Our pack is expanding in 2010

Happy New Year to all. I've been busy over the last few months.

Mom has been keeping busy with other writing projects, so she hasn't been helping me. It makes it look like I've went dark, but I'm still very active.

I kept up with all the health care system reform debate. I've been absorbing all the economic news, as well as the Tiger Woods news. I just can't look away. Sorry to be a dog version of those rubber neckers on the highway.

In our household, Mom and Mr. Food Boy are getting ready to welcome a baby. Well, it's five months away, but you would think the kid had already arrived. They keep threatening to call the Dog Whisperer on Mauly and me. It probably wouldn't hurt, because we really need to be reminded of who runs the pack. The pecking order will surely change once the baby arrives.

Mom read something the other day and kept saying, "Things are going to change the month before the baby arrives." I heard her telling Mr. Food Boy about an article she read. It recommended weaning the attention away from your pets in the months leading up to the baby's arrival, as a way to hopefully avoid jealousy.

Mauly and I love our people, so it's going to be tough until they figure out how to deal with the baby. The baby has a name already -- Enzo. It starts with an E like my name, so I think that's cool.

Mom and Mr. Food Boy came up with the name after they listened to a book on tape. The character named Enzo was a dog. So, I'm thinking even with a baby they will remain "dog people."

Our pack had a great year in 2009 and we expect a great 2010 with our addition!

Rain, rain go away

Mom and Mr. Food Boy like this rain.

Mr. Food Boy was happy the ground was soaked, but not happy he had watered the lawn on Sunday evening before the heaven's opened up.

I think people call it a torrential downpour. I think torrential is the right word. It also flooded the garage. Despite all that, Mom and Mr. Food Boy were OK with the rain. They were discussing ways to avoid another flood. Mr. Food Boy put everything else on the shelves in the back of the garage.

Going outside becomes very cumbersome when it rains. Mom and Mr. Food Boy like to let us run around and around until we do our business. We can also play for a bit.

Mauly likes to sniff around in search of The Squirrel and the cat. I like to sniff around after Mauly.

Once our play time is over, we have to do more than just sit for the command to return inside. We must also have our paws washed. You humans can just wipe your feet on the rugs, but we can't.

Mom wipes down my paws with a towel. I sit at the top step waiting for Mauly to get cleaned up. Mauly's paws require the water hose. Then, she gets each paw towel dried. Sometimes Mauly doesn't pay attention and walks right back through the muddy water. The process gets repeated. I don't like the cleaning routine before returning home, but it's part of the rainy day ritual.

The other morning I ended up in the kitchen sink. Mr. Food Boy was eating his breakfast and I frolicked around in the mud trying to catch a toad. Mr. Food Boy worried the water hose might be too forceful, so he carried me covered in mud to the kitchen. He muttered as he cleaned me up, but that's OK. He's really nice to me.

Happy Father's Day!

I don't remember my real father. He's somewhere in Georgia living the good life with his people. Today, I spent some time with my person father — Mr. Food Boy. 

He cringes when Mom slips and calls him Dad. I think he thinks that's uncool. After all, that's how the name Mr. Food Boy was born. He denied that Mauly called him Dad. Instead, she affectionately calls him Mr. Food Boy (because he provides the food). 

The title stuck. Mr. Food Boy says Mom is like a steel trap. She doesn't forget anything like this funny name. 

While Mauly and I tend to favor our original people — she has Mr. Food Boy and I have Mom — we do our best to blend our family. If Mom is away, Mr. Food Boy kindly allows me to snuggle with him on the couch. If Mr. Food Boy is at work, Mauly will sit with Mom on the couch. 

We're a blended family. Mom takes care of Mauly just like she does me. Mr. Food Boy does the same. 

I love Mr. Food Boy on Father's Day and every day. 

Forget the politics — Bo deserves a happy home

I was listening to all of the crazy talk about the President and First Family's new puppy, Bo. Woof. I'm glad the dog has found a home. A healthy, happy home is all a dog can ask for in this world. 

While Mauly and I aren't living in the White House, we have Mom and Mr. Food Boy. Actually, we are living in a whitish, brick house on the Texas-Mexico Border. We like our people. Really, it's LOVE!

I was shocked by the attempts to make Bo's arrival meet some politically correct story line. Many people wanted the Obamas to adopt a shelter dog. It would encourage others to do the same. But, Malia Obama's dog allergies put a crimp in that plan.

No shelter dog was found, but the spin masters in D.C. are making it out like Bo is a quasi-shelter dog. The fact is — the one that keeps getting repeated is — that the dog had an owner briefly, but "it wasn't a good fit." Sen. Ted Kennedy stepped in to arrange the dog for the Obama family. 

If Bo lived with a Kennedy or near a Kennedy or with a Kennedy family trainer, I don't believe you can call it a "quasi-shelter" dog. 

The origin of the dog seems less important to me. When a dog joins a family, the pedigree of the family becomes more important. I give the Obamas two paws up, because they made a commitment to get a dog — to get their Bo. The family researched the dog. The family will walk and love their dog. 

Mom and Mr. Food Boy feed us, but I'm not sure how that will work in the White House. I'm sure there will be other people, who will help the family care for Bo. I'm just happy for Bo.

Forget the politics. Every dog deserves a happy home with a good family. 

Woof Woof Easter

Mauly and I got a first-hand look at some Easter Eggs this morning. Happy Easter.

Mr. Food Boy tried to make them last night, but Mom was exhausted. Funny, how getting up at 4 a.m. seems to suck the life out of her.

The Georgia relatives left at 5 a.m. on Saturday. Mom stayed up to do laundry, etc. while they were driving to the airport in San Antonio.

Mr. Food Boy had intended to color the eggs with my human cousin Rosa, but he forgot! Or, was it that he didn't find the dye until Saturday afternoon.

Either way, we had a great visit with the relatives and preparation is already under way for the Iowa and Massachusett relatives. They arrive in a week and a half.

Mauly and I really miss Rosa. She played with us. She petted us. She let us both sit in her lap (and that's a real struggle with Mauly since they are essentially the same size -- give or take three pounds). She let us sniff her. She even let us lay on her.

Sometimes, it's difficult to find humans, who really get us. Rosa did. We'll miss her, but she had to return to class. This thing our people call "Spring Break" apparently doesn't last forever.

We'll remember the visit and look forward to the next time Rosa visits.

We welcome (almost) all to our pack

Today, I found a great treat while doing my daily surf of top headlines. I found an article about how to introduce your dogs to the new baby. This is an important one to me since Mom and Mr. Food Boy have been discussing this lately.

Mauly has been on Mom's watch list since, there was a profile on her breed. The TV show wasn't too keen on the idea of Mauly's kind and little children. We'll see if Mauly can prove that wrong when our human cousin Rosa enters our home this week.

The article I pawed across today talks about how important it is for humans to keep a dog's routines while introducing the new bundle of joy into the household. I know Mom and Mr. Food Boy have been talking about routines a lot just in preparation of company.

"Mauly really needs a walk in the morning," Mr. Food Boy said. The extra walk will help keep her high energy in check (they hope). Otherwise, she might be a jumping, shedding beast.

"Yes, I'll walk her in the mornings," Mom promised. I heard her, so if Mom tries to back out of the arrangement, I'm telling Mr. Food Boy.

I love my Mom, but Mr. Food Boy has been kind enough to take me on evening walks in recent weeks. I'm loyal to him when it comes to walks. On other issues, I'm a little squirrelly if Mom is in the room. No point in lying about it.

The best news I read in the article about babies is a reminder that dogs (that's Mauly and me) shouldn't be punished or banished from a room when a baby arrives. That just gives us more reason to be jealous. Make us part of the experience by letting us sniff the baby's stuff and getting us used to a baby's scent.

When Mom's friend Julie and her boyfriend Mark came for a visit, we behaved OK. Granted we jumped a little too much and we probably licked them a little too much. Heck, we probably rubbed, leaned and sat on them too much.

Mauly and I like to think of ourselves as a friendly pack. We welcome all human creatures into our pack -- big ones and little ones. Of course, we might sniff them, lick them and (I'll be honest sometimes, I get excited and pee on their feet.

Introduce us slowly to a baby (or new people for that matter) and we're just fine. Of course, rule No. 1. NEVER, NEVER leave us alone in a room with the baby. That's just common sense.

Who? Me? I wouldn't do that -- at least not on purpose

The news is terrible. Forget Mom and her yells about the stock market, this is serious news. A new study from the Center for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) reports that pets -- like me and Mauly -- are responsible for more than 86,000 falls in the United States each year.

The Morbidity and Mortality Weekly Report said that 88 percent of the falls were caused by dogs and 11.7 percent were caused by cats. Mom read me part of the report. She highlighted the fact that half the injuries were from falling or tripping or being pushed or pulled.

Woof. Very interesting. I don't think humans should blame their dogs for these falls and trips. It's certainly not the innocent pets fault. Sure, I know Mom broke her glasses last year, when I shot between the couch and the end table. I was honestly trying to avoid going to bed in my crate. I just wanted to stay up a little longer. And, let's be honest, she didn't have to chase me. If she hadn't, her glasses would have remained intact.

Sure, Mauly and I both do it. Mr. Food Boy is busy in the kitchen and we decide to plop down on the rug by the sink, right where he wants to go. Sure, we're in the way, but we would never hurt him -- at least not on purpose.

Those balls that Mom can't seem to keep tucked away in that basket, they aren't intended to trip anyone. They are just handy, if and when we decide to plop down and chew on them.

Our early morning jumps aren't intended to cause Mom any harm. We're just happy to be awake and ready for a new day. Granted I look more like I'm bowing as I stretch and stretch first thing in the morning. Mauly looks like like she's hopping on a Pogo Stick as she jumps and jumps up with excitement. She's always ready to go outside.

While our family has avoided injury, the new report comes out right at the time Mom has been providing daily lectures. "When the family arrives, you have to behave. When I say, 'Down, you have to do it.'"

We are having both Mom's Family and Mr. Food Boy's Family visit in April. Mom is trying to get us prepared for the reality of visitors. She and Mr. Food Boy want us to remember our K-9 training.

• No jumping.
• No couch. Mauly will be moved to her ottoman and I will be lucky to get a willing lap when the family members arrive.
• Be gentle. We have young children (Rosa and Scott) visiting us and older people (our human grandparents, who are in various stages of recovery from surgery and discovery -- meaning we're not sure what the diagnosis is yet.

We're all excited about having guests in Del Rio. Family makes everyone happy and travel helps the economy, right? This has to be good. It's also nice to show family members a little piece of the neighborhood.

Mauly and I can't wait to show everyone all the animals we see during our nightly walks. There are eating goats, galloping horses, standing cows, barking dogs, singing birds and sitting rabbits. The deer are everywhere, so I'm not sure they count. Mauly likes to point -- it's a hunting technique used for birds -- at Cow, her friend and at the goats. I like to chase bunny rabbits and bark ferociously at other dogs. Mom scolds me for it, but the other dogs started it.

We'll be on our best behavior. Cross our paws over our hearts. Mom has already told us there will be trouble, if we misbehave (which typically means it's time out in the crate).

A Dog and Cow friendship

While Cow and Chicken have a cartoon, Mauly and Cow have a real-life relationship.

Mom says everyone loves seeing how animals interact in unusual ways. There are news stories about elephants and dogs and cats with dogs. Humans tend to look at is unnatural or odd.

I don't think it's odd at all. We're all in this world together, so we should be friends. Despite my loud and annoying barks, I like to think I can get along with my neighbor dogs, the birds, those darn cats and those little rabbits I hunt.

Mauly found a new friend the other day during an evening walk. Mr. Food Boy and Mom let us walk up to a fenced pasture that contains a cow – a calf really. While we were peering into the wire looking at it, Cow walked over to us.

Within a few minutes, Cow was pushing his head through the fence and licking Mauly with his large, blackish tongue. "Remind me not to touch Mauly's head," Mom was telling Mr. Food Boy as she laughed and urged him to get out the iPhone for a picture.

Mauly, who has been growling a bit at fellow dogs in her path, was totally still and quiet as Cow licked her face. She even poked her head in a little closer through a square in the fence.

The next day, Cow came up to greet Mauly again. He did the same thing, licked her head, watched her, etc. Cow doesn't like me as much. Mom tried to plop me down closer to Cow and he jumped back. I startled him.

On Monday night, Cow actually walked along the fence beside Mauly. Mr. Food Boy decided we had been amused enough, so we "moved on." Cow decided to follow us. At the edge of his pasture, he stopped. He had no other choice.

It's nice to see how animals can get along (sometimes. Humans could do the same, if they tried.

AIG: There isn't much left to take

It seems to be clear now. We created a monster. Now that Mr. Food Boy is back home (and I don't have to protect the house anymore with my barking), I can turn my attention (and barking) to more national-level issues.

AIG -- can you give us all a break? We're struggling here. We give and you take and take and take even more.

I listened to the newscasts about AIG's plans to give some of its employees bonuses. The cost around $165 million made me a little sick to my stomach. The company has been labeled as too big to fail, but I like to call them too big for their britches.

My Mom was talking to the TV again on Sunday when the new broke. AIG told the Treasury Secretary Tim Geithner thanks for offering advice, but our lawyers override you. The AIG bigwig said there are contracts in place and the government can't do anything to stop the bonuses.

Well, Mom has been reading all over the Internet and the best point she found came from Robert Reich, former Secretary of Labor and a professor at Berkeley. He wrote a blog for http://www.huffingtonpost.com/. Reich said, "Had AIG gone into chapter 11 bankruptcy or been liquidated, as it would have without government aid, no bonuses would ever be paid; indeed, AIG's executives would have long ago been on the street." This man makes an excellent point. If I met him, I would give him a paw five.

The AIG bigwig also mentioned something about the bonuses help the company keep its talent. If this talent helped ruin AIG, which created a trickle effect throughout the economy, I say let them leave if they are upset. Financial institutions are hemorrhaging thousands of workers each week. Add all the fresh graduates and surely, some new ideas can be infused into the banking and insurance industry.

And, why is it that the Obama administration seems to have its hands tied in this case? Wasn't it just a few months ago, we the American people and dogs were promised that accountability would be in place and that executive compensation would be in check?

Apparently that plan fell through the cracks. AIG was offered another $30 billion a few weeks ago and now officials are working to add strings to the money. Strings should have been attached to the $30 billion before it was promised to the company.

I know I'm just a dog, but this all gets so confusing. I don't even understand why bonuses are being discussed by a company losing money. AIG reportedly lost billions in the last quarter of 2008. Why would anyone sign a contract with an employee to give him a bonus, if the employee's performance wasn't excellent?

Most companies, well at least those who operate in the black, don't give bonuses unless the company is performing well. I thought it was standard to have a bonus tied to performance -- a positive performance, not a negative one. I guess that's why I live on Main Street and not Wall Street.

I hope the folks running AIG will realize there is very little left for them to take from the American people. Patience is wearing thin.

Tough love

Why do we hurt the things we love?

It’s a difficult question. And, I don’t have the answer. I love my toys, but I am the first (or second if Mauly gets to it first) to tear them. Destroy them is a more accurate description.

The boot is the latest victim in our household. It’s a plastic cowboy boot with white accents. The boot is emblazoned with a black paw. It’s a dog’s boot. It’s squeaks. It fits nicely in Mauly’s mouth.

A few months ago, Mom retrieved it from a box labeled “Eddie’s Toys.” It was a great Christmas present from my human cousin, Rosa.

Mauly loves the boot. She finds it and carries it in her mouth. She licks it. She bites it. She drops it next to her before she falls asleep.

This week, love turned to destruction as Mom discovered a small, black chunk next to Mauly. The boot now has a hole. It is sitting next to the iMac, while Mom decides what to do with it.

Mauly likes to nuzzle Mom’s hand with her nose. It’s all a ruse as Mauly works it so Mom begins petting her. Mom stops her typing and gives Mauly attention. Mauly hopes to gain access to the confiscated toy on the desk. It's that simple.

I’m not sure what will happen to the boot, but I can guess. Once there is a hole in a toy, it’s pretty much gone. Mauly has first-paw experience in this area. She lost a duck and a pheasant or two or three to holes.

The truth is that the boot is a goner, if we get our paws and teeth on it. We won’t stop until the hole gets bigger. Mom tries to watch what we eat. Plastic is not on the menu, she says. But, we bark back, “It’s what we do — we are dogs.”

Since I’m older than Mauly (about six months older), I know the boot’s days are numbered in our house. I’ll just remember the boot fondly. It was a good friend.

I'm exhausted from all the barking

I've been barking a lot this week. Mr. Food Boy is out of town, so I need to protect the house. Mauly doesn't like to bark – unless a cat rambles across the yard while she is posted at the window. I think the barking bothers her ears.

I know the barking bothers Mom. She has yelled at me a few times – OK maybe more than that – since Mr. Food Boy left town. "I bet he can hear you all the way in St. Louis. Is that what you want?" she asks me.

I don't really understand her question, so I continue to bark. It's what I do after all – I am Eddie. It's funny when Mr. Food Boy says it, "That's right. You do it, because you are Eddddddie." It sounds neat and fun when he says it, so I get more excited.

Mom hasn't been saying my name like that. She yelled. She held me. She put me away in my kennel to cool off. I wouldn't let it go; there was something in the back yard, in the front yard, in the side yard and something blowing around our house – the constant Texas wind.

When Mr. Food Boy is away, I get special hearing powers. Everything bothers me whether it is the hooves from a small herd of deer grazing beside the house or it is a truck bumping down the street. I need to bark.

Mr. Food Boy calls me a chicken – no not because he thinks I'm afraid. Sometimes, it's almost as if I'm clucking, because I let these bursts of small barks out. I can't wait until Mr. Food Boy returns. He'll get to hear my complete barks, not the clucking, chicken burst barks.

Of course, when he gets home I won't have to be on alert as much. My barks will almost disappear. I'll be safe, happy and content that Mr. Food Boy is back with us. I'll keep an eye out for those darn cats thought; I may have to bark at them.

Mr. Obama pick me

Dear President Obama,

I would like to serve my country. I believe I meet the criteria for a cabinet level position.

I have long been in service to this nation through my support of my Mom -- a hardworking American. I know, because during those days, I was stuck in my crate for 10-plus hours.

I make a concerted effort each day to read the news online with my Mom and listen to tidbits of CNN. While I may be distracted by a deer or cat that enters my domain (yard), I promise I can be very focused when I want to be. When Mom or Mr. Food Boy get ready to feed me, I am deliberate with every action. I know how to work the crowd (i.e. sit when asked to do so or lay down).

I work on command at times and independently when necessary or when I want, too. Mom could tell you how she sometimes keeps me under control with a spray bottle filled with water. Honestly, it stopped me the first few times. Now, I just want to drink the water. I think it's a great game.

I'm a team player, too. Just ask my step-dog sister Mauly. When we put our heads together, we can sometimes overpower just one of our people. Whether it is just jumping up for attention or to grab a crumb from dinner, I have learned the value of teamwork. It really helps you reach your goals or the bruschetta that Mr. Food Boy leaves unattended for a second on the coffee table.

My point, Mr. President, is that I can serve. As you look for talented team members, who cross party-lines, I can assure you I am your dog. In my younger days, I was caught many a day staring at the TV when former President Bush was speaking. I lost interest in hearing him speak after the market dropped last fall. Mom would be crying out at the TV when he spoke and the newscasters simultaneously showed the stock markets. (Psst ... I don't know if you know this, but the market reacts in a similar fashion when you and other cabinet officials speak.)

As a fiscal conservative, I have talents that will surely be useful in Washington. If you remain skeptical about my talents, I would remind you that I have never worked for dollars. I have always worked for pets, walks, hugs and cuddles. To my knowledge, I would pass any Senate committee vetting process on this point. No taxes are due. I promise.

Please consider me for a position in your administration. I can help. If you need me, I am ready to serve. My day currently consists of barking at random noises and naps.

Eddie

P.S. My dog cousin Moonpie taught me at an early age to bark at doorbells. Does the White House have one? I believe I can put my country's need to have cabinet members, who properly pay their taxes, above this individual need to bark.

It's tough to be handsome

I like to prance around like the next poodle-Pomeranian mix. I twirl, as Mr. Food Boy calls it.

I twirl and twirl around when I get excited. It may be in the morning as I anticipate food or it can be when Mr. Food Boy readies to take me out. (Basically, he scoops me up and places me on the back of the couch. He changes my collar and I'm ready to go.) I twirl.

Today, I did not twirl when Mom announced, "You're going to get trimmed up." I didn't like the sound of it. She took Mauly and me outside and then tricked me when I got into my crate. Despite the fact, she kept saying, "You're going to VIP today. I didn't understand." I heard "Blah, Blah, Blah, treats."

Mauly got put away safely in her crate while I got picked up in my crate and carried to the car. I did my best to whimper and ignore Mom's explanations about our destination. "I don't care," I whimpered through barks and low growls. I tried to catch her attention with my sad eyes, but it didn't work. Mom looked straight ahead at the road.

When we arrived, the people at VIP (that stands for Very Important Pets) checked me in. I don't know the groomer's name, but she knew mine. "Eddie!" she cooed as she took me from Mom's arms.

By the time Mr. Food Boy picked me up several hours later, I was exhausted. I get nervous when Mom leaves me there. They always take care of me at VIP, but I am stressed. They have music playing in the background and have a nice facility.

Mom was delighted by my trim. It is easier to put my collar on for my evening walk and I will be cooler when the 90-degree temperatures return to our piece of Texas.

I was so exhausted by the day on the town that I barely moved from my perch on the pillows this evening (Mauly also used this as an opportunity to take an uninvited seat on the couch).

Some days it's doggone tough being handsome. Tonight, I am resting. I can twirl tomorrow.

Pooped out of ideas

The family is still trying to sort this all out. No, not the President's speech last night. It's the whole diet thing!

I'm a delicate eater. I nibble. I crunch. I sit down and take a break before my bowl ever becomes empty.

Mauly is different. She inhales her food in seconds every morning. Her bowl is clean before Mom or Mr. Food Boy can turn their backs on her.

Mauly is the only one in the family, who believes she is starving. If I have an accident in the house, she will clean it up. And, I really mean eat it up. Mom's been on a mission in recent days to investigate ways to correct this behavior. Mr. Food Boy suggests that if Mom would correct my behavior -- make sure I go outside, then there wouldn't be an issue.

Mom happily points out to Mr. Food Boy that those crunching noises from the yard are Mauly and me eating dried poop. While Mom and Mr. Food Boy pick up ours, there are all types of animals that appear in the yard under the cloak of darkness. I agree it would be difficult for them to pick up all of this poop. That's where Mauly and me get to work.

I don't really know how Mom will resolve this issue. One online article suggested splitting up our feeding. Instead of giving us food only in the morning, Mom and Mr. Food Boy are splitting up our daily rations into a morning and evening serving.

One TV show offered pineapple as a solution to this problem. It apparently makes the poop taste icky. But, I wonder (primarily, because my food will be spiced with it) how it will make the food taste I eat? I might not want to eat my food with pineapple chunks.

And, this is a bigger issue? Just like the president has to look at the full picture on this financial crisis, so do Mom and Mr. Food Boy? Mauly and Me aren't the only ones dropping things in the yard. Can they feed pineapple to the deer, cats and possible javelina, skunk and coyote that hang out around our house?

I don't think so. I'm glad it's them that have to worry about this stuff and not me.

New discoveries

Mauly did it. Today, she found the tub of toys that Mom had collected. They were around the house. There was a Wub-a-wubba, a Kong or two, the smiley lips and bunches of bones -- big ones and little ones.

Mom found them in the office, in a bedroom, in the kitchen and around the living room. She thought it would be good to put them in one location. It was more for her than us. It's a metal tub, basket-thingy. I don't know the exact name, I just know I'm too short to get in it.

Mauly is tall enough to poke her head in it. The toys were collected over the weekend, but it took her until Wednesday to figure out how to poke her head in the tub and pick out a treat. It's like a treasure chest, but for dogs!

While Mr. Food Boy made dinner, Mauly picked out a toy and dropped it near the French doors. She went back and selected a bone. It was dropped on her green pillow. Before long, she had chosen and discarded several toys.

Mom went around and picked them up from the floor. This must be a new game. I'll keep you posted.

I'm going to sleep on this

Here we go again.

The Dow Jones Industrial average took a dive (382 points) today after the Obama bailout plan did little to persuade investors this was a good idea. We're back to a low point in the market that we last saw in November 2008.

We've been at this recession for 14-months now -- I'm not that much older than this thing (as long as you are counting in human years). I'm young, but I don't get what the government is trying to do.

They flushed a bunch of cash (billions) into the economy last fall and it didn't seem to work. As the President talks up the stimulus plan, I keep hearing everyday Americans saying: "My bank won't refinance" or "I can't get a house loan." The more important question is: "How will this plan create a job for me?"

True mortgage rates are low. The stimulus plan includes a lot of nice features to give homeowners incentives to buy a house, but I don't know that it is enough. People are paying too much for these dog houses.

Mom said some people were irresponsible when they purchased their homes. The banks and all the people involved in the homebuying process should have been more responsible. If you make $25,000 a year, you should not be getting a mortgage for a $400,000 house.

Where did logic go? I don't know, but I think I'll sleep on it and see if I can come up with an answer. I'll get back to you.

Is it time to hide?

These numbers are getting a little high. It's enough to make one dizzy. Mauly-Bones got so tired of it, she stuck her head in the sand (well, under the bed anyway).

Senators decided Saturday (Feb. 7) to cut the stimulus proposal from $900 billion to $780 billion. A vote is expected this week.

That's a lot of money and dog treats. It's a little overwhelming to think about how this "package" is going to stimulate the economy. Businesses, employees and just general dog bystanders are learning every day how the U.S. economy is solely built on spending.

With people losing their jobs or fearing the loss of their jobs, they don't spend as much. Mom keeps saying that she has limited spending to food and gas. She's been doing that since August.

Mom made an exception recently after Mauly and I destroyed a bed I had had since I was a puppy. We made a hole in it. We played around until we could get the white, fluffy stuffing out and eat it. My first bed went in the trash after Mom and Mr. Food Boy bought a new one for $18.95 plus tax.

Oh, she and Mr. Food Boy will occasionally go to the movies (the matinee is a steal at $3.25) and will treat themselves to a meal out – once or twice a week. Mom says they don't have to worry, right now, and they're lucky. Others, who are losing their jobs and homes, are not so lucky.

I hope these lawmakers know what they are doing. The proposal has some good projects like school nutrition and adding money to government agencies. The media-types keep talking about dollars, but I don't recall seeing any story looking at the economic impact.

Is it one of those scenarios like every dollar spent is multiplied in the community. I'll keep my paws crossed that it means something like that. If it doesn't, I'll find a bed to hide under, too.

No treats for you

That was a close one. Mom was about to hit the roof on Tuesday (Feb. 3) when she read about Wells Fargo sending employees to Las Vegas. The company just took over Mom's bank (Wachovia), so she was a bit mythed.

So, the story goes that Wells Fargo, who just reported $2.83 billion in losses in 2008, and took $25 billion in government bailout money was going to send some of its employees to Vegas. Other banks and financial institutions have been smacked on the nose for doing the same thing. AIG spent around $440,000 on a spa event after taking $85 billion.

While Wells Fargo tried to defend it. It didn't really fly with everyday dogs, Americans and elected officials. "What the crap?" was a valid question.

The bank's response: "Recognition events are still part of our culture," spokeswoman Melissa Murray said Tuesday afternoon. "It's really important that our team members are still valued and recognized."

The fact the spokeswoman said it was "part of our culture" ticked Mom off. From everything I hear on the news, the culture is currently failure. Banks are losing money. Executives took risks that were too risky. So, what's an appropriate recognition? Are they getting kicked out the door or fired. No, they are getting bonuses, free trips and corporate perks; because it's part of the culture.

Wells Fargo changed its tune later on Tuesday night. "In light of the current environment, we have now decided to cancel this event as well," the company said in a news release that also said the it had never planned to use taxpayer bailout money for the trip.

A Republican lawmaker said it best. Rep. Shelley Moore Capito, a West Virginia Republican who sits on the House Financial Services Committee, said. "They're tone deaf. It's outrageous."

How is it that these financial men and women think they're entitled to these perks when their companies are failing and need government cash to infuse their businesses. And, why is it that humans are looking to the same people, who got the economy into this mess, to fix the problems?

I'm a dog. I like treats, but I know Mom won't give me one when I do something wrong. I bark, "No treats for them."

The sun and friends

While people in other parts of the country are wearing thin under the burden of winter, I am basking in the sun. Mr. Food Boy opened the curtains in the spare bedroom over the weekend. 

I can't see out the window, because I am too short. Mom won't let me jump up on the bed in here, so I can't see the birds, deer and cats wandering around our backyard. 

I can stretch out in the sunlight. Yesterday it was cool. Inside, I was warm and toasty in the sun. Mauly was right next to me most of the day. Her big, orange, "cat-like paws" were about an inch from my little furry gray ones. 

Mr. Food Boy heard the "cat-like paw" description on the Animal Planet. Now, he says it to Mauly. 

The family tried to go out for a walk yesterday, but a chocolate, Lab puppy stopped us at the four-way stop. I yelped and squealed so much that the man at the house on the corner came out of his front door. The dog appeared to be friendly, but Mom didn't take a chance. She picked me up, which really set me off. 

I barked all the way home at the dog as it circled around the family. It didn't bother us after Mr. Food Boy smacked its nose with Mauly's leash.  We all thought the Lab was going to get it when it approached the fabulous barking duo of Vegas and Jesse. Initially, they barked. The Lab was smart enough to realize that the pair were on wireless fences. 

Within a minute, the trio was in a triangle sniffing one another. All tails were wagging vigorously in the air.  In the end, the Lab simply wanted someone to play with while he was out wandering the big world. All the barking was just a smokescreen, they were all very friendly. 

Awful news, good news

There was supposed to be awful news today, but I didn't really watch the news. I heard Mom muttering about the headlines with the tens of thousands of jobs cut from a variety of companies. She said more than 71,400 were cut in one day.

The market was expected to drop at the news, but instead it barely stayed positive. Mom seems happy by small gains. The big losses make her a bit crazy.

I've learned a lot about the market over the last few months. Mom thinks I'm asleep on her lap as she munches on a snack and catches the latest news from Ali Velshi and the gang at CNN.

I knew we were in a recession before the "experts" said it. The daily sell offs. The daily "fears of a recession." The daily insanity as people worried and fretted about what the market would do next. I never understood why they just didn't say it. Mom didn't either. She yelled at the TV, "Say it is a recession already. Please." It took months for the "experts" to call it a recession.

I don't stay focused on Mom's rants for long. I move from her lap to my lookout atop the back of the loveseat. I gain height here. I can see all the birds that stop in our front yard. I can bark at them. I can howl when the stray neighborhood cats waltz into our domain.

Mauly-Bones, who is my dog stepsister, sits below me on her ottoman. She barks with me, especially when the cats walk by the window. She doesn't like them either. We call her Mauly, for short. She is almost seven times bigger than I am. I weigh a fierce eight pounds. I bark like a big dog.

The news may distract Mom, but Mauly and I remain vigilant at the window. Any chance of "awful" news ends around 5 p.m. when Mr. Food Boy arrives home from work. We bark and jump to greet him. Mom protests the noise, but she never calms us down until she lets us out. There we run down the concrete walkway to greet Mr. Food Boy. It's a great day.