A little advice...

Myrtle had two plumbers over to the house on Thursday to install a new sink in our bathroom.  Now, first I shall say that I preferred the old sink!  As you can clearly see, it is low enough that even a puppy dog can use it.  However, that's the very reason Myrtle replaced the sink.

My puppy momma has something called arthritis.  I think it is a disease that makes you cranky.  But Myrtle tells me that it is a disease that causes stiffness, swelling, and pain in joints.  For my puppy momma, using such a low sink was hard on her.  She would grunt and groan while doing so.  And she would be very, very grumpy afterwards.

Well, the plumbers were nice fellows.  They played with me a bit...at least until they grew weary of retrieving the fascinating bits and pieces I plucked out of their work bags. That was okay with me, however, because one of the plumbers very kindly took the toilet paper off the holder and set it within my reach.  Myrtle only ever lets me play with the empty core.  That kind man gave me an entire roll!

I had a grand old time with the toilet paper.  Myrtle had been complaining about how there was no mid-West winter, so I provided snow all over the living room floor for her.  Because the snow outside is rather tasty, I helped myself to some of the snow I made.  Okay, a lot of it.

Myrtle didn't really know that I had eaten the toilet paper.  She just scolded me over the mess.  As the evening wore on, though, I started to feel a bit peaked.  Myrtle didn't really understand why all I wanted to do was curl up in her lap. Once we went up to bed, I did not fool around in the bathroom or play with my Babies or anything.  All I wanted was the growing agony in my belly to cease.

It did.  After many, many, many times of throwing up foul bits of toilet paper.

Myrtle was not happy with me when she first figured out what was causing my belly ache.  But soon she ceased scolding me.  For a while, she ceased everything, having fallen down in a pile of former toilet paper.  When she awoke, her stomach emptied, too.  And there was lots and lots and lots of the kind of silence that you don't want to hear.

As she worked to get us both cleaned up and then tend to bedroom floor, Myrtle's face got very wet.  I dried it off for her once we were back in bed. It was a long, miserable night for us both.

So, well, I would like to proffer that eating a roll of toilet paper just might not be the best course of action.

This is my life with Myrtle.  Amos Adams signing off!

Finally...

Myrtle has been rather ill and oft discouraged, so she has resisted every attempt I have made of her to start typing for me again.  I finally convinced her that my many admirers were probably going through Amos withdrawal.  Hence, I'm back!

Did you miss me?

There are a gizillion new photos of me to post, but Myrtle says that to stick them all up here would make for too much work for her.  I begged for at least one to start things off.  She agreed.  So, I chose this one. Am I not still utterly adorable?

I am a bit reluctant to admit that Myrtle and I are going through a growing period, so to speak.  Sometimes, she finds me rather trying.  Mostly, she plain flummoxes me.  Frankly, I think I have far, far more to tolerate in her than she does in me.  But I am, after all, a very accommodating fellow.

Right now, we are in the midst of the Grand Experiment Take Two.  Therefore, I am quite pleased to announce that all baby gates in the house have been taken down.  Myrtle talked for hours...or so it seemed...about the fact that she wanted to see just how much I have grown up.  [After all, I am now 15 months old!]  She wanted to start trying to trust me in the house, to see if I could make wise decisions.  One way she did this is by not forcing me to do my major business immediately after supper.  Myrtle allows me the freedom to let her know when I have a need to do so, rather than following her need for me to take care of things.

Another way is the removal of the baby gates. With the last of the baby gates down, that means I now have total access to the two main floors of the house.  [My continued major business indiscretions on concrete preclude me from having the run of the basement, too.]  In other words, I can run up and down either staircase as much as my heart desires!

Yes, for the first few days, I did avail myself of this privilege many a time.  So much so that I suspect Myrtle was ready to fetch the baby gates again.  Now, racing up and down the servant stairs, the ones covered with thick brown grass, is a delight.  I can even skip a step here and there if I put my mind to it.  But there has been no such racing upon the main staircase.  The first time I ever stepped paw there, down I went its entire length on my belly to land in a pile at the bottom landing!  I am a tad ashamed to admit that I was frightened and rather sore afterward.  However, I am very proud to announce that I can now go up or down those ginormous wooden steps without falling or slipping or anything other than proper staircase navigation.

In fact, I used this new found ability to trick Myrtle when she was angry with me and tried to give me a timeout for something she had never forbidden.  When she closed the door to the parlor and to the dining room, she forgot that I still had access to the servant's stairs.  Once she was safely ensconced in the GREEN chair, I snuck up the servant's stairs and down the main staircase so that I could launch myself up beside her.  My puppy momma was so surprised that she relented on the time-out and allowed me to remain with her.

[Myrtle might very well have been afraid that I could have been hurt on the main staircase.  However, now I am quite confident on them myself and do not slip even a single time whilst traversing the smooth wooden steps.]

Why was I being disciplined?

Well, Myrtle had gone grocery shopping and she bought herself a treat: a fresh, sugar coated, yeast doughnut.  It was in a box at the top of one of the grocery bags.  While she was busy unloading the groceries, I helped her by unloading the doughnut.  Really, it took me mere seconds to nose open the box, remove the doughnut, carry it to the living room rug, and polish it off for her.  She didn't even notice I was gone.  She did notice, however, that the doughnut was gone.  A very, very loud and angry sort of notice.

But Myrtle never told me that doughnuts were not puppy-appropriate food. Never!  Tell me, then, how in the world was I supposed to know that the food so easily accessed was Myrtle-only food?  It was wrong--very, very wrong--for her to punish me for something I was not aware was improper behavior.

SIGH.

I will say that I have surprised my puppy momma with the fact that there have been absolutely no accidents on the brown grass upstairs.  I have been very, very good at following proper protocol in the disposition of my bodily excesses, with the tiny exception of the basement concrete floor.  [To me, it is identical to the garage floor, a space where Myrtle has not objected to my personal actions.  So, I do not see the problem with using it for purposes other than walking.]

I could have told Myrtle that I can be responsible when properly motivated.  And having the freedom of the house is motivation enough.  After all, that means that I can visit Flower Baby, who, if you remember, stays up in our bed all day long, whenever my heart desires.

But, really, Myrtle need not have worried.  The truth is that I prefer to be at her side, no matter where she is.  Even if I am napping, should she go to the bathroom or to the kitchen for a drink, I will gather myself up and follow her.  I even poke my nose up over the side of the antique tub each time Myrtle takes a shower just to be sure she is all right.   So, while I like the freedom to go where I please about my own home, where I always long to be most is with my puppy momma.

This is my life with Myrtle.  Amos Adams signing off!