Tootles Speaks

What's it like going from shelter dog to spoiled rotten housepet? Read on and you'll know!

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Location: Mount Gilead, Ohio, United States

Saturday, October 15, 2005

Recycling Day

Mom (the lady says I can call her Mom now) went off today like usual, but I forgot to poop when she let us out before she left. So there I was in my kennel, and I had to poop. I didn't want to make a mess in there, so I pushed the one wall out and let myself out into the bigger room. Ah! Sweet relief. Hmm, now here I am, loose. The red fuzzy one and the other gray one are still locked up, but they're watching me. Let me check out some of the stuff in this room. Mmm, a big bucket full of our dog food cans! YUM! Mom washes them out after she takes the food out, but they still smell good. I take a bunch of them out and chew on some and just toss the others around so the red one and the gray one will know I'm out and having fun and they're not.

Well, the other person got back before Mom, and put me back in my pen. She picked up my poop but didn't bother the cans. Guess she didn't mind them scattered all over the place. I waited in the pen for Mom to get home, since I didn't have to poop anymore. She didn't seem as happy to see me as usual, but you know, humans are moody. We stayed out in the kennel room a long time and Mom and the other gray one played some sort of silly game where the other gray one picked up the cans and brought them to Mom and she put them in a bag.

Once they finished their game we went into the house. The other person and the guy were there. They had been eating and I could smell good stuff on the white thing that's just above nose level, but every time I tried to push my nose up high enough to see what was up there, something would come flying at me! First a big bucket--then a cardboard box! It was so weird! I decided it was safer to stay away from the white thing even though it did smell good. I found a tasty piece of paper--Mom called it a paper towel when she took it away from me--and tried to eat that, but she didn't want me to for some reason. Like I say, humans--moody.

Anyway, Mom wasn't too happy with the other humans, either. See, she lets the other person's dogs out every day so they don't have to poop in their crates, and she thought that meant the other person would take care of me and the red one and the gray one the same way. But the other person didn't bother to let us out--she had to go someplace she called Samsclub--and that's how the whole thing started. So, when the other person called me Tutu--like when I first got here--Mom said, "Her name is Tootles. It hasn't been Tutu in months." The other person said, "Well, whatever. She's just a rescue dog." That hurt. But Mom came through. "She's MY dog," she said. If she'd been a dog she'd have growled it. I know that tone even in a human voice.

I'm her dog. :o))) She stuck up for me. I'm so happy.

Friday, October 07, 2005

I'm home

The lady hugged me today and said I had been with her six months and that I could call her Mom from now on. I guess maybe that e-mail thing that I was worried about was a good thing after all.

Saturday, October 01, 2005

What's up?

The lady went off and left me and the red furry one awhile back and was gone for two sleeps. She took the other gray one with her. SHE, the high-eared hussy, lorded it over both of us when she got back. She thinks she is such a queen! That's her in the picture.

The lady's been looking at me funny the past week. Sometimes she pets me and hugs me more than usual and tells me what a good dog I am. Tonight she told her friend that someone had e-mailed her about me. I think she would have said more but he just laughed at her and said, "She's not going anywhere. She's yours." The lady just shut up then because he laughed at her. I wish he had listened to her kindly because I would like to know why someone e-mailed her about me. What have I done? What did they say about me? Am I really a good dog? I'm not sure I know what a good dog is. Aren't all dogs good?

For that matter--what's e-mail? If it's about me I should know. The lady seemed happy about it sometimes and sad about it other times. How can I know how to feel if she can't make up her mind?