Since JJ joined her/our forever home in December, we’ve wondered how she kept her svelte shape. Theories circulated the neighborhood:
She never stops moving, particularly when she first arrived. She seemed like the poster K9 for First Lady Obama’s Let’s Move Campaign!
Mom watched how she digested her new kibble and slowly integrated tidbits of veggies and fruit. (We are her Kitchen K9s after all!)
Some thought I, Jet, the Gentleman, purloined (vocabulary builder) her food and dental treats when Mom could not see. (The nerve! In truth, the opposite is true, ok, not really, we’re even Steven, Mom insists upon fairness!)
JJ maintains a spectacularly regular elimination regimen. Fiber? Not for this girl!
Maybe her appetite did not fit the typical Golden (I love EVERYTHING) or K9 (we sniff, we taste, we inhale!) patterns.
The secret escaped this weekend. JJ participates in the Antarctica Shiver Diet. Never hear of it? The basics go like this:
Watch for dark clouds.
When you hear booms or streaky lights, she begins to shiver like a scientist in Antarctica.
Add pacing for the duration of inclement weather, including rain minus the booms and streaky lights.
If she wore a shiver-ometer, which measures energy burned from severe shivering, her calorie count would go negative.
Now, I’m not one to judge, because you know how I feel and behave with booms and streaky lights. I wanted to share the situation in case you had an interest in following this diet regimen. Mom would like you to know that she’s open to shiver protection suggestions.
Another great except for the shivers, day.
P.S. Mom hopes tonight’s weather will ease, since the nighttime pacing includes pacing on Mom’s bed, whether Mom’s in it or not!
Sure, Scooby Doo Academy gives classes to improve my detecting skills, but did you know they also encourage enrollment in etiquette classes? Yup, I’m doing an Independent Study “On Being a Gentleman.” I have to collect data to present and Mom graciously agreed to type my submission. Here’s what I have so far.
Mom places Mary Ann’s morning newspaper on her pillar so she doesn’t have to walk down the driveway each morning per my instructions.
When we go for a pack walk, I sit gentlemanly-like on Dixie’s and/or Neve’s front stoop.
I play nicely with other K-9s (if they have good attitudes).
I ask Mom to scoop the poop, to show we’re good neighbors.
I sit down and stay quiet as Mom requests before scarfing down my meals.
When Giovanni puts the window down in his car, I carefully place my two front paws so as not to scratch anything so we can exchange manly man conversation.
I offer either or both paws to humans who ask. (I’m ambidextrous.)
I do not pass “wind” like some K-9s (ahem, my sister, Koko, even though I would take her f_rting (see, too gentlemanly to write the word) any day if it meant she was still alive.)
At the dog park, I’m friendly to all… Mom calls me the “Mayor”.
I politely wish Patches a good night when passing her fence. (See Patches).
I wait for a human invitation to enter Dixie or Neve or Samson’s backyards.
I lift my left front paw gently to help Mom harness me up for my walks.
I rarely snore, unlike some K-9s (like my sister, Koko, even though I would take her snoring any day if it meant she was still alive.)
I help Mom clean the dishes in the dishwasher, particularly the thing she calls the George Forman fat tray.
Oh, I will have to politely (see another gentlemanly thing) request that Mom email this list to the academy; it’s longer than I expected. I’m quite the gentleman if I don’t say so myself! I should definitely earn the coveted “S” (Scooby Spectacular) for the first submission of my Independent Study!