Hello from Asta Droopy Tail
I’m heart sore tonight. I got a hiding. I don’t like them one bit, but neither does my mom. I know that because she’s crying now, and she loves me too much. After the hiding she was hugging me and taking out all the green stuff that clung to my legs, ear and face.
I went out the gate to take a peek, the gate closed behind me, and I couldn’t get in. I barked a couple of times, but my mom was trying to put her brother’s little human baby to sleep, and she never realized where I was.
At least I was found, and I can sleep on my soft bed again, not in the blackjacks. The whole family panicked! But I am home.
Think I’ll never do that again. 🙂
See ya. :-S
Asta Naughty Nose
Hello, it’s Asta again, and goodness, how I struggled to find a nice word with a g. But I guess goodness will do.
I love praise. I think it’s a necessary thing in every dog’s life. You praise me and I know I’m doing the right thing. Because all I want to do is please – please my mom and all my human family that are busy growing on me.
Mom is very good at letting me know when she’s satisfied or not. She tells me it did not always come naturally for her – it’s a skill she had to acquire.
So, tell me of my goodness and watch how much better I’ll become. 🙂
Lots of good, wet, juicy licks
No, that’s wrong. Foooooood!
Sorry, where’s my manners? Hello, it’s Hungry Asta.
I’m a labrador, and by nature I love food. In my best dog-dreams I eat and eat and never stop.
My food intake is limited, so that I can look slim and trim. Hmph, I think my mom should limit her intake a bit, and give what’s left to me.
I have a problem with my tummy, and my mom gets very angry when I pick up juicy bits that lie around. She says my food costs her a fortune, and the least I can do is keep away from other food. Well, Mom, I can do a lot of things, but I find that one very hard. So I try to do it on the sly. Unfortunately, it’s not so easy – she catches me out most of the time.
Hi Again. It’s Asta.
Mom’s definition of eggnorance: Ignorant people who cannot learn.
For instance: Some people call me a blind dog. Um, no, I’m not blind, but my mom is. When she tries to help the lady right, the lady told her: “I know what they are, I’ve read a lot about them. How long have you had your blind dog?”
Then why is it that when people see dogs, they always think we’re hungry? Personally I think that’s the truth, but my mom is strict on my food intake. I have a problem with gastro and nausea, and my mom’s trying to stop me getting sick. But it’s not food that makes it happen, is it? Anyhow, don’t feed me, because it’s torture when my mom doesn’t allow me to eat it.
Then: Once a lady called me across the road when me and my mom were working. I got distracted, my mom almost fel into the road, and lost her bearings. So I love you to bits, but don’t call or try to pet me when I’m wearing my working harness. Ask my mom first.
Some people are eggnorant, but I just know you aren’t. 🙂
Don’t be eggucated, be learned. That is what one minister always used to tell my mom.
Hello, it’s Asta again.
Firstly, let’s get something out of the way. Sorry I couldn’t post for a while. My mom had a humanish calamity. Her tail was drooping and her head was hanging. Today her tail wags weakly, but at least her head is up. Now I get a chance to catch up at the computer again. Woof!
Today I want to tell you about my destiny. It’s a special story that makes me, my puppy raiser mom and my human mom pretty emotional.
I was raised at the South African Guide Dog Association, After six weeks I was given to my puppy raiser mom. There I learnt a lot of things and she loved me to bits. After that I trained to be a guide dog. But with every class the trainers couldn’t match me with any mom or dad in that class.
I went from trainer, to trainer, starting to get depressed and feel like there is no-one for me.
One day they came to fetch dogs from the kennel for a new class. I just sat in my corner, already used to being left. But to my surprise, the leash was hooked to my neck, and I was brought to my new mom.
At first I wiped the floor with her. One day after scavenging in every dustbin, she cut her chin on a branch I led her into. She just sat and cried, until the trainer came to her. I had no idea how close I was to missing my destiny.
But on the day I got my qualification and I went home with my new mom, I became more cooperative. I realized she would be the one to save me from the kennels.
She is destined to be my mom and I am destined to be her Princess Asta.
Hello, it’s Astalicious here. My mommy’s close friend sometimes calls me that. 😛
Ah no, look what I’ve gone and done: created extra work for myself. I forgot that Sunday is my day of rest, and I’m not supposed to write on that day. C day is today, and I’m so mad at myself for taking on my mom’s forgetful nature, I think I need a cuddle.
I love cuddles. You cuddle me, and I smother you with lick love. And trust me, I have a loong tongue. Tell me, why is it that humans (even my mom), don’t like being licked in the face? It’s only my way of showing how devoted I am to you.
Talking about cuddles, I also love cuddly toys, although my mom has stopped giving them to me, because my teeth are a little sharp these days, and I mess all the soft insides out. She’s scared I might swallow some of that. Oh well, no cuddly toys for me, but at least I still get lots of cuddles.
“Hello, friends. Tomorrow Asta’s word starts with a d, has a y at the end, and a t in the middle. Can you guess the word?”
Hey! Mom, get off my blog! I don’t know what you just said, but it seems like you’re trying to give away all my secrets. I feel a blog fight coming on!
Lotsa lavish licks
Hello, it’s Princess Asta from the land of Dogville again.
Apparently you humans have a saying: “Curiosity killed the cat.” I could tell you how much I loathe cats, but curiosity is more my thing.
See, the world is full of interesting things, and I don’t want to miss a thing. I am just such an inquisitive creature, and curiosity is in my bones.
If I come and visit you, and I find you opening a cupboard of plates, my wet nose will be right beside you. And if you open it a few minutes later, I’ll be next to you. Hey, something could’ve changed from the time we saw it till now, OK?
But the best curiosities are the edible ones, like bones lying on the side of the road – but then I’m working, and I’m not allowed to investigate, or I will get a scolding. Ooh, that’s what I call torture. Do you blame me for trying to sneak in a sniff now and then? But I shouldn’t, I know. I have a qualification under my name, but that doesn’t make me less of a dog.
So now I’m curious. Are you enjoying my blog hijacking attempt? Do you lick (I mean like) what I write?
Hello, it’s me again – Asta, in case you’ve forgotten. Humans can be so forgetful at times. Well, my mom is a master at forgetfulness.
Today I want to tell you about my new baby sister. She’s not my biological baby sister, although I have met some of my other biological siblings. Oh, yes, I meant to tell you: I have another mom – a puppy raiser mom, and she’s awesome. She taught me how to behave, and I know she did a good job, because look how good I am. (My mom’s shaking her head – I think I better go slow on the self-praise, or maybe it’s the forgetfulness thing she doesn’t like?) The point I’m trying to make is that my puppy raising mom (more that on day p) has raised some of the brothers and sisters from my dog mom, such as Keltex.
At my mom’s old house there was a white lab who liked to bully. Poor Rhodie, my predecessor, whose legs gave in, had to suffer under Holly. But not me. I could run faster.
Here in my new home I have three sisters, but my favourite is Roxie. She’s special, and I let her do anything she wants to me – things that I wouldn’t let any other dog try. She can nibble at my lips and ears and use me as a jungle-gym, I don’t care.
She’s a brave pup (she’s not even a year old yet), who was accidentally driven over by her dad when she was three months old. The vet thought all she had was a broken leg, until he x-rayed her. All her insides were jumbled up, and he didn’t think she would make it. Nevertheless, when her parents came to visit her, she was as chirpy as a bird in the morning. I don’t think I would survive what Roxie went through. I would be traumatized for life!
When I first met her, she looked like she was all zipped up the way the doctor stitched her up, and today she’s ready to run in front of a car again. 😀
See, I’m not that vain. I can talk about something other than myself.
You Know Who (or have you forgotten?)
Hello everybody. My name is Asta, and I am a guide dog. My mom has taken up the A to Z challenge where you have to write each day on a different letter of the alphabet. Judging by my mom’s sluggardness of late, I have taken over the job. 🙂 She has been preoccupied with things like starting a new toastmasters club, and all kinds of humanish things. Oh well, the things we do for love; at least I get Sundays off. Hopefully she will reward me?
I am a female black labrador bitch (and yes, that suits me in more ways than none). I have a dog mom (I can’t remember her name), and a human mom, and in future when I refer to mom, it’s my human mom I mean. I’m my mom’s first female guide dog, and she says I have the most peculiar nature she’s ever met. Well, I don’t know about that, but let me just say: I test you first. If I don’t like you, please don’t touch me, OK? But if I do, I will reward you by pretty much licking you to death. I have mood swings, but I’m a woman and that’s my prerogative.
In these 26 days, I will tell you different aspects of my life. So I won’t say anything else now. You’ll have to wait for it, like I sometimes have to wait for my food.
Lotsalicks and see you again tomorrow.
If you’ve ever read some of my earlier posts, you’ll know that my ideal is to be remembered when I’m gone. I believe the things you do in life dictates the legacy that you leave when you die.
At toastmasters I was doing my CC10 (the last speech in the competent communicator manual before you get an award for competent communication), and my topic was on this self-same subject. The title of that speech was: “What’s in the Box?” My friend who was mentoring me gave me a box with a bell, and at the end of the speech, I would whip off the lid and out pops the ringing bell. I said we must not be afraid to ring our bell, show what’s in our box, and make sure we are remembered.
As I drafted that speech, I thought of how mean people can be, but when you die, people say wonderful things about you. I used the scenario of a fat lady who worked with me; she always drank too much Coke, ate too much, etc, and the staff gossiped about her. I guessed that if she died, people would sing a different tune.
She did die, I think two years ago, and I was at her funeral. The attendance was very scant, and at the end that was the thing that broke my heart and caused me to cry.
I hope that when I die, I will be remembered; though my voice is still, the clanging of my bell must live in the hearts of all my friends.
Enough issues for tissues now. I think tomorrow I’ll tell you a joke. 🙂