They are delicious, and, I don’t care what you say, nutritious. Tender, sweet and filling. And for 2 for $4.00 with a 40 cents off coupon, a great value.

When you are writing ad copy, you do not have to use complete sentences with a subject and a predicate. And experienced bloggers can do that, too, because everybody knows that they would use a complete sentence, but they are too busy and clever to bother. To top it off, yours truly is a dog. The rules positively fly out the window when you consider that.

Back to my Hostess Donettes®. You can buy them on amazon.com. If you like to read books in bed (like management, for example), you can eat donuts, too, all from amazon.com.

I think this is part of the services economy. “Amazon.com - Purveyors of fine donuts and books” “Order your Hostess powdered sugar Donettes® from Amazon and pay only a 35% premium over the most expensive grocery store in America. Get yours today!”

Time for my evening constitutional and then another tasty Hostess Donette® before I hit the hay.

Careful readers of my blog and fan club members will have noted that I am a Welsh Corgi. Not just any Corgi, but a Welsh Corgi. We did not come to the United States, land of the free and home of the brave, until 1937. I suppose that there are liberal Corgis, like there are liberal poodles or liberal Collies, but good, old cloth coat Conservative Corgis like me are true Americans, just as good as the DAR, which management is in, but she never goes to any meetings. What kind of a club is that? I tried to get into the Pembroke Welsh Corgi Club, but they only admit bipeds. If that isn’t prejudice, I don’t know what is.

Well, today is St. David’s Day. That is what the words say in the title to this blog entry. I did not learn Welsh in dog school, but it was multi-lingual, anyway. We had Rottweilers, Shar-Peis, Schnauzers and me, of course. I must blog more about dog school to free up my memories for my blockbuster autobiography.

St. David is the patron saint of Wales, and in Wales the humans wear a leek in their lapel. Or the girls wear a daffodil. Only on St. David’s Day. It would be pretty weird to be wearing leeks any other day. Whatever floats your boat.

In Wales they have museums about slate and wool. They know how to do things in Wales besides sue each other and invest. But I am an American, a Welsh American, and we have a services economy. That is why I have a biped to wait on me.