Hound Dog Preparations for Apocalypse 2011

Get ready! It's coming!

THE APOCALYPSE

Well, for the paranoid insane fatuous unhinged irrational overly prepared individuals  persons associates humans beings people in life, it's been coming for a while.

And for the equally, yet slightly disturbed folks, it might be a Zombie Apocalypse. But that is for another posting at another time. In the meanwhile, if you fit into this category, please refer to the documentary movie Zombieland for further preparation of zombie survival.

So, for those who might feel the Apocalypse coming around...here is some friendly hound advice on how to survive until you are either ready to join the rest of society in death or if you suffer some freaky anti-social anxiety that you like to deny and/or openly practice transference of irrationality upon others including family, friends, and fellow hounds.

Proper Apocalyptic Preparation

Pre-apocalyptic preparation is key to having a successful and fun tolerable comfortable time until your eminent death.  One may decide to curl up into a ball and just sleep until the time comes to kiss your hound arse good bye while others may want to fight the urge to give into what will no doubt be your demise.

If you so chose the later, I highly suggest the following items to help you semi-comfortably pass the hours or possibly days away until you go into an eternal slumber.

If drinking water is important to you, you may want to consider the WATERBOB.

Yes, you can turn your bathtub into freaky water well or instant waterbed with just the touch of a faucet and at least a few hours warning of unknown unpredicted water contamination.  Paranoid about a possible terrorist attack? This is the perfect gift to give your lesser related family members. After all, nothing says Happy Holidays like your very own 100 gallon bathtub liner equipped with a pumper that can be used to pump water or whatever else you see fit to pump throughout the house during the apocalypse.

Since I prefer the continuous flow from the toilet, I see this handy little gift being next year's Dirty Santa present.

Plus, I refuse to give up the one area of the house that I can claim as mine to stand in and howl with little protest.

Everyone knows the Deep South is known for it's wicked cold weather and many, many blizzards.  Before you freeze to death during the apocalypse, you may want to consider wrapping yourself in trash bags since they hold in your body heat.

Or, you can consider spending an extra $3.00 and purchase the incredible, bright orange HEATSHEET.

This dandy little blankie is very comfortable, especially when I try to move around. That crinkly noise is most soothing in realizing my demise is only around the corner.

The good news is, I have plenty of these as they pass them out at most marathons and runs. The bad news, most crazies psychics predict the apocalypse 2011 will come in the Summertime.

Beady Eyes refuses to cuddle in this and only wants to use her Snuggie...

Which makes more sense and appears a lot more comfortable than a cheap ass gift sheet of plastic.

Food supply should be your number one priority during the apocalypse.  Since it will not matter if you eat high fat, high calorie, and carbo loaded vittles, (you are going to die anyway, why not enjoy your last hours), I strongly suggest you eat whatever your heart desires.

My personal picks include...

However, you may also want to stock up on ...

and more...

The fact of the matter is, *IF* the apocalypse occurs this year, do you really want to survive it? Survivalism is over-rated if you are one of the few survivors. What amazes me is the number of paranoid schizophrenics people who have nothing else better to do than think about disasters and pending doom and gloom, all because their personal mental illnesses cause them to get very lonely while in solitary confinement.

Do yourself a favor...get a life before the apocalypse takes it from you.

The best days are those in which we can live a little, howl a lot, and take in as many belly rubs as possible.
Or as the writer C.S. Lewis would say...

"If we are going to be destroyed by an atomic bomb, let that bomb when it comes find us doing sensible and human things -- praying, working, teaching, reading, listening to music, bathing the children, playing tennis, chatting to our friends over a pint and a game of darts -- not huddled together like frightened sheep and thinking about bombs. They might break our bodies (a microbe can do that) but they need not dominate our minds."

Find a Home and a Hound for the Howlidays!

A dog is NOT the perfect gift under the tree. Us hounds require love, attention, care, and concern. The best possible furever home for us also needs to be one where we get medical care, preventive health care, and spade and/or neutering.

But for all this, we give something that most Christmas presents cannot give and that is devotion and unconditional love.

This year I have teamed up with someone else who helps others find homes...RealtySouth Shelby Listings.








Once you pick out the perfect home for you with the help from RealtySouth Shelby Listings, check out the following links for a perfect "fur"ever home for one of my buddies at:

Shelby Humane Society

Greater Birmingham Humane Society

Save Our Strays

If you love me, you will love some fellow "Basket" hounds at:

Basset Hound Rescue of Alabama

Always a good story at their own blog at the

Basset Hound Rescue of Alabama Blog

Various County and City Listings

Merry Christmas from The Basket Hound

and my Gorgeous Best Hound Furever

Bama Dawg

Check us out at the Helena Christmas Parade on Dec. 3rd, 1:30pm

Towel Pile Tuesday!!

The Laundry Bog Blog

(Where Laundry Makes Babies)

I was going to blog about this incredible package of Cesar Canine Cuisine but I gotted in trouble.  It arrived and my hooman placed it in her office area.  She then proceeded to go outside with the little hoomans. I came across it while I was exploring and my smeller picked up on the luscious scent of liver, beef, and bacon.  I attacked the box and when my hooman walked in, I had managed to scored an enitre bag of treats and was working on a Cesar Canine Dish.  So, not only did hooman say I was in trouble but she said it was meant for Beady Eyes to try, not me. 

Which brings me to the next topic...

The Laundry Bog aka The Laundry Monster aka My playground and instant napping station.  This week, hooman has been super busy with all these little projects. Which means she has taken very little time with me. On top of that, Beady Eyes is hanging out with her like the troll who lives under the bridge. I walk into the room and Beady Eyes appears out of nowhere, glaring at me. Since she filed that harassment report on me, she thinks she owns me! Not so true...see above paragraph for more info.

So, the laundry monster has grown. And when the laundry monster grows, I become fascinated with the various colors, textures, and yes, even smells (don't judge me). Which leads to the next issue. Do any of you other hounds enjoy the playground known as the laundry monster?  

I happen to know for a fact that my buddy, Trixie, enjoys the occasional nabbing of briefs here and there. How do I know?  Because my hooman found a pair of her little hooman's Nascar undies in my yard one time.

My hooman was a bit taken back by the find.

But I'm personally glad to see her behind in the laundry because it gives me a place to nap. I'm not complaining, have you been outside lately? It's cold for Dixieland.

Respect the Elderly, especially Beady Eyes

This is Beady Eyes. You may know her as my assistant, but to me, she is so much more.

I'm being very nice because Beady Eyes filed a harassment report on me because of "questionable" behavior-on my part.

"Apparently" my comments regarding her age, smell, gas issues, and nagging were seen as age discrimination. Would I really discriminate against Beady Eyes? Yes..  I mean NO, of course not. She cannot help she is older than the creation of false teeth (which she could use).

So I have had to go to sensitivity classes to learn how to appreciate my aged canine assistant. I have learned so much.  I have become a kinder, less opinionated Basset Hound.

Unfortunately, not everyone can appreciate the aging of my fellow kin and kindred.  However, and this is a big however...

There is one lady who I have come to know that not only loves my Grandmas and Grandpas, she has created a safe, loving haven for them.  The House of Puddles aka HOP.  The House of Puddles was established as a retirement home for aged Basset Hounds to be loved, cared, and spoiled until they cross the Rainbow Bridge.

My new appreciation of working with and loving the Canine Elderly has really been a blessing to this stubborn hound. I have more patience with Beady Eyes.

We can learn a lot from our aged. Their eyes have seen much more than us "youngins" and even if they cannot hear, see, or walk, and even if they have accidents (and blame them on this young gal), I have learned that my life would be incomplete without Beady Eyes and Princess Geritol, the other older lab mix I share with my hooman.

Check out House of Puddles. You will fall in love with these gorgeous Grandmaws and Grandpaws.

www.houseofpuddles.org

Good Help is Hard to Find

I hired a secretary. My hooman was spending way too much time with other things and was neglecting my blog, so I took resumes, did interviews, and hired a secretary.

My choices were: 1) A cat named Timmy, 2) A possum, and 3) Beady Eyes, the poodle mutt I share with my hooman.

After much serious little consideration, I hired Beady Eyes.

Little did I realize Beady Eyes was going to be difficult to train and have a bad attitude.

In orientation, I explained that every five minutes or so, she needed to remind me that I was a wonderful, beautiful creation. My self esteem therapist says it is necessary for me. Beady Eyes knew this when I offered her the job.  Instead what I got was... NAG NAG NAG and BACK TALK from her.

"Please shut up, Beady Eyes"

 I would say something and she would start with her yak yak yak. It was ridiculous.

Now I know Beady Eyes has been around for 84 years or 12 years, whatever, so I know she is old. But seriously, the dog smelled like a mixture of old creamed peas, rotten teeth, and arthritis cream. What I did not expect was her "gas" issue. She had death farts, FREQUENTLY!

I almost vomited!

"I'm gonna puke"

Then, I had to howl things at least 3 times before she could hear me! Beady Eyes needs a hearing aid, GasX, and a breath mint!

"Dear Lord, deliver me from this bad hire."

So here I am, trying to talk to her about simple hygiene and the importance of admiring me on a daily basis.  I don't think she was listening.

So I got louder.... 

And now she is accusing me of harassing her. She had filed a complaint with the hooman.

You know, if the hooman would have just dedicated more time to me and my blog, none of this would have happened. Beady Eyes is threatening to sue. Do you realize this could cost me a least 5 dog treats. I might even have to pawn my jeweled collar to pay legal expenses.

It's all the hooman's fault.

Stoooopid Hooman!

Revenge is mine!

And please get Beady Eyes a hearing aid.

Geeeezzzz....

Choosing the Perfect Assistant

Well, the responses to my "Help Wanted" ad have provided the following applicants:

1) A Cat named Timmy: Qualifications include the art of deception which could come in handy with the hooman, flexibility with paws and keyboards, and the ability to hiss back at the possum. Unfortunately, the cat feels that the weekly salary of 3 dog treats is substandard to what it is accustom to receiving in terms of salary.

2) A Possum:  I don't know nor care what it's name is. But according to the EEAC (Equal Employment Animal Control) I HAVE to consider all candidates who have applied. Therefore, I must place my prejudice aside and consider the possum. Qualifications: NONE   Well, that is not completely true. It does have the ability to work a computer with those little, sneaky hands.

3) Beady Eyes: Yes, Beady Eyes, the poodle terrier I share my hooman with has applied to be my assistant. According to the intelligence chart, poodles rank #2.  While I will not argue that, I will say that this is a dog who turns circles at least 20 times before she can poo. Surely, THAT is not a sign of intelligence.  Pros for hiring Beady Eyes include acceptable compensation, will not have to pay relocation costs, and she already knows my management style.






So, I interviewed today and have decided to hire Beady Eyes based on her qualifications and fulfillment of my needs as an assistant.

I will keep you updated on her progress.

Thank you to all 3 of you who applied and sent resumes.

Sincerely,
Abbie Basket Hound
CEO of Absolutely Nothing

Help Wanted: Secretary

Well, my life is busy. There is no possible way I can blog, nap, steal food, nap, eat, sleep, blog, eat, cruise counter, howl needlessly, eat, nap, and hate the possum outside.

My hooman is suppose to take up the slack in the area of my blogging, but lately she is working on a new project that has kept her very busy. Very, very busy.

Wanted: Secretary

Must be on call 24/7. Payment includes three treats a week. Must be intelligent. Must be proficient in word processing or at least know how to operate a keyboard. Must adore me or at least be willing to worship and/or honor me at least daily.  

All POSSUM applications will be rejected.

Abbie
The Basket Hound
Lover of Bacon
Blogger of Life

When I die, please bury me in Seattle

Hooman really loves me. Sometimes when she is cuddling with me, she will say, "Abbie, when I die, I want to be buried with you."  Sounds sweet, right? Howl no! That is called "Mutually Assured Destruction."  It doesn't take one and half hooman brains to figure out that my hooman is crazy as howl.

And quite honestly, I don't want to spend eternity in a box with HER anyway. She has bad breath in the morning. Yea, I said it.

Anyway, when I die, I want to be buried in or near 3207 California Ave SW, Seattle, Washington.

It is my heaven.

Some view Heaven as a place with mansions and gold streets.

Some view Heaven as the ultimate eternal nap complete with soft music and fluffy pillows.

My heaven will have one thing and one thing only, BACON!!!!

And someone wiser and more profound in theory has made my dream of BACON HEAVEN a reality.

See hoomans, when dogs die, all dogs go to Heaven. Don't believe me, have you not watched the documentary, ALL DOGS GO TO HEAVEN? Geez... anyway,

while you hoomans debate on what heaven is, my prophecy of eternal bliss has been fulfilled...

in the form of

THE SWINERY

Temple of Porcine Love

It is where I can lay down the burdens of everyday life and just feel the love and comfort of a covenant so powerful and fulfilled, that those who dare speak ill of it will be struck by lightening!!!

Please do not dare commit my earthly remains to the Coon Dog Cemetary.  I know my pal, Judy, speaks volumes of it...

but hooman please, if there is one bit of happiness that you would want for me, your beloved Basket Hound, it shall be always and forever... within sniffing distance of The Swinery. 

There, I said it. Now go in Peace to love and serve the Lord. Amen!

And, please lay me down for eternity near the heavenly place of meat candy. 

I've already picked out a box and I'm ready to go...

Where have I been?

Well, it's true. I have been MIA in the blogging scene for a while.

Let me explain. It's all the hooman's fault.

She has been blah blah blah blah blah. Oh, who cares. She has just been lacking in the secretarial department for me. I would fire her but since we live together and all, I have tried to be patient with her.

See, my world has been turned upside down lately people.

For starters, hooman and the old man RIPPED UP MY CARPET!! Do you people realize that was the ultimate back scratcher for me?

They placed hardwood floors which means I have been taking unforeseen, uninvited, and uncomfortable ice skating lessons across the house. If I slide one more time into the foot of the bed, serious bassety repercussions will take place.

I am still not fully recovered from the CHAIR INCIDENT  of 2009.

Then Summer Heat Wave '10 hit. I don't care if you are hound or hooman, this heat wave has been killer.  And the hooman expects me to go out and take care of business, regardless of the temperature. I mean, flies start following my butt the moment I walk out.  That was probably too much information. It's hot, hounds.

And don't even think for one second I can get away with a little accident. NOOOOOO, Mr. Hardwood is not like Mr. Carpet. Mr. Hardwood tells on me immediately and hooman freaks out.  Which brings me to my newest enemy, Mr. Swiffer Mop.  Just the thought of squatting gives me more guilt than a Catholic before confession.

But the ultimate insult of the year was when the hooman did not take me to BARKWORLD in Atlanta. Do you now how excited I was to go? Do you know disappointed I am to not have gone?

Life for me has been so dadgum boring lately I almost made friends with the possum. Almost!

But I am back. Let's see if my hooman can get it together. In the meanwhile,  did I mention I won 3rd place in the Annual Basset Hound Bash Wiener Toss?

GUESS WHERE I AM GOING!!!!

Public Service Announcement: READ TO YOUR HUMANS!!!

Dear Hounds,

I cannot tell you stress to you enough of the importance of reading to your humans. There are SO MANY benefits that come from a simple daily read.  Once you establish a pattern, you will find your human's imagination soar and their intelligence rise significantly.

You need not start off reading War and Peace to them, a simple poem, illustrated book, or small news article will suffice until your human gains the understanding of larger, more complex issues.  In fact, before you know it, your human may gain the intelligence enough to read on their own or even write a blog.

So please, READ TO YOUR HUMAN and often!

A human mind is a terrible thing to waste!

Love, Abbie

Midnight Sonnet for my Human.

(Howled to the tune of Memory, from the musical CATS)

Daylight

I make dew on the weed flowers

And arose and I'm swaying

Noses smelling the day

Like the scents

I yearn to turn my face to the dawn

I am waiting for the day . . .

Midnight

There's my sound from the pavement

Has my human lost her memory?

She is grinding her teeth

In the lamplight

The humans stomps at her feet

And the hound begins to moan

Memory

All alone in the moonlight

I can howl really loudly

I was beautiful then

Human remembers the time of silence

Let the memory live again

Every critter

Seems to howl a loud warning

And the poodle mutters

And the doghouse is cluttered

And soon it will be morning

Daylight

I must wait for the sunrise

I must think of my loud howls

And I musn't give in

When the dawn comes

Tonight will be a memory too

And a new day will begin

Burnt out earplugs of human

The cold sound of my snoring

The moon is gone, I'm lazy

Another day is dawning

Touch me

It's so easy to leave me

All alone cause I'm snoring

In my days in the sun

If you touch me

You'll understand what crankiness is

Look

A new day has begun

Guest Blogger: My Human! Dogs: Blessed are the Peacemakers

Abbie has generously allowed me to guest blog tonight. Thanks Abbie! Now please get off my lap so I can type!

Dogs: Blessed are the Peacemakers

(Inspired by Dogingham and her Black Bean Burger at Rojo's on Highland)

In 1989, I moved to Highland Avenue in Birmingham. I was 19 years old and ready to take on the world.  I moved into a small apartment complex located off Hanover Circle.  I had no fear of living by myself although my mother certainly did her best to instill some fear in me with random statistics of the dangers of living in an Urban area. She failed miserably. Those were incredible years of my life.

I worked fulltime for a marketing firm while trying to figure out what I wanted to do with my life. For a non-degreed, non-trained 19 year old, my job paid the rent, utilities (most months) and gave me enough money to purchase ramen noodles and the occasional beer (or Boones Farm), sold to me by a very unattentive clerk at the Western Supermarket.  I guess I looked two years older or she was simply tired to ask for ID.

The apartment complex was filled with every kind of person I had never been exposed too.  My neighbor, Mr. Mendelstien, was an elderly, Jewish widower. As I was moving my coffee table (made from a old barrel) and my sofa, compliments of the thrift store, into my apartment, he asked me if I was going to play that rock music.  I smiled. He almost passed out when he saw the contents of my aquarium contained a small garden snake.

My neighbor upstairs was a medical student who worked part time at a research lab. His job was to take fecal samples from different cats at the lab and test them for contents. He was a brillant guy who had a crappy job. (pun intended)  I wonder where he is today and can only hope and imagine that his job is much more fulfilling.

All and all, the residents in that small complex were black and white, straight and gay, American nationalists or visiting foreigners.  We came from all backgrounds, places, and experiences.  We were different in religious or philosophical thought, cultural influences, etc.   Like snowflakes, no two humans are alike, but the one thing that united us together: OUR DOGS!

We ALL had a dog (or two, or three).

When you have a dog and you live in a small Urban area, you are forced to walk beyond the front door, into a world of grassy areas, sidewalks, and cultural differences.

I had a small poodle that I had inherited from my beloved Grandfather. Bebe was a round, yappy ball of white fluff. She was spoiled. Her world had been completely turned upside down when my Grandfather died.  My world had been completely turned upside down when I decided to leave suburban East side to live on my own.  We had a lot in common. We knew this was our chance to start a new life.

My favorite time of the year was (and still is) April through September.   The days were longer and the afternoon walks were perfect ways to end the day with Bebe.  It was through these walks that I met my neighbors.  When I would walk Bebe along Highland Avenue, life just seemed right.  I would smile at other dog owners and they would smile at me. Truly peace does begin with a smile.

I learned that Bebe was not picky about who she would approach, be it a Lab, Greyhound, Corgi, or Heinz 57.  She seemed to like them all.  I found that her genuine friendly attitude was something I could simply not avoid.  She opened up my heart and mind, one simple yap or butt smelling at a time. No, I didn't practice her greeting method, a wave with my hand usually produced the same results.  Rhodes Park was a haven for friendship building.  Once our routine was established, Bebe realized that she could freely run with the big dogs, while I laughed with my new friends.

We can learn a lot from dogs. I learned that if I stepped out beyond my front door, my dog would lead my heart and help me build relationships that formed a lasting foundation of how I see people. 

There is no difference in ourselves or each other that should prevent us from accepting each other and being friends.

Dogs: Blessed are the Peacemakers

Now, if Abbie will allow me to guest blog again, I have some awesome stories to share in the future.

The world needs happy.

The world needs happy.  My human told me that tonight.  We were sitting around, she adoring me, as usual, when the news came on. She watched it, I watched her and she looked at me and said, "The world needs happy."  I guess my human was hit with a moment of clarity.

I wagged my tail.  She looked at me and said, "That a girl, be happy."  I translated that to be, "Abbie, I will get you a treat."  She didn't.

But I still wagged my tail.  It is instinctive.  I don't know why I wag my tail.  I just do. 

Sometimes I do it when I am laying in the sun, doing nothing.
Sometimes I do it when I see a stranger.
Sometimes I do it just because...

I have no reason.

People, you really need to be more like me and my hounds.  Just wag your tail sometimes.

It doesn't hurt.

Try it.
Oh, you know you want too.
Because...
The World Needs Happy.

I demand an endorsement fee...

Once again my human is pimpin' me out to the public. Don't say I blame her, heck I know cute when I see it and bacon...errrr  I mean I am cute.

Check out her latest pimpin' project.

http://birminghammomonline.net/2010/02/happy-feet-carpet-a-fight-to-the-finish/

I think you hounds need to hear my side of the story.



First of all,  this is MY HOUSE... MY HOUSE.  I say who can come in and who can clean up after ME!!!  This huge Ninja thingie came in MY HOUSE and literally SUCKED!!!!  I mean really SUCKED up my pet hair, my food spills, and my...ummmmm...proclivities.

It was terrible. I mean, I'm a hound dog and I could not even track MY OWN scent! It smelled like fruit in here. It was too clean. I thought I was at some other hounds house... or even a *gasp* cat's house. It was not like MY house!!! When I was "allowed" to come back in the house, the human actually placed towels in front of the back door. WHAT? HUMAN, you NEVER had a problem with me coming in from the backyard with muddy paws before. Ridiculous.

Oh, and here is the biggie... I GET the blame for the geratric animals.  Ummm, excuse me...but Princess Geritol, who SHEDS worse than I do has the geratric bladder-NOT ME. I don't care if you never see it, I'm just sayin' that she is the OLD one, not me.

Oh, and then there is Phyllis Diller, I mean, Phoebe the Beady Eyed One! She is not so innocent. I guarantee that she sheds and pees when you are not looking. I can't prove it but I will ONE DAY, then you will see that I am the innocent one here, I am not the criminal,  I'M THE VICTIM!

So, human, bring in your Happy Feet Magician and his fancy Ninja 7 Million, I don't care. I have plans of mine own. I need some happy paws.

In the meanwhile, take these goofy shoes off of Beady Eyes, she looks stupid.

This ain't right!!

Every once and a while, something strange happens among our canine friends. It is a serious problem and we hounds MUST GET THE WORD out. 

I'm not talking about the peeing in the floor issue.
I'm not talking about the snatch, grab and run food issue.
I'm not even talking about the gaseous incidents the humans blame on us.

I'm talking about the Canine/Feline issue.

Hounds beware, the feline MUST not be trusted.  Be it Chihuahua, Lab, Poodle or Heinz 57, YOU ARE NOT SAFE!!! The feline will seduce you with ways in which you never realized what happened to you until it is too late.

Remember Obie? The Tim Tebow of the dog world. Good looking, debonair, and classy...well, it happened to him

So remember, Hounds don't let Hounds become friends with felines.
It's not normal!

Oh, and never, never, never trust a

NO potty mouth, please...

My human had an epiphany over a month ago. She decided that if she or others HAD to use vulgarity or profanity to express themselves, she or they had little to say in terms of intelligent comment. I don't blame her, I mean to refer to me as a (b) itch would be lingustically correct, however to refer to herself or her friends in that manner would be just... not nice, self depreciating, and something that would make her 95 year old grandmother shame her. So she made a resolution to not go "there" in terms of profanity.  I appreciate that. Kinda.

But she has really gotten carried away with the whole anti-potty mouth campaign around the house. Little did I know that this included the potty.  I mean really, the real, get me some water now white water goddess that sits and waits for me to indulge myself is now, off limits.   I honestly have no problem if human slips up and says an explicit when she nails her fingers on the wall or stumps her toe in the door facing, but to completely ban potty mouth has totally stepped over in my territory. This means I no longer have access to the porcelain bowl of aqua. Nope.  I literally have to hunt her down if my stainless steel water bowl appears to be even in the least bit set on the low flow option. I have little patience for this. It's not bad enough that geriatric Princess Geritol consumed the entire bowl in one huge, messy slurp but then Beady Eyes subjects her furry little beast like head into the side with nary a gulp, and the water is gone.

So, I am in quite the dismay over the banned potty mouth and lack of sufficient hydration necessary to keep me up and howling at 3:00am for my romp around the backyard.

Really, human...I'm watching you and one slip up of the potty mouth ban and it's game over for you and your oral moral cause.

LOVE LOVE LOVE it's in the air...

Now that love needs to be in my tummy!  Seriously humans, if you love your Hounds, you will share the love but please, do not feed us chocolate. Chocolate makes our tummies feel really bad and can be very deadly to some of us. But click this link...

I CAN EAT THIS AND NOT GET SICK!!!

Seriously, human told me and I believe her.

 After all, if she feeds me something really bad, guess who cleans it up.... 

nope, that will not even touch it!

So, call upon the Basset Fairy...

She has been known to grant special wishes to you!

I'm proud of my new exercise program.

Check out these cool moves in my new fitness program.

I can dream about it all the time.