Joe zai nar??? (translation: Joe, where are you?)

Joe is off again traveling for work. I don't know whether that means poor Dina, or poor Joe. Or poor Dina, good for Joe. This time, he's off to the East Coast and he'll round back here before he's off to Asia. Joe travels to Asia enough that it's quite possible he's living a second life there (I'd guess Shanghai, where he has some young Chinese, Mandarin-speaking, kowtowing, I'm so glad to be with handsome American man doesn't he look like Chinese Hugh Grant, gal. Plus, I bet she makes some killer dumplings, too. Hopefully not made out of dog meat). Why doesn't he ever take me? I'd look pretty good in Chinese gear, don't you think?

You might think Dina would get suspicious of all these business trips of Joe's, that she'd be percolating with anger or jealousy when he skypes her to tell her that he's going out that evening. But nah, Dina doesn't care. She says as long as she's first wife, it doesn't matter (first wife, always number 1!!! Now, go make me some dumplings bi-atch). But I think Dina doesn't really care when Joe's gone because now she has me. I keep her company -- we watch tv together, eat together, take walks together, and go to sleep together. I mean, we love Joe and all, but does she really need him when she has me? After all, as the great Charles Schultz once coined:

And my friends, I am always warm.

Who am I?

I'm Jean Valjean! No, just kidding. I'm not a French revolutionary, I'm really just a little dog.

But don't you ever have those days where you wonder what you're all about? Like maybe you feel like you're really creative deep down, longing to write the great American novel (don't even begin to ask me how many dogs I know who want to do that...). Or maybe you feel like you picked the wrong career, that you'd make a great event planner or could have made millions in Finance. Or maybe you wish you were in the internet industry, circa 1998. Or maybe you're like Dina, who would have picked a career somehow dealing with food, and if you had to get more specific, cheese.

Anyhow, I'm just saying that I'm no different. My brain may be the size of a clementine and I may bark at my own reflection, but that doesn't mean that I don't have depth.

Consider this...

Sometimes I wish I was a spy because I love watching people:

Sometimes I wish I was a dikini (that's dog-bikini for short) model because I love the sun:

Sometimes I wish I was an Olympic swimmer, or even just a frog:

And sometimes I wish I was famous, like Beagley-Beagley, friend of Grape Ape:

Not as cute as I once was

I'm almost six months old. I'm taller, longer, louder, and sometimes I long for my butt to be the same size it was 4 months ago. Nevertheless, I am still ultra-cute!

Ohhhh, the doggy thinks she's screwed, eh?!

Guest blogger featured today: My pal, Dina.

So the little I-am-so-adorable-you're-ok-with-me-peeing-here-right?-dog thinks she's screwed because I am not working anymore. I feel the need to elaborate, or justify, or defend, or explain, or something.

Yes, I quit my job at Yahoo!. Yes, this is after plugging away at the law for a decade (ok, that includes law school, but law school really really sucked). Yes, it didn't matter that I finally found a job I truly enjoyed with intelligent, motivated, normal (key word: normal) people. Yes, it was the most difficult decision that I've ever had to make. Yes, of course you would have done it differently. And yes, Joe is officially my Sugar Daddy.

(And for all those naysayers. No, it wasn't because of the commute. Yahoo! rocked the house in many ways, and if I hear any criticism of it, I will have to take you out back and beat you with a stick).

So you are probably wondering, then, why I left. Why does a dog lick his balls? Because he can.

The next question you are probably wondering is what am I doing with my time. So far, not much. I've managed to cook dinner, the first time in many months. I managed to vacuum the carpets, the first time in many months. And I managed to do all our laundry, not the first time in many months (because let's face it, that would be just gross). I have grand illusions as to what the future may hold for me, but for now, I'm thankful to be able to wake up without an alarm clock, take leisurely walks through the Presidio, try all the new classes at the JCC gym (the Cardio Latino was, um, interesting), and be appreciative of the life that I worked my at least part of my ass off for, and of the husband who continues to work his ass off to sustain it.

Now, let's all give a shout out to Joe.

Holy Jamoly. I am screwed.

Ok, someone is playing a really dirty trick on me. On January 30th, Dina and I took a trip to L.A. for a week for what I thought was vacation. And it was a great trip. I got to lick Aunty Di's face, Uncle Ken's face, and even cousin Alyssa (who by the way, is allergic to dogs, but couldn't resist me anyway because like we all know, I'm irresistible).

So then we get back on February 5th, and I'm pretty happy to be back home. It's nice to go on vacation, but sometimes you miss your routine. Back sleeping in my bed, back to my old chew toys, and back to the predictable. So I wake up on the 6th and am expecting business like usual. You know, Joe walks me at 6:30 a.m., puts me back in bed with Dina, she wakes up at 7 a.m., gets ready for work, puts a little peanut butter treat in my crate, locks me up, and off she goes. And there I am, waiting for Puppy Prep to pick me up for an afternoon jaunt with other puppies, and then back to my crate to wait for Joe to arrive home first.

But whooooaaaa!! What the hell? Come Monday morning, everything seems fine. Joe gets up, takes me out, and puts me back into bed with Dina. But then wait. She doesn't wake up at 7. In fact, the alarm doesn't even go off! And then, she doesn't shower -- she's putzing around the house, cleaning things, opening mail, organizing things into piles, putting laundry together. Ends up, she doesn't leave the entire day!! She's there when I leave for Puppy Prep, and she's there when I get back. I'm really freaking out now, but it's an aberration, I think. She doesn't feel well, so she's staying home. That's what happened when she had the flu a month ago, she was home for 4 days...but wait, something's definitely different.

Tuesday rolls around, and I'm thinking, alrighty, everything back to normal. Joe, walk me and leave me. Dina, shower and get the heck out of this joint. But what??? She's here! Again. Invading my space. This time she takes issue with the living room, and spends most of the day cleaning it, like every single thing from every slat in our shutters, to getting down on her knees with a vacuum cleaner to get every single dog hair I've shed thus far. Ok people, now I need to know what's going on. She's obviously not sick because she's moving around pretty well. This is two days in a row. And dammit, what is happening???

So that night, I listened very carefully to Joe and Dina's conversation.

HOLY CRAP. SHE QUIT HER JOB. SHE IS TAKING SOME TIME OFF. SHE WILL BE HERE EVERY DAY NOW.

Does anyone else feel like their leash just got a lot shorter???

Why my life kicks ass

Don't let my sad hound eyes trick you. I am one uber-happy dog. My life rocks!!! And here's why:

1. I sleep on the bed. Not only do I sleep on the bed, but I sleep anywhere on the bed. That means, I sleep under the covers, I sleep over the covers, I sleep at the foot of the bed, I sleep at the top of the bed, I sleep between Joe's legs, I sleep between Dina's legs. Plus, I sleep on Joe's head, across Dina's neck, and in between the two of them. I am queen of the bed, hear me howl.

2. I am the only other living thing in the To household beside the two Tos. What does this mean? This means I get all the attention, all the pets, all the hugs, all the kisses, all the belly rubs, and all the food that falls to the ground, whether it's a piece of apple, a bit of tortilla chip, a single grate of sweetened coconut, or a grain of rice. Here I am, looking for any of those.

3. I am famous in Laurel Heights. I am known on Sacramento Street, all the way from Walnut to Cherry, and maybe even on Clay and California. People call to me, from across the way: "Is that TicTac???," they call, "she's getting sooooo big!!!" Random strangers come up to me, scoop me up and cuddle me. I've made friends with all my neighbors, who regularly tell Dina and Joe that they will puppysit me anytime, and that I should visit more often. Ira, at the antique shop on the corner, always runs out to give me treats. One woman, as she drove by in her minivan, even stopped the car in the middle of the street, rolled down the window, and called out telling me how cute I was! I have been told (and more than once) that I am the ultimate chick magnet.

4. I live in San Francisco. That means there's hiking, wine country, skiing, the beach, wonderful weather, and liberal politics (I am pro-dog-choice, after all). On what is typically a cold, snowy or rainy day for others, I spent a January Sunday doing this:



And this:











So, enough said. Or I mean, e-ruff said.