Guest Blogger: Bailey Schmailey

In my benevolence, I have decreed that Schmailey will be the story-teller of our epic voyage to the dog park. He knows that, should he let me down, I will have no choice but to eat out of his dish for the rest of his stay in Toronto. Read on...





Hell-lo! While Suki, being the old dog that she is, is passed out under the coffee table, I will do some show and tell about the park. As with most walks, this is how our adventures begin:


















After an unventful walk down to the park, we settled in. I quickly made friends with my buddy, Bill. He's a pretty cool guy, but as with so many of my colleagues in the dog world, Bill proved to be fickle.







Bill! Biiiiiiiiiiiiill! Oh look, Cheerios! Hey everybody, there are snacks growing in this patch of grass over here!








Eph and Anne-Marie are cool, although not as cool as Kathy and Boberino (see my post below regarding the snacking issue). However, Eph did bring some treats to the park, which Suki and I appreciated.













Of all the ways that we've distinguished ourselves at the dog park, this one is definitely the best.













We're pretty much celebrities around there.

















Suki in one of her better moments.
















Dog park aftermath.

The Money Shot

My publicist recommends that I put out this photo. Some have accused me of having work done, but I think we all know that this face is free of Botox and plastic surgery.

S.O.S.

Boberino, Kathy, please come get me. It's not that I don't love the dog park, the squirrels, barking at my own reflection in the windows or the television, but Suki is one grumpy dog. If I go near her sitting on the couch or even if she's on MY bed, she growls at me! Seriously?! Growling at me from my own bed? We had some good times there on Zancada when you freezed us out of the cabin while you had a dinner party, but now it's like we're strangers. Also, the quantity and quality of snacks in Toronto is rather appalling. Eph's gone for the weekend, so there's not even a corn chip to be found on the floor. This morning I had to settle for hoovering up some mueslix. Oats? Really?! The only solace I find is creeping right onto Anne-Marie's pillow and settling in there while she sleeps...

Let's get something straight

My communications director (pictured at left), who has been woefully neglectful in recording my life and times, has an office mate from Monday through Thursday. Needless to say, blogging at work is discouraged, but she is free to post on Fridays, hence the flurry of information. Please be patient; I have docked her pay and curtailed her sleep immensely, but I'm still working on wearing down her spirit in the hopes of complete and utter compliance.

I'm with Stupid

There has been some talk among the lackeys (Anne-Marie and Eph) that I am "difficult" or "crazy" for not willingly succumbing to my Halti-collar before I take them on walks. However, I would like to point out the following and then open up the floor for comment:

I don't share dog beds in Toronto

What?

My Chauffer

Boberino, to whom I owe a debt of gratitude for taking me on dinghy rides to shore and for flying me around to my various estates, had a long trip up from Georgia to Toronto. I gave him the night off when we arrived at my Canandian condo.

I'm BAAAAACK!

Having rested and relaxed quite a bit over the past month and a half, I am now ready to resume my blog posts from Toronto. As we speak, my scribe is typing these short musings, but I will land in Toronto at about 6:00 p.m. from my international travels in the Bahamas, Georgia and the wilds of Birmingham, Alabama. Please stay tuned for pictures, accounts of my exploits, dead squirrel tallies (current score is Suki: 3, squirrels: 0), and invaluable pearls of wisdom.

Until tomorrow, my friends.

P.S. Kathy, that was so uncool of you to pack us into the plane and then stay behind. I know you just want to have the remote control all to yourself, but we could have sent Bob and Bailey off on their own!