Woof Humor

The Hundred and Eighth Shudder

Not only do I have to live under the same roof as a CAT [who my parents have re-christened her Fluffy -despite watching that documentary on Animal Planet yesterday that VERY clearly stated that animals should not be given numerous names due to that amount of confusion that is sure to follow. Not that a CAT can be EVER mistaken for something as majestic as an ANIMAL. But still-] but, apparently, I have to PLAY with it as well!!


At first, I thought they were joking. Who in their right mind expects DOGS and CATS to get along?? And what is the point, anyway?? We have enough friends in our respective species, thank you very much. I don’t need a skinny, flea-infested, rodent-catcher as a companion.

Woof Humor

The Hundred and Fifth Protest

I openly revolted against my family’s alarming decision today. I refused to touch my meals, didn’t allow them to take me outside to relieve myself, shut my snout firmly when it was medicine time, didn’t even let myself get tempted by the beef  chew they were attempting to coax me with.

That’s why they’re frantically calling up every vet in town, informing them about how their pet is acting “abnormal” and would they be able to squeeze in an emergency appointment??

However, according to my expert opinion, my behaviour is definitely justified. In fact, I think I’m letting it slide easy. I should be staging full-fledged hunger strikes, toilet-papering their house, arranging for disastrous riots. Ignoring the food they’ve kept out for me is too mild for the cause I’m fighting for. Surely.


Woof Humor

The Fifty-Ninth Crumb

Not much to talk about, actually.

The only reason I even decided to lift my paw and come all the way to the computer [dude, the three meter distance between me and the desktop was NO JOKE. YOU try walking that far. Super exhausting or WHAT??] was because I was thinking about my blog last night and I came to the conclusion that I am not being loyal enough to my viewers.

Pretty soon, the few followers that I have are gonna wake up and think, ‘Why am I even subscribing to a website that belts out less than ten posts every month??’

So from now, I have decided that, come what may, I will publish at least two articles per week. I know, it’s going to be way difficult considering how I am a DOG and if I ‘m caught hunched up over the machine by my foster-parents, I’m going to be dead meat, but I will stick to my word and deliver what I promised.

Phew, all that pinky-swearing got me tired. Time to get my jaws around a tuna sandwich!!


Woof Humor

The Fifty-Seventh Speck

[I know I’ve said this before, but…]



Calm down, Feni. No need to panic. All they did was…


Woof Humor

The Fifty-Fifth Entry

Yesterday was my birthday. And it ROCKED!! How could it NOT be great?? I mean, I got a whole chicken leg to myself for dinner AND  a Cotton Candy flavored ice cream dish for dessert. [Well, in the end, I did sort of get a brain freeze from eating all that frosty gunk, but hey, a dawg’s gotta’ do what a dawg’s gotta do!!]

I have to admit, though. Parts of it [the twenty-eighth] was a wee bit embarrassing. For example, while the family and I went for a walk, they regularly squealed stuff like “Who’s the Happy Birthday Girl??” and “Twenty-One!! My, my!! You’re such a big doggie!! Oh, yes you are!!!” Seriously. I KNOW I am adopted by a CRAZY bunch, but do I have to be reminded about that every second of the day??

Anyway, I can’t wait for the next month to roll around because I have this vet appointment tomorrow and I am NOT looking forward to THAT, mainly because who would like that weird thermometer up their butt?? Not me, thats for sure!!

Uncategorized · Woof Humor

The Fifty-Third Passage


Taylor replied to my poem. I don’t think she fully understood my handwriting, but who can blame her?? It’s so messy that even Cousin Rudy’s behead is neater!! [And BOY, does she have the CRAZZIEST bedhead or WHAT??]

Anyway, here is my scrap of paper and her response: [By the way, my poem typed out looks WAY more organized than the document Taylor received…]

A poem to sis…

I thought we were pals

Thought you were my friend

But now I am forced to say

Our relationship’s come to an end

I saw your poem on the desk

So I picked it up to read

Shock! Amazement!! Wonder!!!

It all washed over me

This poem was an opened

An opened to my eyes

That wretched, foul Chummy

I have begun to despise

It can’t be YOUR fault

That Chummy’s sure to blame

I’ll punch him if his

Head isn’t already hung with shame

So I’m sad to say

That I’m on my way

Won’t be back

For many a day

[See, you’ve driven me so hard

On this spiral to hell

That I’m quoting from dad’s fav song

Jamaican Farewell]

Oh, please let me be asleep

All of this untrue

Because all that’s left to do now

Is say goodbye to you

And this is what Taylor wrote beneath it [she left it on her study table, which is how I even read her reply in the first place]:

Um… Hello?? I’m sorry, but I have no idea what this means or who wrote it, but I swear, if it’s you, Giselle, you’re in for a nasty surprise.

That’s all she had to say. That’s it.

My life is officially over. My claim to fame is my likability. EVERYBODY likes me. LOVES me, even. But now Taylor’s poem has popped the bubble I’ve been living in.

I’ve made up my mind.

Tomorrow will be the last day I am going to BREATHE…

Woof Humor

The Fifty-Second Fragment

I wrote it. I wrote the poem to Taylor. [Read the previous post for the full story] I have left it on her desk, so that she can read it when she gets back from school and know just how much her composition has affected me. I’m not sure she’ll really understand what I scrawled [you cannot IMAGINE how hard it is to write with these furry paws!].

I had originally planned on emailing it to her, but I just couldn’t get her ID. This is what happens when you have a brain the size of a peanut. You just can’t think up smart ideas like that Einstein fellow. I bet HE’S glad he wasn’t born a humble DOG.

Anyway, it was a long and dangerous journal, from the comfort of my doggie-bed to Taylor’s chamber. It is STRICTLY PRIVATE, but I am, of course, an exception to this rule [HOW can someone POSSIBLY ignore my auburn eyes?? They’re just TOO CUTE!!].

Although I had permission to enter the room, I still couldn’t be seen entering with the my poem dangling from my jaw, for obvious reasons. [ What if someone figured it was I who wrote it?? I could be in serious trouble. I mean, if someone DID, Gawd-forbid,  discover that I can WRITE, I would become so famous that Michael Jackson will seem like a fan-less amateur when compared to me. It WOULD be nice to have people swoon at your sight, but, on the other hand, I think I can manage without all those drugs and stuff, thank you very much!]

Fortunately, the trip was event less except for the short meet-n-greet I had with that little mouse who lives in the hall.

I just hope she reads it and doesn’t just pop it in the bin because of the almost ineligible cursive that I use for all the formal documents I dash off [OK, so maybe I’ve never really had to “dash of a formal document” before, but just you wait! Once I publish my soon-to-be bestselling book, I will have BILLIONS OF FANS!!! MWAHAHA!!!!!]

Speaking off fans, boy is it HOT in here!! The electricity has been powered off for a few minutes because of something or the other and I am actually SWEATING. [Dog’s don’t sweat. It’s a fact]

Hey, maybe now’s the appropriate time to jump into the neighbor’s pool. And if the cops ever question me, I can just say that I was driven by a heat-deprived brain and a weird craving for chlorine. They’ll never know…