Muddy holiday picture fun

Hey, I'm five months old today! Happy birthday to me!

My mommy and daddy have been saying a new word a lot lately: holiday. I do not know what the means. It cannot be too fun. I don't get a treat when they say it. But they get kind of silly when they talk about it.

Yesterday, they said we needed to take holiday pictures. I know about pictures. My mommy is always taking them of me. I am cute, after all.

We all went outside in the back yard. (Balls! My balls are in the back yard!) Mommy and daddy took turns trying to hold me. They tried to put a funny red thing on my head.

They brought my baby towel out. I guess they wanted to play tug -- so I played tug. I pulled and pulled, and pulled out a tooth. Then I rolled around and got all muddy. Mud is fun. Then we took more pictures.

I'm a good picture poser. See what I mean?

Puppy R 'n R

I'm a mellow fellow. That's one of many reasons my Mommy decided I was the boy who would come home to live with her and Daddy.

I know how to relax, when I'm not running and playing. I can sleep in all kinds of positions. Mommy says she remembers me, even though my brothers and sisters and I all were all black (and cute). When she used to come to visit us, I was curled up somewhere, like this.

Or this:

Being a puppy is hard work. A boy needs to rest, so he'll be ready to play.

Sittin' it out

I like to sit at the top of the steps and think about what to do next (or stare at Mommy. Does she take that camera everywhere??). Mommy says I look silly when I do this. I think I look cute. How about you?

Toys for boys

I like to play. A lot. I have many toys to keep me busy. Some of them used to have fuzzy guts and squeaky things inside. They don't anymore (Mommy says it's a black labrador thing -- Baby Royko's fuzzies didn't last long, either.). But I have other toys that I like a lot these days.

I told you about Crazy Guy before. He is my favorite. My Grandma Donna gave him to me when I was a little baby. She brought me a big basket of fun treats and toys. (Grandma Donna also gave me Duck. Duck has seen its better days, but he still is a fun playmate.) Here is Crazy Guy:

Isn't he funny? He squeaks and squeaks and drives my parents crazy -- but they still throw him so I can fetch him. I try to take good care of him, so he can be my friend for many years to come.

Last night, my Mommy and Daddy gave me a special present: a birdie house and birdies that used to belong to Royko. They say she was a hunter and that she liked to "hunt" birdies (and kitties and squirrels and gophers and bunnies...). Ho Ho brought this fun toy to her when she was an old lady, because he knew she couldn't chase real birdies anymore.

I have been looking at it for a long time now. It was in a room that I sometimes sneak into when Mommy isn't looking (or when Daddy forgets to close the door). Because I am a bigger boy now, they said I could play -- nicely -- with them. Wowweeeee! Here, I am looking in the birdie house hole to see what was inside.

My daddy is silly; he put Bugsy in there, too. Bugsy is too big, and bugs don't live in birdie houses. Birdies do. It was really fun: I pulled them out, Daddy put them back in (with Bugsy), then I pulled them out again. Now I see why Royko liked birdies so much.

I feel really lucky that Royko and Aunt Emma left me so many fun toys.

Becoming a big boy

Yes, I am becoming a big boy. My mommy took these pictures this morning, to show that I am growing in size.

You can't tell from the pictures, but I also am growing in independence. I like to spend time with my parents, but I also like to be outside by myself sometimes. There is so much to see and do (and dig and sniff).

They still watch me. I see them peeking. I guess they want to be sure I don't get into big trouble or get taken away. That would not be fun. But I do like to have a little space now. I am a big boy, after all.

Puppy teeth

I like to use 'em, but Mommy is not so sure. She is trying to convince me that her way is the best way.

Puppy teeth are really good for ripping open my fuzzies so I can pull out their stuffing (and, if I'm lucky, find that squeaky thing that I like to squeeze until Mommy loses her mind).

Puppy teeth are good for chewing on my food and water bowls, which are a lot more fun to fling across the room and gnaw. Mommy wonders why I need to do this, especially since the house is full of toys designed for teething boys. I don't know why, but these are better.

Puppy teeth are good for chewing on Mommy's hands and Daddy's arms. They squeal (like my squeaky toys), and I get their attention. Sometimes, though, when I bite really hard or do it a lot, I get a time out. Time outs are okay, I suppose: I like my den. But Mommy and Daddy are lots more fun. I'd rather be with them.

Puppy teeth are good for grabbing rocks and pulling up grass and flowers. Then my parents have to chase me to take them out of my mouth. They try to be tricky (Mommy keeps muttering, "calm assertive energy, calm assertive energy..." The dog guy on TV says that a lot.). But they worry more about me swallowing something that is not good for puppy tummies Sometimes, they must move quickly so that doesn't happen. I run away. It is fun.

Puppy teeth are good for crunching "good boy" treats. I still get a lot of them, because I try to be a good boy. Most of the time.

Some day, I won't have any more puppy teeth. In fact, I've already lost some of them. In the meantime, they sure do make life fun.

Things I learned this week

There is a lot to learn, especially when you are a little boy. I learned a lot this week, like every other week since I was born. Here are some of the things I know now (and may "remember" if I get something out of it.)

• Ringing the bell to tell the folks I need to go out and potty -- or play in the snowstorm -- makes my Mommy and Daddy really happy. I get a lot of "GOOD BOY"s for that one. I also get to go outside.
• Mommy does not like it when I pull socks out of her sock drawer and run around with them.
• I should not grab my drink bowl and run to my bankie. And spill it.
  
• I also should not grab the paper towel Mommy is using to clean up the mess I made with the bowl and hide under the chair. (Mommy is really fast and flexible when she wants to be.)
  
• The middle of the yard is not a good place to dig a big hole.
• Carrying three balls at once is hard to do.
• Duck guts (fuzzy) make a big mess when I spread them around the living room. I like it. Mommy doesn't.
  

Learning to be a scholarly helper

I didn't get to blog this weekend, because my mommy took up all of the computer time.

Mommy is writing this big book (She calls it a dissertation -- a big word for a little boy to say and remember), and she says that weekends are when she gets to do that. During the week, she has a lot of other things to do, like feed and play with me, teach me things, take me out to potty, pull books and socks and other things out of my mouth, and try to guess why I am barking at her. She's very busy.

On the weekends, Mommy gets up really early in the morning to work on the computer. At first, I slept in. My daddy and I stay up late doing boy things -- like wrestling, eating popcorn, and watching sports shows -- and I get really tired. I'm not a morning person. Neither is Daddy.

But Saturday, I said, "Hey! My mommy needs help. I'm her helper. I need to get out there!" I barked, really loud, and she came to get me. We had breakfast and I got a treat, and Mommy sat down in her chair. She started typing; I brought her Crazy Guy, because fetching that funny fellow is what we like to do other mornings. Squeak! Squeak! Squeak! Then, because I had a big drink at breakfast, I needed to go potty again. Since I was outside, I thought I might find a good stick to chew.

Mommy didn't find that so helpful. We went back inside, I squeaked Crazy Guy some more, then I laid on my bed and fell asleep. Like I said, I'm not a morning person.

When Daddy finally woke up, we went for a nice, long walk. When we came home, I tried to stay awake in case Mommy needed me. But I was so sleepy, I could not keep my eyes open. When I finally woke up, Mommy was closing the computer. She seemed really happy about all the words that she was able to write. We got up Sunday and did it all over again.

I'm a good helper.