And So It Begins

Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't see you there. I was too busy licking the squirrel entrials off my war-weary legs and, well, heinie. Yes, for those of you who have not heard the latest reports off the AP wire, the opening salvo of the Dog Squirrel War was fired this morning. As with many major conflicts, this initial skirmish didn't have clear winning and losing sides: I cornered the squirrel, got it in my mouth, shook it until I thought it was dazed, and then it went ahead and bit me on the nose. The carnage was something to behold, as were Anne-Marie's anguished cries of , "Suki! Suki! Stop it! Eph! EPHRAIM!" It's true, I walked away (ok, Anne-Marie played medic and carried me off the field) bleeding, but I think we all know that she who bites first bites hardest. I am declaring this a victory for caninekind. And for all of you out there who say that I am the aggressor, I'll have you know that this squirrel was on my property, and I was defending our hard-earned garbage from the onslaught of squirrel invasion. I sleep the sleep of the just this day.

Goodnight, and good luck, comrades.

I Don't Deserve This Kind of Shabby Treatment

This is precisely the kind of discrimination I fled when I moved to Canada.

You cut me, Bob. You cut me deep.

Dog Park Extravaganza!

There have been numerous requests for press photos from my latest gig at the dog park, so, to the little people out there, I say, “Voila!”

First of all, give me a treat. Seriously. Now. I’m wagging my tail, but that’s going to stop and the whupass is going to begin in a second.














For real, just give it to me. De-lish!

















Moving on, there has been some grumbling from Anne-Marie and Eph over the canine sanitation “situation” here in Toronto. Nothing has really changed for me (squat, poop, on my way), but there have been some not-so-veiled insinuations that picking up my excrement is not a desirable task. I believe Anne-Marie has deemed it, “really gross,” because I “ate some paper products a few days ago and am still expelling them through [my] rear end.” Be that as it may, I personally am totally fine with this system.

This is the piece of land I’ve requisitioned for myself in High Park. Conveniently, it came with a secretary. She is screening my calls there in the background. For Christmas, I shall reward her liberally with somewhat creepy licks on the leg.

This is how I normally greet squatters on my property. Justice is dealt swiftly, even to those who could, in Anne-Marie’s erroneous estimation, “eat me for breakfast.” Spare me.

After close inspection, this dog’s story checked out. I have hired him as my personal assistant and head of security.


When I’m not hiring and firing, I generally solicit treats from the spectators who have come to watch me kick some dog park butt. I’ve learned from my friend, Christopher Rubin, that it never hurts to ask for a treat. Also, if food is being handed out, just get in line and take a snack. People usually fork it over if you’re just standing there. Foolproof.

And yes, I climb trees for treats. I was falsely led to believe that there were more treats further up the trunk, and ended up high in the branches.

That was so uncool, guys. So. Un. Cool.