23 August 2016

Bringing up Banksy :: Part 1 of 9.


I'm pretty good at agility.

On a one-to-ten scale, one being spiders and ten being Led Zeppelin, pretty good's the squishy center somewhere in the middle. Pretty good means my dog can make it into the USDAA top ten for little dogs, but also may park herself on top of the a-frame, barking her head off as she plots a totally inappropriate sniper divebomb on the judge waiting to watch the down contact. If she even comes down. Pretty good means my dog might make it into Steeplechase finals at an exciting Regional event, but dash straight out of the ring mid-course when he sees someone feeding their dog delicious meaty bones out of a little cooler and then get scared of a butterfly. Or that I might be having a so far fast and clean run with my dog, until I slam straight into an innocent, unsuspecting judge because I'm watching my dog run far away into that tunnel over there. Way over there.

So that's the kind of pretty good at agility I am. I don't totally suck. But there's a lot of room for improvement.

All of my questionable agility history has been made with my three small dogs. All were rescues, none of them were puppies when I got them. Each came with their own set of dog baggage, and I love all of them even more than I love pie. Every single flavor of pie there is. Ruby was a feral terrier, better suited for jungle survival than living in a suburban home. Her joy in running through an innocuous, gateway baby tunnel in a questionable obedience class started our tumble down this lifestyle path in the first place. Otterpop came from the side of the road, and had a volatile personality that was unpleasant and rancid at best. But boy, did she play ball good, for a hoodlum. Most adorable and huggable yet quirky beyond belief little guy Gustavo hitchhiked up from Juarez, Mexico as an adult dog with a major congenital liver disorder. We all trained and practiced, and competed, and all of them achieved some level of success in competitive agility.

Definitely, we were all pretty good. If you say that using a pause, squinch up your eyes, tilt your head, and start with an Um.

"Um…pretty good." Emphasis on the Um. And Pretty. But not necessarily the Good.

However. I was now ready for the Next Step. Slouching towards championdom. Podium standing, medal winning, Dog Agility with capital letters. No, even better. All Cap DOG AGILITY. I was ready for a puppy, a future superstar that would be trained from scratch by me, pretty good trainer of dogs and quite averagely mediocre agility competitor. On a quest towards becoming Somewhat Better Than Pretty Good.

Champions. Hells yeah. That's how I was going to bring up my puppy. All excellent and bright and shiny.

Bring it on, sparkly rainbow unicorn puppy of my future.

to be continued...

18 August 2016

Just like the dogs on tv.


Oh hey, who is this in our tiny driveway? A new and fancy friend, imported from the great city of Oakland by way of Arizona and your name is 2014 Subaru Outback.

Jetta TDI Sportwagen lives quietly in the top of the driveway, awaiting it's sad death row fate in October. We loved you Jetta TDI Sportwagen, but you made us sad when your CEO got arrested for duping the entire world of your excellent dieselness. Your lovely 45 mpg gallons, in your sporty fast car body that held my dog crates oh so perfectly is changing the climate horribly every single time I start the engine.

Then your catalytic converter broke which started causing even more pollution, that I see wafting out of the tailpipe in the back window every time I drive you, causing you to get shitty gas mileage and be about to die at any time, but costing $3000 to fix you. So I drove you and killed trees and waited for you to die because I was not willing to pay that sum to save your life, because you were killing polar bears.

But you got a settlement, or you are about to get one, and I parked you in a nice resting place while I wait for the settlement, and went out interviewing your replacements at used car meat markets. Maybe it's a rebound car, I got it because every single person on my whole street has one, and on your bountiful and long tv commercials smiling farmers with border collies drive one and happy people going camping and kayaking on dirt roads with dogs bounding out the boot drive one, in their fleecey jackets and glowing skins. So many dogs and outdoorsy folk on your commercials, with modest hair cuts and goretex footwear. So I got one too.

You are only 2.5 years old, and you have many fancy buttons everywhere that do a lot of high pockety things. You beep at me when I drive bad. You are so big that I can put groceries inside you with 4 dog crates and probably other large objects except for costco toilet paper packs, I don't know where those will fit for the next dog show because my giant rooftop tupperware bin doesn't have a rack yet to ride on. You have leather seats, I am sitting on sad dead cows that died a horrible death to become car seats, but they are so very soft with many buttons to mold them to my ass. You don't go all that fast, but you are supposed to save me from death in the next wet storm I drive you in. Your stereo is amazing, and you have a little sky hatch. Most amazingly, when the money from Germany comes in, you will be payment free and I can spend all my money on gas for you, because you get 30mpg when you try your hardest.

Welcome to team small dog, 2014 Subaru Outback. You are a bit of a douchey car for old ladies, and will probably cause me great embarrassment off and on unless I just get over that fact. But you also won't scrape your stomach when I drive you on rutted roads. And you have faux wood trim inside you that I enjoy, even though it's just a plastic strip made in China. I lean back when I drive you, and speak on the phone, and I will revel in the fact that I have succumbed to marketeers far more clever than I, but who will keep me and all the dogs safe in my road warrior ways.

15 August 2016

Wormhole: How could this be from so long ago, everything different, everything the same?

http://blog.teamsmalldog.com/2009/08/practicing-with-team-primer.html

Everything's changed, and nothing's changed. Actually, really. Nothing's changed.

Hobbies of late, here are some of my new friends.

William. William, you wanted to sell me the car with the big dented bumper for so far over the blue book price it wasn't even funny. You with your man bun, running your fingers through the man bun bangs and whining about being a small business having to match big business prices. William, I liked your $17,000 car but too bad the radio was sketchy and the air bags didn't work and you don't know when they will. And seat stains. I don't want seat stains. William, I trust you like I trust the guy that sits on the little wall outside the laundromat with a big tan bag weaving white rope around his fingers and looking from side to side who has disappears when I come back to collect my things.

William's friend the Hawaiian shirt guy. Oh, William's friend. When William got tired of me, I got the friend. The friend was tall and the friend has much white chest hair sticking out of his Hawaiian shirt. The friend was hovery and who wants to be followed around by white chest hair flowing out of a shirt collar? I banished William. I didn't feel bad.

Richard. Oh, Richard. You are a nice man, you love Hondas very, very much. Or so you want me to believe. Richard, you have a great deal of patience even though you don't really understand why I am playing dog crate tetris in your clean car with virgin carpeting. I get it, all your big dogs loose in the back of your Isuzu. Didn't they stop making Isuzu's many moons ago? Stop calling my house, Richard.

Jeff. I don't even remember who you are, Jeff. We seem to not be on the same page. Your emails and voice mails are directed to a robot who is not I. Stop calling my house, Jeff.

Sam, you're like a vapor, Sam. No matter how much somebody else says a car costs, I can count on you to tell me your car costs less. In my mind you are very large and sit in the dark like jabba the hut eating peanuts and marking down car prices. It's not a bad thing you sit in the dark, Sam. Do you really sell the cars that cheap? I will never know. Sam is the email ninja, Sam never leaves the internet. I could learn to love you Sam, but the cars are always the wrong color and have too many fancy bits.

Michael, you're a bit like Sam. But your cars aren't as cheap as Sam. But I suspect you know Sam, I think you might text each other when you send me quotes on cars that aren't what I asked you for. Oh, Michael, I wonder what you're wearing today? Is it vulgar, or am I just a bitch?

Robin, they went specifically inside to find you because they thought you would be a good friend for me. You are very tiny and your boobs, so big. You know many facts about cars. You assume I like cars, too. I feel like I know you from somewhere else, Robin, but I think it's best to let that one stay put.

Tom. Oh Tom, your shirt, it's so pink. You are Robin's boss and for this, I am so very sorry, Robin. You tower above me and Robin like a horrible ogre and when I tell you that I am not buying your car, you march off with an evil smile on your glistening teeth. I feel bad later that perhaps you ate Robin after I left. I send my prayers to Robin.

Lauren, I think we would have a good time, out on the town. I bet you're wearing those jeans with the sparkly pockets that have little latches on them and drink far more than I. I will never know since we only communicate via psychic voice mail mind meld. Lauren, I am sorry you sell used cars. Maybe you should send prayers to Robin, too.

Leticia, I barely got to know you. But your top, it was so cute.

Gabe, you are a good man. You are from a farm and your dogs are dead and you wear an unoffensive tie. We could make this work, Gabe. I follow you around, your step is brisk and this is not a negative thing. You do not mind that I take copious notes on each word out of your mouth. You speak slowly when asked to, and pause as I do the math by hand on my piece of paper. This is your test, Gabriel. Can you sit quietly while I add up the columns myself? By hand. On my own piece of paper. You do not speak. This just might work.

10 August 2016

Olympic sports at which we would excel.

Team wave ball surf rescue with extra points for flatness.


The rules are, when one team member runs out into the surf, lays down, drops the ball and lets herself get smashed with a wave and stares off into space, another member has to valiently dive into the surf and look for the ball. The coach is allowed to wave arms and point and yell stuff like "Over THERE! YOU GUYS! OVER THERE!"

The ball must not be lost at all costs. Unless there's a visible riptide and surf is at shoulder high.


There are extra points for flatness. More flat is more better.


Substitute team members not allowed. Especially ones that run in circles and bark and never, ever, EVER, get the ball. These team members are better suited for cheer squad and are allowed to wave banners and such but should try to avoid getting in the surf and barking at team members actually attempting to rescue the ball.

If this was an Olympic sport, we'd get the gold. Unless we lost the ball. Then that would suck.

09 August 2016

Team Small Dog visits the Olympic Swim Center, the one with the ultra chlorinated non contaminated water.


The rumors are flying in the synchronized diving world. Are Ruby and Gustavo sister and brother? Married? Just good friends? Is it true Gustavo's gay? Does that make him a better diver? Ruby's extension looks a bit early, unless it's Gustavo's toe curl that happened a bit late.


Otterpop wanted to dive into the big pool. She wanted the middle lane and that's what she got.


Well, this is really going to freak out Banksy when she hits the water. Currently, she's afraid of swimming from taking a swim in her BFFreneny's Kirk's pool where she couldn't touch. The horror. Even the creek's contaminated right now, it's been only shallow end for her, so I except this dive to be her last. Let's hope for gold.

07 August 2016

Hot and cold.


We like to sneak out when it's cool. Around here, no one much likes the cool. It's foggy, it's early, it's quiet, what's not to like?


In the cool, it looks like there are 19 other people out there. We give each other space. All 19 of us. Total. That's it. Maybe because the cool is in the early, too. This is our best time.


When we hear voices up on the trail, ones that aren't ours, that's our cue that early's done. Late is coming, and the rest of the everybody else. Numbers far greater than 19. That's when we pack it up and head back up the hill. To go hide.


In the afternoon comes the hot. Around here, that might be relative. But it feels hot to us.


Luckily, the agility field has a giant water bowl big enough for the red ball and cool damp grass. With zika free mosquitoes. We do some agilities, we sit around, we do some more, we sit around.


We hide out here, til maybe the late. When it gets cool. Gustavo loves his chair. Banksy loves her dogwalks. And her new thing, her completely independent pushes to backsides of jumps no matter what my flailing arms and snail legs are doing. And everybody else, except for that 19 and change, goes back in or somewhere else. Then we head back out. Into the cool.

01 August 2016

Ruby still goes to the park.


Ruby still goes to the park. I drive all the dogs there, now, we peel out of the car slowly, and I put everybody on a leash so we go the same speed. This means Banksy is PULLING, because she wants to go where I throw the ball and send her around the backstops. And Gustavo can't believe he's on a leash because how will he get through the hole in the fence? And Otterpop is all, whatever. But then everyone goes the same speed as Ruby. Which is very, very slow. It takes a long time to go from the car park to the field.


So that means there are other walks, where I leave Ruby home alone in her blue chair. Or we find her in the backroom in her favorite spot, the dog crate under my desk, when we come home. She sleeps along time, and she screams when we come home. Her only sound now is screaming, I don't think it's a bad sound, I think it might be the only sound she can make that she can hear. Does she know we were gone for over two hours, that we walked 8 miles including up a down hill? I don't like to leave her alone very long.


I miss her terribly when we leave her home, but her only walks right now are very slow and just around a few block. Or from the car to a shady spot at the park. Her legs wobble a lot and when she does run, it's usually not a good thing because she can't see or hear hardly at all. So if she gets mixed up where the rest of us are, she panics and runs. She doesn't do this at the park, we stand under a shady tree and throw the ball and she seems to like standing there, sniffing the air. She never sits or lies down, she either stands and wobbles, or is asleep in her chair or the crate. I'm not sure what this means, I worry it hurts her to get up and down. Ruby's always been a very tough cookie, even now she'll occasionally throw herself down the back porch stairs, and just pop up and off she goes, wobbling across the yard.

This month, she seemed to deteriorate faster than she has in a long time. Maybe she'll stay like this for years, or maybe her time comes long before that. No way to know. I just don't know how much she likes her life. I think if we could all sit together in the living room all the time, and she could see us there from her blue chair, she could stay like that for a very long time, then have me carry her up and down the stairs. So sometimes we do that, til I know she's asleep. Then I hustle the other dogs to wherever it is we need to go. She wakes up though, she knows when we sneak out. And most of all, she wants to come along, too.

29 July 2016

Democratic National Convention, Day Four, House of Thrones.


Why does everyone hate Hillary? Well, not everyone. It's like Otterpop. She doesn't come off as warm and fuzzy. She barks, she has a stink eye. She can be manic when you put her to work, in her fervor to do the job. She doesn't always do the right thing, she's a dog. I like Otterpop. A few other people do. The other dogs do. But that's about it.

Some nights we go to the dog park. It's shady under the trees, so Ruby can stand there and sniff the air. The trees are on a little knoll, so she's safe from marauding dogs up there and parks herself near a tree and wobbles in the breeze. Gustavo loves the dog park, he has friends! They're dogs! They're the dog people! They have laps! They run in circles! There are bushes to hide in! You can sneak through the hole in the fence to where the homeless guys sleep! It's amazing!

Banksy has camaraderie at the dog park. There are some serious fetchers there. They fetch their balls over and over. Her kind of dogs. There are some not so serious fetchers there. Banksy ignores them, although every so often her ball shell cracks and she finds a kindred spirit friend and will play a little bit. I just like seeing her in large groups of dogs having a lovely time, since a lot of dogs make her nervous. So I try to take her at least a few times every week.

Otterpop, though. It's a living hell for her. She hates the dog park, she can't get over the other dogs and they don't listen to her and they sniff her butt and at least half of them have no manners, the way that she thinks manners work. Young dogs today, no manners. It's true at the dog park. You have to suck it up there, and know that the labradoodle is inappropriate, the shepherd mix with basset hound legs never comes when called, the black cattle dog pounces on dogs backs and Mugsy, don't get me started on Mugsy. So when Otterpop comes she either has to stay completely under my power with an orange ball, or I put her on a leash.

Which sucks and is unfair and pretty hellish. But it's a compromise, her nice time compromised for the greater good of everybody else. My dogs, and any other dog that hits her radar as someone she might decide to bite if they penetrate her fourth wall.

Otterpo's smart, she's capable. If I need to take a dog most anywhere, I'll always pick Otterpop. She rides in a bag, walks perfectly on leash, doesn't leave the scene, speaks human english, and is by far the most qualified dog I have for most situations. She just doesn't come off as nice. She's an enforcer. She doesn't want you to hug her, or even pet her. Otterpop has personal space requests. But if I need to find a path through a mountain lion/pot grower forest, take a plane, ride a bus, move some horses around, walk in a city, drive a tractor, stay in a motel, she's a no brainer. She's brave and smart, competent and accomplished. She's not really very cute, she's stumpy and has weird legs. Her eyes bug out when she gets excited.

Banksy and Gustavo get a lot of attention. Gustavo's really cute and friendly. He runs like a majestic unicorn squirrel, makes hamster noises when he loves something, which is most things, and comes back when I call him really fast. Unless he's going for the hole in the fence to the where the homeless people sleep. Now that he's found that portal to his parallel dream universe, all bets are off. Luckily people! And dogs playing! are pretty good and exciting and I've told him that portal is bad. Just those drunk guys, snoring, their booze, so amazing!

Banksy's looks turn heads. Those eyes! The ears! Her fur! Her speed and grace! She does the things I tell her to do, sometimes I send her out around the porta potty or the soccer goal and have her do a turn or a lie down, people can't believe the things they see. She's like a dog genie. But Banksy isn't easy, and her range of skills nowhere as wide as Otterpop's. Banksy has a long ways to go to achieve capable and qualified, her quirks are large and vast.

People coo and cluck at Ruby, they love seeing her follow in my dogs and how we park her at the trees, old dogs make us happy and sad at the same time.

Not Otterpop. She's with me. I'm with her. Her brain is engaged.

In Westeros, there's no dog parks. I'd never want to live there. One thing there, forget dog parks, you can't have dogs. They'd be eaten or slain by dragons or guys with sword for sport. You can have a pet wolf there, but even a giant, magic wolf with dangerous flesh tearing teeth has a pretty bad time of it. The hounds live chained up in the kennel til they need them to tear apart an intruder. No good for pet dogs. I've always been wishing the Underwoods would deflect from Netflix and get shipped to HBO to see how they'd do in there. One way ticket to Iceland. Get them some cloaks, hook them up with Peter Dinklage, who might look taller next to Kevin Spacey, bring the worlds of expensive tv add on packages together for Thrones of Card Games in the House. Would shifty, underhanded politicans from the specialized world of USA politics be able to survive things like knights with heavy swords, white walkers, or that torture prince bastard son whose Dad took over the Stark's castle? I don't know.

There's a wall there, to keep the people from the North out, and their monsters. There's a lot of lying and corruption and and not two but seven distinct political parties with a bunch of independent sub groups waving banners. The party with the biggest dragon looks like the one that's going to win, and it's run by a woman. Would Frank and Claire hook into burning witches at the stake? Sacrificing kids? Off with their heads? Move through all 7 kingdoms? The moral majority monk patrol? Would Sansa Stark learn about video surveillance and get a big black SUV to ride around in? Is Little Finger the same person as Doug Stamper?

Once I combined those two shows in my head, they got so much better. Forever united. I can sing either theme song during either credits. I have words. They involve dogs. I won't share.

The only problem, they live in tv. Where Trump lives. He's an amazing character, he'd look awesome as a king of one of the houses of Westeros with a fancy crown and brocade leggings, and would be hysterical battling Frank Underwood. He could yell about firing everybody and show how good that wall was working until John Snow and Stannis Baratheon got involved. It would be awesome. Made for binge watching for sure.

But it's kind of like Otterpop. In the real world, she's the dog you need. You put up with the perceived unpleasant, and trust her because she's got the skills to do the job. So there you go. So many speeches and so many balloons. How many balloons was that, over 8 days? I won't even google it. Too many. My god, the stupid balloon waste. Obamas and Bills and Bernies, all amazing. Serious inspirational speakers, all of them. A-list celebrities. Diverse audiences, just a way different vibe than the Republican week. Hillary is strong and capable and gets very shafted because she's a woman. All her foibles, held up to a way bigger microscope than any man. Can you imagine if her main speakers were her five kids from her three different husbands? The grief the Clintons got during the Lewinsky fiasco? Trumps already been there and done that, he gets to slide along on the outspoken billionaire ticket.

Running the country? Trump wouldn't last a day on any Iron Throne. I don't know how Game of Cards ends, and I'm only on season 4 of Game of Thrones, we have to rent the dvd disks and I always fall asleep so it takes 2 weeks for me to watch each episode. We're creeping through at a snails pace. But I know I'd rather not live in either of those realities, especially not Westeros. Washington DC looks like a close second. I like it here by the beach. One day I'll get a new bike so I can ride down to the shore. People steal things, life isn't perfect. I'll still work on kindness. Anyone who is casting a vote for Trump, I don't get it, not one bit. TV land.

Be nice, don't bite. Qualified and capable, and keeping the Trump at bay. 


25 July 2016

Team Small Dog Visits the Democratic National Convention, Day 1, Russians Hunt Down Bike.


The Russians were lurking around Philadelphia on Day 1. They doped up the email servers, and doped up Hillary, so when she hid the secret emails, she couldn't even remember where she hid them and thought they were in her basement. Also missing were her sunglasses, spare keys to the garage and that one really comfortable sports bra. Ronald Reagan warned us about this, back in the eighties, back before email was even a thing. Roofies. Don't say we weren't warned.

It's ok, Hillary will be burned at the stake at sunrise, so all will be forgiven. When that happens on Game of Thrones, they burn the children, too. My god. The emails and the problems they cause. Maybe we should all just reconvene on Instagram, this wouldn't have happened with photos and everything shrunk down to a singular hashtag.

#witchhunt
#everybodyhateshillary
#eventhoughtrumpisanantichrist
#atleastshesnotaracistlyingbuffoon

I do happen to have one intercepted email right here, plucked off my very own server:
"What a pain they act like princesses. No reg numbers, just her first name and dogs' names. I'm just taken aback with this lack of consideration. I went to a presentation for Karate Master from Maytag of $20k for is 30 years of service for the Program at the Boys and Girls Club. "
Thanks, Russians. What I do with this critical information is yet to be revealed, but I can guarantee you, I am not handing it over to the DNC or the FBI. I will disclose that we do now own a working washing machine, and the brand is Frigidaire. And that princess crap is bullshit. Lies. Russians, if your agents can dig up proof on who stole the nomination, maybe you figure out who stole my bike? And Gustavo's special very own Ryobi fan and it's high priced rechargeable batteries that got intercepted out of my garage last night? In the interest of party unity, Putin can now easily unify with Trump, then when Putin dares him to push the war button, Russia takes the Gold Medal! Genius!


Sarah Silverman tried to talk the crowd off the ledge, but she probably wasn't the best choice for a calming influence, that's not really her thing. More booing. Paul Simon came on and sang, but I think that the Russians had gotten to him already. They're no Scott Baio and Antonio Zapato, Jrs, but they tried. Gustavo slunk away through a hole in the fence, he heard a passed out guy snoring super loud and I think there was barf somewhere on the ground. He wouldn't come back when I called until I put the other dogs back in the car, marched back there and told him, "THAT'S IT! YOU ARE IN SUCH BIG TROUBLE."

Zero tolerance. No cohesion. I'm not kidding. Ran away out of the park into the warehouse parking lot where the homeless people sleep off cheap bottles of brandy. Really, for a first day, this wasn't going well at all. Not at all. Boo! Boo!

Then Michelle Obama swept in. All magnanimous and articulate and unification. She dished out hope and unity and peace and love and children and the future. Elizabeth Warren layed down bullet points on the big Trump infomercial that's pulling wool over too many eyes. Michelle and Elizabeth pulled Gustavo back through the hole. He trotted through and back to the car with me. Bernie was waiting, he flung a rainbow sparklebomb as far as he could across the convention hall.

The day ended not so bad.

24 July 2016

Team Small Dog Visits the RNC 2016, Boxed Set Edition.

Day One, Indiana.
-------------------


Team Small Dog, reporting in from Cleveland, Ohio! Today we decided to have our expert interview the Vice Presidential pick of Trumpy Dubloons, Indiana Governor Mike Pence. And what better expert to ask than our own native Hoosier, Banksy.


Banksy had some questions for the potential vice president of our country who would be the president if something happened to the potential president Trump Tower and Casino. Like someone shot him. Because he makes people mad. And what do mad people do nowadays? Shoot people. Even if it's the people that are saying, guns are cool!

It just seems like it could be a thing. So we got in line and got our interview. Go Hoosiers.


Banksky: Are the rumors true, Mike?

Mike Pence doesn't believe in global warming.

Mike Pence doesn't want transgender students to be able to use the bathroom that corresponds with their gender identity.


Mike Pence championed the bill that would allow business owners the right to refuse service to LGBT customers.


Mike Pence embraces the view that god created the heavens and the earth, the sea and all that's in them, and would like schools to teach this as well as science, and let the children decide which is correct.


Mike Pence would like to outlaw abortion, and has outlawed certain abortions in Indiana.

Mike Pence was disappointed in the Supreme Court's legalizing of gay marriage.

Mike Pence thinks that the science that linked lung cancer to smoking is part of a conspiracy theory.


Mike Pence: Yes, Banksy.

Stay tuned for more convention coverage. Unless we get tired and go home early. So many balloons.

Day Two, a daughter and a dog.
-------------------


Otterpop was able to get in a quick interview with Ivanka Trump and her little yorkie, Tiger. Otterpop would like to remind you she once had her ass kicked by a yorkie named Tinkerbell at the USDAA Western Regional. Tinkerbell arrived ringside in a stroller and proceeded to SLAUGHTER the 8" performance division. This was a low point in the agility career of Otterpop. She retired soon after. Moving forward.

Interview Transcript:

Otterpop: Oh hi, Ivanka. So happy you bought a membership to our club! Team Small Dog's been waiting for you, and your jet. We heard the seats are made of pony fur!

Ivanka: (Silence. Editors note-We think she is pretty pissy that Melania from Slovenia bungled up last night's Lady speech so bad. Looks like she had a long night. Does she call her stepmum, we wonder?)

Otterpop: So, hey, Ivanka. What amazing things do you think your dad is going to do to make America Great Again? Or safe again. Or hate again. Or whatever. Besides pass out ballcaps?

Ivanka: You know he's a feminist, right?


Otterpop: Um, yeah. We heard you say that another time, too. Can you elaborate on this?

Ivanka: He hires a lot of women. For like, maids and stuff. He owns a lot of hotels.

Otterpop: What about when he calls them fat pigs and thinks they should be punished for having abortions?

Ivanka: My mom owns half of Mar A Lago.

Otterpop: Do you like that show Veep? With Elaine from Seinfeld? Those Code Pink protesters that looked like Reese Witherspoon in Legally Blonde were rad last night, don't you think?


Ivanka: We are looking forward. Did you see Antonio Zapato Jr over there? You'll excuse us.

Day Three, beep beep beep.
-------------------


In hindsight, bringing 16 year old Ruby along on this trip was just too much for her. She used to enjoy such things, now I think I'll let her sleep in the hotel room for the rest of our visit to Cleveland.

Ruby can't hear, or really see all that well. But I do think she would have enjoyed meeting up with Tiffany Trump. She's the daughter of Marla, one of the Trump wives from the '90's. It's cool to have so many kids running around up there, giving speeches about their dad.

Tiffany seems nice. Girl power.


Ruby did notice though, that it wasn't very girl powery in general though, yesterday.

Sort of more like a witch hunt.

Ruby's afraid of witches. And flies. Actually, Ruby thinks flies are witches. Ruby's somewhat fond of Hilary, all girl power, cool first time event of a woman running for president. She doesn't run away to hide outside when she sees Hilary, like she does for fly witches. But Hilary's never been to our house, so I can't completely verify this fact.

The Hilary witch hunt though, is sort of like the Salem ones, so we hope they don't capture her and burn her at the stake for the Big Wednesday Night event. We'll check the schedule before we go in tonight, just to be sure.

They were giving away free Trump hats, so I got one for all the dogs so they would blend. Most of them are black and I have to say, everything's very white once we're inside the stadium. I didn't see that yellow bird until I took a photo of them at the park when we took a break. I think he's the bird from Tiffany's song. The one she premiered on Oprah when she was in high school? The dogs like that song pretty good. There's a part where it goes "baby, you go beep beep beep."

When we sing it, Banksy likes to back up. Sort of like she's dancing along with Tiffany! Girl power!

Day Four, a big day.
-------------------


Well, how lucky is this? Banksy's Indiana pedigree press credential, and Gustavo's token immigrant from Mexico status who has become a legal citizen and not taxed our healthcare system or caused any terrorist acts and is also a little black dog, scored us a up close and personal visit with Donald J. GoldenTrump and Little Tiny Whitehead Pence.

Right! So exciting! Although Gustavo was a little bit scared. There were flapping flags all around, but I told him to be brave and he'd get a little piece of string cheese if he could do it. So we gave it a shot.

Here's our interview transcript:

Gustavo: Hola, dudes!

Pence: Get that animal out of here.

Trump: Ha! This guy! He's fantastic! Love his tie! How fantastic is he?


Pence: Oh, sorry. It's just that the little dog there, he's black. And the teleprompter says he's from Mexico. So I just thought, obviously, economy draining terrorist, or worse. Economy draining terrorist cop killing danger maker!

Trump: Ha! Love THIS GUY!

Pence: First, I should tell you that I’m a Christian, a conservative and a Republican, in that order. Next, I'm the Ethel to his Lucy, the Carrie to his Fred, the Ackroyd to his Belushi. A pro-life, anti-climate change science, pro-gun Ackroyd/Carrie/Ethel.

Trump: Ha! Love THIS GUY! He's a kick! A real kick! Melania was just saying at dinner, he's a kick!


Trump: This guy, we just give him all the domestic policy stuff. Then I get out there and make the deals! Amazing deals! We'll kick China in the ass! Make those Mexicans pay for the wall! An AMAZING WALL! Love this guy!

Gustavo: (Gustavo is kind of freaked out. America is just so dark and dangerous, or maybe it was just that Trump started talking, but he went and hid under a chair. It seems fine, though, because Trump just keeps talking anyways so he doesn't even notice Gustavo is under the chair. Until he sees me opening up a little packet of string cheese to try and lure him out)


Trump: Mike! The dog's under the chair! This gives me a great idea! An amazing idea! How much do you think those chairs run? Twenty bucks? Thirty bucks? Thirty five tops? Here, I'm slipping you a Benjamin. See if they'll give you fifty chairs for a hundred. Get the price down! The we sell them, here's our healthcare plan! We sell all the chairs! Get rid of Medicaid! Offer tax cuts! Resell the chairs to the rich for GENEROUS tax cuts! And England! Sell the Brexit new chairs, they're gonna need them when they move out of the Union! More chairs! We can make deals with all the countries! It's amazing! Free college! But not like Bernie, free Trump College!

Pence: He reminds me of Ronald Reagan! Except with a newly minted love for the gays!


Gustavo: (I gave his some cheese and he started to feel better, so he got brave enough to approach with one more question.) Um, that guy, Tony Schwartz, who wrote your The Art of the Deal book for you, says you'rea sociopath who could totally get us into a nuclear war, because you get to keep the war button and push it if you want.


Trump: War button! Ha! You know who wants to push the war button? That Putin! Those slackers over there in the Baltic not paying their bills! You know how much those guys owe? Loads! LOADS! I am like the OPPOSITE OF THAT! That Tony guy, I made him rich! What a loser! Disloyal loser, I made that guy. The war button will be mine! I'm buying it! It's dangerous out there! I'll use it! Make America safe with the button!


Mike, are you with me man?

(Pence looks sort of freaked out).

Pence: With you, chief.


Trump: (Looking at Gustavo, who is back under the chair). Aren't you from Mexico anyhow? And you don't even feel safe? Ha! You're probably one of those danger makers! One more child to sacrifice on the altar of open borders! Just wait til you see our wall. Its going to be AMAZING!

21 July 2016

Team Small Dog visits the Republican National Convention, Day 4, Hola, Gustavo


Well, how lucky is this? Banksy's Indiana pedigree press credential, and Gustavo's token immigrant from Mexico status who has become a legal citizen and not taxed our healthcare system or caused any terrorist acts and is also a little black dog, scored us a up close and personal visit with Donald J. GoldenTrump and Little Tiny Whitehead Pence.

Right! So exciting! Although Gustavo was a little bit scared. There were flapping flags all around, but I told him to be brave and he'd get a little piece of string cheese if he could do it. So we gave it a shot.

Here's our interview transcript:

Gustavo: Hola, dudes!

Pence: Get that animal out of here.

Trump: Ha! This guy! He's fantastic! Love his tie! How fantastic is he?


Pence: Oh, sorry. It's just that the little dog there, he's black. And the teleprompter says he's from Mexico. So I just thought, obviously, economy draining terrorist, or worse. Economy draining terrorist cop killing danger maker!

Trump: Ha! Love THIS GUY!

Pence: First, I should tell you that I’m a Christian, a conservative and a Republican, in that order. Next, I'm the Ethel to his Lucy, the Carrie to his Fred, the Ackroyd to his Belushi. A pro-life, anti-climate change science, pro-gun Ackroyd/Carrie/Ethel.

Trump: Ha! Love THIS GUY! He's a kick! A real kick! Melania was just saying at dinner, he's a kick!


Trump: This guy, we just give him all the domestic policy stuff. Then I get out there and make the deals! Amazing deals! We'll kick China in the ass! Make those Mexicans pay for the wall! An AMAZING WALL! Love this guy!

Gustavo: (Gustavo is kind of freaked out. America is just so dark and dangerous, or maybe it was just that Trump started talking, but he went and hid under a chair. It seems fine, though, because Trump just keeps talking anyways so he doesn't even notice Gustavo is under the chair. Until he sees me opening up a little packet of string cheese to try and lure him out)


Trump: Mike! The dog's under the chair! This gives me a great idea! An amazing idea! How much do you think those chairs run? Twenty bucks? Thirty bucks? Thirty five tops? Here, I'm slipping you a Benjamin. See if they'll give you fifty chairs for a hundred. Get the price down! The we sell them, here's our healthcare plan! We sell all the chairs! Get rid of Medicaid! Offer tax cuts! Resell the chairs to the rich for GENEROUS tax cuts! And England! Sell the Brexit new chairs, they're gonna need them when they move out of the Union! More chairs! We can make deals with all the countries! It's amazing! Free college! But not like Bernie, free Trump College!

Pence: He reminds me of Ronald Reagan! Except with a newly minted love for the gays!


Gustavo: (I gave his some cheese and he started to feel better, so he got brave enough to approach with one more question.) Um, that guy, Tony Schwartz, who wrote your The Art of the Deal book for you, says you'rea sociopath who could totally get us into a nuclear war, because you get to keep the war button and push it if you want.


Trump: War button! Ha! You know who wants to push the war button? That Putin! Those slackers over there in the Baltic not paying their bills! You know how much those guys owe? Loads! LOADS! I am like the OPPOSITE OF THAT! That Tony guy, I made him rich! What a loser! Disloyal loser, I made that guy. The war button will be mine! I'm buying it! It's dangerous out there! I'll use it! Make America safe with the button!


Mike, are you with me man?

(Pence looks sort of freaked out).

Pence: With you, chief.


Trump: (Looking at Gustavo, who is back under the chair). Aren't you from Mexico anyhow? And you don't even feel safe? Ha! You're probably one of those danger makers! One more child to sacrifice on the altar of open borders! Just wait til you see our wall. Its going to be AMAZING!

20 July 2016

Team Small Dog Visits the Republican National Convention, Beep Beep Beep.


In hindsight, bringing 16 year old Ruby along on this trip was just too much for her. She used to enjoy such things, now I think I'll let her sleep in the hotel room for the rest of our visit to Cleveland.

Ruby can't hear, or really see all that well. But I do think she would have enjoyed meeting up with Tiffany Trump. She's the daughter of Marla, one of the Trump wives from the '90's. It's cool to have so many kids running around up there, giving speeches about their dad.

Tiffany seems nice. Girl power.


Ruby did notice though, that it wasn't very girl powery in general though, yesterday.

Sort of more like a witch hunt.

Ruby's afraid of witches. And flies. Actually, Ruby thinks flies are witches. Ruby's somewhat fond of Hilary, all girl power, cool first time event of a woman running for president. She doesn't run away to hide outside when she sees Hilary, like she does for fly witches. But Hilary's never been to our house, so I can't completely verify this fact.

The Hilary witch hunt though, is sort of like the Salem ones, so we hope they don't capture her and burn her at the stake for the Big Wednesday Night event. We'll check the schedule before we go in tonight, just to be sure.

They were giving away free Trump hats, so I got one for all the dogs so they would blend. Most of them are black and I have to say, everything's very white once we're inside the stadium. I didn't see that yellow bird until I took a photo of them at the park when we took a break. I think he's the bird from Tiffany's song. The one she premiered on Oprah when she was in high school? The dogs like that song pretty good. There's a part where it goes "baby, you go beep beep beep."

When we sing it, Banksy likes to back up. Sort of like she's dancing along with Tiffany! Girl power!