Pleased to Sniff You

Hi there!  My name is Dooley and I turned one on 1/1/17 (or so the shelter director said.)  Even though I may seem “wet behind the ears”, I’ve had a lot of life   experience.  I spent two months in a shelter, which wasn’t so bad but unbeknownst to the staff, I was bullied by an aging Pomeranian (bitch!) and terrorized every time we passed the Cat Quarters. But it was clean, dry and we got two squares a day.

mean Pomeranian

I’m of mixed heritage and if I have to hear my personal assistant, Ermigal, tell one more stranger we encounter on a walk, ” he’s mostly min-pin but he must have some Chihuahua–look at those ears!”, I’ll have to chew up that Coach purse of hers. It looks delicious.

But I digress. Where was I?  Oh, yes–back to my assistant, Ermigal.  Due to an unfortunate mental breakdown brought about by the catastrophic human political events of November 9th, 2016, she was rendered incapable of forming coherent sentences much less writing an entire blog. As a K-9 observer without, dare I say, a dog in this hunt, I feel an obligation to help you humans sort through this mess you’ve got yourselves in.

dog bone

I like to think of these political issues as big, juicy bones.Every now and then, I’m going to throw a bone out there for us to chew on (discuss.)

In fact, you can think of it as a BYOB party–bring your own bone. We can chew on them together!

I’m happy to provide this service; let’s face it, this won’t be the first time humans have needed a dog to lead them out of the wilderness.

Red Cross sheltie