March 22, 2007
Welcome to my blog! I had some difficulties setting this up because, although my slightly webbed feet come in handy when I swim - which is never, by the way, I'm a coonhound for crying out loud, not some Portuguese Water Dog - they are nevertheless quite cumbersome when you're trying to type. So reluctantly I have enlisted the help of my faithful servant, who shall herein remain nameless for the sake of not completely shattering her last tiny bit of pride, and she will act as my voice for this blog. For some reason, many people have a hard time comprehending coonie speak. I don't see the problem, I'm quite clear when expressing myself. Just ask the neighbors.

You wouldn't imagine a coonhound has a lot to say, would you? On the contrary, my friends! A coonhound is constantly pondering, pontificating, and perusing. That "perusing" usually involves the countertops, searching for tasty morsels that are conveniently set out within my tongue's grasp. Foolish humans! A coonhound has extraordinary abilities that allow us to stretch and contort to lengths unimaginable to reach a stray piece of food.

I've decided to share a few of my secret thoughts for the sole purpose of educating the public. Consider it my gift to the world. You will find yourself enlightened in a way you never before dreamed possible...for that, my friends, is the absolute reality when you have a coonhound in your life.

My mom came home from Florida last night. After greeting her with the obligatory lick on her face (she is so easily pleased!), I immediately pressed my nose over every inch of her suitcase. Oh the smells! Ocean, salt water, cats (could they possibly be inside??)... But I was not fooled for long. The air quickly carried something much, much sweeter and more worthy to my nose...CHICKEN. Could it really be? A stray bit of chicken nugget perhaps? (She eats them almost daily, believe me) I followed my never failing weapon of mass destruction to the source of the wonderful smell. Yes, it's in the backpack!! I frantically swiped at it with my paw and then plunged my nose into the zipper again, sucking in breaths hard enough to make my belly concave and my eyes bulge out of my head. CHICKEN!! (editor's note: coonhounds LOVE chicken.) Oh sweet, sweetness! This must be my reward for being so tolerant while left home alone with these Neanderthals for 5 days! Alas, it was not to be. My mom snatched the bag up out of my reach and walked into the kitchen, where she pulled out a Chick-Fil-A sandwich and placed it in the large, white, bomb-proof & safe-like structure that I hear them calling the "fridge" sometimes.

There's always tomorrow.