The Evil Cat, Millie, Part 2

This is my sister cat, Sam, and Maggie hanging out together in the back yard.

Hi everyone, Mabel here. 
I am back with part 2 of my story about Millie, the evil cat. 
Yesterday, I told you how Evil Cat Millie - AKA "Mama Cat" - was allegedly abandoned with her kitten and found by the stray loving Mama #2. 
Mama #2 had tried to find a new home for the Mama Cat and her evil kitten, but Mama Cat deliberately failed all of her adoption interviews. 
We'll pick up the story right after Mama #2 gives up on finding them a new home. (Harley and I weren't even born yet when this happened; Maggie told us all about it. Maggie is my older stepsister. She's super smart).
Maggie already had a nice cat sister named Sam. She didn't need two Evil Cat Sisters. Maggie loved Sam and Sam loved her. They'd play and even curl up and sleep together.
Mama Cat had no use for Sam.  She never let any human see her mistreat Sam until she knew she had a home. Once she knew she had a real home, she chased Sam, hid and jumped out at Sam, cat punched Sam, and...... well, you get the idea. Poor Sam! Maggie did her best to stand up to the Evil Mama Cat when she picked on Sam.
One day, the Evil Mama Cat decided to hit the road; she decided she wasn't thrilled about living with Sam, Maggie and Katie and her own evil kitten, Agnes. (She didn't really hit the road, it's just an expression). She left. She walked out of the house one day and kept going. (Maggie swears she had absolutely nothing to do with Mama Cat's leaving).

The evil cat walking away. Why oh why did Mama #2 have to ask her to come back?

Mama #2 was sad. She missed her Evil Cat (Why?). She'd walk around outside and call "Mama! Where are you, Mama?" or "Come home, Mama!"
Our neighbors thought she was crazy. Who runs around calling for their Mama like that? Only our dear, crazy, Mama #2.
Mama Cat stayed away for a week. Finally, she realized how good she'd had it: a warm house, good tasty food, her kitten, and Mama #2. So, Mama Cat came back.
After she came back, she needed a new name. After calling Mama Cat for a week, Mama #2 knew she couldn't run around calling "Mama, Mama, Mama" again. Our neighbors already thought she was crazy. So Mama Cat became Millie. And Millie doesn't care who knows how evil she was.
Oh, she still pretends to be nice around Mama #2. She knows the rest of us would throw her back out on the street in an instant (or less).
Why do I call her evil?
1) She is mean to Sam, my oldest cat sister. (I like Sam).
2) She has claws, and she knows how to use them (Ouch!)
3) She gets bigger and fatter by the day. Sometimes, she tries to sit on me or lay on top on me. (She tries to CRUSH me).
4) She eats MY FOOD! 
5) She loves to sleep in my magically heated bed.
6) Sometimes, she licks me. I'm afraid she's really just seeing what I taste like.
And the #1 Evil reason is, She tries to take Mama #2's attention and affection away from me and Harley. I mean, She's thinks she's a Diva.
There's only room for one Diva in this house, and the only Diva allowed is ME. Mabel, that is.
Harley, don't you agree?

 Harley states her honest opinion about the Evil Cat Millie

Harley agrees. And Harley loves everyone.

My Sister Cat, The Evil Millie

Hi Everyone, Mabel here.

This is me, Mabel, showing everyone what wonderful shape I am in. I'm with my favorite toy duck

Questions! I get asked many questions in my fan emails. After I mentioned my Evil Cat Sister, Millie (and her evil cat daughter, Agnes) in my last blog post, many readers want to know how she came to live with us and why I think she is so evil.
Come on, can't you tell she is evil just by looking at her?
Look at those eyes.
Evil.
Look at her claws.
Evil.
Here is a picture of Millie the day she says she was abandoned with her kitten. 

See how small and skinny she was? But look at her eyes. Even then, they were cold and calculating. (Calculating what? I don't know; it's just an expression).
Here is a picture of her today:

As you can see, she's "filled out" a bit. (Yes, it is the same cat).

Maggie, my supersmart big sister, told me about the day Millie, then known as simply, "Mama Cat," was "found."
Maggie, who was then just a pup, was hanging out in the back yard with her older sister, the now dearly departed Katie Dachshund. Suddenly, Maggie spotted something moving in the far back corner of her backyard. Being a brave Dachshund (are there any other kind?), Maggie ran to see what had invaded her yard. (She really regrets this now).
She saw a small kitten boldly walking along "her" fence.
Well, Maggie started singing the song of our people. I mean, she barked. And barked. And Barked.
Mama #1 looked to see what was going on. She saw two brave and wonderful dachshunds protecting their backyard from the evil invading kitten and her domineering Mother (the evil cat, now known as Millie).
Mama #1 panicked --- did she really think Maggie was cold and heartless and would hurt those little cats? Of course, being a Stray Animal Addict, Mama #2 came running to rescue the evil cat Millie (and her evil daughter, Agnes).
The next thing Maggie knew, there were two strays living in her laundry room! Of course, Maggie tried very very hard to tell the Mamas that Millie (who was then known as simply, "Mama Cat") was evil and needed to go away. 
And Mama #2 did try to give Mama Cat and Agnes away. No one wanted them. 
For weeks, every Saturday and Sunday, the two strays were sent to a place called "Petsmart" with instructions to find a new home. They were supposed to be interviewed by people who wanted a cat/kitten. 
They failed. Over and over and over and over again.
Maggie says they failed on purpose.
At home, "Mama Cat" was kind and loving. Even the neighbors fell for her "nice cat" act.
Maggie says that Mama Cat would act very mean when she was interviewed for a new home. She would growl and hiss at the other cats. She'd even hiss at Agnes, her own kitten!
After  months of failed interviews, someone (foolish person!) tried to pick Mama Cat up. Mama Cat had been waiting weeks for this, and she screamed at the top of her lungs (She really didn't scream from the top of her lungs, it's just an expression. She really just screamed from her evil fanged mouth). Well, everyone in the entire store stopped what they were doing and rushed over to help the poor cat who just screamed (no one had hurt her -- if they had, the evil cat would have left evil cat marks all over them).
Mama #2 realized that day that "Mama Cat" was never going to be adopted, so she left to take Mama Cat home. Right after she left, the adoption people called her and asked her to come and get Agnes and said not to bring her back; She had just bitten someone. Agnes failed her interviews, too.
On purpose.
Now, Mama #2 was stuck with two evil, scheming cats. She just didn't know they were evil. Mama Cat had not revealed her true evilness yet.
Mama #2 is pretty naive about cat personalities. She falls under their spell very easily.
Over the months she tried to get Mama Cat and Agnes adopted, she'd grown very fond of them.
Poor Maggie was now stuck with 2 new (evil) cat sisters.

Harley and I cautiously walking by the Evil Cat Millie. I'm the one on the right (just in case you can't tell us apart).
Tomorrow, I'll tell how the Evil Mama Cat became the Evil Cat Millie.

A narrow escape!

This is me, Mabel, on my favorite comfy couch.

Dear fans,

It has been  a long week, and, I've had a little writer's block
(that's not really true; Mama #2  told me to write that.The truth is, I couldn't get her off our laptop this week).

Now that I finally have control of the computer, here's a recap of my evening. 
Mama #2 almost brought us a cat brother tonight!
Shocking!
I thought she was over her terrible addiction of bringing home strays.
She had a relapse.
Yes, besides being a computer addict, gadget addict and doxie addict, she is addicted to bringing home strays! Here are the last strays she brought home:

The evil cat Millie and her henchwoman daughter, Agnes.

Here they are, sound asleep in MY magically heated bed. As you can see, this addiction is quite a problem.

Disgusting!

OK. Back to my story.

The Mama's left home around dinner time and were gone for a very, very long time. When they finally came home, I was so happy to see them! I whined and jumped around like a young pup. 

Then, I smelled it. I couldn't believe my nose.

Mama #2999 (number drop!) smelled like a strange cat.

In fact, she reeked of strange cat! 

I immediately began looking for the stranger. I was NOT going to welcome a strange cat into my home tonight (or any other time).

How could she do this to me?!

I calmed down when I realized the cat stranger was not with them. Here is a picture of the offending stranger cat:

This is the stranger cat. 

OK, I admit it is young and small and it's ears look hurt. But that's no reason to bring it into my happy home, is it?

After an appropriate  length of time ignoring her, I finally listened to Mama #3497's story. 

Aren't I an understanding and compassionate Diva?

This little stranger cat was young, just a baby kitten. Barely a handful of cat. He was scared and hungry and thirsty when my Mama found him.

Mama # 4862 found him running and scared while she was at the church's fall carnival. She caught him and took him inside to see if he was hurt. (This time of year is not good for black cats, and this was a very, very black cat). The cat's ears were very, very short and stubby. The cat don't look injured now, but someone may have hurt him when he was younger --- and he's only about 6 weeks old now. 

How could anyone hurt a kitten?!

Mama #2 (I reinstated her to her normal ranking. Taking care of a baby kitten who's been hurt is OK with me) fed the kitten and gave it water. He purred and cuddled with her and tried to talk her into taking him home to me (who wouldn't want to live with a famous Diva? I'm sure that's why he chose her to rescue him!). Mama #2 almost fell for his charm, but Mama #1 said he needed a real, permanent home.

Mama #2 put his picture on Facebook.
Soon, that little kitten had offers pouring in! Everyone wanted him! It must have been the ears...
How can people be such suckers about kittens?
SO, I never met the little guy. He was adopted within the hour! He is now home with his new Mamas, being pampered and that's OK with me.
His new name is "Stubs." (because of his stubby ears).
He's not in my house.
I am a very happy Diva.
Mama #2 and I are going to have a very long talk about this addiction to rescuing strays.
She already has a Diva Dog. 
She doesn't need another Diva cat. 

Did I mention that all cats think they are Divas?

My twin sister, Harley and I (I'm the one on the right, just in case you can't tell us apart) are playing "Tag" with our cat sister, the Evil Millie.

Mabel: Couch Diva

 Here I am, Mabel, standing alone in my backyard. I am sorry that this picture is not up to my usual standards of glowing health; I was not feeling 100% when I posed for it.

Hi All, Mabel here, reporting to you from my favorite spot on my comfy couch. It's been another interesting day.
First of all, I want to report that my Magic Blanket is working again. It's the wonderful blanket that gets warm all by itself; no one has to be under it or even near it. It just stays warm. It only works when it gets cold outside, but, that's OK.
I love it!
And, it is big enough for Me, Harley and Mama #2 to lay under.
Wonderful! 
Only Harley is allowed to cuddle under the blanket with me. It's extra nice to be able to lay on top of Harley and under the blanket. That way, I have a heater both above and below me. Harley doesn't mind.
Your Diva was feeling a little under the weather yesterday, and I feared that Mama #1 would make me go to see my doctor again. (I'm pretty sure I wasn't feeling well because Mama #2 made me sit out in the rain for hours last week ---- See my last blog for more on this horrible event).
Anyway, I like my doctor, I really do, but I don't want to go see him. It seems like he either insults my shape ("Mabel needs to lose a little weight) or he sends pills home for me to take. So, either my food disappears or I am forced to choke down big, chunky pills----or both; pills with no food!
Horrifying.
No trip to the doctor today. However, Mama #2 is now delivering wonderful treats to me while I lay on my comfy couch. And, earlier this afternoon, I began to feel amazing well. (Like I said, these are wonderful treats!).
Amazing.
Yes, I now refuse to go to the kitchen when Mama #2 is there. After the incident in the rain, I, at first,  refused to accept a treat from her at all. I just turned my head and ignored her. It was very hard to ignore a treat, but the revenge factor was very worth it.
Definitely worth it.
Now, I simply recline under the Magic Blanket on my comfy couch and let Mama #2 bring my special treats to me. 
This is guilt at its best. The longer I've refused to go to the kitchen for treats, the treats delivered to my couch just get better and better.
I don't know how long this will last, but I will ride it out for all for as long as I can. Harley and Maggie still have to go to the kitchen to get their treats.
I am special.
Maybe I have a new place in life:
I am now the Couch Diva.

Note from Mama #1: Mabel was not feeling well this morning, but her Vet wrote a prescription for her and she did not have to go in for a visit. Since our Diva is so good at not taking pills, we are putting her pills in wienie slices. So far, she has not spit out any pills and just gulps down the treats. Unfortunately, she still refuses to go to to the kitchen for anything (as long as Mama #2 is there) so, yes, her treats (with pills inside) are delivered to her while she lays under the electric blanket on her favorite couch. Once her meds are gone, (maybe sooner), she will have to go to the kitchen if she wants a treat.

Here I am with my beloved twin sister, Harley. We are negotiating for the best place in the dog bed. Naturally, Harley, being the selfless, wonderful sister that she is, let me have the dog bed for myself. She found an equally comfy place on the floor to sleep.

Diva in the Doghouse

This is me, Mabel. 

Oh, dear Diva fans, it's happened.
I never thought it would happen to me.
Of course, I never thought I'd be in exile in the dog room for so many, many months.
I guess this is the next step downhill for me.

It's a very sad story.
It was pouring down rain outside. (Not the type of rain that Mama #2 makes and moves around the yard; this was the real rain that falls directly - and magically - from the sky). It was late; we hadn't marched that night and it didn't look like we were going to go marching.
Hallelujah! A rest night. I thought I'd snooze peacefully on my comfy couch under my magically warm blanket for a few more hours until it was time to go to bed and sleep all night.
Who would want to move a peacefully snoozing dog?
Mama #1099 (number drop from Mama #2!) would!
Yes, I was grabbed and pulled from beneath my warm, cozy resting place under my blanket. I was carried through the house and tossed off the back porch into the backyard. 
It was wet. The grass, the grass was soaking wet. It was raining from the sky, too. This little low-rider Diva was getting wet from both above and below.
Horrifying!
I did what a Diva with any sense would do; I ran for the doggy door to get back to my comfy couch.
Mama #2099 (number drop!) blocked me from jumping out of the very wet grass and heavy rain onto the nice, dry, sheltered porch.
She blocked me!
It made no sense, especially since Harley and Maggie just faked doing a "potty" and hopped up on the porch to a warm greeting and a chewy bone and a hug from Mama #2099!
Chewy Bone! My favorite treat! And they got one just for faking.
Well, a Diva never fakes, so I tried to jump onto the porch again. I want my chewy bone now!
Mama #3999 blocked my way again. She said, in a sickening sweet voice, "go potty, Mabel."
NO WAY! I said to myself. No way. 
Again, headed for the doggy door. Maggie and Harley were watching me from inside the warm, dry house and Maggie called out to me, "just fake it! Then come inside and get your chewy bone."
NO. Mama #4999 blocked my way. 
I stood in the rain, feeling very sorry for myself and feeling very pitiful, but I held tight to my standards and did not try to fake my way into the house. Mama #7899 just looked at me sitting in the wet grass. "Go potty, Mabel." She said it again and again and again.
NO!
I sat down. I glared at her. I would not do anything she asked me to now, not even if I really, really needed to. That's just how it was.
We glared at each other.
I outlasted her. She turned and went in the house. I sighed with relief. 
Then, I heard her give MY chewy bone treat to Harley and Maggie.
No way! Not my chewy bone!
I raced into the house, but it was too late. My chewy bone was chewed. Gone.
I sulked back to my now not so comfy couch and my semi-cold blanket and glared at Mama #9999.  How could she? 
How could she?
How could she treat her famous Diva like that?
Since that horrible night, Mama #9999 tried a couple of times to get me to go into the kitchen for a chewy bone. I'm not going. I'm not going to do anything she asks me to, even if I might like or enjoy it. 
I have to maintain my Diva dignity; I've ignored her and remained safely under my blanket on my comfy couch. I refuse the chewy bones on principle. 
Harley sometimes comes and cuddles up next me. Just feeling my twin sister under my paw helps me feel better (even if she did betray me and ate MY chewy bone)!

This is me, Mabel, snoozing under my magically warm blanket. I'd really like a chewy bone....

Mama #9999 may be ready to apologize to me for my horrible mistreatment the other night.
She came over to my special place on the couch today, raised up my blanket and gently laid a chewy bone next to me 
I think I won!
I am finally getting her trained.
This will be the best tasting chewy bone I've had in days!
Now, if I can just get her to give up marching.
Note from Mama #9999: Mabel stubbornly refused to go potty the other night in the rain. We had quite a long stand-off. Now, she acts as if she's scared of treats and runs the other way when I get out her favorite chewy bones. I did try to apologize tonight by taking a chewy bone to her. 
I don't think I've been forgiven yet.
Maybe she'll feel better after we take a walk tonight.

My Most Unfavorite Time of Year

It's me, Mabel, giving my beloved sister Harley, a little kiss on the head. See how much she loves me?

It's coming! My most unfavorite time of year.
As you know, Mama #2 insists on taking me and my sisters out on a forced march every night (I figure walking should be voluntary; Marching is what you do when you are made to go for long hikes, whether or not you really want to). I always go marching with everyone, but I don't really like it. Mama #2 likes to march too fast, and my big sister, Maggie, loves to run. They make a good pair.
Disgusting.
Harley, my twin sister (we're identical! --- well, our collars are different colors now, but other than that, no one can tell us apart!) likes to march. She runs right up there with Maggie and Mama #2.
Double Disgusting.
Me, I prefer to wander along, sniffing everything, and dragging my paws to show everyone that I need to march s-l-o-w-l-y.
It doesn't work.
Every evening, Mama #2 tosses the neck ropes around us, opens the door and says, "March!" or "Let's go!" or something like that. Then, she drags us around the neighborhood for miles and miles and we are out marching for hours and hours. 
Why do I hate this time of year?
It's dark in the evenings when we walk. I don't like marching in the dark. And lately, the houses on my marching route look very strange!
One house has big eyes that light up, roll around, and follow my every move!

Scary! Other houses have these big, round orange things that light up and look kinda like faces.

Scary! But what really, really bothers me, are the white things that hang from the trees. They float in the wind.
They look like ghosts!
Spooky!

Now, your Diva does not scare easily, but, enough is enough! We see more of these things every night when we go out to march.
Harley and I are going home. We'll consider marching again sometime after Halloween is over and these horrible things are gone.

Me and my twin sister Harley (she's wearing the blue collar). We've seen enough scary stuff; we're going home!

Note from Mama #2: Mabel does not like walking in the dark and she really dislikes Halloween decorations. I think the ghosts in the trees really do scare her!

Bathtime!

Bathtime! 

Those words strike fear into the hearts of even the bravest of dogs.

I admit, whenever I hear that word or see the signs that a bath is coming,  I dive under my blanket and hope that no one can find me.

This hasn't worked in the past; they always find me. Perhaps I need a new strategy.

My big sister, Maggie.  See how clean she is?

Mama #1 declared this afternoon that it was time for everyone to have a bath. 

Panic ensued.

Maggie ran for the hills (there are no hills nearby, it's just an expression), Harley ran and hid under the bed, and I dived under my favorite blanket.

Mama #987 (number drop!) searched the house, looking for her first victim.

Maggie gave up and bravely stepped out of her hiding place. I guess she decided that she might as well get it over with. 

I watched her disappear into the bathroom and heard the familiar sound of water running.

Then, Harley came out of hiding and wandered into the bathroom. She looked over the edge of the tub at Maggie. Maggie glared back at her. Harley's lucky she didn't get dunked into the tub right then and there.

Harley watched as, first came the water, then the sudsy stuff, then more water.

Maggie is so good at faking feelings, that the Mamas probably thought she enjoyed her bath. She stood very still and tried to smile (according to Harley, who watched everything). When Maggie was lifted from the tub, she took off running before Mama #1 had a chance to dry her off.

The second her paws hit the ground, she took off running. She ran from one end of the house to other and back again. Back and forth, back and forth.

She "blow dried" her fur!

Since Harley was still hanging out in the bathroom (I hate to say this about my twin, but it was a dumb, soggy thing to do), Mama #987 grabbed her and tossed her in the bathtub! I couldn't see what happened next, because I was locked out of the room -- and was still under my blanket (Sorry, Harley, you know I would have protected you if I was there).  Harley was soaking wet when the door finally opened. She escaped the Mama's hands (and towels) and raced through the house naked. 

Naked!

Yes, Harley ran through the house completely naked. When Mama #999 finally caught her, she put a new collar on her.

It's blue.

This is Harley, my identical twin sister, modeling her new collar. Now you can tell us apart by the color of our collars. I guess the Mamas were tired of trying to guess who was who. Tomorrow,we'll try switching collars and see if they can still tell us apart!

Wearing her new collar, Harley ran free and she and Maggie chased each other and gleefully ran around the backyard. I think the Mamas must have put something in that water they poured over them. Doggy caffeine?

Well, lucky me. I'm still safe and dry and I wouldn't be caught dead in a bathtub with water. (I don't really mean I'd have to be dead to be in a bathtub. It's just an expression). 

Hey! Where are you taking me?! Mama #1999 (Number drop!), PUT ME DOWN! Can't you see I'm in the middle of talking to my loyal fans?!

(Note from Mama #2, AKA Mama #1999: Mabel had to quit writing because it's time for her bath. She didn't go willingly).

This is me, Mabel. I am very clean, since I just had a bath. This picture was taken shortly before I rolled over and over and over in the nice, dusty, grassy backyard.

Well, dear readers, Your Diva was just taken hostage and thrown into a bathtub. Water was poured all over me, then smelly sudsy stuff was rubbed all over me. I managed to escape only after more water was poured all over me. 

I allowed Mama #1 to rub me down with a towel (only because it felt really good to massaged by the Mama). Once she let go, I was off and running.

Out the dog door and into the backyard, I ran with Mama #2999 (Number drop!) on my heels (I don't really have heels, it's just an expression). I quickly took care of the nasty smell that sudsy stuff left.

This is me, Mabel, gleefully rolling in the grass. Ahhh. I feel good!

Over and over and over I rolled in the soft, wonderful smelling, green grass. 

Until next time, this is Mabel, your very clean Diva, sending love and kisses to all my loyal fans!

Note from Mama #2999 (AKA Mama #2): Mabel actually wrote this entry yesterday before it rained. Now, she is a muddy, dirty Diva who needs another bath!

Life in Exile

This is me, Mabel, standing in my backyard. It's just a few steps away from my exile in the Dog Room.

Hi everyone, Mabel here. It's been a long, hard week. After watching the wonderful falling stars a few days ago, I've had to adjust to a life of hard labor in the Dog Room.

Yes, the dreaded Dog Room.

Wishes don't come true.

My sister, Maggie, lied to me. I wished on all those falling stars.

And I am still exiled to the Dog Room.

I was exiled after totally unfair circumstances (me and my sisters slept through someone trying to break into the house---it was really just Mama #1 trying to get in because she was locked out. But, we didn't bark or even wake up the entire time she was trying to break in the house). 

Unfair!

I thought I'd be back on my comfy couch by now, but my Mamas are very stubborn and I remain in exile. 

Today they did let me have access to the bedrooms, but I was still blocked from my favorite comfy couch all day. 

I got up as usual this morning, and, after a short stroll through the house and a bite to eat, I crawled under my favorite blanket on my comfy couch for my morning snooze.

Soon, I was pulled out from under my warm blanket and tossed into my daily exile.

Horrifying.

Please know that your Diva is coping as best she can.

This is me, Mabel, totally bored, in exile.

Shooting Stars!

Here's a picture of me and my twin sister, Harley, posing for the camera. I'm the one on the left, in case you can't tell us apart.

Hi, Mabel here, and I've just come home from the most amazing forced march!
Amazing!
I usually don't like marching after dark. I prefer late afternoon to early evening marches. And tonight, Mama #2 looked for very dark streets to march down. 
Very strange.
Anyway, once we got to my favorite schoolyard, she stopped us on the darkest side of the building and stood staring up at the sky. Maggie, Harley and I were immediately concerned that something was wrong with Mama #2. She never stops marching when we're out. Never. 
So what was up with the Mama?
We heard her talk to herself, then laugh softly. I thought for sure she'd had a break down. I wondered if I could work her little black box that she likes to talk into. Maybe I could call Mama #1 to come rescue us. Suddenly, Mama #2 began talking to us.
"Harley," she said, "look up at the sky. Mabel, do you see that?" 
I looked up at the sky. I looked really hard. I saw the moon (all dogs know what the moon is. If there's nothing else to bark at during the night, we know we can bark at the moon). I looked and looked.
Nothing. I saw nothing that needed to be seen or looked at.
Mama #2 had truely lost it. It would be up to us to march her home and get help.
Then, Maggie finally saw what Mama #2 was staring at. "Look at that!," Maggie yelped. "Look! The stars are falling!"
Harley and I looked and looked. It took awhile, but suddenly, we both saw it; a star fell from its place in the sky and left a long, white line behind it.
I actually shivered. 
Shivered!
Not from the cold, but from the sight of a star falling. Then another fell and then another. "Would all the stars fall down from the sky?" I wondered.
We stood in the dark staring at the sky for hours (well, it seemed like hours). Finally, Mama #2 said we had to go home. We walked home quickly, because we'd been gone a long time.
When we got home, Mama #2 announced that we'd seen the Meteor Shower. Mama #1 was impressed ( and a little jealous).
I ate my after march chewy bone treat and walked myself to a quiet place beside Mama #2. I knew she loved gadgets and marching, but I never knew she loved stars too. 
Maybe marching at night isn't so bad after all.
Harley and Maggie were quiet as well after our march tonight.
It's not every day you see a falling star.
And the wishes! I made wishes on all the falling stars (my super smart older sister Maggie said I should).
What did I wish for?
An end to my exile to the Dog Room, of course. 
Tomorrow, when the Mamas leave for the day, I'll find out if my wishes have come true.

Here I am, practicing for my next round of star gazing. (I'm the one on the right).

note from Mama #2: The girls and I were able to watch some of the Draconid Meteor Shower tonight. Not many falling stars this year, but we were able to see a few. The girls appeared to be watching the sky, almost by instinct. I swear Mabel sighed as she watched the stars fall from the sky.

Dog Shame

 Here I am, Mabel, with my identical twin sister, Harley. (she's on the left, in case you can't tell us apart).

Please note my change of address. Me and my sisters (all my sisters, including Maggie -- who I am still trying to re-home) are residing in the dog room during human working hours. Tomorrow, our exile begins when the Mamas leave for work. Tomorrow and every day after.
Day after Day after Day. 
No end in sight.
When I heard of the exile, I had to jump on Harley to keep from fainting.
I know that you are wondering, What happened? Couldn't My Martha or my handsome canine lawyer, Fabio, get a restraining order? Couldn't I contact Judge Judy and to keep my cushy place on the couch?
No. We are resigned to our exile.
We deserve the banishment.
My Sisters and I did not keep The Promise. 
You know, The Promise. The Promise all dogs make. The basis of our doggy Code of Conduct. (It's got a prominent place in our contracts).
We "Failed to Protect."  I mutter this with my head hung low, All of us failed to protect our yard and house against an intruder.
(At least the Mamas didn't DOG SHAME us and put the picture on the internet!).
We loved hanging out in the living room during the day; nothing to do but peacefully sleep. I mean, nothing ever happened; there was no reason to even leave the room (except for "necessary" trips outside). We became a little lax on our home and yard protection. We may have even gained a little weight from sleeping so much.

It's a horrible story.
It began one afternoon as my sisters and I were comfortably snoozing on the couch.It was a little chilly, so Harley and I were all wrapped up in a blanket and snuggled closely together. Maggie was off doing her own thing (It'd be so easy to just blame Maggie for this, but honestly, we all failed).

Harley and I were sound asleep. (She's the one on the left).

Mama #1 came home early from work on Friday afternoon. She forgot her keys to the house. She walked through the fence's gate into the back yard.
 (Inside, we slept away).
 She climbed up the stairs to the back porch and tried the back door. 
(Inside, we slept).
She rattled the back door.

My sister, Maggie, sound asleep.

 (Inside, we slept).
She tried to reach the back door lock through the doggy door and failed.
 (Inside, we slept).
While she stood on the back porch, she called Mama #2 and asked her to come home and let her in. 
We slept the entire time Mama #1 was trying to get into the house + the time it took Mama #2 to drive home from work.
Yes, we slept. Soundly.
When we heard Mama #2's car door shut, we all jumped up from our deep sleeps and ran to the door to greet our Mama who'd just come home. We did not know we'd already broken The Promise.
We welcomed the Mamas home. Then we all stopped dead in our tracks (we weren't really dead, it's just an expression) when we heard Mama #1 say,
"You know, the girls slept the entire time I was outside trying to get in. I walked through the back yard, then hung out on the back porch after I tried the back door. They didn't hear me go through the gate and didn't hear me rattling the back door. I even called the girls, since I didn't see or hear them."
Maggie, Harley and I looked at each other, then hung our heads in shame.
The Promise. We failed. 
We deserve the Dog Room. Maybe if we can't get so comfy on the couch and/or the beds, we can hear intruders who enter the back yard and rattle the doors. 
We will make our backyard a protected territory once again!
If the Mamas didn't banish us to the Dog Room, we'd go there anyway. We're so ashamed! We failed our Prime Directive, THE PROMISE. We failed to protect our yard and our house.

Here I am, just waking up on that fateful day...

Maggie's Note: this has nothing to do with the pair of sunglasses and the pair of reading glasses that were somehow destroyed during the day as we slept. We have no idea how that might have happened or if it played a part in our banishment.

Note from Mama #1: The destruction of the reading glasses and the sun glasses definitely played a part. And the fact that the girls are gaining weight from inactivity. With comfy couches nearby, the girls are not running around and playing in the backyard during the day. They only eat and sleep. Neither of us were very surprised that the girls slept while an intruder tried to get into the house. Our Diva can tell a good story!

(Step) Sister Needs a New Home

This is my step-sister, Maggie. I am planning to give her away to a good home.

Hi, Mabel here, your favorite Diva.
Today, I want to discuss some serious business. I want to find a new home for Maggie, my older step sister. 
She has allergies. 
She may have food allergies.
Mama #2 has stopped all treats, including my beloved chewy bones, until she figures out what is causing poor Maggie to have a horrible case of the itches.
Horrifying.
It's really bad. I mean, what will I do without my daily chewy bones? 
It's clear, Maggie has to go.
Her itches aren't horrifying, just irritating.
How can I get my daily required sleep and snoozes if she is scratching all the time? How can I survive without my chewy bones?!
I'll miss her; I kinda like her, but I love my chewy bones.
So,

Here's another picture of my big sister Maggie.

Very Intelligent Dachshund needs a new home.
Loves to go on forced marches (and runs!).
Likes to sit on laps and chase toys (will chew holes in toys).
Tolerates cat sisters OK.
At least 4 years old, but still playful.
Is obnoxious to other dogs, but tolerant of small pups. 
Thinks she is #1 Pup. 
Likes to collect rawhide sticks and sit on them. Good at finding hidden raw hides and stealing them.
Likes to eat, but is disgustingly thin.
Has allergies. Scratches a lot. Needs a hypoallergenic home.

Please give her a home so I can have my chewy bones back!

Note from Mamas #1 & 2: Maggie is not going anywhere. We are working hard to find out what she is allergic to. When (and if) we rule out chewy bones, Mabel will get her chewy bones back. In the meantime. everything is suspect until ruled out, even Mabel. 

(WHAT! SHE CAN"T BE ALLERGIC TO ME!!!!)

Mama #2: We'll keep Mabel anyway if Maggie does turn out to be allergic to her; we love them both.