 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!
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 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! WOOF!
 Sometimes, my food isn't exactly...fresh. It's kinda' been chewed and swallowed already. Well, not chewed. Just swallowed.
My sister's a pig. There! I said it. If it's edible, she scarfs it. Her share AND my share. I'm such a gentlebichon, I just sit back and watch her imitate a snake, jerking its food down its throat. So Mommy and Daddy stand up for me. They holler at CweeCwee. This one time, she'd just inhaled her morsel of bread and my morsel too. When Mommy yelled, "CWEECWEE!" she gave this funny cough and the bread flew out of her mouth, sailed through the air landing about 12" away. I ate it. Another time, we were eating leftover hamburgers. Of course, Cwee beat me to the punch. She ate so fast...she made herself sick and threw it up my chunk...unchewed. I figured it was mine in the first place, so I ate it! Um...why is Mommy gagging? Did I say something wrong? Mommy!? WOOF!  Remember my bath last Thursday? Well, I'm not nasty and clean anymore, thanks to my cousin, Sandy. She rubbed all her dirt, grease and horse apples onto me to take away that nasty soapy smell. Now that's a true friend!
What can I tell you about Sandy, the toy pom? She's adorable...and annoying! But she's still a puppy so I humor her. I used to be just like that, pestering the crap outta' my sister. Karma's a bichon, cause Sandy pesters the crap outta' me...literally! As Sheldon says on #TBBT, "Leonard, I'm gettin' too old for this crud." It all started one sunny day last Summer. We went over to my Auntie and Uncle's house for dinner as we often do. I waddled in and suddenly BAM! Something's growling at me...barking...biting my ear. I was like, "What the woof!?!" So I takes off running. But I can't get any traction on the slippery floor, so basically, I'm running in place with this thing hanging on my ear. I mean, if I wanted earrings I'd go to Claire's! I got so excited, I crapped on the spot. And that's another of Sandy's charms. She has this amazing laxative effect. If I'm having pooing problems, Sandy clears it right up. Usually, I also throw up out of sheer excitement. That's why I gave my Auntie a roll of paper towel and a note of apology last week. I've been doin' so much pooin' and peein' and barfin' on her nice clean floors, I figured I owed her one! Now my sister, CweeCwee, does not like little Sandy. She pretends she doesn't exist, won't make eye contact, ignores her completely. I'm like, "Woof, girl! Is that nice?" But she doesn't listen to any woofs I say, so it's up to me to keep the little Pom entertained. I've lost weight, literally shed pounds, playing "tag" with Sandy. And that's another thing. She cheats! I run the whole circuit around their house like any decent bichon would, puffing for air, panting, wild- eyed, clawing for traction. But that growling little Pom takes shortcuts, nips under furniture, sneaks behind the stove. She's cool as a cucumber while I'm panting and wetting myself. I'm like, "Woof on you, girl," and try to hide. But, seriously, I can't imagine life without my cousin. We play together, piddle together, wrestle together and snooze together. And the next time I see her, I'm totally gonna' to steal her blue teddy bear and bring it home. WOOF! ("No, Sandy, I didn't tell them you hump me constantly. It's not something to be proud of! Now shut the woof up!")  Tweatsies? CweeCwee's always in line first. I let her go first 'cause she's got one vicious snarl on her! Woof-da! My daddy says the funniest things sometimes. It was early this morning. Much too early to get up. But my dang humans were up and about, and so was I. Daddy says to me, “Go back to sleep, Delly, or you're gonna be tired and cranky later.”
I was like, “What the woof!?!” Since when was a bichon cranky? We have the most sanguine tempers. Never a cloud in our furry skies. Now my sister, CweeCwee the Doxiepoo, is another story. I can rely on her to rip the face off all my stuffed toys. Then the best part comes: pulling out the stuffing. Woof, woof, woof... You other bitchin' bichons know what I'm talkin' about. The fun of tugging on that fuzzy white stuff, trying to get it out the tiny hole that used to be your teddy bear's nose. The satisfaction when it goes "pop." The frantic licking when you can't get it off your tongue. The hacking when it tickles your throat. Mommy's fussing when it clogs up her vacuum for the umpteenth time. What an experience! In five years, I can only remember being cranky once. I mean, it's not Cwee's food bowl. It's our food bowl. Her snarl was totally uncalled for. But I thought it over and decided to take the high road. I sat up very tall, put my mouth in her ear and said, "WOOF" at top of my lungs five times. Problem solved. Hope you enjoyed my doodle. Writing by "paws and schnoz" is hard work so now, I think I'll take a little nap. WOOF, y'all!  Scooting! Hi Everybody! I'm Delly.
My mommy has a blog, so I thinks, why can't I!?! When she's in the shower, that's my time to "hunt and peck" on the computer. Of course, it's kinda' hard with paws, so I use my nose too. I call it "paws and schnoz." I'm a mostly bichon frise. Or as Daddy says, a bitchin' frise. I think it's a compliment. There's enough bichon in me to trigger a jolly good blitz everyday. Woo-hoo! They tell me I've got some poodle and shih tzu in me too. Now my sister, she was supposedly all poodle. But she's not. She's part dachsund...a doxiepoo. More about her later. Her nickname is "Stupid" so y'know she's a riot. |
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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Copyright © 2015-Present Lenora Thompson
This site is for informational and educational purposes only. Under no circumstances should it be considered therapy nor replace therapy and treatment.
If you are feeling suicidal, thinking about hurting yourself, or are concerned that someone you know may be in danger of hurting himself or herself, call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-TALK (1-800-273-8255). It is available 24 hours a day, 7 days a week and is staffed by certified crisis response professionals.
The content of these blogs and all blogs written by Lenora Thompson are merely her opinion. If you are in need of help, please contact qualified mental health professionals.
This site is for informational and educational purposes only. Under no circumstances should it be considered therapy nor replace therapy and treatment.
If you are feeling suicidal, thinking about hurting yourself, or are concerned that someone you know may be in danger of hurting himself or herself, call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-TALK (1-800-273-8255). It is available 24 hours a day, 7 days a week and is staffed by certified crisis response professionals.
The content of these blogs and all blogs written by Lenora Thompson are merely her opinion. If you are in need of help, please contact qualified mental health professionals.