Author: Dakota Dawg

Dakota lived high in Colorado and was a member of the February Furballs. He lost a front leg to soft tissue sarcoma on 2-11-11. Dakota impulsively decided to see what the whole "rainbow bridge" business was about on 12-15-12 and before we could stop him, he was gone. But never forgotten. Never.

February Furball celebrates 11 months!

I understand I am the member of a special club here called The February Furballs. I don’t know exactly how many members are in it, but I know these: Bellona, Lucky, Rio, Bud and me. We all had our legs stolen by stealth and magic in February 2011. We all were lured into a vehicle of some sort, taken to a V-E-T, enticed into taking a lovely nap and then woke to the magical goodness of having a leg missing. Of course, the whatever that made our legs hurt or gimpy or bad was gone, too. Added bonus, of course. Excuse me if I’m a wee bit cynical about that part. You see, my leg never hurt. I have seen the photos, though, and I admit it didn’t look good for my future.

So today I say happy, hippy, hoppy ampuversary to me! One more month and it will be a year. I hope my Woman is already sending out the invitations for the affair, and I hope all my Tripawd friends are running the lint brushes over their tuxes and spangly gowns, because February is going to be the month to pawty! After all, look at all the pawesome members who will be celebrating a whole ding-dang year with me!

I hope there is a big ol’ party table set up over the Bridge, too, because I have a lot of friends there who I want to celebrate with me today. Yesterday Abby made everyone really sad when she crossed the Bridge, but I’m thinking maybe she went in advance to make sure this damned party is done right. Abby has always been our go-to girl for all things sparkly and celebratory. I know she is making sure that Gayle doesn’t eat all the cheese and Catie puts down her stick and Ted brushes his hair and Chili and Bo and Tate dry off before coming to the table. There are so many over there partying, I can hear them laughing and playing when I dream. Can’t you?

Buh-bye Barney! You stinker, you!

Barney has been called away on a super-secret, double-ultra-important mission. He was going to stay another day but my Woman said duty calls. She said Barney is some kind of secret agent man and he is needed elsewhere–P*R*O*N*T*O. So Barney was crammed into his box and he’s flying away in the morning.

Barney stinks. He really does. I found his scent…compelling and interesting. Evelyn found it intoxicating.  Photographic proof below.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As we crammed Barney into the box, all of his Blackjack friends showed up to send him off. Puku, Oscar and Bandit hopped up there and did whatever it is that compulsive gamblers do when they say goodbye.

My assessment:  He’s a pain in the butt, no doubt about it. I hope he makes up for the riot he caused here. Funny thing. We were supposed to kill Barney but instead Barney made me a little nuts.  I ate Evelyn’s head and made her bleed a little. I say good riddance, purple creature.  So long, schmuck!

Barney sucks at Blackjack

Because Evelyn and I are so digusted with Barney’s behavior and riot-inciting, he has had no one to play with. Today he found some kindred spirits in my Boy’s old Webkinz animals. He invited my Boy’s dogs–a pug, a bulldog and a dachshund–to play Blackjack. I thought the pug would be the better player (pugs, as we know, are smart cookies) but it was the bulldog that cleaned house. I’m sure it cheated.

As you can see, the bulldog (Bandit is his name) had all the quarters and a 21. The pug, Puku, is just too excitable to sit still and focus. Poster child for canine ADHD. And the dachshund, Oscar (you’ll figure it out), just hates cards. Bandit is a smarter bulldog than Evelyn, and I think that’s why Barney did so badly. He expected Evelyn’s brain to show up. Anyway, Barney sucks at Blackjack.

Woohoo! We let Barney play with knives!

We paid Barney back for inciting a riot the other night. First my Woman put a sweater on him. It came from Angel Catie Catelyn and was sweeter than Barney, that’s for sure. We made him go out in the yard and cut down our Christmas tree! And my Woman gave him a Swiss army knife to do it. I hoped he’d cut his femoral artery or his jugular, but no such luck. I picked the tree. It was so big because I wanted him to be out there for a very long time. He was. He was gone overnight.  Here is the tree:

 

 

Then just to be a smartass, he cut down another tree and stacked it for splitting next summer.

 

We made Barney haul the tree to the house. He had to trim off some low branches.

After Barney brought the tree inside and made my Woman a hot buttered rum and massaged my feet and rubbed Evelyn’s belly, he got a little rest. My Woman went potty while I dozed off. He took advantage of the moment to make more trouble.

I let him have it, though. I’m faster than lightning!

He finally got done decorating the tree and we let him take a nap. What a PITA this guy has been!

Evvie and Barney sittin’ in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g!

I warned ’em. I told Evelyn and Barney that I would not tolerate any monkey business. I had to stay up pretty late to see what they were up to, but it was worth it.

I watched them snoring for awhile till they noticed me. Well, they didn’t notice me till they heard the camera click. They couldn’t even run after me. I think they had hangovers. I took the camera to my Woman, and she was not happy. At all. She knew Barney was a bad influence, but she found out just how bad he can be. My woman punished them both.