Happy Labor Day from Miss Maybelline

September 3, 2007

Your Hostess, Miss Maybelline

Greetings! I’m Miss Maybelline, your hostess for Labor Day. Pajamadeen is resting on the oddly named “Labor” Day. Why do humans make things so complicated? Since this is supposed to be a day of rest, why not call it resting day, or lollygagging-around day? Or, in the South, ain’t doin’ nuthin’ day? It’s a good thing that we canines are here to point such things out to our hapless humans. They do have their flaws, but we love them nevertheless.

Miss Maybelline's Patio

I’ll give you a tour of my yard. Actually, I’m not allowed out of the back yard, so I’ll give you a tour of that. I’ve escaped a couple of times by using my “needle nose,” as Pajamadeen calls it, to push open the gate and then I used the force of my 65 pounds of weight to push it open the rest of the way. But I found out that the street outside wasn’t nearly as nice as my backyard: the pavement was hot, unlike the cool patio bricks; there were no other dogs to play with; there was nothing to eat (and I love to eat, as you can see); and there were no humans to investigate. So I stood around the back gate, until my human let me back in.

 

Slinky Toy

Sometimes, I like to spend the whole night outside on the patio, laying on my back and staring at the stars. I never did learn to use the “doggy door” part of the back door. I deserve to have a regular door, like humans have. I think of myself as a furry human and not as a dog. (It’s why I have trouble falling asleep without a pillow for my head, and why I prefer people food. My best score was an entire stick of butter, which was left too close to the edge of the kitchen counter. Man, that was delicious! Pajamadeen sometimes thinks that I have a Slinky toy inside of me, so I can stretch out to almost any length to get what I want. I can’t answer that question, on the grounds that I may tend to incriminate myself.) I can push the screen door open to get out. When I want back in, I put on my most forlorn expression and sure enough, humans fall for it and let me back in.

Miniature Herb Garden

Just to the right of the back door, there’s a miniature herb garden. I used to lay on the herbs. They smelled good and the earth was cool. But after I sat on the garlic chives too often and squashed them, this nasty little white plastic picket fence appeared. I could jump over it or knock it over, but I decided not to push my luck. There’s basil, Italian loose-leaf parsley, oregano, golden sage (center, with the multi-colored leaves) garlic chives and dill in the background. The dill hasn’t gotten very tall in this picture. The crow watergun is to strike fear into the heart of the baby I was given, Penelope Puppy. More on her later.

Dill Weed with Monarch Butterfly Caterpillars

Dill Weed with Monarch Butterfly Cocoon

Eventually, the dill grew about four feet tall. It had feathery leaves. I don’t know why, but humans like to eat this weed. How crude. It was hauled into the large doghouse in great quantities to flavor pasta salads and baked potatoes and to can pickles. I was offended to see that humans are delighted to see lowly caterpillars devouring the dill, while I was not allowed to have any. After they finished eating all the dill, the caterpillars disappeared, leaving behind these green hanging things. I hear they will turn into monarch butterflies. I find this hard to believe. I was a puppy, and then I was a dog. Period, end of story. And you expect me to believe that caterpillars with all their little feet are going to take a nap in these green pods and then turn into orange butterflies with hardly any feet and great big wings? Preposterous. I’ll have to see it to believe it.

Monarch Butterfly on a Purple Coneflower

I’ll come back next weekend and finish my gardening and yard tour. I promised Pajamadeen that I would do all of this today, but I lied fibbed. I need to go play, and lay on my back and stare at clouds. They move around and make interesting shapes. Besides, my paws are sore from typing so much. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. Although I’m highly intelligent and rather opinionated, I’m glad I’m not asked to blog too often. I’ll have to sneak off quietly, as I can hear Pajamadeen in the pantry, rearranging things and swearing under her breath about someone named Condoleezza Rice, who, according to my human, is standing in the desert in Iraq, wearing a silver suit and squinting at the sun for no apparent reason. Occasionally, humans do things which make no sense whatsoever. Why would Condoleezza Rice think she could get anything useful done standing in a desert and squinting her eyes at the sun? Even a dog knows better than that.

Take a sneak peek at some of our other gardening efforts.

Photo credit: Derek Ramsey

Copyright ©2007 pajamadeen.com



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