I've noticed a troubling dearth of dog blogging around here, and I've decided it's time I took matters into my own paws. My name is Saint Anthony the Abbot, pleased to meet you--you can call me Saint. I'm a Labrador Retriever and I live with the old dame who writes this blog. Let me tell you it's easier to type with hands than paws, so I expect she'll still be considerably more verbose than yours truly.
I've been living here since I was a small pup, and it's not a bad gig. When I was still with ma and my littermates I was led to believe I'd have to work for a living--hah! If they only knew. Both ma and pop were hunters; they'd never believe me if I told them I am well fed, I live inside the house, and I've got the run of the place in exchange for nothing more than making like a hot water bottle at the foot of the bed at night.
Nevertheless, having been raised with a strong work ethic I have taken it upon myself to provide security around here. Before I arrived this place had no security. Any stranger could walk into the yard, and no one was challenged when they came to the door. I know, I know, hard to believe, but as Rin Tin Tin is my witness, it's true. I keep an eye on things now, and I give a bit of a warning to strangers at the door. Nothing crass, mind you, no bared teeth or snarling--just a low growl in the throat that says "I've got you on my radar, buddy."
I keep an eye on the whole neighborhood, but I've got plenty of help. There's Winston, a Golden Retriever who lives in the house next to Ruth and Bob's. Ruth and Bob are the humans who live just across the back fence. Ruth's all right; she always throws me a few biscuits when she's working in the yard.
Winston's about nine months older than me but I've got a good ten pounds on him and I'm still growing. Winston's all right--he keeps an eye on the neighborhood, like me. I'd say he's my second best friend, after Jackson. Which reminds me, there's a kid who lives here too, and Jackson is a bulldog who lives with the kid's friend. You've seen pictures of me and Jackson. The kid's name is Mike, and he comes and goes, but when he's around it's a blast--he can throw a ball better than anyone. I think there's a pic of us here somewhere--ah, found it. That's about three months old; I'm a lot bigger now.
Anyway, where was I? Oh, my help in the neighborhood. There's a little bit of black fluff living on the other side of Ruth and Bob, but she's up in years and I've never heard her bark at anything--useless. There's another little bit of fluff across the street; a poodle named Macy. She's a cutey, and she's got spunk. She wants to play with me, as if she doesn't realize she isn't my size!
A couple of border collies do an excellent job of guarding the entrance to our cul-de-sac. Man are they alert--nothing gets by them. I admire that. There are supposedly two dogs living in the house next door, but I've never met either of them. They only get out on a leash a couple of times a day. That's gotta be a drag. The Pekinese might not mind it, but I'll bet it's tough on the Rottweiler.
I suppose I should mention the other two Labrador Retrievers that reside a couple houses over in the back. They're the same color I am, but that's where the similarity ends. They're English and boy, are they snooty. No respect for a working dog. They, too, only get out a couple of times a day, but it probably doesn't bother them at all. I've met them both, and they are so laid back it embarrasses me to say we're the same breed. Show dogs, hunh. Well I've got news, I may be a field lab, but this is one working class pup with a sweet gig.
By the way, I am not the first dog to blog, and far be it from me to fail to give credit where credit is due. It might never have occurred to me to put paw to keyboard had I not been reading over the shoulder of the old dame and seen the live journal of a beagle named Connery. I figure, if a beagle can do it, so can I.
Hey Saint of the East, this is your furfriend Saint of the West! I've never blogged personally, but I've put my two cents in at Connery's journal a time or two. You've got real style, man! I like your writing. Sounds like you've got a great bunch of pals in the neighborhood -- not like me. I know there's a Jack Russell in the complex behind me, but I never get to see him. There used to be a dachshund kiddycorner to me but he never did anything but complain about being outside day in and day out. Mymom thinks he must have been sent over the Bridge or given to someone who can take better care of him. I hope so; he always sounded so lonely.
You've obviously got a cushy job, Saint, almost as good as mine. Did yourmom give you a good Christmas present? I got a big fat marrowbone this morning. My housemate Poca got one too; I guess mymom figured it was only fair to give us each a present even though I told her it was okay to give me both of them.
We'll have to talk again sometime! Come visit and bring your ball! We could have a lot of fun together -- if nothing else, we could keep the humankind laughing every time they called for "Saint" and got both of us!
Saint of the West-- Good to hear from you pal, I've heard a lot about you. Yes indeed we could have some fun together; anyone who likes to chase a ball is all right.
Yeah I did make out like a bandit on Christmas day. I'll post a pic of me opening a gift that came from "grandma", wherever that is. It was loaded with good stuff like biscuits. But my favorite present came from the kid; it's a ball that bounces crazy cause it's got feet; I'll post a pic of that too--check it out.