Heidi!

Hogan Here!

Dogs are dogs.  Don't believe it!  Dog's can't be lumped into one pile of fur. 

All you need to do is be around my sister dog, Heidi, for awhile, and she'll prove that the generalization of dogs into one lump sum is a total fallacy.  Heidi is unique unto herself.

Just look at Heidi.  You'd think that Heidi's mother was a wombat and not a shepherd. It comes to mind that Heidi's situation is like Obama's when people questioned his citizenship.  All the papers are intact but people just won't buy "it".  

Heidi is proud of her differences as she takes them to a higher level.  Heidi considers herself a designer dog.

I DON'T DO "MAINSTREAM"

I'll buy the fact that she is a designer dog but I can't buy into Heidi's selected lifestyle.

Heidi runs tail from any behavioral adjustment.  This is her game.  So, no demands are placed on Heidi. But, remember, it is only a game.

When people aren't looking, Heidi is practicing how to open every type of door.  No one has caught on to why Heidi and I have been outside playing when no one has put us outside.  But, someone will soon.  Wouldn't you think?

Now, Heidi has developed a new interest.  She likes to climb to the upstairs and open all of the bedroom doors.  Then, she likes to go into an opened door, close the door, and forget how to get back out.  Then, she howls!  I think she likes the attention.  When someone releases her, she runs down the stairs like she has been gone for years and jumps the first person she finds with paws outstretched and licks to the face.  She is showered with attention, sympathy and sighs of relief only to do the same thing the next day.  Hate to admit it, but Heidi has become a designer dog with a drama queen personality.  

I don't know what Heidi is going to do next.  I don't want to think about it.  I am just glad that she is spayed!  There will only be one Heidi!  
     

Hillary Day

Hogan Here!

Today, is a Hillary Day.  While I can’t play with email, I can play outdoors. Outdoors is a great place to forget responsibility.  I’ll stand at the door until somebody puts me out!  It worked!  I’m out.  

I am looking at the backyard straight in the eye.  I’ll run the jogging course along the fence.  Golfers are on the other side of the fence.  You know, I can’t tell if the golf carts are rolling backwards or if I am really racing forwards.  A quick turn and I am running right toward the golfers.  They are busy hitting golf balls as I am barking to cheer them on.  They jump away from the fence while one grabs for his cellphone.  Perhaps a complaint.

The wind under my ears has a wispy sound as I finish the last lap of the jogging course and quickly slip onto the obstacle course.  The obstacle course is nothing but flowers sweeping down a hill overlooking a pool known as the tank in my obstacle course lingo.  Each clump of flowers invites a quick snap of my teeth as I run around them.  Petals fly everywhere and dust spews into my face.  I am at the end of the obstacle course and diving into the tank to cool off.  I feel exuberant!   No more order.  I am wet, muddy and look just like a retriever.  I am who I am.  I am great.  But as I look behind me I see nothing but floral debris and running ruts in the mud. What a mess!

I don’t think that I want another Hillary Day.  Now, Mom is looking at me as straight in the eye as I looked at the backyard.  I have to tell her that there is no precedent for punishing a dog at this address under similar circumstances.  You can keep your Hillary Day, Hillary!  I am going to hide and take an FBI nap.  Hogan Not Here! 

IT WAS A MISTAKE!

Nightmare! Don't Ever Let This Happen To You! 

Hogan Here!

Every year, in the Spring, I am driven miles away from home for photo shoots in the bluebonnets.  This year, we were too early and there wasn’t a bluebonnet in sight. Was I glad. It’s just not doglike to sit in a pile of bluebonnets!

I didn’t think that anything could make me feel less doglike until the car stopped abruptly at a fence and behind that fence were draft horses so big that the fence was dwarfed.  The heads of the horses were the size of a large dog, the eyes were only slits and the manes were white against a dark brown coat of fur showing muscles that didn’t belong on this earth.  So, I sat motionless in the car.  I didn’t even breath.  All I could think of was a horse attack.  Mom and Dad snapped picture after picture while I was turning blue.  Just as I was ready to pass out, we drove for home.

But, home became a different place for me.  Now,  I won’t go outside unless Mom goes with me.   I need to desensitize.    Since the neighborhood doesn’t have a draft horse for standard desensitization,  I am shaving away my nervous edge by barking down the pool man and his leaf blower.  Don’t like either at all and both frighten me.  Guess that they are frightened, too,  Why else would the pool company code our house as having a dangerous canine.  Just wait ‘til they get a load of the draft horse when it decides to come by. 

NIGHTMARE

TEMPTED!

Take the Oil!

Hogan Here!

As I’ve already determined, Donald Trump looks just like a Golden Retriever.  I accept him as Golden.  We are far from litter mates but you can't deny the resemblance

I know just what Donald would like to do with the oil in Irag.  He’d take it.  Why not.  He is a retriever.  As a good retriever, he’d bring everything back to the U.S. 

I am a good retiever, too.  One night, I found dog treats on the floor of the kitchen pantry.  The pantry always looks like a war zone.  Appropriately that night, I designated it as Little Iraq.  Then, I asked myself, what would Donald do with the treats?  He’d take them.  So, I took all thirty-two of the treats!  Then, I ate them. Something tells me that Donald would have not eaten the spoils. But, no Golden is perfect-not even Donald!

                                  

Old Dog

Hogan Here!

Nobody should ever call a dog an “old dog”!  Never!

Yep,  I was just called an “old dog”!  I am still a teenager!  What is old about me?  Take a look at me. 

OLD DOG NOT!

I look like I’ve been in a ground war.  Right?   Well, I have been rolling on the wet grass.  But, it's not fair to call me a old dog just because I like rolling in wet grass.  That's a put down! 

But, now, I am worried.  I don’t want anyone to call me old!  I haven't even hit teenage rebellion.   

Well, just for that, I am going grass rolling.  A little exercise will make me feel better.  And, maybe, if I roll enough, I will become green, “grassy green”.  What can be said about me then? I guess that I could be called a green, old dog. No such thing exists!  I’m going out and work on green!   

                              

                                       

Move Over Trump and Hillary

Hogan Here!

EVEN A DOG CAN DO IT BETTER!

I still think that Donald is a Golden Retriever like me. He looks just like me.  So many people attack Trump while he is only barking his opinion and plans.  I have decided to keep my opinions and plans to myself.  Good idea! No one attacks a quiet dog. 

But this quiet dog is thinking. I think that I will build a fence between Mexico and the United States.  It would only be twice as tall as myself and be of chain link so as not to block the view.  I would run that fence everyday just to invite the Mexicans to play with me.  That is what Golden’s do.  This fence running would initiate the practice of International Recreation between the United States and Mexico.   I would create and head the Department of International Recreation and serve our government proudly.

I would handsomely raise the minimum wage but not cause economic disaster with this wage increase. My solution of a minimum wage increase is to raise the wage for half of the people half of the time.  Then, reverse this process for those first affected and begin this process again for the other half of the people not affected.  I would call this program FETCH. Half the time you catch the increase and half the time you don’t. 

I would totally change our health insurance as it is currently.  Routine physicals would be free. Checking routine health would be only a tail sniff and cost not a cent as it is based on the scent of Golden Retrievers.  Why not.  This is what Goldens do.

So far, this is a lot of thinking to think about.  I think I need to chew a bone to collect my thoughts for other plans.  Can't Wait!

A Donald Moment

 

Workaholic

Hogan Here!

I am anything but a workaholic.  I have my routines and occasional guard dog duty, but I have plenty of time to daydream.  But, there are serious workaholics in this world.  They are not golden retrievers and I doubt that any breed of dog could apply to the workaholic.  Maybe a workaholic is a kin to a draft horse.  If so, my human dad is a draft horse pulling a burdensome load.

The other night, the garage door opened and there was my dad with a kleenex stuffed up his nose and blood dripping on his tie, his shirt and his suit.  I thought that he'd been run over but, no, he was just coming home after a long day.  A nose bleed!  What kind of job does he have!  And, when he is not "at the office" he is home in front of a computer and a pile of books.  He reminds me of a librarian gone rogue.  I am not sure what he does.  I just know that he does what he does and what he does is what he does.  He is in a cycle of doing.  It is certainly not the cycle of life.

I know that my dad is not unusual.  Many others work in the cycle of doing.  They miss what I call the "Sweet Spot" of life when the gear is neutral and the mind is coasting into a rich imagination.  I have a "Sweet Spot" where I can be whatever I want to be and enjoy the ability to understand whomever and whatever I wish.  The "Sweet Spot" sets me into freedom and fulfillment in the everyday world that allows less.    

Hope that you have a "Sweet Spot"!  Hope that my dad will find one soon.  I think that he is my new job.  A golden at home is" Sweet Spot" insurance.  Can't go wrong with a golden!  I am going to grab a book and start a chase.  Love you, Dad

BULL STANDING IN HIS SWEET SPOT

Case For A Fence

Hogan Here

Dogs rule!  Just watch dogs at work and you will understand everything about people.

What about the dog fight that interrupted my walk.  All that I was doing was heeling politely by my neighbors.  I kind of had to heel politely because my trainer was on the other end of a leash!  Don’t mess with your trainer!

I walked by a house where three little dogs live. Behind their fence they are good friends.  But lose in their yard, they will eat your lunch.  They attacked my trainer, me and whatever was in their way. 

One took a huge bite out of me.  At least, he tried.  All he got was the fur of my chest and a puzzled look from me.  No harm done but I learned something.

A fence keeps peace on my block. A "closed door" is overkill but a fence is good.  What do you think, Donald?

MY SISTER HEIDI AND ME:  TIME OUT!




A Donald Moment

Birthdays

Hogan Here!

I really don’t know what a birthday is but I evidently had a birthday yesterday.  I was petted all day with constant words of “Happy Birthday, Hogan”.  I loved the petting but wasn’t sure of “Happy Birthday”.  I didn’t know if “Happy Birthday” was commanding me to sit, stay or salute! So, I just closed my eyes and enjoyed the petting.  Besides, I don’t know how to salute.

I also was given a birthday gift.  It was a 5 foot braided rope for me to chew, pull or drag.   I drag it with pride.  It makes me feel like a middle-aged man with a hot rod.  But, I am only two.

Dinner was special.  It was “Honey Baked Ham on a Fork”.  Pretty good!
The serving plate tasted good, too, but I couldn't swallow it.

That was my birthday!  I still don’t know what a birthday is but it sure is worth repeating. I am going to give Heidi, my dog sister, a birthday tomorrow.  I will give her my braided rope, lots of licks and my bowl of food.  Then every day I will give birthdays of lots of licks to anyone and everybody.  Happy Birthdays to everyone-whatever birthdays are.    

GOT A BIRTHDAY?