It's Time to Take Action

My mom and dad are dirty, hippie, liberals - it's so embarrassing. My grandma Jan and I regularly correspond about the fact that my dad, in particular, is practically a socialist. "What will we do with him?" We often lament to one another. I tell my parents nearly every day - Taxes are terrible, people need to just go out and get jobs (just like I did, how do you think I became a billionaire?), interest rates for banks should be as low as possible, its not Walls Streets fault, and for gods sake start throwing people in jail for defaulting on student loans - they're the real scumbags. But they just don't listen.

 Anyway, I was musing things over this weekend and I was in a particularly good mood (I had just played a fantastic prank on Putin), when I came up with a plan to combat my parents communist ways and all of their counterparts out there bleeding this country dry. So without much further ado, I'd like to make the following announcement.....











I HEREBY NOMINATE MYSELF TO BE CANDIDATE DONALD TRUMP'S RUNNING MATE!**

Riding to victory

Thinking about victory 

** Photographic credit to my Campaign Director, Graphic Designer, and PR Guru, Greg Williams

Stacking the Deck

Several weeks ago, my mother and her fiancé went to the Preakness Stakes in Baltimore. I was going to go with them, but then I saw where their seats were located and after a rare outburst of laughter, I declined.  After all, for me to be seen in that area of the grandstand does nothing but diminish the public image I have painstakingly built. It could be perceived as weakness, or worse, as an unnecessary concession to those around me.  After declining the offer, my mother made the absurd decision to have my aunt watch me for the night. As if I require a babysitter.  I don't know what my mother was thinking; she surely must have lost her mind.

Shortly after arriving at my aunts I decided there was absolutely no way I would stay the evening, to cause myself such profound suffering was fruitless.  There are two kinds of pain.  The sort of pain that makes you strong, or useless pain.  The sort of pain that's only suffering.  I have no patience for useless things.  So I devised a plan to extract myself from the situation.  I needed to make my Aunt think it was her idea to call my mother.  If it were her own conception, she was far more likely to accomplish her goal.  It wasn't difficult, for proximity to power deludes some into thinking they wield it.

Over the next few hours I used every trick in the book. I paced, I moaned and lamented, I crowded her space, sighing in frustration and constant dissatisfaction.  I allowed my eyes to well up with moisture, I even went so far as to actually weep.  I know what' you're thinking, what sort of man who holds himself out as possessing incredible power and prowess would stoop to these levels? What sort of man would behave this way all the while being openly critical of the weakness he seems around him? Do you think I'm a hypocrite? Well, you should. I wouldn't disagree with you.  The road to power is paved with hypocrisy. And casualties. Never regret.

And I have no regrets. At 10 pm my Aunt called my mother, who was still in Baltimore.  She said, in exasperation, "Diggy is extremely distraught.  He's whined all day, he's been pacing.  I think he's just really upset being separated from you. Could you come back tonight and pick him up?"  Hearing those words, I felt my mouth form into a content smile.  Let it be a lesson, if you don't like how the table is set, turn over the table.

My mother arrived 45 minutes later and we returned home. 

Three Hours I Can Never Get Back

This past Saturday marks one of the most undignified days I've experienced in a long, long, while.  I blame my mother. She asked if I wanted to go to brunch. Of course I want to go to brunch.  After all, brunch is civilized, is it not? Naturally I assumed we would be brunching at The Ritz Carlton, or Fiola Mare, or maybe even some new trendy restaurant (although I do prefer a more classic venue).   With that said, I agreed to join her and in doing so I lost three precious hours of my life that I can never regain. 

We hopped into the car and wove our way through the streets of Alexandria. Sidebar - I'm not sure I mentioned this, I probably didn't because I find it very embarrassing, but my mom and her special friend moved to an abysmally small condo in Old Town.  I offered them an $850,000 loan so they could get something mildly decent but they declined. They said my 28% APR was unmanageable. I said not employing good business practices was unmanageable, and well, we left it at that. Anyway, after a relatively short amount of time we pulled to a stop on a small side street full of dilapidated row homes. My mom looked over at me, "aren't these townhouses adorable, Diggy?"  Her statement was so ridiculously absurd that I could barely look at her.

We walked into the house and out into the backyard. I would have preferred the yard to be larger so I could put some distance between myself and the house occupants, but I was at a loss.  With nothing else to do I began to explore the grounds. I noted the absence of any discernible landscape architecture and the sub-par construction of the deck.  While the grounds were truly heinous, what was most troubling was the lack of stimulating conversation over the next three hours.  My mom, absolutely in her element, discussed mindless things such as weddings, television shows, and celebrity gossip.  No one discussed the stock market, no one discussed the effect the Ukraine-Russia conflict could have on oil prices, no one talked about anything.

I would have left, but I don't have my driver's license, I've never really seen the need for one.

Career Advice From Diggy: Episode One

There is so much you can learn from a successful person. So many invaluable tips that the simply cannot be realized in day-to-day life.  I have reached the point in my own career where my advice, my profound insight, and my expertise can benefit the everyday ordinary man.  I've been approached by many prestigious publications, Forbes, The Economist, Vogue, just to name a few. But I passed each and every single one of them up and instead am offering my seven-figure-worthy advice for free.

Now, because I am an expert in so many fields, I will be doing a three-part series in an effort to truly relate to and reach the masses.  This first episode focuses on creativity and the value it plays in your career.  Readers, you are probably thinking "Diggy is a world renowned entrepreneur and billionaire, what could he possibly know about creativity?" Yes, the former is true but what you may not know about me is that I am the brains behind a creative culinary empire.

In the winter of 1988 I stayed at a charming hotel in the French Alps. The hotel was called Hotel Diva and its kitchen was run by a chef named Albert Roux. After an exquisite meal I simply had to meet the responsible culinary genius.  Anticipating a conversation with the head chef, I was shocked to meet a young blond man hailing from Scotland.  Knowing how important it is to encourage the youth, I complimented the young chef on delighting my palate and then asked if he'd like to join me for a post dinner brandy.  Of course this was highly out of the ordinary, but given my status and the vintage wines I had purchased with the meal, the young chef agreed.

What transpired was a conversation that went well into the evening.  This young man had ambition and talent, but lacked the necessary funds to succeed.  In that moment I decided to take a leap. Over the next few years I encouraged the young chef to return to London and facilitated a head chef position and minority ownership in a successful restaurant.  After receiving Michelin status I decided it was time for my culinary prodigy to open a restaurant in his own name.  The restaurant was named Gordon Ramsay Restaurant.


"Seeing potential behind valuable
youth is invaluable" - Diggy

Our relationship has flourished and with Gordon's expertise and my savvy, his singular restaurant has exploded into a world-wide empire. I won't reveal my percentage of ownership, but let's just say its substantial. 



"Failure is not an option, it's a choice." - Diggy

"There's nothing to fear but fear itself" - Diggy





Big Brother

It’s been nearly 5 months since my last post. I’ve just been so busy; I haven’t even found a spare moment to pick up my dry cleaning.  As you all know, I’m an extremely successful entrepreneur, a leading figure in Texas’ libertarian party, a staunch capitalist, and in the process of completing my PhD in neurophysiology.  There aren’t enough hours in the day to keep up with my various obligations but somehow I manage not only stay afloat, but dominate in everything I do.  Given my success, I believe that it is fair to assume that I am extremely intelligent, overwhelmingly capable, and exceedingly logical.  Ordinarily no problem is too big to tackle, no puzzle too difficult to solve, and nothing unsettles me…..until recently.

Over the past few months I’ve begun to notice something peculiar.  My mom always seems to know how I spend my days.  Two to three times a week I’d return from an outing and she’d say “oh, hello there Diggy, how was your drive?” At first I didn’t think much of it, but then as time wore on I thought to myself, how does she know I went on a drive? How does she know which park I went to do read my various scholarly journals? How does she know that I had attended a conference in Washington, DC? Rapidly my curiosity turned to alarm, after all – I’m no fool, surveillance is everywhere these days.  The notion of privacy has dissipated and the evolution of 'smart' technology has all but robbed me of my liberty. 

By this point I had nearly worked myself into a full-blown panic.  Sure I had installed topnotch security on my multiple laptops, sure I had anti-theft and intrusion devices, but was that enough to protect my proprietary information? I anxiously paced from the spacious, luxurious, living room into the regal office.  Just when I thought I couldn’t work myself up any further, I noticed something on my mom’s computer that pushed me over the edge and into full-on hysteria.

I would expect this from my government. But I would never expect this from my mom.  I'm speechless. 

The Worst 24 Hours OF MY LIFE

Last weekend I suffered through the worst 24 hours of my life.  Never before have I struggled as I did that day.  Never before have I been so frozen from pure horror.  Never before have I realized that my mom, the person I love more than anyone and anything in the entire vast universe, could be so cruel.  I wanted to share this experience immediately but you see, it has taken me an entire week to recover and to formulate the words to adequately describe my experience.

Last weekend, my mom and my mom's special friend took me camping in 40 degree weather.

Here is short-list of my favorite things:
1. My mom
2. Chewing socks
3. Rolling on stuff that smells bad
4. Sleeping really really late
5. Being EXTREMELY comfortable. 
6. Being EXTREMELY warm.

So, with this in mind, let me describe my 24 hours in hell.

The day started off poorly.  My mom woke me up at 6:30 in the morning, which was unacceptable (see number 4 on "the list).  But I'll admit, as my mom and her special friend began to load all sorts of things into the car I became very curious.  And then, she got my leash and what can I say, the inner dog in me just lost it- wherever they were going they were taking me with them!!! One moment I was exhausted and completely morose, then just like that I was on top of the world. Well, we drove for about an hour.  I sat in the backseat amongst all sorts of hard, awful, uncomfortable things and after 40 minutes of fretting and fidgeting and trying to find something soft to lay on, I gave up - I just could not get comfortable, which I found very upsetting (see number 5 on "the list").  Surely, I thought, things would pick up.  But oh how naive I was.

Exhausted, trying to get comfy. 

About 30 minutes later we pulled into what I'll describe as a clearing in a vast Arctic tundra.  My mom and her special friend began to unload the car, they opened the door and a sudden, shocking blast of frigid air hit me square in the face.  I recoiled in horror, this was not what I had signed up for, this was not why I agreed to move to Texas.  My mom forced me out of the car and I stood there shaking uncontrollably. It must have been 50 degrees outside, I don't know how people live like that.   I tried to follow my mom into the arctic clearing but I could barely move. She took out an underarmour shirt and fashioned what I can only imagine was a straight jacket for me, tying the arms around my doggy waist to hold it in place.  While some canines enjoy dog outerwear, I truly loathe any form of clothing.  I can be on top of the world, jumping out of my skin with happiness and the moment you put an article of clothing on me my entire body will seize up and I simply am unable to move.  So you see, things were just getting worse.  I tried to walk, despite the restrictions of a straight jacket and as time wore on (hours) I finally was able to adjust my gait to to look somewhat normal and I no longer had to hear my mom's special friend yelling "he's taking geisha sized steps."

My straight jacket.

The hours wore on and on and on and it got colder and colder. Probably 45 degrees. At one point my mom wrapped me in a blanket in front of the fire but with my nose exposed I just couldn't warm up.  It was terrible.  Then finally, around 8 pm, after literally 10 hours of pure torture, my mom turned on the car, cranked the heat to 85, put a blanket in the back seat and locked me.  Pure. Bliss.

That night, with the arctic winds raging and the skies pouring freezing cold rain - I managed to make it through (while swaddled in blankets).

In hell. 

November 16th: The Day I Turned Four

Hello everyone, I'd like to begin this post by thanking my friends, family and fans.  In particular, I couldn't help but notice the overwhelming enthusiasm on Facebook on Friday November 16th from my California friends.  I can only assume it was in celebration of my 4th birthday, and for that I thank you.  I wish I could have been there but as it turns out I've moved to Texas.

Several months ago, unbeknownst to me, my mom and her special friend made a huge decision to move to another state.   The week leading up to the move I watched somewhat anxiously (I'm ashamed to admit) as their belongings began to move from the closet to the floor then haphazardly shoved in boxes.  I watched my mom grow more and more frantic and noted her increasing tendency to become weepy over things like her last trip to her regular Safeway.  My mom's special friend however handled things very differently, he was neither frantic nor weepy and that gave me a sense of reassurance.  After all, surely if a big change was about to happen he would turn off the monitor and stop playing Skyrim. Then, one day four strange men arrived and began hauling all the boxes to a large truck.  I followed them eagerly, careful to note their packing procedures and how they handled the items.  Eventually, after the items were all packed up, my anxiety began to build.  Where were they going? Was I going with them? If not, would they return? So many enormous questions tumbled through my highly intellectual mind but alas, I had no answers.....

As it turns, out I had NOTHING to worry about.  My mom and her special friend apparently were planning an amazing surprise just for me.  A few short days later we got into the car and began a tour of the nations southwestern gas stations. It. was. amazing.  I was simply ecstatic at every single gas station.  I couldn't help myself, 500 yards out I would begin to shake then 400 yards I would start to whine then 300 I would shake and whine then finally as we pulled in I would howl, unable to contain my excitement.  This spectacular trip continued for 4 days, every day filled with fantastic gas stations and every night at a hotel room where my mom appropriately would get me my own bed.

Arizona Exxon 

At the end of the trip we arrived in Texas and we stayed there, more on that later.

After I successfully presented my dissertation to
the board. 

The Key To A Happy Life

I am a nihilist which means by definition I essentially believe in absolutely nothing.  I reject all forms of morality, religion, societal norms and notably, my own mortality.  When I was younger I assumed that I wasn't born with these defining core beliefs but as I've matured and become a man I've realized that in fact, I was.  My mom and my grandma tried their best to ensure that I was well-mannered, respectful and obedient.  They chastised my poor behavior, they tried in vain to stop me from chewing, stealing and destroying things that did not belong to me.  They pleaded with me to stop jumping on people, to stop jumping on furniture.  They implored me to sleep on the floor, or in my "dog bed" like a "normal" dog.  They even committed what I assert was criminal mutilation by removing my manhood so that I would supposedly calm down and better conform to their idea of how I should behave.  Finally, they shelled out money to get me a private tutor as a last effort to instill in me a sense of responsibility and manners.

Now I have to say that I did give in to some degree.  To this day I will sit when asked, if it pleases me or if I'm bribed and if I jump up I'll allow the person to push me down.  And I'll give things back when I steal them, once I've been chased or caught.  But again, as I grew I realized this mold they tried to force me into is not who I am, the shoe simply does not fit.  With that realization I made a vow to live my life the way I want to.  Commonly accepted morals, norms and societal behaviors would not hold me back.  I recommend to you readers that you too adopt these same beliefs and take the vow I did.  No one can chain you but yourself!  Because I don't have time to write a self help book (I have far far too many projects on the back burner as it is) I will provide two major principles I live by accompanied by recent real life examples illustrating my nihilistic approach to life.

1.  When you go to a friends house, or any house for that matter, just do what you want.  After all, you're a guest and your host wants you to have a pleasant experience! I implement this belief regularly.  When I arrive at the Haunted House, Sierras House and any house for that matter I immediately go into every room with an open door to look for toys or items I believe to be toys.  I confiscate them and settle down on a rug somewhere to enjoy my prize.  At Sierra's house I pretty much rule the roost so no one even glances my way.  But just yesterday I went to Winston's house, somewhere I had never been and I employed the same principle.  I walked in and immediately ignored Winston.  I found his toys and settled down to enjoy them while he stood by and barked at me repeatedly in hopes that I would play with him (props to Winston for his persistence).  When I wasn't chewing toys I wandered the rooms, new homes are always so exciting.  I even stole some socks, shredded an empty toilet paper roll and jumped on the homeowner's lap while she attempted to do work.  I had a great time, which is the most important thing.

2. Never give up on what you want. When I want something I beg incessantly until its mine.  Recently my moms special friend and his roommates threw me a kiddie pool party in the front yard.  I had never had the opportunity to explore the front yard and let me just say, it was AMAZING.  At this party I also employed principle 1 by eating a cookie off of someone's lap, eating meat out of a trash bag, eating shrimp tails, chewing on a chair and licking the grill.  If you think I wasn't disciplined or yelled at, you're wrong.  But I didn't let it stop me from achieving what I wanted.

If I Were Taken

Recently, I was watching the masterfully crafted move 'Taken' and I thought to myself, "if I was in Europe with a gal pal and was abducted by Albanian criminals and subsequently forced into the sex trade my mom would find me, just as Liam Neeson did."  The reasons are simple: my mom is obsessed with me (as we all know) and two, she's nuts.  I'm inclined to share a recent example which will beautifully demonstrate both of the characteristics my mom possesses that would enable her to find me in such dire circumstances.

Recently, just last week in fact, my mom and my 'moms friend' went on a romantic vacation to Mexico.  And almost immediately upon arrival my mom raved about how wonderful the trip was - "oh the weather is wonderful, the beaches are pristine.  Isn't it so great sitting on these luxurious lounge chairs while being served drinks and staring out into the ocean?.....Though..it'd be even better if Diggy were here lying on a lounge chair next to us wearing tiny sunglasses and a bathing suit that matches yours, don't you think?" My 'moms friend', being a wonderful guy wholeheartedly agreed with my mom - yes, the romantic vacation would be even better if the dog was there lying on a lounge chair wearing ray bans and a dog sized matching pair of swim trunks.

As the week wore on my mom's lunacy escalated.  Soon, everywhere she looked she was reminded of me. While snorkeling, "oh! Vance! Look at that eel, it looks just like Diggy!" (Eels have bulbous eyes, I have slightly bulbous eyes thus twins) and "VANCE! That striped fish, it looked so much like Diggy" (I have brindle fur, which is striped, fish is striped thus an uncanny resemblance).  And "I saw this iguana, and it walked EXACTLY like Diggy." (Iguanas have legs, I have legs - there you have it). You can imagine that my 'moms friend' wanted to wring her neck, but miraculously that wasn't the case.  You can also imagine how if the scenario I outlined in the first sentence of the blog came to fruition, my mom would throat chop as many people as necessary to get me back, just as Liam Neeson did.

My mom realizing I've been taken.

My mom showing her captive my photo

I've Made It.

Hello readers, as usual you're probably all wondering where I've been - I can imagine you've been checking my blog daily, pining for, dreaming of your next dose of diggy.  Which is exactly why I've been silent.  See I've come to realize that the best way to garner fans is to keep them wanting more, you can't give it all away at the drop of a hat.  One must be mysterious and not too forthcoming about ones own private life.  So this is precisely what I've done over the last year or so and the results here are consistent with countless empirical studies that I've poured over at the office.  People are obsessed with me.  I don't have the time to record the hundreds of examples that led to this conclusion but true to form I will touch upon a few.

In the beginning of December my mother dearest began to inquire as to who would be "willing" to "watch" me over break. (I've used quotations for obvious reasons, namely its an honor to be around me and no one watches me.)  Anyhow, people were practically knocking down her door with requests to "watch" me.  I mean literally she was fielding inquiries from all ends. "What days do you need?" "I'd love to have him the 10th through the 20th!"  Then, because the competition was so fierce, some individuals even began to proffer the activities we would engage in when I stayed with them.  Essentially, it became a bidding war.  The lucky winner was ultimately my Aunt Heather and she will be the first to tell you I was just an absolutely delightful house guest.  My wit and humor had them doubled over as they let out great hearty guffaws of laughter.

My Uncle Marty 

Once my mother returned we reassumed our regular day-to-day lives.  Then one day my mother received a text from an individual we'll refer to as Uncle Marty.  Uncle Marty absolutely adores me and I'll be frank - I love him too, mostly because he buries old chili in the backyard for me but also because whenever I see him we engage in lively games and intellectually stimulating conversation - oh, and he also calls me Sir. Anyway, my mother receives a text from Uncle Marty inquiring the following: "When does Sir Diggy have visiting hours?" My mom read it to me and I sighed, reached for my blackberry and showed her that I was free later that evening for just an hour or so.  Uncle Marty was thrilled when he saw me, in fact the entire house was. I was fawned over for hours, I was asked countless questions about my break and how I had been.  Finally, as I departed they all wished me a great last semester at school and a fine day at work.*

So it was a joyful heart that I thank my fans for a wonderful 2011.  I think we can all agree that my rising to stardom was the highlight of the year.

My Number 1 Fan

Comforting a sick fan

The highlight of her year.

*The authors mother would like to reiterate that the author's tales are always fundamentally rooted in truth.

Heathen: A pseudonym for Diggy.

Dear Readers,

  My longest absence yet! Let me assure you I have been VERY busy being a really really poorly behaved dog.  Over the last 8 weeks or so I have had several revelations and they are as follows: (1) I rule the house; (2) I can do whatever I want with no real consequences; (3) even if there are "consequences" my mom only stays mad for 5-10 seconds; (4) I am not a pet; and (5) I have a pet human. I won't go into detail, instead I shall focus on some  of the highlights.

Actually, before going into the highlights I'd like to proffer a reason for my behavior.  That reason is vengeance.  As I mentioned in my last post I was under the misconception that my mom had abandoned me for good, however it turns out she hadn't.  One day I was shoved into a crate, thrown into the hull of a jet and flown across the country - AGAIN. She's done this to me several times now and quite frankly I've had enough of it therefore, I sought revenge.  Now onto the highlights, which will be organized by location:

1. Home

• consumption of 5 socks
• knocked over the kitchen trash can
• emptied the bathroom trash can (7-10 times)
• emptied my pet human's purse (5-7 times)
• stole paper towels; destroyed paper towels
• absolutely demolished a large couch pillow (see Facebook for photographic evidence)
• whined CONSTANTLY
• brought several dead, dried worms into the apartment 
• put a hole in my pet human's new blanket
• chewed a highlighter on the new carpet
• chewed a highlighter on my pet human's new comforter
• chewed up a magazine
• chewed up dryer sheets
• knocked an entire bowl of chili in someone's lap

2. Sierra's Home

• stole garlic bread out of Nedda's hand
• chewed up an accessory to someone's occupy themed halloween costume
• tried (unsuccessfully) to eat off of several plates
• ate Sierra's irreplaceable puppy collar
• chewed up Sierra's bed (Sierra's mom had to laboriously hand sew it back together)
• stole and consumed napkins
• went into the dirty laundry

3. The Haunted House

• rummaged through all 4 bedrooms
• stole many many pairs of socks
• went into the garbage (kitchen and bathroom)
• tried to eat halloween candy
• jumped on both coffee tables
• stuck my face in a bowl of chips
• licked dishes
• stole a rib out of someone's hand
• collected papers, napkins, dirty tissues
• stole water bottles
• created a hoard in the backyard of all my best finds which I furiously defended. 

so close - then my pet human unceremoniously
shoved me off.

My contribution to the occupy movement.

Its my world. 

She's Gone!

Hello readers, it's been a while.  I have some terribly sad news to share, my mom has left me and I fear that she has left me for real this time.  Let me go back and explain whats been going on in my life for the past few weeks.  About three weeks ago my mom took me on a car ride but I was suspicious due to the fact that she brought my bed, my kennel, my leash, food, several toys and one of those barbaric gates meant to keep canines "in their respective place." So after about 30 minutes we arrived at our destination.  I went inside with my mom and immediately was bombarded by a monstrous canine named Boomer. He was huge, at least 200 pounds and 10 feet taller than me.  Panicked I sprinted around the room but it only spurred him more.  Further panicked, I clawed at my mom to pick me up and save me.  Mom stayed for a little while and I rotated between snarling at Boomer and curling up in her lap.  Then abruptly she got up, walked to the car and left something very important behind - me.

Now that first night was torture.  My caretaker informed my mom how I wandered the house the entire night crying and crying.  I was inconsolable, I had no interest in sleeping in her huge bed, I was much happier wallowing in my misery and effectively keeping her up all night.  Over the next two weeks I adjusted to the loss of my mom but honestly I hadn't really given up hope until the day my grandma showed up to take me home, and my mom wasn't with her.  Though even then I wasn't entirely convinced, obviously she would be at home.  Once we arrived I sprinted up the stairs full speed, barreled around the corner and into her room.  My heart plummeted, she wasn't there.  For the next two days I cried somewhat regularly.  In my angst I destroyed a few things and stole a few more, but nothing helped  - not even when I ferociously took on the zucchini plant in the backyard.  I think, much to my horror, my mom really is gone.

The beginning of my depression

Being forced to shower with Boomer, wishing
my mom would save me.

My realization that she's never coming back. 

Boys Weekend

I've been uneasy for the past day or two and I think I've deduced the cause of said uneasiness. It all began when I noticed that my mom was packing. Now we all know how that distresses me, I have serious issues related to abandonment. I can't even handle it when my mom goes to get the mail, upon her return I'm literally leaping with excitement! So thrilled that she has come back as she promised.  I wonder endlessly where my mom is going, why I can't join her and if she will ever come back.

It's also come to my attention that my uncle Dave will be watching me for the duration my mom is away.  I find that intriguing to say the least, seeing as he isn't what I would call a 'dog person.'  I really really like him a lot though, I adore following him around the house sometimes (i.e. when my mom is gone) and his tennis bag provides an endless supply for smelly tangy things to chew on.  Plus he's brought me on a few car rides (which makes my mom nervous because he takes me out in the extreme heat - don't worry though, he opens the windows).  Furthermore, he takes me on walks and feeds me human food.  So realistically, what is there not to like?  I can only imagine the fun we will engage in.  I haven't had a boys weekend in a really long time so I hope he has things planned, maybe play some card games and watch action flicks while drinking beer my Uncle Joe brews in his garage. Below for your viewing pleasure is a video of some of the fun he and I will be getting into while my lame constantly worrying mother is out of town.

 In other news, I think I may have unintentionally joined a gang.  Mom brought me over to my Aunt Phoebe's parents house where I found FOUR other dogs of all shapes and sizes.  It proved to be a very tense situation as one of the gang members (and arguably the gang leader) is Mick, my arch nemesis.  Things were going ok at first.  Milo and one of the boxers Ellie and I were playing - I think I was asserting my dominance in a very efficient manner.  I don't go about in the traditional sense, thats just not what a gentlemen does.  Instead I hoarded toys, more of my typical M.O.  Anyhow, as I perceive it I was climbing the ranks extremely quickly, just knocking them down a peg one by one. Until Mick walked in.  At first we played and I have to say, what really was going on was a passive aggressive power struggle masked in a game of tug of war.  Then, at some point Mick launched himself at me and before I knew it I was engaged in the second fight of my life! (See "Walk the Walk, Talk the Talk" for prior fighting incident).  Before we could really latch our fierce underbites into one another both of our respective moms bellowed our names and grabbed us, hoisting us both into the air.  It was humiliating.  And just like that my time in the gang was over, it was the coolest hour of my life. 

The Gang. 

Finally, I've noticed my mom has been a bit down lately and I realized why.  She's been slyly submitting my photos to various animal blogs and websites that request a picture of a 'super adorable puppy.'  Needless to say my photos have not been selected.  Now my ego isn't affected in the slightest, I know how fantastic I am and in reality, those websites/blogs are a joke so I wouldn't want my photo on them anyway - bad PR.  Mom however takes it very personally.

Life of The Famous and Fabulous (Me)

Not many of us have the opportunity to be famous and truthfully, I didn't even realize I was famous until just this past monday. I'm sure you're thinking to yourself, "was he recognized on the street?" "Did someone ask for his paw print?" Or perhaps a photo with him? Did someone name their first born child after him? The answers to all of these queries is no and the reality of what occurred is far more fabulous. I have a stalker. Her name is Lizzy and shes moonlighting as my moms friend, clearly as a means to get closer to me. Let me be more specific. The other night my mom went out to dinner with two friends from her college days. She met them at the Cheesecake Factory (side note: there's no menu that stresses my mom out more than the Cheesecake Factory. She'd like to point out that there is no congruence or obvious theme in the menu, instead of specializing they choose to make everything under the sun and refer to them all as 'Specialties.' She finds that frustrating.) Anyhow, mom went to dinner and hours later returned with Lizzy. Lizzy walked in and immediately gushed about how thrilled she was to meet me and how she was surprised - she partially expected to find me hard at work at my desk, with my reading glasses slipping down my nose and my face buried in my work. A very likely possibility, however she would have had to come earlier in the day to find me engaged in such activity. She walked in during my leisure time. So after gushing over how fabulous I am she sat with my mom and they chatted. I read right through it though, she had her eyes on me the whole time so naturally I played the part. I chewed aggressively on my bone and threw my own toys and subsequently retrieved them. The saddest part of it all? My mom actually thought Lizzy was there to see her! I just can't get over it, that poor woman.

My fabulous life.

Now I know what you're thinking, be careful Diggy! Women like Lizzy can lose it and go over the edge. Before you know it she'll be stealing pieces of your fur and making a tiny tiny pair of mittens out of it. And I say to that, I accept what consequences come my way - its part of fame.

A Follow Up on My Guest..And Some Unrelated Material

 


Well readers, I feel I must apologize for my guest blogger.  I was under the pretense that her post would be intellectually stimulating, a comment on international affairs, a prediction for the 2012 election, her thoughts on the current economic state of our country, and the question on everyones mind - will Nadal regain his #1 position after his loss at Wimbledon? I in no way could anticipate that instead she would share the love sick poetry of a young, infatuated, silly silly girl.

The fourth of July really was something. The ride down took 3 hours, 3 luxurious hours spent laying on an enormous dog bed that took up the entire back seat.  Every once and a while I'd crawl into the front seat to sit on my mom's cousins lap so she could stroke my head.  I'd also occasionally rest my head on the space between the front seats so that I could stare at my mom better.  The trip was a whirlwind.  I've never been somewhere where the rules applied to the outdoors essentially apply to the indoors as well.  There were sticks EVERYWHERE, and I. adore. sticks.  Sticks to tug on, sticks to chew on, sticks to eat, sticks to steal from Fiona (of course stealing implies it was difficult and of course it wasn't - given that she fell in love with me instantly).  I was allowed on all furniture, sprinting at full speed was tolerated and I even peed to mark my territory and didn't get in trouble! (Though mom squawked at me and again uttered under her breath how humiliated she was - please, if I had a nickel). The fun didn't stop there, Fiona and I played tug of war for easily 8 hours over a 48 hour period. Even though she outweighs me by at least 30 pounds, I prevailed nearly every time.  I also ate the eyes off of her favorite Bear which I'm very remorseful about.

Every day we were there I got to go on really really long walks, always with my mom and Fiona and/or  Rum Gum, and their respective mothers.  We trotted through the fields and the woods and at some point I contracted poison ivy which I promptly transferred to my mother's sensitive skin by sitting on her shorts-clad legs. She was not pleased, but also unsurprised.

While Fiona is a victim of her own girlish ways, I must say her birthday party was just too much fun and I was overjoyed to be there celebrating with her.  I love creeks, the wilderness and outdoorsy things that smell bad. AND I finally got to have frosty paws which were delicious but sadly unsettling to my stomach if you know what I mean.  Though that didn't stop me from eating mine and finishing Rum-Gums.

Anyhow, the fourth of July was fantastic and I truly truly enjoyed myself.  While I have been working on my dexterity, my handwriting isn't quite where I would like it or else I'd send the clan a thank-you card.  This post will have to do.  And to my dear Fiona, I love you too - even if we are related.

Exhausted after the birthday party. 

Mom giving me swimming advice 

FINALLY.

In other news, I've been spending some time at my Aunt Phoebe's house with her dog Milo.  I also love their house because just about anything and everything I find can be consumed or converted into a toy.  I could easily get lost for hours in the various bedrooms full of delicious nick-nacks, laundry carelessly strewn about the floor, and tissues spilling out of the trash can.  My favorite room isn't a room so much as a cabinet which contains Milo's food, dog toys, dog bones, dog leashes and bags.  The other night while mom and her friends had dinner and drank wine over a game of Apples to Apples I ventured into this cabinet and set up shop.  About 15 minutes later I heard mom yelling for me, but I didn't come.  I heard Aunt Phoebe yell for me, but I didn't come.  I heard my mom yell that she was leaving and still, I didn't come.  She searched the whole house and I heard her frantically ask the girls whether one had opened the front or back door, they hadn't.  It was about that moment that Aunt Phoebe opened the cabinet to find my face in Milo's dog food bag with a leash tangled around my leg.  You can imagine my mom's reaction.

Fiona’s Lament (Or, Ode to a Hot Diggety Dog)

By Fiona Shapiro-Harrington, Guest Blogger 


My cousin Rummy lay napping away, though the dog days had clearly arrived.
The humans stared stupidly into that window where people are much smaller sized.

I offered a stick to my wire-haired cuz; she remained aloof and imperious.
I prowled the house for bugs to pursue, but even they seemed too serious.

So with a loud sigh I dropped on the mat, set eyes on the fields and the fog.
In moments, though, came a blast from above; it was raining cats and dogs.

(Well, dogs.)

Thunder clapped, torrents whooshed, but through it all I could hear
A crunch of gravel, the growl of an engine, something drawing near.

Was I saved by this wind change?
Would this dog have her day?
Hope swelled like a tide in my hackles.

Woof-woof-woof-woof!
Woof-woof-woof-woof!
Would I soon break free of my shackles?

The car, now in front, was not one I knew, but still my tail moved like a dart.
And when the door opened, the tempest outside strode straight into my heart.

Love struck, I was, from the moment he strutted, the moment he peed on my floor.
(Later, I’d try to impress the same way, but when I weewee humans get sore.)

“Fiona,” my mother warned, “steer clear of Diggy. I’m afraid he is your first cousin.”
But no advice, no sensible words, would change the state I was in.

I shared all my sticks—a collection I cherish—my bear I let him dismember.
We tugged on socks, our jaws almost touching; I could stay that way till September.

My hedgie was his hedgie, my Frisbee, my kong; my kibble became his kibble.
We swatted at stinkbugs and tossed around rawhides (till Rummy and I had a quibble).

And just when I thought it couldn’t get better, for my birthday we were driven
To my favorite river, to my favorite rocks, where Frosty Paws we were given.

And then he was gone, as quickly as he came, off with the human named Emery.
And here I am, alone with my thoughts, my fears, my doubts, my memories.

Does he cherish, too, our 4th of July? Does he pine over me, as I him?
Or am I too young, or maybe too tall? Does he prefer a girl who can swim?

I’ll wait, and I’ll hope, love wide as an ocean.
‘Til then, oh, Diggy, we’ll always have Goshen.

Revenge and Upcoming Events

As my readers know my mom emotionally abused me the other day, what with not taking me to the party and all.  But I got her back.  She and grandma went out to dinner, leaving me at home as usual.  So in the three hours in which they were gone I made sure to do as much damage as possible, it's not an easy job to destroy things and leave evidence in every room on the first floor but I did my best.  I started in the foyer with my moms work bag (what a fool, she left it on the floor in plain view and reach).  The bag was a gold mine; papers, pens, gum and socks.  All easily destroyed and scattered throughout the foyer and into the living room.  Being of above average intelligence I knew better than to eat the gum, so instead I pulled out each piece and shredded the pack.  Next I trotted to the front room where I found my uncle's tennis stringing contraption.  Obviously the contraption was off limits, mostly because its composed of metal and I wouldn't even know how to go about destroying it.  But I found his wicker storage box containing tennis balls, string and grips. I LOVE wicker, its so satisfying to chew.  And chew I did! I broke the top of the box, destroyed a package of string and ate one of my uncle's power bars. To finish off my rampage I ripped apart papers, chewed on my mom's socks and broke a pen.  Then I went to sleep.  The lesson of this story? Allow me to go to birthday parties, or suffer the consequences.


In other news, I have something huge to share: I, Diggy, will be conducting my first interview and hosting my first guest blogger sometime in the next week.  I'll say no more.

What am I plotting next?

Finally, a photo of my infamous bug hunting

Apparently Mom Doesn't Love Me Best

 I'm devastated, just devastated.  Today my mom did something I never imagined she was capable of, she exhibited a truly wretched side of herself and perhaps has altered my perception of her forever.   You're probably thinking to yourself "what could that wonderful woman who worships the ground he walks on have done?" I'll tell you.  She forbade me from going to my first canine birthday party EVER.  I've NEVER been invited to one and today I got an invitation but she said no.  Just ripped my heart right out of my little furry chest.  Oh the opportunity!  Oh the fun I surely missed out on...The party was at the law office and there were two dogs in attendance; Fiona (who is my cousin once removed) and Rocky (the birthday girl who I haven't actually ever met but that's beside the point).  You could tell it was a really special day for everyone.  I know this because the party guests weren't limited to Rocky and Fiona, there were also 8 humans who stopped whatever important lawyerly work they were doing and happily attended so they could watch Rocky and Fiona eat ice cream made especially for dogs.  After the delicious ice cream (or at least I imagine it was delicious, I wouldn't know obviously since my mom ruins everything) Rocky and Fiona gleefully chased each other around the office, played with toys and stole paper. I would have adored that :(  I don't know if I will ever recover from this...I'm a sensitive soul, easily wounded and well, a betrayal like this...only time will tell.  

There should have been Three of these.

Fiona enjoying a joy I'll never know

**The writer does acknowledge that perhaps his mom had a reason for not allowing him to go to the party.  The reason being that one of the writers girlfriends (Ashley) stopped by today to take the writer on a walk.  He supposes there is a slight chance that his mom was attempting to preserve the relationship, as opposed to ruin all of his fun.  Maybe. 

**The writer's mom would like to point out the hilarity of a fancy law firm organizing a party for Rocky, sending out an email, rounding up everyone in the office so we can watch the dogs eat dog ice cream while eating human ice cream. Such a fun idea, I definitely anticipate dog birthday parties this fall (and I know Chelsea will agree). 

Life of A Jet Setting Puppy - Part B, Diggys Comments on Celestial Marriage

I'm taking jet setting in a slightly different direction today, I'm not going to be talking about jet setting in the literal sense (i.e. moves, planes from coast to coast) but rather in a personal sense.  As I've discussed in the past, my mom tends to be a bit clingy - I don't think she has accepted that I am a man and with manhood comes changes. I also have discussed how I used to think that maybe Mochi was my girlfriend, in fact it was a source of great debate - is she my girlfriend or my sister? Anyway, the issue is now moot because I've moved onto another woman, two women to be exact.  And despite all my mom's clinginess she must have sensed that this day, or days, would come because I noticed that she started reading a book called "The 19th Wife," a novel depicting Brigham Young's 19th wife and her ultimate unreasonable rejection of polygamy.  The only conclusion I can reach regarding my mom's book selection is that she is doing background research as I have made a huge decision in my life- I have finally taken a girlfriend, well two to be specific.  It's just amazing and I can't help but gush; these women literally knocked on my door and fell into my life. When does that happen! I knew as well as anyone that Mr./Mrs. Right won't just literally appear on your door step, YOU have to make it happen.  Or so I thought! I couldn't be happier with this turn on events, and when I first met Kerrie I said to myself "She's the one," but then I met Ashley about two weeks later and I thought to myself.."or is SHE the one."  Its then that I realized that I don't need to choose, I can take both and I have Big Love and a complex religious history to thank for that.

    Now I'm sure you're wondering how and perhaps even why these women suddenly appeared in my life - although the why part of the consideration is just a touch ridiculous because I'm a catch.  I don't know how to explain it other than they literally just showed up.  Kerrie appeared one day and much to my joy the first thing she wanted to do was take me on a walk, if that's not love then I don't know what is! It's odd because she only stayed about 20 minutes or so but perhaps she was just so overwhelmed by emotion.  The next day she came again, and the next! Also taking me on walks, cooing over how wonderful I am and giving me treats.  I can tell she's obsessed because she writes all her thoughts on this piece of paper, for example:

 "What am awesome doggy! (duh) So wonderful to see and meet him.  The weather was great, after Diggy went pee he wanted to sun bathe, what a great little man.  I'll see him again soon."

So after a week or so after I met Kerrie I realized we were meant to be together.  Then....I met Ashley and things became complicated.  Ashley brings out a totally different side of me and it would be just foolish to let someone so wonderful go.  I have to admit, I do find it a bit odd that she too keeps a detailed journal of our outings together - those should be private.  And I'm also cautious because dare I say she is borderline infatuated with me.  Look what she has to say about me:

"What an angel! I'm currently in love with Sir Diggy.  He's very well behaved (because I'm a gentlemen) and full of puppy love."

Kerrie was more reserved with her love while Ashley is quite forthright, as a man I initially felt inclined to exercise some caution.  Particularly after this note:

"A slower start today  It's as if he didn't remember me from yesterday.  Once I got a milkbone he came around.  He rolled in the grass a lot - adorable! Hope this is the beginning of our relationship. <3 Ashley."

So as you can see, I was forced to exhibit some restraint - but that was temporary.  Now Ashley and I are in love, as are Kerrie and I, we will see what the future holds for the three of us.

Life of a Jet-Setting Puppy, Part A.

Hello dear readers, I know I know - I've been gone far longer than I anticipated.  Almost a month which is both inconsiderate and neglectful of my fan base.  All I can say is that I had to turn my attention elsewhere. So back to my life and what's been happening.  After finals were over my mom and Aunt Heather reached a decision clearly spurred by lack of logic and pure idiocy. They decided to move their entire apartment on their own in essentially one day. Fools, what undeniable fools.  Luckily for them their waif-like friend helped out, but as I just said - she is a waif so it was a shoe by shoe process.  Now here is the best part, they did ALL this work to move basically DOWN THE HALL.  And now for the worst of it -- they had no regard for how their decision would affect Mochi and I. It was particularly cruel to do to me as I had no time to recover from my sympathy stress (induced by finals, see previous post).  Moves are upsetting for canines, especially for a canine as stupid as Mochi - there is just no way she can comprehend what is going on, while I was able to ultimately contain much of stress. Given my high intellect, I surmised that we were moving so I slept for the first 5 hours while Mochi paced and cried.  Though I have to admit, my strength and resolve began to waiver about 5:00 pm when moms room was nearly empty and I began to wonder, would she take me with her?? She did of course.  The new place is nice, though moms room is smaller and unfortunately her bathroom is separate which makes laying on the rug watching her shower very difficult because she is forced to close the door. Its terrible. I naturally figured out we had a new place immediately, Mochi from last I heard still runs to the other apartment.

SO after a huge move and unbeknownst to me, yet again, mom decides to make ANOTHER move and this one was just beyond traumatizing.  She put me on a plane and shipped me across the country, AGAIN.  Thank god this time she didn't force me to fly in a sweater but nonetheless it was upsetting and I have a hunch that mom wasn't surrounded by luggage and terrifying noises for 5 hours.  I have to admit though...the move was somewhat worth it, I have a yard and my own playhouse and there's an abundance of bugs just begging to be tracked and destroyed as my prey.

I don't have any photos yet from this summers activities but here is a short sampling of what I have to come.

Lots of running on the deck

working on my butterfly time

Fighting with my nemesis: Mick. [while simultaneously
trying to steal Beth's lounge chair].