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All Our Children Meow and Woof

I created this blog to sort through my emotions as Finnegan, a great Irish Wolfhound, fought bone cancer for nearly 26 months. Fortunately, his battle subsided for many months and during the course of the 26 months, I shared stories about his feline siblings. On August 8, 2008, Finny passed on in my husband's and my arms. He fought the good fight and he will always have a special place in my heart. *If you have a question, please write me at finnegandog at gmail dot com.*

Friday, June 01, 2007

Normalness

Yes, I enjoy making up words. I'm a deep thoughtful Irish Wolfhound who is always thinking. Thinking about my next nap, my next treat, my next meal, my next pet. Yes, those thoughts consume my days and nights.

Finally, the humans have finished their STUPID project that left me seriously neglected. I am now the center of attention. Actually, maybe more than center as I take up most of the space wherever I lounge. It has been pretty hot out here and as you great big dogs know, we are not the most efficient creatures at cooling down. It takes a whole hell of a lot of panting to cool down 150 pounds of dog. That is where my servant, I mean Mom, comes into play. Her extremely important responsibility is to keep me cool and comfortable. (And fed. And loved.) This entails feeding me trays of ice cubes. Yes, that is right, trays. I have a unique way of chewing these fine cooling devices. Basically, I take the ice cube, tilt my head back, and chomp the ice in the corner of my mouth where my MASSIVE molars live. Usually, I few small pieces slip out. If I am lucky, they land on my remaining front leg (See. That was the sympathy card I just played.) and that cooling device called ice melts and cools me. If I am not so lucky and for some reason, Mommy does not appreciate this, the ice melts on the wooden floor and leaves little lakes throughout the living room. Not my problem. I am cool and relaxed at this point.

So far, my Public Service Announcement has worked and there have been no explosions; however, I have heard rumours of electrical explosions in the sky where there is a bright light and then a BOOM. Mommy has told me that those types of explosions cannot be stopped even with a stern letter by yours truly. I'm thinking a nice glass of Irish whiskey might be in order to help me cope. And a valium. And ear plugs. And a nice well stocked bunker approximately 1,000 feet below ground.

4 Comments:

Blogger Sophie Brador said...

Finnegan, You can always play the sympathy card with me. I think you're lovely!

9:58 AM  
Blogger Jackson said...

I like chasing ice cubes around the floor and then leaving puddles of water for J1 & J2 to slip over and nearly break their necks! J x

10:45 AM  
Blogger WinstonBerry said...

Hi Finnegan!
Thanks for adding me to you link list! I'm glad the stopped the explosions, at least for now! Have a great weekend!
Smooches! :-)

4:35 PM  
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