Bent Tree and Broken Bulbs (Ah, Christmas!)

Wow guys, I finally got it done.
I went out to the tree farm, cut down my own Christmas tree, tied it to the top of my car, drove it back to my place, put it in a stand full of water and decorated that sucker.
OK, no I didn't.
I had some strong man at the Christmas tree farm tie it to my truck. Some other strong friend of mine took it down off my car. I didn't decorate it by myself either. I had help. Snuggle came over and insisted that he hang all the bulbs, even the fancy, hand-decorated ones. He got out a handful of those little green hanger thing-ys, hooked eleven of those big, flashy bulbs and climbed up on a step stool and started hanging them.

ALL IN ONE PLACE.
I had to tell him to spread them out a little bit. Hang them on different branches. Not pile them up in the middle like a collection of marbles. He tried. He moved a few right and a few left and then this is when things really got funny. You know how Snuggle is made of squishy, fluffy, soft cotton? You know how this squishy, fluffy soft cotton is curly?  Well...
Snuggle was reaching way, way up to the top of the tree to hang a big, shiny gold bulb when his belly fur got tangled in one of the branches. All I heard was a squeak, a grunt, a rustle, then silence.  I turned around to see the tree falling over with Snuggle attached to the front of it. I ran over and tried to help the little guy by catching him, or, er, um, catching the tree but it basically just made a Christmas pancake out of both of us. Once we disentangled ourselves from the pine branches (Snuggle became bare chested in the process), we managed to push the tree back up, although, it never made it back up to its full height. It kinda leans now. OK, it REALLY leans now. We basically have a arch for a Christmas tree. It looks silly. (Not as silly as Snuggle though!)
But you know what?
It's OK. You know how I told you in the beginning that I brought home the tree by myself? Decorated it by myself? You know how you soon discovered that wasn't really what happened? Well, it's true. You know now I had help.  Maybe Snuggle's help wasn't always, uh, help-ful, but it was nice to be with him and to work on the tree together. Isn't that what makes the holidays special? Being with someone you love? Making memories? Breaking bulbs and bending trees together? I think so. With Snuggle by my side, the apple cider tastes sweeter, the bulbs burn brighter, the pine smells fresher and well, the tree bends to the right and is missing a few branches, but I wouldn't have it any other way. I would rather have a few broken bulbs and a bent tree with Snuggle, then a perfect tree and no Snuggle. Now, if you'll get excuse me, I have to go stop Snuggle from burning the Christmas cookies. He just put the cookie dough in the oven. I mean, IN the oven. No baking tray.
SNUGGLE!!!!!!!
Have a love filled holiday season and be good to each other.

Love,
Boofle
XO

Boofle's Sleepless Slumber Party!

I just got back from an old fashioned slumber party.  You know the type where you bring your sleeping bag and sleep over at a friend's house? Well, let me start by saying I don't know why they call it a slumber party. Nobody gets any slumber. At least nobody did at the one I went to. Except for Snuggle the Teddy Bear.
You know him, right?

He slept the whole time.  Missed the movie, popcorn, games, gossip, everything.  I think he was tired. His mom makes him do a lot of fabric softener commercials and his schedule is grueling. He collapsed on the couch after eating one piece of pizza and starting snoring like a grizzly.  The rest of us stayed up all night though. We played all kinds of games - Hide and Sniff, Name That Howl, and one where we sat in a circle and spun a bottle around. When the bottle stopped spinning, whoever it pointed at had to kiss the person spinning the bottle.  I got kissed so many times my lips hurt. I heard I am a good kisser, but this was ridiculous. I suspect the game was rigged.
Anyway, after all that kissing we put our mouths to more good use by exchanging lots of juicy gossip. You know the kind, right? Well, maybe you don't. Keep in mind these were my friends, so we discussed the latest and greatest as we see it-- who's been featured on the most greeting cards, where the best pee spots are in town, who's eating cheap kibble, which groomers do the best job cleaning the anal glands. Oh, and we also talked into the wee hours of the morning about the latest love matches. I was a topic of that discussion, since, as you know, I recently fell in love. I had to answer a lot of questions and while I am a humble soul, I have to admit it was nice to hear my friends panting over my amazing love life.
After we finally calmed down, we lay in our sleeping bags and watched 101 Dalmatians. I love those crazy hounds and how they get the best of Cruella. Makes me wish I had spots! The only spots I have are the yellow ones I leave around town on people's lawns. But then again, I like myself just the way I am, especially when I go to the groomers and they put one of those cool little rubber-band bows right on my collar. The last one I got had soccer balls on it. I don't play soccer, but it was red and black and looked cool. It tasted good, too.
Anyway, I'm a bit sleepy today because, like I said, I didn't do any actual slumbering last night, but I feel great. I still have enough energy to write this blog, don't I? I sure do! I wouldn't miss it! I want to let all of you know what I am up to, plus I am the type that can fall asleep at the drop of a biscuit, so I'm not worried; I'll get my rest eventually. All I have to do is close my eyes and -- zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
WE'RE SORRY. BOOFLE HAS FALLEN ASLEEP. HE'LL BE BACK SOON WITH MORE ADVENTURES. UNTIL THEN, MAY YOU GET PLENTY OF REST (AND KISSES)!

Boofle Enjoys Live Music

I got out to see some live music the other day.

It was amazing. There was this long-haired woman playing the guitar at a coffee shop and I just sat there, leaning against the sugar container, tapping my toe, and humming along. I really love the sound of the guitar. Kind of always wanted to play, but I can't. It's not that I'm not musical. I can howl out a tune like nobody's business when a fire truck goes by. It's just that I don't have fingers. I have paws. Paws are great for running, digging up flowers, and making muddy footprints on couches, but not so good for plucking an ol' six stringer.  My mother, Beatrice, played the piano.  She couldn't play individual notes, but she could stomp out a mean blues riff, four or five notes at a time.  The cool thing about the blues is that you can play almost any note you want--doesn't really matter how it sounds--and people will still love it, as long as you bob your head with your eyes closed and sing about how crappy your love life is.
This woman I watched didn't play the blues.
She played folk.

Folk is like blues only without all the catchy riffs. She sat at the front of the coffee shop on a stool, hunched over a big, golden-brown Taylor guitar, her dark hair dangling down across her shoulders. When she played, she looked like she was transported to another place in time. Her face glowed and her eyes glazed over like she was remembering something wonderful from the past. My eyes do that sometimes. Usually, it's when I smell raw beef. Or a female poodle. Anyway, her songs were kind of sad, but not in a "Bummer, I'm all out of dog food" kind of way. Just mellow. Nostalgic. She had a low voice and I just leaned back on the sugar container up on that narrow table and let that pretty folk music wash over me. Actually, it was coffee that washed over me. Somebody bumped the table and sent a grande Carmel Macchiato spilling down my chest. It was hot, really hot, and it made a big ugly brown mark on my sweater, but I was pretty sure the stain would go away if I rolled around on a wet lawn long enough so I didn't let it ruin my night. I just sat there with my eyes closed, enjoying the mellow pluck and strum of her guitar and the low, soothing caress of her voice and tried not to notice the coffee pooling in my crotch.
Later that evening, after she was done playing, I watched her teach this little seven year old girl how to play a few chords. It was cute. The girl had never played before and this folk singer took her time

showing her how to play two classic folk chords--A minor and E minor. She kept positing the little girl's fingers on the neck of the guitar and helping her strum. Eventually, the little girl got it and she could play the chords. Not fast or anything, but she could play them. Every once in awhile the chords would make a buzzing
sound and the folk singer would tell the little girl that she wasn't pushing down on the strings hard enough or that her fingers weren't all the way in the frets. The girl would re-position her fingers, her nose wrinkled with determination, until the buzzing went away. The folk singer would beam as the chords rang out. My chest was still burning from the coffee, but now it was burning for another reason; The heart inside it was warm from seeing the bond that music can create between people. They say it is the universal language of love. I understood why in that moment. Music moves. It connects. It transports. It changes the look in your eyes and makes your toes move. It can give you the chills, warm you on a cold night and make you smile.
Too bad it can't get coffee out of a sweater.

Well, my friends, let music transport you somewhere today, won't you?
Until I see you again...

Love and Harmony,
Boofle

Boofle the "Foodie"

Most people have no idea what I like to eat.
In fact, most people think I don't eat. They say, "Oh Boofle doesn't eat anything. He is only a stuffed dog!"
Wrong.
Well, half wrong.
I am a dog. But I am not quite sure what they mean by "stuffed"? How can I be "stuffed" if I don't eat?
Anyway, I DO eat.
In fact, I love to eat.
I guess I am what you call a "foodie."
A foodie is someone who likes to try different foods and really gets into their texture, flavor and consistency. They like to rate foods on scales of 1 to 10. They like to savor flavors, swirl beverages around in their mouths and nibble on fine delicacies. They sniff and lick.
I like to sniff and lick. It's not usually food, but I am a very good sniffer and licker! I have to admit, I don't do the mouth swirling thing very well. My tongue gets in the way and I usually just end up drooling all over myself. I can rate foods though! I once had this older woman outside of Walmart offer me a handful of Dog Chow. I felt bad saying no, so I took one kibble and then spit it out on to the pavement as I walked away. Some crow swooped down and gobbled it up. Poor thing. I would rate that kibble as a NEGATIVE 100. Yuck!

This other time, I was hiding under a table at an Italian cafe and a scrap of chicken fell right into my lap. I swear this chicken tasted like filet mignon. It.It was moist and delicious and tender and I almost fell into a trance right there under the table. The two ladies who were enjoying dinner above me didn't see me, but one accidentally kicked me and it brought me out of my food haze. Thank God she was wearing Adidas running shoes and not cowboy boots or she would have broken my rib. Anyway, that chicken I would rate a 10. I would give it more points, but foodies know you have to stick to the rating scale of 1 through 10. Unless you're eating day old kibble out of a woman's hand outside of Walmart.

As a foodie, I enjoy foods from a variety of cultures. My favorite is Mexican food. I love how you can just wrap a tortilla around cheese and beans and rice and then give it a different name depending on how you fold it. It's all good to me. I carry around a little tiny jar of Cholula just in case I run into a taco stand I can't resist.


I also like Thai food.  Pad Thai is my favorite. I usually get it with chicken, but I also like the shrimp.  The only probably with the shrimp is that if you don't finish it all and take it to go, it doesn't taste as good the next day. It seems to get "fishier" over night.  One morning I had leftover Shrimp Pad Thai and I swear it smelled like I had just scraped it out of the bottom of a ancient fishing boat. It was pretty stinky. It smelled a little bit like Fluffy's breath. She's the cat who lives next door to me who eats tuna for breakfast.

I also like Italian food, but I am not really into pasta.  I mainly go for the wine and the tapas. I am not exactly sure what the word "tapas" means but I think it means "YUMMY." It's the food you get before you get your food. You know, like hors d'oeuvres? I love how you have food before you have food. I wonder what kind of wine they serve before the wine? Maybe I should ask the next time I am at an Italian restaurant.

Well, I better go. I have a reservation at a fancy restaurant tonight. Hot date. There's going to be live music, candles, wooden tables and these great big crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. If I have too much wine, you may find me swinging from one!  Woohooooooooooooooooooooo! Look at me! I'm Booooooooofle the Foooooooodie! 

Eat up my friends!

Love,
Boofle

Lovesick

Sorry folks, I know I have been a little bit off the radar. I've been sick. 

No! Don't worry. Not the measles or anything. 
I steered clear of that even though I WAS at Disneyland when the whole Measles thing was going around. I was there visiting Goofy, a long time friend of mine. He hasn't gotten the measles either, thankfully, but he does get a bad case of the giggles sometimes. 
It isn't the measles or the flu bug that got me.
It's the LOVE BUG! I'm lovesick! I told you in an earlier blog that I met someone on my vacation.Well, we are still going strong. Or steady. Or out. Or together. What is it you humans call it?Anyway, we are head over paws in love. We're both LOVESICK.

And it feels good to be sick!


Doesn't that sound funny? To say being sick feels good? I bet that would make Goofy laugh. In fact, I know it would. He would laugh so hard that his belly would shake and his eyes would water. Then he would have a hard time seeing his way around Disneyland and that could be dangerous. One time, he giggled his way right off the sidewalk and into the lake near Frontierland.  The riverboat would have run him over, but Minnie jumped in and fished him out. She wasn't happy about it. She doesn't like getting her hair wet and she had water in one ear for a week.
I know it sounds funny, but it's true. It feels good to be sick!
Being sick in love is not like having the measles. I mean, even though you do feel kind of hot, sometimes you get the chills, and you don't always sleep well at night---there is no pain or itchiness. Well, I guess there can be itchiness. When I went to Disneyland to visit Goofy, I stayed in this cheap hotel near the park instead of at the Disneland hotel, and I came down with a bad case of the bed bugs. Wow, was that itchy! But this is in NO WAY related to my new love. My new love doesn't make me itch, except if you count when I am 'itching to see her!' My new love makes me feel INCREDIBLE. She's sweet, adorable, fun and we have so much in common. We both consider ourselves very blessed! We don't say we feel 'lucky' because we don't believe in luck.Why don't we believe in luck?  Is it because we believe in destiny? Fate? True love? In 'meant to be'? Yes, but it is also because we have done a lot of lottery Scratchers together and we never win.

So...my lovely friends and followers, I apologize if my postings here are going to be sporadic. I will do my best to check in with you as much as I can, but please excuse me if I don't write something as often as I would like. It doesn't mean I don't think of you or appreciate you. I do want you to be able to keep up on your favorite Boofle adventures. Just please bear with me while I am sick. OK, maybe not 'bear' with me - I am a canine after all--maybe I should I say we're just going to have to 'dog' it out? Oh, I don't know, I can't think straight. I'm sick remember?

Until next time, my friends, may your step be light and your only sickness be love sickness!

Love,

Boofle

Love is...

I'm back from vacation.

And I'm in love.

My cards and letters to all of you may be slightly delayed, but don't worry my friends, they will get to you. It's just that, well, I'm a bit distracted right now. Lovesick. Head over hind legs. Ka-bowzers.
When I fall in love, I fall hard. I mean like a doberman on a wet sidewalk or a Great Dane at an ice-rink or a Scottish Wolfhound on linoleum. You see, I met the nicest little friend on my vacation to Santa Barbara and we really hit it off. I met her near a pond that had plenty of fish and a great view of the park. She likes the same things I do - meat, fresh grass under paw, stray cats, open fences, postal workers and that stuff that goes with pancakes...what is it called again? It's warm and yummy and smells good?...Oh yeah, bacon. We both love bacon. Bacon. Bacon. Bacon. Yummy, greasy, crunchy, meaty, tasty BACON. MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM...
Oops, sorry about that. I got carried away.  I'm back now.
Anyway, as I was saying...I'm in love.
I've loved before. I mean, there was that cute poodle who caught my eye at the Walmart a few years back. We were both in the dog food section and she was wearing the cutest little pink Princess sweater and I just had to ask her out for some kibble and bits and a bowl of water. But this time, with this one, it's just different. You know what I realized?
Love isn't just about having things in common. It's about finding common ground. It's about understanding where the other person is coming from and then trying to meet them there. It's getting through life together, one step at a time. Sometimes you prance, sometimes you limp, but you get through it together. Like, for example, I know my new love is very, very afraid of pools because she told me one time, not too long ago, she fell into one and had to dog paddle for two hours until her mom came home from work and pulled her out. She was not supposed to be near the pool and she thought she was going to get scolded, but instead her mom just held her in a warm towel and stroked her wet ears and told her how glad she was that she was OK. So, since I know that she is afraid of pools, I know I will never take her near a pool. Or if I do, I know that it will be on her terms and I will hold her paw while we stand in the shallow end. We'll both be nervous and wet and smell like what the humans describe as "baby barf" but we'll do it together. We'll be there for each other and help each other. We'll be together. If you look in the wet grass, the mud or in the sandy areas you'll see our paw prints side by side because we'll be walking together. (Don't look too hard in the sandy areas. The neighborhood cats use it for YOU KNOW WHAT.)
That's what love is, my friends. It's going down the road together. Paw in paw. Nose to nose. Heart to heart...Tails up and wagging even if it's raining or sunny or the dog catcher is working overtime.
Well, at least that's part of what love is.
Love is also...

BACON.

See you soon my friends!

Love,
Boofle
XXXOOO