the sniffington post – a guest blog by farley the dog

Good evening. First, I would like to thank one of my humans for giving me the chance to share a day in my life with you. As I understand it, the audience for this blog is primarily human, so I will accommodate by writing in the English language. Today was another day full of sleep punctuated by short bursts of manic energy. I woke as usual before dawn. For some strange reason my humans were still sleeping. I have yet to train them to get up before the sun, although I’ve been working hard at it. I find that constantly walking back and forth, clicking my nails on the hardwood floors, is one effective method. Another one, known as the “constant licking” method, consists of licking one of their hands repeatedly until I get a reaction. Their general reluctance to rise immediately upon seeing that I am awake and ready to go outside greatly vexes me. What possible reason could they have for this absurd behavior. I find it simply unacceptable. Oddly enough, I have consulted some of my colleagues and found that apparently this is a widespread problem, although certain of my rural kinfolk did allude to some magical invention known as a “doggie door” that allows for free passage to the outdoors at will. O wonder of wonders! Perhaps one day I will be so lucky. In the meantime I guess I’m stuck with these slugs.

But I digress. One human finally stumbles downstairs to feed me and take me outside. So, we get outside and what is the first thing I see but some woman with an enormous hat! I could not believe it. I mean, who is in charge of these things. Such abominations should be flatly prohibited. Of course I alerted my human to the danger immediately. I thought that I was quite effective at conveying a sense of urgency, but instead of the gratitude I expected in return, my reaction was met with a command to be quiet. Quiet?? This is preposterous, I brooded, as the human urged me farther down the block away from the threatening hat. Luckily I soon came across some grass that the cute poodle on the next street had recently urinated on. I inhaled the fragrance deeply and all thoughts of that horrible lady and her evil hat evaporated from my mind. I then lifted my own leg in reverence to the poodle’s sweet black curls.

The rest of the walk was fairly uneventful. Well, with the exception of that guy at the bus stop carrying those plastic bags. Whatever was he thinking? Once again, I sounded the alarm and once again my helpfulness was met with irritation. I swear, sometimes I feel like me and my humans are on two totally different wavelengths. Not only do they appear unfazed by all these unspeakable horrors around us, but they’re also each missing a set of legs. Honestly, I don’t know how they get around. I guess I am impressed that they’ve managed to overcome their disability and survive in this world of giant hats, plastic bags, balloons, and hammering sounds.

At some point in the afternoon it became clear that something was happening. I pride myself on my acute awareness of when the humans are preparing to leave. The only question in my mind, however, is whether I will be joining them or not. This is never quite clear until they do one of two things: pick up my leash (god, I hate that thing) or begin filling my Kong toys with treats. If it’s the latter, I know I’ll be left alone. But if it’s the former, I know I will be going, too! This time they picked up my leash so I knew I was in the clear. We walked down to the field at the end of the street and then my humans ran around in circles with me, threw me a toy that I only sometimes get to play with, and chased after me a lot. It was so fun! But it was also really hot out and so I got tired pretty quickly. Eventually my humans figured out, what with all the panting and my reluctance to run further, that I needed to go back home.

After that excitement, the humans left me alone for an undetermined period of time. I got in some good napping while they were gone. When they returned it was as if they’d been gone for ages. I did my best to explicitly make known my excitement at seeing them. However, I soon was distracted by the allure of my left rear leg, which I immediately began gnawing on with gusto. The humans then gave me my dinner, which I am always grateful for, before commencing to eat their own dinner, which I am not allowed to partake in. For some reason they sit upright at a table, while I eat on all fours from a bowl. I’m not sure what that’s all about.

After dinner, the humans settled down to do their things and I focused in on chewing my bone. How I feel about my bone could fill a book, so I won’t bore you too much with details there. Suffice it to say that my bone and I have a special relationship, borne of many hours of me chomping on it. It’s a mostly one-sided relationship, as I don’t believe the bone itself derives much pleasure from it. But I could be wrong.

Finally, it’s time for my last venture outside for the day. I munch on some long grass, carry a large stick in my mouth, and slide down a grassy hill on my side. You know, a typical late evening walk. At one point I almost step on a slug, but my human pulls me aside, averting potential disaster. Several insects torment me and I snap at them. Eventually we go inside and it’s time for sleep again. I can’t wait ’til 5 AM!

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