Blogging Time Out

Hey friends, momma says that we're going to have a little blogging time out, OK?

Nothing bad happening. Momma says she needs to "clear the deck." Gosh, I hope that doesn't mean we can't sun bake.

Mango Man! Oh yeah!

P.S. Is it just me or does that photo make Pea look GIGANTIC?

A Stuffie Saga in Verse

A box of stuffies on the shelf.

All for Mango, right?

"Throw one out," momma says, "toys you have too much!"

"You talk like yoda!" I reply. Mentals slip their clutch.

Into the barrel goes one toy.

An owl is given to Pea.

"What ho for Mango?" I exclaim.

Behold a piggie! I am game.

Exhausted from our newfound fun.

Nap time is next to do.

But sneaky Pea runs back inside

And claims BOTH stuffies with labrapride.

Mango Man! Oh yeah!

POTP for Bert and I Have Issues with Blueberries

Please visit my friend and MM 2012 BIS Judge, Bert and send him good thoughts.

He seems to have swallowed a tennis ball and is having emergency surgery.

Good luck, buddy. The Mango is pulling for you.

His blog is here.

OK, now, first thing you do is watch a little movie either here or below.

Did you watch it? Now you might think from that movie that The Mango does not like blueberries.

That could hardly be further from the truth, wherein which, my large and pendulous jowls make it very difficult to keep those slippery little fruits in my jaws of doom.

So while the DOH is busy making fun of me and acting all like I don't want the thing the truth was I wanted it really bad and I was so mad when she picked it up and fed it to that pointy snootered labradoink.

Look at him. Looks like some stupid baby bird all head thrown back and jaws agaping. EEP, EEP, EEP!

I was finally able to convince the labraloving witch that I, too, would like to partake if she could help me to situate it just so, so as not to lose it in my jowls.

Hmmm, under the tongue. Like fruit nitroglycerin, right? YUMMERS!

Speaking of blueberries and idiot humans, I went to take a gander at the Master's "blueberry patch" the other day.

Um, hello? Just fall off the apple cart or something? Seriously? Master, buddy, those are STICKS! You planted STICKS! Fool!

Guess I better keep my Stop and Shop card handy if I want any blueberries this summer.

Mango Man! Oh yeah!

WTF Wednesday - Our New Neighbor

First of all, can you believe momma actually made me take down the header of my large and handsome self all rolling and roaching in the grass and replace it with a dorky photo of me sitting there next to Pea? COME ON!

It isn't even a good photo. I have NO FACE! WTF? And Pea looks like a black blob (aw who cares how he looks anyway). But what about ME and my fans? They want to see myself. Sheesh!

But I digress...

So there I was enjoying a nice sun bake when stupid Pea wakes up and goes into his "intruder alert" routine. All barking and yelling and trying to puff up his little body. As if!

And I'm like "Shut up, labradoink! Can't you see I'm taking a meditation?"

And he's all like "MANGO! GET UP! INTRUDER! BAD! PROTECT THE ESTATE!"

Yuh, so it's not like I'm going to get any more sleep, might as well get up and see what the little pest is on about.

I peer over the fence and you know what I saw at the end of the driveway?

WTF? Seriously? There is totally a HORSE in our driveway! Are you seeing this?

And Momma was out there too! Holy crap! That horse was gonna kill her for sure. So now I'm yelling "Momma! Watch out! That horse will kill you!"

It's even wearing a horsie mental leader. I bet it just came right from ruffian school.

But she was all shouting at me to simmer down because it is just our new neighbor. Huh?

Now, I have seem some rather interesting poop on my walkies, but I always assumed that it fell off one of the landscaper trucks I see zooming up and down the street all the time. Nope. Apparently we have official poop making horses right down the street!

You know what else? Momma said this horse is just a baby.

What what what? Look at the size of those feet! That's a baby?

Nine months old? As if!

So that's our new neighbor. Sheesh! Just when I thought it was safe to go walkies again now I have to watch out for gigantic mutant mastiff eating "baby" horses.

Give me strength!

Mango Man! Oh yeah!

Please Help my Idiot Momma

Poor Momma. She is trying to coordinate Mango Minster prizes with winners and sponsors and the daft lady LOST the name of the sponsor of Working Stiffs first place who offered a $25 gift certificate to Pet Expectations. If it is YOU, please contact me at once.

Slobbers,

Mango

When Bigfoot Attacks

Momma: "OW OW OW! Get off my foot you freakin' monster!"

Mango: "Huh? Am I on the balance ball again?"

Mango Man! Oh yeah!

Tick Tock

Friends, loyal readers, and fans of yours truly, I fear that the time is drawing near when I will have to relinquish MY blog back to the Relentlessly Huge. Yes, Mango Minster is drawing to a close which means the gigantic, cry baby momma's dog will be back to chronicle the minutia of his every "waking" moment.

I thought I would sneak onto the computer one last time while he is at his absurd water therapy.

Kind of ironic that he gets to do water therapy seeing as I, Dexter, am an actual water dog (as opposed to a boat anchor with fur).

Lately the only time I enjoy feeling moisture on my labrafurs is when I get left out in the rain.

I realize that my large vocabulary and well crafted sentences have attracted some new readers.

Readers who might not fully appreciate what I was confronted with when I first came to live at my forever home.

Fear not! I have learned to hold my own against the torpid beast and frequently share some well crafted HBO words with him.

I even take the opportunity to gnaw on him now and then when momma forgets my weekly meaty bone. Don't worry. As it takes several minutes for the sensation of my teeth to actually traverse the sluggish neurons connected to his "brain" I am well out of harm's way before he figures out that it is jaws of doom time.

I have been promised the occasional blog time to air my views and cleanse your reading pallets of the poor grammar, misspellings and adolescent phraseology that are the hallmark of the simple creature known as Mango.

Nevertheless, I will be once again relegated to a supporting roll on this blog, so drink in my fine labradoredness while you can.

Dexter done!

Why I Don't Compete at Mango Minster

Some alert readers have asked me "Hey, Dexter! Why don't you compete in Mango Minster?"

The answer is quite simple. How fair would that be to all the other wonderful, yet, I'm just being honest, inferior competitors? Yes, friends, it is a fact that yours truly is the "best most wonderful all around dog in the world." That is a direct quote from my momma and she should know, right?

Sure, if the RH is within ear shot, she always tries to spare his feelings by adding the modifier "lab" in their someplace (as in "you are the best - lab - in the world"). Leaving the simple beast to assume that there is still room for him at the top of the wonderful dog list.

But let's look at the evidence, shall we?

Too Darn Cute

Oh squeeee! You know you want to.

Adventure Animal

No machine too big for me!

Bad Sport

I'm not sure why the fact that momma is obsessed with touching my teeth every time I get a nom justifies the "bad sport" moniker, but apparently in some circles it does.

Working Stiff

You missed a spot! There! Over there! Pay attention!

and of course...

Cracker Critter

Come and get me, baby Shamu!

So, as you see, what fun would there be to see me in the winner's circle five times over? Not much, right? No, I will stick to my blogging and let other, lesser dogs, have their little competition.

Dexter done!

POTP for Tsar and Fred

Our buddy, Tsar, could really use your good thoughts right now.

As I write this, his family is waiting for blood work to come back to find out what is troubling him, but he is not doing well.

Please visit him here.

Please also send your thoughts to Fred here. The seizure monster keeps visiting him and his family is so worried.

Dexter the Wonder Dog - The Boar Index

I want to join blogland in sending special thoughts to beautiful K today.

She is quite a special gal and an inspiration to us all.

And now, the Wonder Dog himself...

Ever wonder what the boar index is? Well wonder no more, because, I, Dexter, have once again set my superior intellect to work on determining the meaning of yet another peculiar human expression.

Here is what I have learned.

First of all, once again, the internet was no help at all as searches for boar index resulted in images of rather shocking looking creatures along with discussions of the stock market but no hits with the actual phrase put to use.

Dear readers, boar index is a formulation of the noun adjective which has become a mainstay of modern human speech (at least around my house). Ever heard the expression "that is da bomb?" Wherein "bomb" is both a noun and an adjective. Curious, isn't it?

Boar index refers to the delight of investigating the wonderful smells that enrich each and every one of my walkies. I believe it is an attempt on momma's part to convey that while her limited nasal passages cannot begin to imagine what it is like to be able to determine the passage of dogs, cats, squirrels, and other beasts, she at least appreciates the pleasure I take in said activity.

To whit, as in this photo which was accompanied by her exclamation of "This is boar index!"

When I am focused for extended periods of time, her joyful remarks become even more impassioned and often have added modifiers.

As here where she was almost shouting "THIS IS TOTALLY BOAR INDEX!"

Oops, actually this is a Lerting picture (see this post to learn more about that word).

I will confide in you that momma's moods are quite unpredictable and when I am engrossed in a particularly good smell, and most often when my back is turned thusly, she will give me a tug on my leash and announce "ENOUGH!"

How sad for the humans to live such limited lives that they would deny their best friends the opportunity to fully investigate the bounty of the earth.

Now, for those of you still unclear on the boar index, I give you this very brief video in which I have captured momma actually speaking (albeit in a somewhat flattened tone) the words "This is boar index."

Got it?

Dexter done!

Can You See Me Now?

Let's face it, the days when I can depend on the RH for some bitey face action are long gone. While he is almost lifelike at times, he is no longer game for zooming and spinning around or otherwise providing a much needed release for yours truly.

While I have suggested to momma that a companion for my labraself might be in order she demurs saying, "Oh, Dexter, Mango would never tolerate another dog. You will have to make due with your daycare pals."

That said, I am not without resources and have discovered ways to use the lumbering giant for my own entertainment.

To whit, my current favorite sport which I will call "I'm in your bed and you can't do anything about it."

This game is not without some personal sacrifice at it requires me to come in contact with the surface of his bed. A bed which is encrusted with slobber and other Mango juices best not considered. But it is worth it.

Can you see me?

How about now?

Look at his face! His head is close to exploding from the confusion.

Because here's my secret... when I growl at him he freezes in place like a scared rabbit. Hard to believe, isn't it, but the big dope is actually afraid of me, ME! And growl at him I do! Ha! This is DEXTER'S BED now!

Yup, living room bed, dog cave bed, same good times, different location.

And when it's all over, I can retire to my labracouch.

Neener, neener, neener!

Dexter done!

Dexter the Wonder Dog - Lerts

Lerts.

What are they? Should one strive to be one? It sets a mind to wondering.

While there are many nicknames that I have had to learn in regards to my labraself, none is so confounding as the moniker of "lert."

For once, the Internet has let me down. A quick google search yielded dismal results as in

LERT = Leicester Environmental Road Tolling Scheme or Laboratoire d'Etudes et de Recherches Télédétection Spatiale

Or in the Urban Dictionary; "a small furry woodland creature that senses are always very intensely attuned to its surroundings."

I don't put much credence in that one as any site which combines the term "dictionary" and grammatically incorrect sentences is hardly credible.

And so I set about discerning the true meaning of the word "lert" based on context. A task not unknown to yours truly as so many of the human utterances are context dependent as with the oft heard "Dexter, you are a bad, bad dog" which is frequently accompanied by affectionate bottom smacks or belly rubs.

But this particular word posed a problem since the application appears to be somewhat whimsical.

To whit, the Relentlessly Huge.

When he summons the energy to break his perpetual torpitude by actually lifting his head, one can hear momma exclaim "Oh, Mango is a lert today!"

LERT

And yet a similarly dreamy, half awake state does not garner analogous exclamations regarding my labraself.

NO LERT

Are you confused yet? I asked momma to clarify a photo from the archives. To whit the following, where, once again, the RH was labeled "lert" whilst I was a "wake." There's something I will ponder at a later date as one word a day is plenty.

A LERT AND A WAKE

As usual, when applied to Dexter, the word morphs into a version that smacks of a patronizing reference to my sturdy, yet diminutive stature. Yes, friends, while the RH is apparently a full blown lert on many an occasion, I have been relegated to "lerting"

The term is applied at the moment when I am attempting to focus on a potential threat to life and limb and I do not appreciate the distraction to my guard dog duties.

And, it is frequently not stated as a declarative, but, rather, as a query as if Momma herself is unclear of the true definition.

"Dexter. Why are you a lerting?"

LERTING

Why indeed?

Here, I am waiting for Master to shake a leg and exit the garage with his bag of goodies from Trader Joe's. Is that what lerts do? Wait for noms?

LERTING

One can suss out that lerts are a cautious lot as in the sentence (spoken with alarm and dismay) "If I were a lert I wouldn't have stepped in that poo!"

No photo on that one, my friends. Let's just say that in some circumstances the state of being a lert appears preferably to being my heavy footed momma who can count on her shoes to locate poo in the yard with alarming accuracy.

Confounded beyond belief, I offered this photo as one last attempt at clarity from the dotty old hen.

"Are there any lerts depicted here?" I asked.

NO LERTS

Her reply? "Awwww, look at my two handsome boys." Hardly flattering to have one's exceptional labralooks bucketed with that 204 pound door stop and certainly not at all enlightening.

Dexter done!