Santa, have mercy on me

Dear Santa,

Thanks for your reply to the previous post in comments.

Gossip flies and none of what they've told you is true. Well, maybe some portions of it. But nobody is perfect. In general, I would say I've been a good puppy and can prove it. As a matter of fact, if you review my list, you'll notice that item # 6 goes to the benefit of the Westie Rescue of America, a charity dedicated to help Westies in need. Therefore, the inclusion of such item not only demonstrates that I do have a heart but also my love and consideration to my neighbors as well.

I even went through the torture of a bath so I can meet you looking my best. My fur is now as white as the wings of an angel. (I am an ANGEL).

Come! I am waiting for you. I put up my stocking and customize it for this special occasion. The front side of the sock reads this:

and the back reads:

And there is more:

I prepared cookies for you and got fresh milk...

For us to share and enjoy this magical night. I want to sit and talk. Hear all about your delivery schedule for Christmas Night. Waiting for you to come...

... and waiting...and waiting...and waiting...

"ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.........."

My Wishlist

Dear Santa,

I hope everything is going fine at the North Pole. You wouldn't believe how good I've been this year. Down here in my kingdom, I have everything under control (although some people still insist on stating the contrary).

The days of running and rolling in the mud are way gone. I am a new dog. I have grown. I have matured. That's why I think that I deserve all and each one of the items enumerated on this list:

Item #1: Red Squirrel with Nut



Imported from the United Kingdom. The perfect toy for me to chase and chew on. UK Price: £16.99

Item #2: Ropes

For my "tug-a-war" sessions.

Medium size - 9" - 11" - $3.25


Item #3: Pork skins

The humans I live with have never given me a bite. Not even the crumbs.

I've always wondered what they taste like.

Bring me a box. I don't care what flavor. I'll wolf it up anyway.

Shipping Weight: 2 lbs.
Container Size: 10" x 10.25" x 12.5"
Case Cube: .74 cu. ft.

The box contains 12 Bags.

Price: $13.60

I won't hold my breath on this one...

speaking of breath:


Item #4: Yip Yaps

To keep my breath fresh and clean.

On sale for the friendly price of $1.49.


Item #5: Ray Ban sunglasses

Just like the ones Tom Cruise used in the movie Risky Business, (1983)

Item #6: Westie Scarf

At the Westie Rescue Website, a non-profit organization committed to helping Westies without a home. (It's a charity organization and it's the Holidays for Goodness sake!)


And last but not least:

Item # 7: Convertible Mini Cooper 2006

This version comes with a sport brake kit, customized pedals for dogs and a limited-slip differential.

Another change this year is a Checkmate styling package; a specially patterned anti-scratch dash panel with a blinking speed regulator, uniquely patterned cloth/leather (I prefer leather)sport seats, a musical horn and suspension with stability control for uneven terrains.

(This last feature makes the driving experience much smoother, especially when chasing cheetahs and kangaroos).

There's also a few new stand-alone options, including the leather upholstery, the new dash trim panels, silver exterior highlights, and the new wheel design with claw indentations.

If for some reason you can't get me any of the first six items, then just bring me the car.

Oh! And I almost forgot: I want it in the same color as that retriever Leroy Hatsis from dogster.com

(Price starting at $30,600).

Yours truly,

Simon the Westie

Christmas Cutout Cookies

That card got me very inspired to make my own Christmas Cutout Cookies.

Generally, I am very lazy, but when it comes to food I am willing to do the most unbelievable stunts in order to get what I want. That is how I decided to give it a try. The tools I needed were right there: my great-great-grandmother's recipe along with her cookie cutter:


I searched around and found most of the ingredients...

Then I mixed, stirred, rolled, cut with milimetric precision...

and baked in the oven in order to create...

multiple copies of an edible version of me.

(A very important tip: the secret is in the lemon zest).

I know that if my great-great grandmother Simone knew I am revealing her recipe to the world she would wake up from the grave and kill me. But I am different because I was taught since I was a little puppy to share so here and for the first time you can find the rest of the recipes she collected throughout the years. All the cutout cookies from her repertoire and how to make them if you dare...

Merry Christmas!

There are rare instances when a camera lens is able to capture magical moments in its most authentic and purest form. It requires a lot of work, calculated planning and big dosages of patience, especially when dealing with dogs as the object of study.

That is what seems to have happened when professional photographer Koren Trygg offered his skills to create the most beautiful image of the season in which a Westie with a melancholic look is getting ready for the long awaited moment when Santa finally arrives and gets in through the chimney with his bag full of presents.

Notice how all the elements are in perfect balance: the mug, the milk, the white cut-out cookies, the effect of the contrast of the white over the plate and its vibrant red color, the green tablecloth, the colors of Christmas...

Red Licorice Scottie Dogs

I was given this present. A closer inspection revealed they were red licorice in the shape of scottie dogs.

If I eat them... would that be cannibalism?

Oh, well!

Yummy!

Lessons of History (II)

By the early 1900's, McLeod was the most famous Westie, not only in England, but in the world.

His face was all over: printed on whisky tags, on posters, in catalogs, on coasters and any sort of alcoholic publications. He was venerated by drunks and even appointed Lord by the Queen of England in 1905.

One morning in 1906, Simone, his most rebellious daughter, who could no longer live up to her father's fame, decided to leave home in search for a more peaceful place.

She ran away and headed to the port of Liverpool where she ran across a nice couple who gave her shelter and food. He was a Frenchman, who had served for many years in the Foreign Legion and his wife was an Irish cook. They told Simone they would be leaving soon for America, where they had relatives waiting for them. She agreed to join them in what turned out to be a defining moment; the moment she knew was changing the course of her life for ever.

They bought the tickets (with the money they had from selling their cow) and a couple of days later where on board a ship called "Hope" that arrived Ellis Island in January 1906 (cointidentially, one hundred years ago).

The trip wasn't easy: seasickness, dizziness, sweat, dirt and lice. But all was forgotten once they got to the port: the view of the Statue of Liberty lighting the torch on the promised land. So far, so good, if it wasn't for the health control that immigration authorities conducted on the new arrivals. They had heard on the ship that they had to pass a strict health examination that included eyes, neck, skin and, in her case, fur.

One flea could mean sending her over to quarantine or, much worse, sending her back to England, as she had heard someone on the boat comment. That was the most nerve-racking experience: the fear of being returned home. But the couple searched all over her fur and didn't find anything other than some dirt and mud. "Don't worry, you're fine. All you may need is a bath, but as far as fleas, you are much cleaner than most of the humans on this ship".

They unloaded the only suitcase they carried and Simone, walked down the stairs, past the immigration booth. They got their names registered, their passports stamped and 'voila!', sooner than they thought they were already in America...

(copy of the registry of the passengers of the S/S "Hope", 1906, Simon's great-great-grandmother appears listed as Simone McLeod, photo courtesy of Ellis Island Archives)

Lessons of History (I)

"IN THIS JET-AGE CENTURY fortunes are made at the turn of a wheel, lost at the drop of a share index, men become millionaires in a year and great businesses mushroom up from nothing in a matter of months.

Yet the twentieth century tycoon has by no means created a precedent or established a monopoly on the romance of a quick fortune and the creation of a business empire. Many staid Victorians did something very much like It.. . . a little more unobtrusively, perhaps, but with a vigour and relentless opportunism which has earned the Un-dying admiration of those who followed them.

The tall, distinguished young Scotsman who rather dourly began a business career in 1879 as London agent for a well-known firm in the whisky trade, might have remained just that. If he hadn’t realised that at that time London and indeed the rest of England was an untapped market for bottled Scotch whisky.

Whiskies available to Londoners then were chiefly Irish and ‘self’ whiskies heavy Highland and Lowland malts brought in casks from individual Scottish distillers.

He chose his blend well, and bottled it under the name ‘Buchanan Blend.’ It is no exaggeration to say that ‘Buchanan Blend’ changed the picture of the entire Scotch Whisky trade. Each distillery produced whisky of a different character and flavour, but with ‘Buchanan Blend’ came a bottled Scotch which could be absolutely relied on for consistency and quality.

All Buchanan had set out to do was to capture a reasonable proportion of the London spirit trade. He ended up by making Scotch Whisky a universal drink.

From his foresight and shrewd judgment the taste for Scotch of a known proprietary brand evolved at a tremendous rate.

Then came his second stroke of luck - He marketed ‘Buchanan Blend’ in a black bottle, with a neat white label.

For a short spell, the actual name changed: to ‘Buchanan’s House of Commons’ Scotch Whisky,’ commemorating Buchanan’s first notable step on the road to success. . . . a contract to supply, against keen competition, the House of Commons with whisky. This was in 1885, not so long after Buchanan started in business.

But despite the name change, the bottle was still black, the label still white. And this was how Buchanan hit the jackpot.

For the people of England, in general, didn’t ask for the Buchanan Brand by name - They merely said: ‘Have you got any of that black and white whisky?’

Without knowing it, the public had created one of the most famous and enduring spirit brand names in the world: ‘Black and White’ Whisky.

But James Buchanan had other ideas. He saw the potentiality for a blend ‘sufficiently light and old to please the palate of the (English) user,’ to quote his own words.

Buchanan quickly realised the publicity potential of the new brand name, and just as quickly adopted it.

It was a shrewd move.. . . within a remarkably short time, ‘Black and White’ backed up later by the trademark of a Black Scots terrier and a White West Highland terrier, became famous from end to end of the world.

He advertised widely, in trains and on the sides of buses as well as in newspapers and smart magazines. And he was not afraid to spend money on advertising...."

(Excerpt of an article written in the Illustrated Bristol News 1961)

Searching for a dog called Lord McLeod

Remember this guy?



This honorable dog is my great-great-great-great-grand-father! He had forty children and eighty grandchildren. One of his daughters, Simone, is the one who came from Scotland to America in search of a dream in the early 1900's. The precise data I don't have yet (I am confident I'll eventually find it)...It's amazing how much information you find hovering around on the web...



Of course, all this wouldn't have this much of relevance if it wasn't for the fact that Lord McLeod belonged to a very wealthy man in Inverness, Scotland who commissioned him to manage all the moors he owned in that region. He was the most sought-after dog in Scotland back then....

But there is more: his image became legendary and immortalized forever after James Buchanan, an acquaintance of McLeod, asked him to pose for the Black & White portrait that was used to tag the famous Scottish whisky he had created....



Coming up next, I'll be revealing more of this fascinating story! With documents, memorabilia and pictures from the McLeod Family Trust Archives.

Aunt Cathy

Well..It was all kinda of a false alarm...no real reason for panicking.

Where they took me: to the kennel. And was picked up the next morning by Cathy, a woman whom I had never seen in my life who claimed was my aunt.

Here the highlights of what happened...narrated by me with the collaboration of what I think must be her voice in the third person:

Saturday, 3:57 PM

Simon is picked up by Aunt Cathy who suddenly realized Simon has only met Aunt Cathy once. Questions she realized she SHOULD have asked run through her head such as, " does Simon bite?"

Car ride "home" goes well even though Simon seems he would prefer to vacuum the car with his nose than sit still. When ever he does lay down he gets a ,"good boy" which in Westie obviously translates to "get excited."

Sworn to secrecy I roll down the window and let Simon stick his melon head as much out the window as he can attached to his seat belt bondage device.

Once at Aunt Cathy's he ignores an ice cube but guzzles water and has a milkbone.

Two more questions come to mind...1) how does he like his pillow arranged in his holding pin? 2) how do you free him from his harness?

3:30 PM Simon is introduced to "Meerkat Manor" and Aunt Cathy is introduced to the realization that at least this dog CAN see TV!

4 PM Simon explores the pool area and Aunt Cathy waits to hear a splash.

Up next...nap time with or without Simon???


Monday, 10:32 PM

Day 2 and 3 in captivity....

Aunt Cathy fussed at me just because I was barking in my kennel. Sure I was barking, have you seen how small it is? I need an upgrade.

I have been very nimble around the pool. I have had a few very exciting encounters with a squirrel that climbs on the pool screen. I jump and jump but I can't reach him! Tonight on my walk I saw a bunny. Aunt Cathy said something about "bunnies are our friends." She also says I pee like a girl dog, what's that mean???

Oh, guess what! I went on a covert mission and found a bag of toys that belonged to the last doggie that lived here. Aunt Cathy couldn't find me or figure out where the new toys came from. I'm so tricky.

Hey, tell her to stop trying to comb my hair with that comb...it hurts when she pulls my hair. I'm not a girl so I don't have to be pretty.

See you soon!

Simon


Wednesday, 8:43 PM

So much to tell, so much to tell. Where do I start?

Well I've decided I only need about 4 hours of sleep a night so I have started announcing that I am awake and ready for the day at 3:30 AM. Aunt Cathy hasn't jumped on board with this idea yet. The first night (morning) she made me go back to sleep with her. The second night she told me to be quiet!!! How rude is that? I decided to see if 5:30 AM worked better for her- it didn't. She said she would just let me sleep with her if I would be quiet but was worried it would mess me up when I got home.

And then there is my covert mission! Aunt Cathy thought I was chewing on a bone but I was really getting something out of a jacket pocket...part of a cereal bar in the wrapper!! She caught me and took it away (she is so mean!) but she put it in the bathroom trash. Guess what, I got it anyway. All she saw was the empty wrapper.

Oh, what's a "pedicure"? Aunt Cathy says I need one.

Miss you, come home.

Simon


Saturday, 11:19 PM

This is my last update. I'm so excited to see the humans I live with tomorrow but Aunt Cathy says she is sad and that I can come and live with her if I want too. She's nice and we go on lots of walks but she's not the object of my affections.

Aunt Cathy says I have a puppy eating disorder just because I will only eat my food from the floor or her hand, not from my bowl (that's if I eat at all). One day I REFUSED to eat my dinner. The next morning I was really hungry and ate all my breakfast. When Aunt Cathy came home I had thrown EVERYTHING up on her new love seat. Luckily she had put a sheet over it because she suspected I would get on it while she was gone (busted). She didn't even yell at me.

Aunt Cathy took good care of me and followed all of your rules except one....she let me sleep with her so I would stop waking her up. I wasn't suppose to tell because she said she will get in trouble because now I may not want to go to sleep in my crate.

I guess that's all. I have to go to bed...something about donut duty early in the morning. Hey, what's a donut and can I have one?

See you soon,

Simon

Panic Attack

"Hey, Simon, let's go out for a ride."

That's all I was told.

My excitement could not be contained. My heart was beating very fast at the thought of taking a ride in the car. Where could we be going? The dog park? The vet? PetSmart? It didn't matter, just a chance to see beyond the four walls of my kingdom.

But once I got inside, I realized it was too late. A chilling feeling ran through my spine all the way to my tail.

Those who are familiar with the mafia jargon know the subtle message that an invitation of this nature carries within: "from this one you won't come out alive"....

The worst part of this story is that I trusted them and got in!

Yes, I did! I got in the car! How could I be so naive?

My first panic attack took place when we stopped at the gas station..I thought it would be my last chance to cry for help...



My cries were useless, there were no other dogs around in sight. Someone, anyone who could help a comrade in trouble.

The car followed the sunset and got off at exit twenty-three.

We stopped at another gas station.."It's the end -I thought- Now I am over..tell my squirrel toy that I love her very much"



They got out, wore their jackets, opened the door and said in very cold way "Out". I thought for sure that was the end. I obeyed. They escorted me to a secluded area behind the convenience store...

They looked around to make sure there were no witnesses and then the woman said "Get busy". And boy did I get busy!...I emptied my bladder completely.

We got back to the car, they offered me fresh water and then started the engine and kept driving..driving into the night...

Whew!

Lazy Sunday

I love to grab the Sunday newspaper and read the comic strips. This one, which was published today, left me laughing the whole morning:

What breed does this dog belong to? Does anybody know? One thing I know by instinct is that a real westie would never root for cats, pick up food dropped out of the table in order to give it back, rationalize the coming of the postman, have good breath, share his toys (and much less a chew toy) and wave at a rabbit that is passing by... What the fur is wrong with this dog?

The name of the strip is "Pooch cafe" by Paul Gilligan. If you're up for a good laugh check it out here

The dance of the wet and clean

I am not very fond of bath time because it requires from me to take off my collar. Without my collar, I feel naked and vulnerable. But that's not the only part I despise, there is also the repulsive submersion into the cold water. Brrrrrrrrrr!!!!

When I am finally done with my bath, I experience one of those moments where I struggle to conciliate my contradictory feelings: being wet (which I hate) and being clean (which I love).

I run all over the house, rub myself on the carpet, roll over, circle the coffee table and shake it all off....These steps are repeated as many times as necessary for me to get dry.

The "Box"

While the robot was disabled I could manage to get into the closet.

I looked inside and didn't see anything out of the ordinary...

With the exception of a "box" that caught my attention.

I opened it up and what I found inside was the revelation of an unknown and intriguing world.






These are the items that I found inside:

Item number one:

A small flag (?)

Item Number Two:

A leather pouch.



Item Number Three:

A piece of fabric.



And last but not least, what is probably the most interesting discovery of all.


Item Number Four:





A very old picture.

I don't know yet who he is, even though I think I may have a vague idea.

I need to conduct a research, I need to find out how these items are related.

Wounds of combat

Left side:

Right side:

Dog warfare tactics (IV)

I have identified the robot!

I could get close enough to read the information:

Vibe Swivel Glide Vision
Model Number: M088915V

The case reads "scuffguard".

Even though I could not see the manufacturer, I'm pretty sure it is a Dirt Devil.

They all have that distinctive sound. I remember a while ago in that closet there used to live another robot that went by the same name. He was way much noisier, but his cover was very soft. I tore him up when I ripped his plastic casing after the fifth fight.

That's when this blue one came into scene.... Which makes me wonder if behind that closet there is some sort of vacuum cleaner factory. Everytime I tear up one robot, a new replacement comes out of it.

Dog warfare tactics (III)

And now, let's talk about internal elements, which are the ones I sometimes run across when I am patrolling the rooms of the house. Their presence is always unwelcome and generally occur when I least expect it.

Maybe the most feared is the one called "vacuum cleaner". It's a bulky thing that every once in a while comes out of the closet and invades my space.

And I fight him fiercely.

I don't know what it is made of, I don't know its purpose. What this creepy robot is used for will always remain a mystery. All I am certain of is that every time this machine shows up it scares the "beejeesus" out of me.

Old enemies are we...I have lost count of how many battles we have had throughout the years.

What follows is a graphic narrative of our most recent encounter as it happened today:

To be continued...