Hey dawgs, it’s Ella the Pup here, checking in for my monthly guest blogging duties. Actually, you can hardly call me a pup anymore as I turn SIX months old on Friday and weigh in at a whopping six-and-a-half pounds. I barely even fit into my clothes anymore…
Speaking of clothes, I’ve heard some people accuse Mom of buying me too many outfits. I have no idea what they’re talking about.
I’d dress up even if she didn’t do it for me. I mean, sometimes I like to wear Dad’s discarded duds around the house just because.
A dog’s gotta keep warm in the cold, harsh, 60-degree San Francisco winters, after all.
I’ve been doing a lot of traveling of late. Just call me a pint-sized road warrior. From what they tell me, I get it honestly. First, I went to Half Moon Bay for the day. I strolled along Main Street leisurely, then got down and dirty on the beach with Mom and Katy while Dad and Matt played some ridiculously boring game where they whacked a ball with a club and tried to get it into this tiny hole. Child’s play. Why go to all that effort when I can pick the ball up for them, run it across the fairway and drop it into the cup in a fraction of the time it took them?
Next, it was to Sacramento for a weekend. I got to stay with my grandpeople and logged lots of QT with my favorite girl, Grammie.
That other Maltese in the picture? That’s my blood brother, Marley. The last time his person, Vanessa, and Mom got us together, we fought. This time was a little different.
We kissed and ran and tumbled and jumped and climbed things. It was the best! Day! Ever!
Being this small means it’s easy to be aerodynamic!
Marley’s pretty great, now that I decided I like him. Isn’t he cute? He kind of looks like me (though I’m prettier, obviously).
And he’s got more energy—who knew that was possible?
There were two other pups there, too—only they were quite a deal bigger than me and lacked the white mane. There was Kiva Pup. And Jack Pup. They’re fun—they play with me and hold me and give me lots of love. I need more pups like them in my life. I try to get Mom and Dad to play with me all day long, but they just sit in front of their computers for hours on end, never moving. Sigh.
Life’s ruff when you have to constantly rely on others because you’re too small to do things for yourself.
Two weeks later, it was over that big ol’ Bay Bridge again to Berkeley for Thanksgiving at my aunt Lisa’s and uncle Chris’s apartment. It was my first Thanksgiving. I didn’t get any giblets, but there were lots of people there to pet me and other dogs to chase.
And then we went to the park. Guys, I LOVE THE PARK.
Not to brag, but I run so fast—like the wind—that often my paws don’t even touch the ground.
I had a smile on my face alllll day long. Thanksgiving is the most fun holiday ever! (I know I say that a lot, but it’s true!) I sure hope Christmas is half this cool.
Then, just the other day, I went to this place called Tahoe. There was this white, slippery stuff all over the ground. I’m still not so sure about it, but I know I had some fun sliding about.
In other news, I finally woke Mom and Dad up at 6am on enough weekend mornings that they let me start sleeping in bed with the big kids. Suckas! Now, they have to drag me out of my sweet slumber come 10am each day. It was all a ploy, and they fell for it. (Insert evil puppy cackle.)
Oh! And my hair is getting super long, which means I got my first ponytail. I’m not too wild about it. I whip my hair back and forth to get that silly thing out. I prefer not seeing over being made a spectacle of.
As you read this, I’m most likely on my second cross-country plane ride, from San Francisco back to my roots, Tennessee, via Dallas. Mom has never flown with an animal before, so she said to send her some good vibes. Whatever, as if I’m ever anything but an angel. Who you really need to be praying for is ME: I go to the groomer for the first time tomorrow, and I hear it’s a pretty harrowing experience. Not as harrowing as that time last week when I ate a Nestle Crunch Bar and Mom and Dad didn’t realize it for 12 whole hours. Now THAT was one for the books (and a puppy’s rite of passage, they say)…