REDNECK DOG OWNERS

Chester's Top Ten Reasons why Your Humans might be Redneck Dog Owners:
(with thanks going out to Jeff Foxworthy for my inspiration)

Your Humans might be Redneck Dog Owners:

If Dad lets you ride up front while Mom sits in the back, they might be redneck dog owners.

If your Mom has more "dog-walking" clothes than dress clothes, they might be redneck dog owners.

If your truck has a sticker telling everybody what breed of dog is hanging it's head out the window, they might be redneck dog owners.

If they plan a whole picnic around a body of water where you like to go swimming, they might be redneck dog owners.

If they only go to restaurants with drive-thru windows so you can ride along, they might be redneck dog owners.

If they have more pictures of you than of the human kids, they might be redneck dog owners.

If they plan a day of shopping but only go to Cabelas, Bass Pro, Lowe's, Gander Mountain, or any other stores that allow dogs, they might be redneck dog owners.

If they turn down invitations from non-dog owning friends just so they can stay home with you, they might be redneck dog owners.

If they flip the couch pillows over to hide the drool marks before company comes, they might be redneck dog owners.

If their bedspread looks like it's made of fur, they might be redneck dog owners.

Ok now, I'm tossing this challenge out to all my K9 friends to see how many more you can fetch for me.

Woofs and slobbers,
Chester

Wordless Wednesday-PLUS bonus low quality video! WOW!

Invasion of the Pocket Snatcher

Invasion of the Pocket Snatcher


Mom: You know Chester, your friends and mine are gonna get tired of coming here and seeing all the trouble you’re causing.
Chester: But Mom, isn’t that why people like tabloids and the evening news?
Mom: That’s different. When people read and watch other people’s problems it makes them feel better about themselves and their situation.
Chester: Isn’t that what I’m doing?
Mom: Well it probably does make them glad you live here and not with them but that’s so not the point. The point is that now I only have one glove.
Chester: It worked for Michael Jackson.
Mom: Go to your room!

Chester: I thought you’d never ask. Now I can show the folks my new blanket. Since I’ve moved up in the world and get to sleep on the spare bed you went and bought me a blanket with all kinds of labs on it. You must not be too mad at me.
Mom: I bought it before you ate my leather glove and I still have the Walmart receipt in case I decide to return it.
Chester: Yeah, right. You know you’re a sucker for this face.
Mom: You got me there. (sigh) Hopefully spring will be here soon and I won’t need it.
Chester: Atta girl,that's the spirit.
Mom: Lights out, Ches.
Chester: Goodnight Mom, Goodnight Dad, Goodnight JohnBoy
(theme song to "The Waltons" trails off in the background)

Ob·ses·sion

Pronounced: äb-ˈse-shən. Definition: a persistent disturbing preoccupation with an often unreasonable thing, idea or feeling.

I had to look it up 'cause Mom says I have one. What with, you ask? Paper and tissues-particularly used tissues. It started when I was just a pup, riding in the car one day on Mom's lap. (She has her own little obsession with wearing hoodies. You know, the kind with the pockets in the front.) Anyhow, me having the nose of a dog (duh) and it ain't just for lookin' pretty-I smelled something wafting ever so gently from that pocket. My nose followed that smell to find the most delicous treat, a used tissue. Blissfully unaware of what was about to happen, she continued to flap her lips as I gently slid the tissue from it's nest. Gulp! I was hooked like Tatum O'Neal on crack. It's been a downhill slide ever since. It's even branched off into paper. Now I'm not as particular about paper-used, new-it's all good. Newspapers usually get Mom and Dad flying to my side. Oh but the other night I found what must have been a particularly valuable piece of paper. Mom had gotten the mail before we took our walk. She threw it on the kitchen counter and off we went to the woods. A fine time was had by all. So we come back and she proceeds to the living room for just a second, forgetting all about that valuable mail on the counter. I started sniffing and it smelled gooooood. It had a nice inky sauce drizzled over it. So I grabbed it and ran. When she saw what I had she turned a whiter shade of pale and immediately went for the BAD CAN!! (For those of you who don't know what the bad can is, trust me. You don't want to.) I'll tell ya anyways. It's a soda can with small, round objects in it and it's top is covered with duct tape. When shaken, it emits an obnoxiously loud noise and hurts my ears until I'm begging for mercy. I really didn't want to drop my prize but Mom's face scared me even more than the bad can. Once she had it back in her shaking hands, she calmed a bit and saw that I had not even torn what she was calling a "check". I guess that inky sauce on it is what makes it so valuable. I guess she'll be a little more careful where she places "checks" from now on. So all this to say, if anybody has any suggestions how I can break this addiction please let me or Mom know. We would be forever in your debt. Chester

For a Wordless Wednesday: Anybody wanna take a guess at what happened here?

Tag-you're It!

Talked male co-workers into being hula dancers at a Margaritaville style going away party for a co-worker


Open a document or file folder,
Click on the fifth folder and then the fifth photo.
Post the photo and describe it.
Then tag 5 other bloggers.

Doggy Wash day

Ok, so I stink. Or in past tense I guess I should stay stunk. What's the big deal? I was comfortable in my odor. One might even say reveling in it. But seein's how Mom and Dad buy the dog food, treats, toys and my dial-up internet (don't get me started), I guess I'll play according to their rules. But it was cold here today. Like Z-E-R-O degrees. Ok, so you Vermontians think we're livin' in the balmy south- but to me, it was still too cold to be standing in a metal sink with Mom hosing me down singing "Goin' to the dog wash, ooh, ooh, you might never get rich, talkin' 'bout the dog wash, woa, woah............." You get the picture and it ain't pretty. And thank goodness for that, she forgot the camera. Don't need that splayed across the internet for all the world to see. But I do have to admit, I now look mahvelous, dahling! (You do know it's better to look good than to feel good, don't you?) And here I am looking all fine in my shiny brown suit and to be honest, I'm tired. I should be out on the town, looking for some lady friends but, yawn, I think I'm gonna just go take a power-nap on my newly acquisitioned spare bed (I'll post more on that at a later date) and then I'll step out later. Nighty-night! Chester

My Brother from another Mother

You can see there is an addition of a memorial photo to the right. I thought I'd give you a little background about this fella who lived here before me. Mom and Dad got married in June of 1990. In May of the following year, Dad was in the fields near our house 'cause he used to be a farmer and there he was, the guy who affectionately came to be known as "Grits" or Gritter or the Gritsmeister. Mom told me that he was very hungry and she thought he didn't have many days left at the rate he was going. Being a Sunday and we live in a small town where there were no grocery stores open, they scrounged around and gave him some milk and a couple hot dogs. They found an old rope and fashioned a collar and tied him outside, then went to the closest convenience store to buy some dog food. When they returned, Grits was not where they had left him in the yard but was pressed tightly against the back door. Mom figured he knew a good thing when he saw it. For a couple days they asked around to see if anybody was looking for him and nobody ever showed up. Of course all this time he was being treated royally and being asked "Are you gonna be a good dog?" The deal was sealed and he was taken to the vet for a checkup and the normal shots. They estimated him to be about 6 months old and thought he was a mix of Australian Cattle Dog and Travelin' Man. (Never heard of that breed but Mom says I don't need to either). Oh and he had to go back real soon after that for the same thing I had to go for. I can't remember much except I took a nap there that day and then my undercarriage was a little sore the next day. Well, long story short-Mom and Dad came to know all about Australian Cattle Dogs and learned to love Gritter-and he loved and protected them. He loved to hunt groundhogs too and used to chase and bite the tractor tires when Dad was workin' the fields. He had a few "issues" and Mom really wishes that Cesar guy would have been around 'cause he would have known how to make him like linoleum kitchen floors and to ride in vehicles. He gagged himself on a leash too. But he was the love of their life for 15 good years and paved the way for me to come along. I can only hope to live up to his legacy. Woofs and slobbers! Chester
A picture of Grits in his later days....

Being Nosy

Nothing to say today. Just in here being nosy.

January 12, 2007 BC???

When was January 12, 2007 BC you ask? Well, that was January 12, 2007 (Before Chester). On January 13, 2007 I arrived to my new home. Since then it has been:
Muddy paw prints on the kitchen floor. Toys strewn all over the house. A dog bed in the middle of the living room. Hair gathering along the edges of every room. Slobber marks on the recliner ('cause Dad sneaks me treats when Mom's not looking). Candles waiting but never being lit (Lab tails and fire do not mix). Tissues being pulled out of unclosed pockets. Extra cash being spent at the vet or for new dog toys or for training. Lab nose art on the sliding glass door. An 8 quart horse bucket for drinking by the door. Any and all edible items kept to the very back of the kitchen counter. Rags for paw wiping hanging off the mantel.

These are the things that Mom and Dad never had to deal with until me. Neither of them ever had an "indoor" dog before. My brother from another mother who lived here before did not like it inside so he just slept in my room off of the kitchen at night and then stayed outside in his house during the day. The cost of all the things listed above probably is more than she'd like to think about but Mom says that having me around is priceless!

Thanks Mom and Dad for loving me and providing a wonderful home these last 2 years. I hope we have many, many, many more years of good times and good slobbers together. Chester

Here are some photos of me growin' up:

Soakin' up the sun

Chillin' on the back porch

Got snow?

This was my first day at my new home. It was a warm January day so I thought I'd check out the flower beds. This is the face that sold me to Mom and Dad.

My second day I decided to make myself at home...........

No fear!

15 months old and stillllllllllllllll growing!

My bewwy huwts!

Today's post will not be showing any pictures. I don't think Mom would appreciate me showing my bedroom like it was when she opened the door this morning. Ya see, I had "issues" last night and without getting too explicit, let's just say I had both ends workin' last night. When Mom opened the door the look on her face was kinda hard to describe. I tried to get outside, I really did. I thought maybe if I pulled on the rug hard enough it would open the door but it didn't. And she had a hard time finding where to step. She told me to stay and then once she maneuvered past my "deposits" she opened the door so I could go outside. While I went out to do my usual business, she rolled up the rug and cleaned up with some smelly cleaning spray. I think it may have been something I ate last night when Dad had me out in the fields for a walk. At least I think so, unless I caught the flu bug that Dad had on Monday. Mom sure has had alot of cleaning to do this week. First Dad, now me. I really, really hope she don't get it 'cause neither Dad or me can handle cleaning that stuff. I think Moms come equipped with something special that allows them to take care of stuff like that. She wasn't mad at me or nothing. Well, I think you get the picture and hopefully I haven't ruined your breakfast. I'm gonna go take a nap. Take care and I'll be lettin' ya know how I feel later. Chester