What bichon doesn't adore cheese? To a bichon, cheese is the nectar and ambrosia of the gods. Bichon heaven is a golden fire hydrant on every corner and a block of colby in every food dish.
On the day of the Great Cheese Caper, I was just a wittle puppy. Mommy was downstairs doing the laundry, but I'd scampered upstairs and was all alone.
And there it was. Golden. Glowing. So yummy. I sniffed it a bit, licked it a bit, looked over my shoulder to check for Mommy. Then sunk my teeth into it.
And it was so delicious. Bite after bite. Gnawing off great hunks, swallowing them as fast as I could. Feeling deliciously naughty.
I'd scarfed 1/4th of the block by the time Mommy came upstairs and grabbed it away...covered with teeth marks...missing big chunks...covered in carpet fuzz. Of course, I got a good scolding although Mommy was laughing way too hard to make me feel too guilty.
To this day, I adore cheese. If I may be allowed to paraphrase Sir Walter Scott:
Breathes there a bichon,
with soul so dead,
Who never to himself hath stolen,
A block of colby cheese so golden!
"Aliens" make crop circles. Bichons make crap circles. Fifty-four is my all-time high total of circles made before I crapped. Yes, I was rather proud of that.
Daddy, however, wasn't amused! He kept muttering things like, "Enough! Go already." "Shit or get off the yard." "I'm freezing my ass off out here, ya darn bichon!" I knew he didn't mean it.
The choice of spot to drop a load is a fine art to a bichon. We aren't about to grace just any ol' spot with our fancy frise fertilizer. No, sirree! It's got to smell just right and look just right.
In Summer, we're particular about the blade of grass we choose to water. There are millions of blades out here, but only a select one is worthy of a frise piddle.
The more time we spend circling, the more time we get outside. And our human learns patience, which as we all know, is a virtue.
Now that's what I call a win-win proposition!
"Your bichon has very well developed thigh muscles," commented the vet. Mommy just smiled. She wasn't telling my body building secrets.
Pro wrestlers have nicknames. The Undertaker. Nature Boy. And now, introducing Delly "Chicken Thigh" Thompson.
It all started one fine day when Mommy found a Little Tikes Wave Climber playset on a garage sale. Y'know the kind. Multi-colored. Little pink slide. She bought it on the spot.
And then she realized: I've got no way to get it home. No matter how she finagled and figured, it just wasn't gonna fit in her trunk. Luckily, the seller took pity on Mommy and brought it over to her condo. She dragged it up one flight of stairs and set it up...where else...in the dining room!
I was thrilled and decided the only way a self-respecting bichon should get into the playset was by running up the wavey slide. I tried and tried and tried, clawing, panting, sliding backwards time after time.
But bichons don't give up. No sirree! "Sticktoitiveness" is our middle name!
And one day, I finally I got it! I clawed my way all the way up the slide to the platform at the top. Woof!
And that's how a bichon develops her thigh muscles and becomes a celebrity, Delly "Chicken Thigh" Thompson!
I ain't the most graceful bichon on the block. Okay. I said it. It's out in the open. In fact, I'm downright #awkward.
Take the other night, for instance. I raced into the bedroom, took a flying leap in the general direction of Daddy's hospital bed, misjudged my trajectory and bounced off the footboard. #awkward
Then there was the time I tried to jump on Sandy's couch...and missed the whole dang thing. #awkward
The other day, Mom was playing "throw" with me in the house. (Most of you bichons probably call it "fetch." I call it throw because Mommy throws things, but I never fetch them back. Just chase and chew, baby!)
Where was I? Oh yes! Mommy had just mopped the kitchen floor, so it was nice and slippery. I ran in at top speed, but my brakes didn't work. Slid head first into the cabinets...bang! #awkward
Wait? Does this mean I can't grow up to be a ballerina? Dang it!
Blitzing. We bichons are artists at the bichon blitz.
It starts with a kinda' itchy, kinda' crazy, kinda' whacked out feeling! Then keblewey! We suddenly find ourselves running frantically, back and forth, round and round, growling ferociously, making snaps at our toys, bouncing off furniture and people.
Humans, there ain't a dang thing you can do about it. Just flatten yourself against the wall and wait for the insanity to pass.
If we're really lucky, we have a twofer. One blitz winds out, we pant for awhile, then we're off to the races again!
It's a bichon thing. Don't try to understand it. Just enjoy it. We do!
Hi! Delly here! I'm a bichon frise. My mommy says I'm crazy, eccentric and hilarious. These are my doodles. WOOF!