Blog Archive

May 10, 2015


BREEDERS' DAYAs u know Libby has gone over the rainb…..Oh crap! She died for Dog’s sake. So I am going to take over her plog. I am new at this, and I don’t draw as well. See?

But, I am much more intelligent. 

Maybe. It s hard to tell because in the mill I was so miserable, living in that dark wire cage, stuck in a garden shed my whole life that my intelligence got pushed out of my head all the way down to my toes.
 Now that I live with Mrs. s Myers I am slowly pulling it back up, but it is not easy. Also I make a lot of typos because there was no typing class in the puppy mill (or anything else)
         One of the reasons I am writing today is in sympathy for all those mothers out there who are still stuck in puppy mills. Libby and I were mothers there too. I know how bad that can be. So:
“Sad” Breeders’ Day every one. 

Okay:          Welcome back to our plog .  Here goes.
Ahem. I am a rescue from a terrible puppy mill in PA. I can t tell where sounds come from because I am deaf in my right ear. Probably someone hit me or blew a dog whistle in it or something. That is probably why when I hear a high-pitched noise I shake like crazy for a while until nothing else happens or Mrs. s Myers calms me down.
 It sure was hell at breakfast because her cereal spoon kept hitting the bowl and I freaked. Today she switched to a plastic bowl and spoon and it was much quieter. Thank Dog.

BTW, I do not call her Mom, because she is not a mom and besides: “If it walks like a human and it talks like a human it probably IS a human.” And in case you haven’t noticed, I am a DOG. Now genetically, for her to be my mother would be impossible (See? I am smarter than Libby).
In fact, maybe Libby died to do me a favor. Because, now that I get more attention my intelligence has risen all the way up to my knees.  Hmmmmm.  Now about that cat who lives here….. ha ha.

Once again, “Sad” Breeders’ Day every one.   I will let you know when I write again.

Love and Licks,
Thweetie, (ha ha, just kidding)

Sep 17, 2014


Today while we were outside choosing a good spot on our neighbor's lawn to pee,a couple of greyhounds walked by. They were beautiful but so big!  We felt scared until we saw that they were each on a  leash attached to a hand. We stared in awe as the hand’s owner said with a smile, “Rescues! They’re rescues. Don’t worry. They’re all right now.”  Then the three of them revved up their legs and zoomed out of sight. 

Sweetie looked down at her own long legs and thought,

 “Is that what these are for?” You see, just like me Sweetie was imprisoned  in a wire cage for her whole life churning out babies for some greedy Puppy Mill. So she never had a chance to use them.

Well,  today was her awakening.  She said “Maybe legs are for getting places fast.  Just like those greyhounds.  Like…  what if I wanna pee on that bush way down the street And I have to pee really bad?  Hmmmmm.”

 At first she started to trot, like it didn’t matter to her anyway.  She pranced with her head high, just like show pony.  But then, whoosh!  She took off!  She pushed her head forward as her body got low. She was almost flying. Her feet hardly touched the ground. Her long ears flew back in her wake.

Mrs. Stillman yelled frantically,  “Sweetie, come back!”  Sweetie stopped, turned around, and kept running,  all the way back to us.  But she kept going so fast I could feel the wind as she went by.  She ran all the way down to the other corner and turned to look at us. Then she flew back the same way, and kept going by us again!  I could almost feel her heart pounding with joy.

Mrs. Stillman was laughing now,  yelling “RUN SWEETIE RUN, RUN!”  We stood in amazement as we watched her leap and bound and fly around us.

 Finally, with her tongue hanging out the side of her mouth, and a big grin on her face she flopped down at our feet. “So that’s what they’re for” she panted.  Mrs.  Stillman picked her up, laughing and crying.  “Wudda dog!” she said.  Then we all went into the house for a celebratory dog bone.

I said to Sweetie.  “Chomp, chomp.  Down with those mother f’’in Puppy Mills.” And she chewed,  “You are so right sister!  Kill those bastards!”  (Yes, dogs do curse when it is appropriate).  Together,  all three of us said, “Damnation to the puppy mill owners*, and even all the dog track owners.” 

 And then Mrs. Stillman yelled  “And to all the Jets too!” 


May 14, 2014

Free to Good Home

Just come in and take her when Mrs. Stillman’s car is not in driveway.
Make sure you pick the one that looks like this picture.  Not me!

No really!  I am just fed up with this little bitch.  Don’t tell me she’s my kid.  No kid of mine could possibly be this pesty, stupid, scaredy catty, pushy, in my wayish!

I don’t know why Mrs. Stillman thought I needed a friend.  I was perfectly cool begging her to take me with her wherever she went, including the bathroom.  She just does not understand me at all.

Okay so I am trying to take a nap, and the kid invades my dogonal space.  Really!  I can’t even tell where I end and she begins anymore.

 Help!!  Please get this dog outa here.  Mrs. Stillman won’t mind a bit.  I promise.

Oh and her name is Sweetie.  How cloyingly saccharin can you get?  Really.  She just thinks she is sooooo cute.  Plus she eats a lot, and tries to sneak my food just because I don’t want it.  Delay is no longer a word in this household.  Eat it or lose it is the modus operandi around here.
I tell you I am an absolute wreck.
Besides, Sweetie says she wants to leave anyway.  No really!  I might be deaf, but I can read minds.  I am sure she has her bags packed already.

So anyway, just come around and pick her up.  Our door is always open!

Yours truly,
Libby Stillman, the ONE and only.