A Learn-ed Fellow

You might not realize that I, Otis T. Potus, am in fact quite a brainiac. I have decided to put together a series of videos about my extensive literary criticism. My first attempt:



Tuition for my course will be $5,239 per credit hour (or just send me some moo tubes.) Don't let your head explode from all the smartiness.

ROACH IT.

My ma ape is very busy so I have to entertain myself. At the end of history, only the Twinkies and the Roachers will survive.






Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

A Howl for the SUMDs

It has been a sad week overall at DWB and I just wanted to say goodbye to two of my friends. The lurchers, the skinny ugly mutant dogs, the dogs who taught me "roaching," have lost two members of their pack.

The beautiful Meg.


The incomparable KuBrin.

It is a sad day for all of us in the dog world but saddest for their pack. If you hear a sad howl, it our tribute to you.

Firing my Secretary

Many of you have had a problem similar to mine: it's hard to find good help these days. My ma ape has been lousy. She says she's "busy" and so she can't help me blog or visit my friends' blogs. Why last week was Joeypalooza and I didn't get in nearly enough celebrating! Sigh. I will have to catch up and SOON. After she's less busy, my ma ape says. So if anyone has any apes for hiring, I'm taking applications.

The one GOOD thing about the ma ape being busy is that she takes us to the field in the early morning to get us lots of exercise or to "get our ya-yas out" as my friend Narra's ape would say.

We get up very early for our exercise right when the sun is getting up:

And I roach every day.


Sissy and I practice tongue callisthenics.



And sometimes I shove my sissy. She likes it.

I'll be back.

Burpday Weekend Extravaganza!

Hey dudes! I've been so busy partying all weekend that I didn't have time to post OR chat. Here are some of the Really Important things I've been doing.

I've had some ice cream (suggestion from Maggie!)


And someone stole our snow which made it less fun in the outside and more muddy. But my sissy and I got to go for walks. See my sissy with the tennis ball my Granny brought her? My sissy should be a spokesdog for Hyperdog!


And someone was in our usual field but we got to go to a different one (do you recognize it, Granny? That's the one by the arboretum that we went for a walk in).

I closed my eyes and pretended I was running towards one of my best girls. Maybe Randi since it IS Randay!


But when I opened my eyes it was just my ma ape. Disappointing, but I tackled her anyway.


And then some good old fashioned ROACHIN!


And then look! We found a GIANT pooper scooper! (Don't I look like Moco in this picture? Be careful, Moco, I might Single White Female you so I can live with Gramme!)


And then the other ape came to pick us up and take us home in the Volvo. We were nice and decorated the back with some lovely muddy pawprints!


My burpday extravaganza only lasts for a few more hours but then it is time to gear up for Joeypalooza!

Granny in the House!

What is this handsome surprised face for?


My granny AND gramps are coming in three weeks. I'd better get to work practicing on my begging. How's this?

My sissy and I have been busily decorating. She made two new stains in the dining room with some barf (Joe--sissy may be angling to become Queen of the Stains) while I did my bit on the stairs last week. I have also spread some stuffy fluff around the house.

The Eternal Struggle

This is a photo poem by Wally. Will he ever scratch the itch that dogs him? Is satisfaction within his grasp?








This paean to roaching is brought to you courtesy of Sophie La Brador who requested more photos of me on my back, flailing. She says she has an active fantasy life and I must believe her.

Putting the Lay in Labor Day

Whew am I glad I didn't have to work today because I needed to recover from my EXCITING Labor Day weekend (in which, just to clarify, no cats were eaten. I did get chased by one. There's a cat in our neighborhood who has NO FEAR of me and my sissy and chases us on our morning walk).

Jeez--does the flash have to be SO BRIGHT?


Oh my belly.


Just 10 more minutes sleeping, k?


But nothing perks me up like some vigorous ROACHING.





Is it time to EAT now?

The Fine Art of the Roach

My friend GooberStan asked me a very good question--why do I call this


roaching? Excellent question, my friend. I stole the term from the SUMDs (Skinny Ugly Mutant Dogs, I also stole that from them). You can see them roaching here. They are Extreme Roachers who like to walk on the wild side:



While I prefer a placid roachin' in a cornfield.


One of the first things I did when I was brought home from my rescue, after I tried to mount my sister Morgan and invited her to play, was flop on my back, throw my legs in the air and start gruntin'. I am assuming the SUMDs call this roaching because we do look like roaches when we do it. And given that my short legs have a hard time building enough momentum to roll me back to my stomach when I'm done, I can spend a fair amount of time like a roach on my back flailing wildly. Also, it is fun to say--ROOOOOOOOOOOACHIN!