WANTED

The weekend started out on it's usual good note of hangin' out with the 2 leggers on a Friday evening, relaxing together after what is usually a long, hard week. By Friday evening they are tired from the week-long struggle to make a somewhat decent life, for they were not born with silver spoons in their mouths. Afternoon tea has never been set out on the veranda by a humble servant for either of them-if you get my drift. Many Friday nights the sweet smelling fragrance of a pizza will fill the air, of which I am a most willing partaker of the meager crumbs they begrudgingly share. After an hour or so of TV or PC vegetation, I meander to my bedroom as they in turn trudge to their own. Sleep is sweet, knowing we will share good times together over the next two days.

Little did I know the Rebel yell had been uh, well, yelled...........

For the most part we are early risers and Saturday morning started with my usual breakfast while darkness still filled the sky. Then came the outdoor relief parade through the yard with Mom and I being joined by a leash. The leash is required by Mom, knowing that a skunk could be in the vicinity. She knows that I, being the gracious and entertaining dog that I am would more than likely want to offer my paw of friendship. But according to her, skunks are not a hospitable group and would turn tail, snubbing me profusely with their non-social airs.

As the sun rose and light began to overcome the surrounding darkness, it was easy to see that a fog had invaded the parcel that we call home. It was a thick blanket of white that not only covered the maturing soybeans but also moistened their sun parched leaves from the previous day's heat. I scanned the beauty of the contrasting green leaves and white misty air.

That's when my gaze was stopped short by a sheet of paper that had mysteriously been attached to one of our walnut trees overnight.



I couldn't imagine who would have placed this paper on the tree considering the fact that this tree is well away from the road and is surrounded by fields. The strange gnawing that had begun in the pit of my stomach turned quickly to outrage and horror upon closer inspection.



My cursed rival had slipped in quietly during the night and dealt this new weapon of warfare. He had bombarded my mind with a mental hand grenade. As the day progressed I came to find out he was taunting me all over town, displaying the poster at places he knows I frequent.

The store where Mom gets my biscuits and that nasty ear cleaner had one hanging on the porch railing.

The weather channel predicted a beautiful day which had Mom's SUV begging for a trip through the car wash tunnel. Yet again my pleasure was stolen as Mom paid for the wash and I saw the heartless trail my nemesis had left hanging on the outer wall.

I was overcome with a hatred that I never knew existed within me for this wretched rodent . Hard as it was to not go on a rampage, I stood still, knowing that I should not be hasty. A quickly designed plan would be my sure defeat in this contest between me and this newly formed army.

That's when it hit me that my newly acquired vehicle would be perfect for a full fledged attack. It's not your average vehicle, it is designed to transport soldiers into battle. I have shared the news of getting a vehicle with some of my dog friends on Facebook and I have no doubt that they will be at the ready when we decide to retaliate. If any of you dogs in DogBlogville feel prepared and are willing to serve, I will accept any and all. I don't believe a draft will be necessary.



A serious vehicle like this called for a personalized license plate. Lucky for me, Budrow Spain's Mom, Cheri, was in Facebook jail 2 weeks ago and made me this killer license plate.




The wanted poster that emerged from the groundhog underworld has only deepened my desire to rid the world of their poison forever. Normally you wouldn't think of us with labrador origins as being a hateful group. I can't explain it, maybe it's that I am an excellent judge of character. Or maybe it is that in my family tree, great hunters have passed their bloodthirst on to me and that is why I am now a prisoner of my own passion. Either way, I believe that this is my duty, maybe even my calling, to help the local farmer's succeed in their chosen endeavor.

May you all rest easier knowing that I am vigilant at my post,
Chester "Mad Dog" Hoover ;0=)