 That's me! My mommy burned it into oak. Click pic to see her artwork. There's a fine art to begging, bichons. You can't just expect your human to respond to a steady stare. No, no, no. It requires technique. Finesse. I've got my daddy wrapped around my right front paw, so here are my tips for successful begging. 1. Stare at the tweatsie bag. This probably won't do you much good. 2. Extend paw in a spontaneous shake. Depending on what's on YouTube, your human might ignore this too. 3. Engage your human in conversation. We all have our own love language, 'chons. Mine consists of groaning, whining, growling, yammering, scooting and sitting up precariously on my bum like a prairie dog. If your human is like my Daddy, this will finally catch his attention. At this point, things begin to go wrong. We're just so darn cute, 'chons, it can backfire! Rather than giving me my damn tweatsie, my Daddy starts engaging me in conversation. He groans, whines and yammers right back. I respond. He responds. It can go on forever. Meanwhile, my mouth is watering for that tweatsie. Now and then I lose my patience and let out a huge WOOF! Big mistake. All it gets me is a stern warning to "use your inside woof." So it's back to a pianissimo yowl and yammer. Be patient! Keep whining. Cock your head to one side. Sit up and prairie dog 'til you get your way. Roll over, but only if you must. No human can hold out against a full-on cute 'chon attack forever. All that for a cheap Wal-Mart tweatsie! WOOF! P.S. My mommy made this oak plaque. If you want it, click here! 
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 In Jail Daddy says I'm a lyin' bichon. Mommy accuses me of "prevaricating about the bush." I don't mean to lie...not ...not exactly. Sure! Sometimes I scoot my butt and let out a few unearthly groans.* That makes Mommy think I gotta pee...now! So she rushes me outside. And I circle..and I circle...and I circle. Look up at the twees. Listen to the biwdies. Chase the squiwwels. "You lyin' bichon!" she hollers. "You didn't have to pee at all. You just wanted to go outside!" So yeah, I guess I lie sometimes. Then there's the times I growl and snarl at my sister. She thinks I'm really mad, jumps off our chair and attacks me. Voila! I get the chair then. All of it. So yeah, I guess that was lying too! Maybe that's why my Mommy is selling this sign on eBay. Want one? Click here! WOOF! * My anal glands are just fine, thank you very much! I always scoot when I lie!   We have a chair, my sister and I. We're supposed to share it. But I want it. All of it. So I figured it out!
Manipulation...the bichon way! Step 1: I park myself in front of the chair, where my sleepy sister is snoozing. Step 2: Crouch, run back and forth, bark...anything to piss her off. Step 3: Try not to laugh when she pulls back her lips in a toothless snarl. Step 4: Continue to piss her off til Voila! She flies into a rage, jumps off the chair and attacks. Step 5: Jump up into chair, plop down into my comfortable spot and stare down condescendingly at sister. Success! Bichon manipulation works every time...especially if you have a very stupid sister! WOOF!  So the other day I was walking around outside a Wendy's restaurant. Well, "walking" is kinda' a euphemism. Actually I was pulling and tugging on my leash as hard as I could. Hey! I don't know any better. I'm an Obedience School drop-out...
remember? Anyways, so I'm lookin' through the floor-to-ceiling glass window of this Wendy's. And there are people in there! People...eating...big, juicy hamburgers and crunchy, salty french fries. Yeah, I started begging! Pwease! I'm just a wittle, hungwy puppy! I wove Fwenchy Fwies. Pwease feed me! Pwease! And then it happened. This nice man grabbed a french fry off his tray and held it out to me. And I went for it! Ow! Hit my schnoz on the window. Mommy...it's not funny! Stop laughing! Grrrr. WOOF!  Bichons: Never drink prune juice. I know it smells yummy, but resist the urge to lap it up. You'll regret it.
The Time: 4 a.m. The Place: Mommy and Daddy's Room I gotta admit...it was pretty hysterical! With a muffled cry of, "What the heck!" my sleepy Mommy flipped on the light and hopped around on her left foot, examining the fresh doggy poo on the sole of her right foot. She followed the trail of doggy diarrhea 'til it led to a pile under the chair. "Why in the world do the dogs have the trots?" she wondered aloud to my sleepy Daddy. "They haven't eaten anything except dog food." I snuck a peak at my sister, CweeCwee. She was blinking sleepily, wearing her usual innocent (aka stupid) expression, blissfully licking her nose. And then something caught Mommy's eye. A glass of brown liquid on her nightstand. Prune Juice "That pig!" Mommy yelled. "CweeCwee drank my prune juice after I fell asleep and gave herself the trots." Then she and Daddy doubled-over with laughter. I smiled in a big, panting, teethy grin. It was pretty funny! Cwee just yawned. Well, the upshot was that Cwee found herself shivering and squatting on a snowbank at 4 a.m. while the wolves howled in the distance. Slowly she staggered around, squatting and straining, while the remnants of the prune juice drip-drip-dripped onto the snow. I'm happy to report that Cwee later told me she's felt like a million bucks since then. And that's how CweeCwee gave herself a bowel cleanse. WOOF!  There's no human I love more than my Daddy! One day he just showed up! And he's been here ever since!
The truth is, he and Mommy met online and only had one date before they got married. But I like to think I brought them together. Mommy told me later, she relied on my opinion of Daddy to make the final decision to marry him. So she brought my sister and me to meet him on the day they had their one date. I jumped on his lap, sniffed him a bit, licked him a bit and then jumped on his back! (It's my favorite trick!) Now my sister, CweeCwee, she's a man hater. She does not like men. But she was right there with me, licking Daddy with her nasty, stinky breath. Mommy decided to marry him, cause CweeCwee will only lick a very good man. You see, my Daddy is a Dog-Whisperer. He talks me to sleep. "You're getting sleepy, Delly," he says. "Your eyes are getting heavy, your soooo tired, you're gonna shut your eyes and sleep, sleep, sleep." I tell ya! When he starts in with the dog-whispering-thing, I just cannot keep my eyes open! Snore. Wishing all of my fellow 'chons a Happy Woofentine's Day! And if you want to make my Mommy's day, please LIKE and SHARE this article my Mommy wrote all about how she and Daddy met and married. It's a crazy story! It's her surprise Valentine's Day gift for Daddy...and she wants it to go viral soooooo bad! http://www.huffingtonpost.ca/lenora-thompson/married-after-one-date_b_9191288.html Thank you! WOOF!  I'll never forgive Mommy for humiliating me...with a diaper! Yes, I have a boo-boo on my bum. Yes, I won't stop licking the ointment off. But...a diaper!?! I'll never live it down.
Not that it's anything new. Mommy's been putting diapers on me since I was a baby. She thinks they're just too-too adorable. Grrrrrrrrr. I 'member this one time when Daddy had just shampooed the carpet. Mommy figured I couldn't possibly make a mess on the carpet if she put a diaper on me...just as a gentle reminder. Jokes on Mommy! I poo-pooed through the tail hole! WOOF! P.S. How do you walk in this dang thing!?!  Hey! How many bichons are writers? Let me tell you, it ain't easy with just four paws and a schnoz to type with. The Bichon Frise Reporter has turned down this adorable white fuzzy journalist's bid to contribute a quarterly column for her fellow 'chons. And why? I'm too homespun. Too rustic. Too country bumpkin for their high-falutin' show bichon clientele. That's why!
Well! This bichon takes violent objection. You may look like a walking, wagging snowdrift but you're a bichon too, mate. You may look like a walking cloud, but you want to dry off in a dirt pile after your bath too. Y'know you do! You want to roll in the snow and make bichon angels. You want to get leftover spaghetti sauce all over your fuzzy mug. And, most of all, you want to bring shitsicles into the house! We 'chons gotta band together and make our woofs heard! Or are we just gonna stand by and let the humans talk for us while we wag nicely. The woof, I say. We gotta bite 'em in the ass! Boycott their stuck-up magazine! Go on strike. Start a picket line. Let 'em know they can't keep us bichons quiet any longer. We've found our voice and we're gonna be heard! Are you with me!?! All together now... WOOF! WOOF! WOOF!  I play tag right! I run all the way around the room! But that lying, cheating Pomeranian, Sandy! She sneaks under the dresser, behind the stove...or just waits for me to run all the way around before pouncing on me.
Panting! Slipping! Eyes bugged out! Tongue hanging! I'm exhausted and she's cool-as-a-cucumber. Ya gotta' keep an eye on Poms all the time. They're tricksy dogs. Always up to no good. Look away for a moment and they'll steal the food right outta your mouth! And then they want to cuddle! I think CweeCwee's got the right idea. She simply pretends Sandy doesn't exist. No matter how Sandy climbs on her, sniffs at her, walks on her. "I see no Sandy, I hear no Sandy." WOOF!  We 'chons only got once vice. Okay, okay. I steal cheese, have a 137 decibel ear-shattering bark and tease my sister unmercifully. Other than that, I've got just one vice. CRAPSICLES.
You poor humans got no idea how enticing, how mesmerizing, how delicious crap smells after it freezes. The bouquet just blossoms in the cold. And while my stupid sister simply rolls in frozen crap ("Just a little behind the ears!"), I prefer to bring it into the house to fully explore the joys of shitsicles at my leisure. I dunno why that makes Mommy freak out! I can't tell you how many times she's shrieked, "Drop it, drop it, drop it!" Then there was the time she didn't notice it in my mouth 'til after I got back in the house. Did I mention Mommy is terribly near-sighted without her glasses? Anyways, when she shrieked "Drop it!", I dutifully dropped that delicious-smelling frozen shitsicle on the carpet. And she picked it up! You shoulda' been there! It took a second before she realized she was holding frozen shit in her bare hand and let out a blood-curdling scream. I was ROTFL when she flung open front door and threw that yummy-smelling shitsicle as far as she could. It was all I could do to keep a straight face while she scolded me. Wag, wag, wag. I got my clean-freak Momma to pick up shit!! WOOF! |
Delly
Hi! Delly here! I'm a bichon frise. My mommy says I'm crazy, eccentric and hilarious. These are my doodles. WOOF! Archives
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