I Think!

Hogan Here!

I think.  Yes, I do.  Let me tell you about the night that I circled around my Mom to bring her close to the oven where the dinner's asparagus was going up in flames.  It's not that I was trying to save asparagus.  To me, asparagus looks like a type of weed with an attitude.  It's worthless.  But, my house isn't.  

Like I value my

MY THOUGHTS COST MORE THAT A PENNY

home, I value a little girl named Abby.  She is only five and I protect her.  One day, Abby got way too close to our pool.  The easy solution was to push her into a lawn chair.  And, every time she tried to stand, I just pushed her back into a "sit and stay" position. Thinking again!  Right? 

And, what about properly waking my folks up with their slippers and my face licks just before their alarm rings. I tell the time of day by the amount of light that seeps through the blinds.  Synchronizing the time of day with wake-up call is tricky but any dog can do it. The only problem are the weekends. That is when my time and light synchronization really don't work. The weekend reward for this effort is the garage.

But, best of all, I've thoughtfully trained my parents.  This training requires higher level thinking.  You see, you have to think one rung above dog obedience lessons.  It's intense but the reward is great:  Mom and Dad have finally learned to say "show me" for my every soulful look which results in my total satisfaction!

Yep, I think.  And, I am not unique.  All dogs think like me.  But, it's a subject best not advertised.  Not a single dog, including myself, would be happy with compulsory education. We all would rather take care of the house.

Best Time Ever!

Hogan Here!  


I love being loved.  Everybody loves love.  But, for lots of love, you have to work at it!  This type of love requires a plan.  It is my plan that unfolds in the evening just before bedtime. 

As soon as I see the usual signs of bedtime, I start dancing at the back door. It's here that I use all kinds of fancy footwork as my eyes cross over my nose. The art of four-legged foot dancing is never to lose sight of the door.  This isn't too hard because, in this frenzy, the door can often look like four.

Once the door opens, I break out in a fast run, quickly do what is expected and race back into the house.  Before the door closes, I slide into the kitchen and sit in front of the pantry for a dog biscuit.  This move always guarantees one biscuit and a love pat. 

The next step is walking my dog sister to the place where she always wants to sleep.  It is her cage hidden far away from the kitchen.  She always gets a biscuit and a scratch on the chin for her cooperation.  I've learned that, if I am really close by, I get a biscuit and another love pat as well. At this point of the evening, I have the total accumulation of two biscuits and two love pats.

Next, I walk at the heels of my Mom's feet while she locks up.  At the end of lock down, I beg for another treat.  This is the third biscuit always accompanied by another love pat.  Yeah! I am feeling the love!   But, I don't stop here!

The bedroom is next.  This is where I jump on the bed executing a perfect four-point landing accompanied with a slide into a defense position claiming the entire bed. It is just me and the bed!  And what do you think happens? Yes, another biscuit and a love pat as a bribe for me to make a four-point landing on the floor.


But, I eat the biscuit and stay on the bed.  This is not the time to accept a bribe.  Instead, I roll over on my back and put all fours in the air  This always brings a tummy rub. When I get tired of the tummy rub, I jump off the bed and bring slippers to the bedside.  The result?  Another biscuit and a love pat quickly appear.  

And that's it!  Lots of love! Five biscuits, five pets on the head and one tummy rub. I can curl up on my dog bed knowing that I have, successfully, created the best time ever!  

SUCCESS!

Rabid Times!


Hogan Here!

Hate to admit it but I'm lying in a bunker.  I made it myself!  Yep. I am between a wall and a huge, heavy desk.  And, I am not coming out until everybody has calmed down! It is too bad that the world has come to this.  But, between celebrities and news commentors, there is no other safe place. 
In other words, the country has gone rabid and I don't want to be bitten.  Since Donald and I are kin....... Well, just look at our mug shots!  We are kin, right?
Kin means that I am obligated to stand and defend Donald. That is kind of hard to do in a bunker! 

YOU CAN'T DENY IT!

Well, maybe not.  Let me put this into prospective.  Both the news media and the entertainment industry seem kin to wild dogs.  Kin is kin!  All I need to do is call Animal Control.  Easy enough!  As an extra measure, I will let Donald know that the knee hole of the desk next to me is vacant. That way, I can keep an eye on him.  Not easy enough!    

Swimming!

Hogan Here!

I don’t like water!  I am supposed to be a water dog, but I was born with land legs and lead weights.  Wouldn’t you know that it was my trainer who picked up my land legs and walked them into our pool. And I was on top of those legs! Where was I to go?

My Dad was in the pool waiting for me as my trainer held me above the water.  Mom sat far away and looked horrified.  The only water Mom doesn’t have a fear of is from the faucet!  Her fears sure didn’t help me one bit. 

I knew that I had to feel the fear and swim but I kept my head up against every human shoulder that I could find. My heart was beating twice as fast.  My back legs floated lifelessly, my front legs wouldn't bend, and, all the while, I was turning the color of seaweed.

HOPING FOR THE SPCA

Two men came by playing golf.  One looked at me in the pool and then shouted to Mom: “Swimming lessons?”  Mom smiled and nodded her head.  The man, then, said: “For a dog!”  Mom said:  Yes, why not?” 

“For a dog?”  Why did that man think that I was less than a people? The  adrenalin flowed!

I started for the edge of the pool.  I swam and ran up the steps.  Oh, if I could just have eaten that man’s balls!  But, he took his fat self and his clubs and his balls to the green and far away from me. 

But, I learned to swim.  I forgot the fear and found the steps.

WATERLOGGED PRIDE

Now there is only one problem.  I have to be insulted again before its worth another swim. I am not a water dog.  But, I am a great sprinter, a great runner, a great dog, and a great sort-of-people.

Oh, did I leave a word out of this text?  Should I have written golf balls rather than balls?  Oh well.  Balls are balls to a Golden Retriever.  Why should I qualify?  I am Hogan.

                                  

Obedience With A Presidential Twist!

Hogan Here!

As I've said, Trump is a Golden just like me.  Just look at his head shot.

An issue in this new presidency is my birth duty.   As a Golden I must coach Donald in the way Golden's coach each other.  This obligation is true of other Golden's as well.  Since Golden's are a tighter group than the Masonic Lodge, there is no getting out of this one.

According to consensus, my first coaching duty is Golden obedience training.  Golden obedience training is extremely useful in public appearances and it is unique unto itself

Here is a thumbnail sketch of the lowest level of training; basic obedience.   I've also added  my concerns.

Donald has to learn "the walk".  The head must be pointed forward, the stride must be even, and the tail must be held high.  This may be awkward for Donald, at first.  He is not accustomed to tail work.

Barking is not a preferred event in the obedience world.  Nor is biting.  Donald will have to swallow both his bite and his bark in public appearances.  But, he is allowed to shake hands on command.  One thought here! Donald has to be careful not to shake hands too often or it will look like pawing and pawing in public is not acceptable.

The sit-and-stay command is handy for it allows momentary rest in a hectic public moment.  However, this command may need revision or possibly be scrapped for, you see, if Donald did "sit and stay" so would the Secret Service.  How would the Press react with everyone hitting the ground?  They would report it and be accused of sensationalizing.  Yep,  better scrap this move.

DID YOU READ THAT LAST TWEET!

Then, there is the "leave it" command.  Whenever Donald speaks his mind, the command of "leave it" would be just that"  Leave it (alone).  Donald would have a lot less to twitter about if there were less encounters on his public walk.  I have a gut feeling that this will be a tough command to teach.

And, you can bet that I am not teaching the " lie down" command.  Donald would never go for that!

I know that I am going to grow close to Donald, as Golden's do with companions.  The only worry that I have is the possible shortening of my life span.  Stress, you know.

A DONALD MOMENT

       

CATastrophic!

Hogan Here!

Today, I decided to be a cat.  Why not?  I have a couple of cat friends in the neighborhood. So, acting like a cat seemed to be a great idea. 

Catting started with the obvious chase and catch.  Supplies weren't a problem.  There is always a field rat in the backyard.  This is Texas.  No, I am not talking politics!  I am talking about a field rat.  

Anyway, I grabbed a rat from the backyard and ran it to the back door.  I wasn't satisfied with only this move.  I decided to scratch on the door.  Believe me, I looked "cat successful".  When the door finally opened, I made certain that the rat was visible.  Good idea?  No.  Bad idea!  

Well, while I don't know much about cats, I do know that when something is in a dog's mouth, it is never a good idea to scream at the poor dog. My gentle mouth of a retriever turned into a vise and made two rats out of one poor rat.  That wasn't my plan! 

Trying to recover from my mistake, I decided to sit down by the carnage to show the pride of a catch.  A cat gets away with this move.  Not true for me. 

But, the back door did open. Yep, a hand reached out from the inside and dragged my "ratless" self into the house.  Nobody wanted to touch me as my cold nose was pushed away.  And, I was forced to eat a bunch of tasteless scraps to, supposedly, clean out my mouth.  Nope, it just wasn't a friendly moment.  

I still have no idea what it is like to be a cat.  But, I don't want to find out.  If "catting" is this hard for the canine, it must be h-e-l------for the feline!  I guess life is worse for a rat.  I feel really sorry for that rat.

GOT TO THINK OF ANOTHER IDEA

A Human Condition!

Hogan here!

THERE ARE TIMES WHEN IT'S GREAT TO BE A DOG!

The first time that I was boarded while my parents’ vacationed was  pure drama.  Mom cried for three days before my first day of “inmate” status.  Well, to see all of Mom's tears, I thought that I was going to prison.

The day we were to leave for my incarceration, Mom cried and cried.  She had never boarded me before and we had been together for one and one half years.  But a vacation, had been planned.  So,  I was packed into the back seat next to my Mom.  A mistake!

One look at Mom would have taken the fur off the back of any dog.  Tears were even dripping off of her chin!  I panicked.  I pressed my body against Mom nearly choking her neck with her telling Dad that if he should have an accident, she would be strangled.  “Hogan has a choke hold on me!”  Well, it really wasn’t a choke hold.  I had just buried my head under Mom’s neck while I pushed my body into her chest.  When I got really tired, I laid down on my forepaws keeping my hips in the air.  I needed my hips and anything else that I had for defensive action.  It was, then. when I sniffed the scent of lots and lots of dogs.  And among those scents was a faint smell of my dog sister, Heidi.  Yep, Heidi must had been boarded earlier.  And, why not?  She endured the same shots and, I am sure, the same tears.

Dad finally arrived at the “Resort” where Heidi’s scent was now very strong.   I happily left the car and smelled yellow daisies full of the scents of other dogs.  Not bad at all!  But, most important was finding Heidi.  And, finding Heidi, I did.  Heidi was waiting for me in a "dog suite" of  luxury.   How sweet it was.  Heidi and I, too, were on vacation.  What a great idea!

As for Mom, I left her with Dad.  I really don't know what happened after that.  But, this I do know.  Next time vacation rolls around, I am going to hang a sign around my neck.  Yep, this is how it will read:  Don't scare your dog!"

I am glad that maximization is solely a human condition!  Dogs can't catch it.   

Planned Parenthood-A Golden Dilemma   

Hogan Here!

I have got to help Donald Trump on his approach to Planned Parenthood.  I just have to think of something.  Planned Parenthood is a serious subject for folks.  Donald and I are both "Goldens" and we, like Goldens, help one another. Sorry to admit that I don’t know how I can help Donald on this one. You see, Goldens never heard of Planned Parenthood. Nope!  There is not one planned dog among us.  I guess we are more likely associated with Unplanned Parenthood. 

Here is my something thought.   Why not provide a Golden puppy to every child born?  A family of one child would have one puppy. That is enough work!  A family increasing in size would increase in puppies. No one would want a kennel of puppies and a kennel of kids.  Nobody!  Believe me.  People will plan.

Well, that’s it!  That’s all I’ve got.  And, really, that is all I want to give.

Frankly, I believe Donald needs to leave this subject alone. To this Golden, Planned Parenthood is a duck blind with loaded pistols.  Someone is going to get shot and I don’t want it to be Donald.

What a tense subject. I’m going out for a super-charged run around the yard.  Fast runs make everything better!  I hope that Donald has a big backyard.

Love ‘ya Donald

PROTOTYPE FOR PLANNED PARENTHOOD

                                           A Donald Moment

Bluebonnet Misery!

Hogan Here!

I have lived through three years of bluebonnets with no awards for endurance. Making matters worse, each year I have to ride in a car with a safety restraint.  And, the restraint is turquoise! What self-repecting dog wants to be put in restraints?  And why should I like turquoise? I don't like turquoise anymore than I like bluebonnets.

Going further on this subject, I get car sick.  It's nothing that I can help.  I turn green around the jowls and no one notices.  Instead, every year I am offered a part of a hamburger and cold fries half way to the destination.  Can't touch the stuff.  And, again, I don't like bluebonnets.

Once we arrive at our destination, cameras fly out of the trunk, a leash replaces the seat restraint and I am out of the car being led to a field where many family pets and little children have been before me and many will follow.

Once I get to the field,  it is all about sitting still, looking canine and gazing over a sea of blue.  Cameras click.  And, cameras click some more.

This year, the bluebonnets hadn't matured to a full bloom.  Instead, I was looking at bluebonnet puppies that didn't want to see me anymore than I wanted to see them! But, cameras didn't care how we felt.  Cameras click.  And cameras click some more.

Then, we drove home.  That was it!  After several hundred clicks of the camera, we drove home.

And, with all of that work, only one good picture was produced.

Dognapped for just one picture!  And you know what was the worst part of this adventure.  No one thought to sound the Amber alert.  I guess EVERYONE was out in the bluebonnets.  That's Texas!

THE ONE GOOD PICTURE

BLUEBONNET MISERY

Simple Solutions!


Hogan Here!

I have to use all four paws, my tail, and one ear to count the headline topics in Washington. There is healthcare reform, personal and corporate income tax reform, regulatory reforms, trade agreements, infrastructure and Supreme Court confirmations.  And Donald has all of this on his plate!  
Not even a Golden Retriever like Donald can handle all of these issues within the same year.  Added to all of this is the task of draining the swamp.  Didn't know Washington, D.C. had a swamp.  So, as if there weren't enough issues, Donald now has to wrestle with alligators.  

Definitely, Donald only needs to handle one headline topic this year. It is infrastructure. Repairing and rebuilding in every state would win lots of points in popularity.  And, we all know that poor Donald needs points.  At the moment, he is viewed as a dirty dog wearing a Russian hat and racing with the wealthiest wolves of Wall Street.  Not good for a Golden!

As for the other headline topics, bring in the computer geeks!!!!!  Charge them to make computer games of the issues of healthcare reform, tax reform regulatory reforms and trade agreements. Then, hand the games to kids from ages five to fifteen to solve the problems by gaming!  Everything will be resolved in days.  Our kids are smart and they can run circles around Washington.  

I didn't mention the Supreme Court.  That is because I am proposing eight Justices and one dog.  For me, it's personal.
Everything is so easy when handed to a Golden.  

HAND IT TO HOGAN

    

A DONALD MOMENT

ALL IN A DOG'S DAY!


HOGAN HERE!

Every dog needs a job but, frankly, I am over-employed.  Like all Golden Retrievers, I volunteer for about everything and try most of anything else.
Unfortunately,  I learned to tell time when I was a pup.  It is all about the amount of daylight coming in through the windows.  As I result, I have the morning obligation of getting my Dad up at 6:00 a.m. and not a minute earlier.  First, I start with straddling Dad's last night socks and worn slippers directly over his head and, strategically, one foot above his nose.  

Once Dad frantically grabs the slippers and socks from my mouth, I finish the job by lying on Dad's chest and waterboarding him with no less than 100 licks to the head.  This is hardwork because Dad's morning breath is worse than mine. But, you do what you have to do.  And, the day begins.

During the day, I protect the yard, greet all opening doors, entertain my dog sister, Heidi, supervise the house cleaning, give reminders that it is time for distribution of dog food, carry laundry around the house after it has been folded, counter surf for table snacks, drink from dripping faucets, bark at distant dogs, roll on the floor when I want my ears medicated, and guard the house when Mom is gone.  Yeah, I have a lot of responsibility.

AN ESSENTIAL

When it is time for dinner, my world becomes even more difficult.  Meal preparation at my home occasionally calls for oven fires.   I can sense when one is about to occur but I can't stop the burst of flames in the oven causing the smoke and fire alarms to scream.  It's times like this I wonder why I am a house dog.  These are scary moments and definitely calls for overtime pay.


After dinner, my day winds down where my only concerns are warming floors and avoid breathing in any dust bunnies.  It is here that I think of the next day.


As I said, I am over-employed!   But, it is all in a dogs day.


And, I have been thinking.  With all the work that a dog has got to do, no dog should be called a "pet".  Nope.  Every dog should be called "an essential". Yep, you are looking at an "essential".

Rushing Russia!

Hogan Here!

I am here, all right, with my feet firmly planted on solid ground.  Can’t say the same for Donald.  He’s running with Putin!  

Speculations about Donald are many but no one speculates that Donald is kin to me.  Donald looks just like a Golden Retriever.  Without doubt, he is my kin.  And, yet, he is running around with Putin.  Why?  Putin is not a Golden. He’s a Russian Bear Dog; a breed great for Russia but not so great for Donald.  

Donald can’t even make Putin an honorary golden.  Have you noticed that Putin rides horses half naked.  No Golden would think of that!  And, if a Golden did, he would be kicked out of the breed.

And, it gets worse.  In addition, Putin practices two forms of martial arts, tags white polar bears in the wild, and shoots whales with crossbows!  

Donald!  What are you thinking!  You can’t even survive in the same dog contest with Putin.  And, you better never spar with this dude!  

With Putin, Donald, you are in a lose, lose, lose, lose situation. Back off!  If you need to pal around with somebody, pal around with Pope Francis, he is not a Golden but, believe me, he is a Golden Pope.  You are good with him.  Definitely good! 

DON'T GET EXCITED.  THIS POLAR BEAR IS STUFFED!

     

A DONALD MOMENT

Three Strikes And They're Out



Hogan Here!


I communicate to people really well.  Believe me, I have it down to a fine science.  The problem that I have is that people ignore my body cues.  And working my body is what my communication is all about!


Do you know that, just yesterday, my folks were headed out the door with full intention of making me the house watch dog  DON'T MAKE ME THE HOUSE WATCH DOG!!!!  I am not cut out for that kind of stuff!


The first thing I did was jump in my Mom's lap begging her to pet me.  This way, I could hold her down before she could get her car keys.  But that didn't work.  Mom said that she loved me as she pushed me away.


So, I went to Maria, my family friend and did what any dog would do to a family friend.  I grabbed her wrist and pulled her into the living room.  I was sure that she wasn't going anywhere.  But she laughed at me as she pried my jaws open and went for the door.


Desperate times require desperate measures.  I picked up a six pound rope toy with both ends still dragging on the floor.  That is one big rope toy!  Holding it was tough.  But holding it and smiling at the same time was tougher.  And, then the added tail work put the effort over the top.  No one could resist me now!


But, they left!  Yep, three strikes and they were out the door.


As I said, my communication is about working my body.  It looks like I definitely must move it up a notch or two.  So, its either war or its karate!  I'll try karate first.

A GREEN BELT WILL DO

Art of the Deal!


Hogan Here!

Let me tell you about my art of the deal.  My art of the deal is all about strategy in trade.  Trading is what I do everyday.  What do I trade?  I trade everything that I find that is at mug level.  I stuff shoes, towels, socks, pens and "whatevers" in my mouth with extreme skill.  No one ever sees me in the act.  It's the walking in circles around folks that gives the clue that something valuable is at risk.

LOOKING CUTE

Then, the chase is on.  Without fail, I make my way to the kitchen pantry where dog treats permeate the air.  You might think that the chase ends with a treat.  Well, that's too easy.  The treat has to be a GREAT treat!  The treat can also be a HUGE treat.  If the treat isn't GREAT or HUGE, then it is all about renegotiating.  And, renegotiating isn't a two way nose sniffing tactic.  No, it's about looking cute until you get what you want.  That's my art of the deal!  Donald can never do as well.  He just doesn't look cute.

      

Resolution!

Hogan Here!

It is the beginning of the new year with not much for a dog to do.  The house is full of football, black eyed peas, and a few strewn Christmas gifts.  Boring!  So last night, I found my own entertainment.  I retrieved a remote control from under the couch.  Who would have guessed that it was an important part of something Dad thought was pretty valuable.  If I’d known it was important, I wouldn’t have chewed it in two. And, one look at Dad told me that my destiny was the same as that of the remoteI 

I ran to my Mom for protection.  She wouldn’t let Dad near me and I didn’t blame her.  Dad has never had a rabies shot but I think that subject needs to be revisited.  Dad looked like a constipated Pitt Bull.  Yep, Dad had gone psycho! 

Now, it is a day later and the scene is quiet except for football.  Dad loves me even though he's not talking to me.  I am not talking to him either.  Best just to assume love from each other.

CAUGHT!

Not talking to Dad doesn't mean that I won't talk to you. I want to tell you something.  I have made an important resolution.  If I ever retrieve something of someone's, that someone is going to be my mother!