Me! I’m a Good Girl! …Wait, Waddya Mean,That Was a Rhetorical Question?

Maya here. ‘Bout time I checked back into my hooman’s blog. Missed me?

A lot has happened since I first took over my new realm household a couple of months ago. A LOT. …and no, I’m not talking about “Georgia,” or “Insurrection” or “Amanda Gorman,” or any of the other things my hoomans are always blabbing about. I’m talking tummy rubs, of course. I’ve had about 4,000 of those.

Ready for #4,0001. Don’t be shy now.

But also–well, let’s be real. I’m talking TRAINING.

For some weird reason my hoomans have taken it into their minds that I need to stop knocking people over with the strength of my affection act a little more “polite,” whatever that means. Actually I learned what it means: lots of walking in circles on my leash. That seems to be called “Heel.”

I always try to keep a half-step ahead in case my hooman needs protecting. I don’t know why they don’t appreciate that more.

And there are lots of other funny words, like “Sit” and “Stay” and “Come.”

I get a little distracted on “Stay.” But I love “Come”–there’s usually a treat when I do!

Some of it–honestly? Pretty silly. Like “Down.” Although I guess I appreciate how they want my snout to be closer to all that delectable rabbit poop…

Mmmm…snackin’ size.

But I gotta admit, they’re really starting to get the hang of this TRAINING thing. Look how long of a leash I have them on sometimes!

More time for me to snack.

So all in all, I guess I’m pretty proud of ’em. Sometimes they even have their own partly-grown hooman puppy to come over and play with me, though apparently he needs a muzzle.

Maybe he bites? They should be training HIM.

So we’re all good here. I may check back in again from time to time and let you know how they’re doing. Main thing? They’ve learned the proper way to address me. When I come in from relaxing in the yard, I’m called “Miss Mossy-Butt Bossy Mutt”…which I’m pretty sure means “Your Majesty.”

…as long as we got that straight.

Teaching an Old Human New Tricks: DogBlog

Hey. HEY.

Talkin’ to YOOOOO.

The name’s Maya. Got any treats? Oops, I mean…pleased to meetcha. My new human, Gretchen, has been spending way too much time on this tappity-tappity black thing, so I thought I’d take over for a while. My house, my rules.

I just got here, less than a week ago, and I’m satisfied that I am now Queen of the Household. I just need to vent a little about the humans who brought me to my new realm.

Our first meeting. I allowed them to rub my belly.

They SAY they are dog people. Malamute people, in fact–I’ve heard them bragging to other humans that I am actually their third Malamute. They speak often of a certain “Mickey,” “Molly,” and…whatshername…”Juniper.” Mickey apparently died young, whatever that means. Molly lived as long as she wanted to, apparently a long-ass time.

She was, it seems, also a Queen. Survey your realm, Queen Molly!

This “Juni” seems to have acted more like a cat, if you can believe that. Seems she was very, very, VERY fluffy. Didn’t like getting dirty or wet. (Ughh. Can’t believe I’m talking about cats.)

Like I said: fluffy.

She did like strong wind, they say–probably the only time the air could ever penetrate to her skin!

Hahaha, silly Juni. Should’ve shed harder.

Anyway, it’s just hard to believe these new humans of mine are so “experienced.” They seem awfully untrained to me.

First of all, they brought me here to my new realm not just in a car, but on a boat.

Something about a “fairy”? Didn’t get that part.

I was not a fan of this. I drooled a LOT.

That’ll teach ’em.

Once established in my new dwelling, they keep trying to take me places on a leash. Oh, humans. What’s the good of a leash when there are so many deer and bunnies to chase? I can just smell ’em!

You may drop the leash. Really. I’m good.

And when we do go places? We WALK. No running! I hear both of my humans bragging about how they used to be “distance runners,” but apparently now they’re too old and washed-up to do more than trot with me. No chase! No catch-me-if-you-can!

They even have to enlist their son, a grownup Human Puppy, to play Tug o’ War with me.

They also complain that I want too much attention. Well, what do they expect? Molly and Juni had each other to play with. I have only…sigh…them.

Maybe they’ll procure me my own puppy to play with.

The house is full of Molly & Juni’s puppy pictures. Well, how nice for them. Nobody wanted me when I was a puppy. That’s why I came to live here…and that’s why I’m for sure Queen of this place!

Never going anywhere again, furever and ever.

Oh please, don’t mind me. Walk around.

Anyhow, just wanted to say, to any of you other Kings and Queens out there: feel free to share your stories about how you whipped your humans into shape! Might be good for a howl.