Ugh! I remember this week's commercial, despite years of cat therapy to try and forget it! It is one of the most weaselly, rotten, below-the-belt advertising tactics.
Repetition! If you hear something over and over again you can't forget it! Buy me moist food buy me moist food buy me moist food buy me moist food!
The makers of Head-On eventually made some other stuff, and their newer commercials were a bit less brainwashy, but this commercial still irritates me. In fact, it was so aggravating to have to watch this commercial to write this blog that I have a headache. I need to go get some Head-On, and apply it directly to the-
Well it's been another hot week! I swear, sometimes I wish I didn't have so much black fur. Layla is more white than either me or Breezy, and she doesn't get nearly as hot as we do. Which leads me to our newest famous basset hound.
May I present to you Mr. Paul Newman, the One in a Million basset hound. He is all white (with a few brown spots) and he has a lot of tricks he knows how to do. He has even been on TV shows before and he gives all his money to basset rescue charities.
One in a million indeed! His tricks make me feel a little inferior, and his charity is probably better than ours (we only give our money to basset rescue once a year at the waddle, he is doing it all the time). But I feel a bit better knowing it is a fellow basset hound who is so awesome and not some other breed of dog. He has all kinds of videos and pictures at his website. I wonder if our web address could be www.awesomehound.com?
Anyway, check out Paul Newman's videos! He is a really cool basset, and he's been on TV, so that makes him our newest Famous Basset hound!
In a search across the interwebs the other day, I came across an organization called OSHA. Apparently this is a human organization devoted to workplace safety. After thoroughly reading their website, I decided that we needed a form of this in our home.
Hence I have developed my own workplace safety organization, with a few key improvements. Mine is called the Hound Occupational Safety Administration (HOSA). Adding the word "hound" has been proven by hound scientists to dramatically improve whatever thing you are trying to do.
I quickly decided that the most dangerous place in my house is the kitchen. Mama spends lots of time here (when she's home) and I felt I needed to do my duty to keep her safe. I placed myself in a key location in the kitchen, a couple inches from Mama's feet, and began my safety vigil. But before I did I made sure to have what every hound safety administrator needs: a cool costume.
Here is my cool costume.
At first the time passed slowly and I felt myself becoming very sleepy. I decided using my keen senses of hearing and smell, I could still monitor for safety hazards while taking a nap.
These days you have to multitask.
I was dreaming about bunnies when I heard it! *PLOP* The sirens were going off on red alert as I scrambled to keep Mama safe. I dashed to the scene of the problem, quickly gobbling up the safety hazard. Now keep in mind that to be a true HOSA hound dog, one must eat anything that hits the floor, even broccoli (which my sisters hate). It's a tough job but I am just the hound for the challenge. Could you imagine the dangers a piece of uneaten food could pose to Mama? She could slip and fall and hurt herself so badly she could no longer give belly rubs!
Now as all safety crusaders know, our work often goes unnoticed and unappreciated. I sacrifice many hours of my time keeping my family safe in the kitchen. What may you ask do I get in return? Well in this household, I get my tail stepped on, I get booted in the butt and told to move, and sometimes even gated out of the kitchen. Yesterday, the newest insult was Mama banishing me from the kitchen after "saving" her from some treacherous zucchini that fell on the floor. I rushed over to do my duty, quickly cleaning up the hazard, only to be rewarded by being chased out of the kitchen because Mama stepped in the puddle of slobber I left behind. I tried to explain that Daddy has yet to buy me a wet floor sign so that I can properly address the issue. However this under appreciation for my job will not keep me from my duties!
Well that's enough of my safety report for now. I must hurry back to the kitchen because Mama is cooking again and I heard something hit the floor.
So I heard recently that Drew Barrymore had some less-than-endearing things to say about me. Click here to read the entire story. I will wait a few minutes so you can read it and fume like I did, then come back with some composure.
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(Breezy is watching Beaker intently right now - she really wants to chase that cat - the only reason she doesn't is because her typist will tell her "no" if she tries - plus she wants your thoughts on this whole Drew Barrymore thing)
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OK, you're back. Pretty darn outrageous huh!? She wishes she could look this good, and she is going to need more than drugs or "aging naturally" (whatever THAT means) to even look as good as my shadow!
Plus listen to that unladlylike language! So crass, it doesn't even deserve to be in the same paragraph as me!
I haven't ever gotten to write a Famous Basset Hound Friday before, so I knocked Rosco off the computer couch and took over the job myself. I have just the hound in mind too. She's strong-willed, smart, clever, sarcastic, and she gets what she wants. She's a classic basset diva from the early days of Basset TV. Her name is Cleo, from the old comedy show The People's Choice.
The only good clip I could find had more to do with the people than the famous hound but she at least gets a couple good lines. I can only presume it has to do with the writers wanting to let the human actors have a few lines here and there so they didn't feel too overwhelmed by her superior acting ability. She was also apparently a good stunt double. Anyway, Cleo was definitely a famous hound, and she's the newest hound of the week here at Jowls of Fury.
So as you may recall I was recently told by some quack veterinarian that I needed to lose weight because I am too fat. Well, I happen to think that Czechoslovakian vets are not the foremost authority on beautiful voluptuous basset hound ladies, but mom and dad have taken her words to heart and are making us all exercise.
By going on walks. Now normally walks are great fun - you can stroll around town at your leisure, sniff all the interesting smells, terrorize geese and squirrels and bunnies, work on your basset tan, pick up scraps of goodies off the ground (when your slave-driving human isn't yanking on your leash), get lovins' from people who walk by, and fraternize with the dogs in the neighborhood.
But these new walks are terrible. We live in Missouri, which evidently had some mountains installed since I learned my basset geography, because our walks are less about basset enjoyment and more about basset exhaustion. Up and down hills, no getting to smell the neighbor's yard, no playing with other puppies in the area (everyone has dogs with fences and they are all barky and mean-sounding), the dead of summer heat, and conflicting human commands ('keep walking' vs. 'quit pulling - make up your MINDS).
But mom is relentless. The other day she practically dragged me home. I wish they would take us to the dog park so I could snooze in the sun and play with some other dogs at my own leisure, instead of being walked until my stumpy feet are sore. And not getting to stop and smell things is just cruel - a waste of a perfectly good hound nose. Of course sometimes the walks end with a good treat (we got Frosty Paws yesterday), but other times we only get to come in and run up a flight of stairs to get to our water. Stupid split-level house.
Here is a pictorial example of how to treat your basset hound, humans.
The right way - look at how happy the person and the hound both are
The wrong way - this hound is on the brink of death!
Humans have weird dietary habits. I was watching them eat cereal the other day and thought to myself 'Why would they go and ruin a perfectly good bowl of milk by putting their kibble in it'? But then they ruin lots of perfectly good things all the time - the perfect catnapping spot (a ruffled up bed sheet becomes a flat, made bedsheet), a set of window blinds that were only recently modified for cat purposes (I knocked those plastic thingies out of place for a REASON) - and so it is no great surprise that they screw their food up too.
But this commercial is supposed to make them want to buy this particular kind of cereal (Cinnamon Toast Crunch).
So the one Cinnamon Toast guy likes to lick the other's skin... then he gets eaten whole. Then (presumably) he gets eaten by a person after he gets a milk bath. So we have this exponential cannibalism going on here. Pure marketing genius, if you happen to be an idiot human. Me, I miss the good old days where cereal was sold by singing cartoon characters.
Myself, I will stick to licking the milk out of the cereal bowls that the humans forget about, and avoid bizarre self-eating cereal.
Howdy everyone! This has been another busy week. Breezy had to go to the vet and get fixed, our buddy Anita with All Pawsitive Pet Care came to see us (she's great!), and the heat of summer is back. It gets to be so hot that we have to lay in the grass to get our tans because the deck is scorching! Scorching I say!
So this week's hound has to be one with some hot moves! It's only fitting, since the sun has decided it needs to cook the surface of my tanning spot to a crisp. And we found the perfect hound! His name is Barry, and he is the hound-spokesman for Real Radio in the UK. I'm pretty sure the UK is the same as England and Great Britain. They have different names for one thing over there. But there's only one word that describes Barry:
Awesome!
The head bob move is my favorite! He can even howl, but he isn't as good of a howler as me. Must be an American hound thing. He has Layla's colors though, and she can't howl either, so maybe it's a lemon thing.
But anyway, Barry is our hot dance moves hound, and our latest famous hound!
Hello blog readers. I decided to take over Weird Word Wednesday this week for Beaker because I am starting to feel a bit better after my operation. As some of you probably already know I went in to get "fixed" on Monday. Dad left me at the vet's which was scary, and then they knocked me out with gas. I woke up confused and sore and really sleepy. At the end of the day dad came and took me home but I was so tired he had to carry my inside and put me in my crate. I ate a little bit of food and then I just slept. I have a sore spot on my tummy and I can't run or play or anything. At least I get good snuggles.
Anyway, this week's word is "fixed". I don't know what needed to be fixed on me - nothing was broken. But I had to go to the vet's - dad said it was to avoid me having tumors later in life and also so I didn't have any puppies. Well I guess the vet said it looked like my insides once had puppies in them - I already knew this but dad and the vet were pretty clueless (the puppies were at my other home, the one that gave me up to my forever home). That's why I always whine when I hear squeakies, they sound like puppies to me. I hope my puppies all have good homes. I don't like to think about them because I don't know where they are, so I guess it is a good thing that I can't have any more. At least I am in a good home now even if they do take me to the vet sometimes.
I didn't need to be fixed, I wasn't broken. I think they should use another word for what they did. Either way it wasn't fun but I guess it had to be done and now it's over. But on the upside I get lots of treats and attention when dad comes home now. I will just try and let the past be in the past.
Breezy went to the vet today. At first I was upset this morning because I thought she got to go for a car ride without us, but when she came home she smelled like the vet's and I knew I had dodged a bullet. No more vets for me thank you very much. She got her lady parts operated on and I remember how much that hurt when they did mine.
At first she just slept but then the drugs wore off and she woke up and was in pain. She has been pretty good about it though and hasn't tried to lick herself - probably hurts too much to lean down there. She got a whole bowl of moist food - I sure didn't get that when I got operated on. It isn't fair.
We aren't allowed to play because dad is worried she might try and play with us. It's not my fault she went and got taken to the vet's! And she isn't even wearing a cone of shame! I had to wear one when I went to the vet's. I even heard dad say we might all sleep in our crates tonight. What did I do to deserve that?
The vet's really stinks! It ruins it for everyone!
Well this week's stupid TV commercial is enough to set the hairballs loose in my stomach. I am not an old enough cat to have seen the original 'Smurfs' cartoon, but I understand they were the sort of thing that kittens watched. Some genius decided they needed to spend millions of dollars to remake it with 3D. 3D is enough to do more than set the hairballs loose - you might as well break out that enzymatic pet stain cleaner you've got.
Anyway, the most recent 'Smurfs' movie trailer is our newest dumb TV commercial. Why? Well, watch it if you want to lose a few brain cells. More importantly, the cat is typecast as evil (and he sounds like he is mentally handicapped when he laughs). The fact that there is a basset hound chasing the stupid Smurfs in this commercial is purely coincidental - I wouldn't want to upset the tender feelings of the 3 hounds in this household (although a basset hound would probably be a good Smurf control system - they would slobber them to death and then eat them).
Smurfs. With Katy Perry doing a voice. Plus it's the first in a planned trilogy of movies. Hopefully I die before the other two come out. Watch the link below at your own risk.
Wow who had any idea there could be so many grandmas? I got to meet my one grandma a few months ago in Michigan, and then I got to meet my other grandma last month at the lake. But here is where it gets slightly confusing - there is a THIRD grandma, and they say she is a great one, who lives at the lake. So that is two regular grandmas and one great-grandma. It sounds confusing but I have a little trick to help me remember:
The regular grandmas both have many cats, and each of them brings dogs with them too (Maggie and Max for the one grandma; Chopper and Aksel for the other). But the great-grandma doesn't have any dogs - I think she has a cat but I can't tell. Most of her house is off-limits so a cat could be hiding (and you know how dishonest cats are).
The best way to tell the difference is whether there is a big lake or not. The great-grandma's house has a huge lake. I am not a fan of lakes, they remind me too much of baths. Some of the dogs in our family like lakes though - I think probably because they have been dropped on their heads or something.
As you can see I am pretty nervous here.
Anyway, we went to the great-grandma's house not too long ago, and we all wore our swimming gear. I don't know why they make us wear that stuff, none of us like to swim and all we do is run around and look stupid in it.
These are not very flattering
Plus the lake is way too rough for swimming anyway:
No thank you! Even the gentle stream at the other grandma's is too wet for me (but not for Griff, that big dummy):
Plus our puppy cousins make me nervous - they are much bigger than me and one of them (Aksel) gets really overprotective and bitey. He bit my ear pretty hard last time! I barked in his face and Chopper's too and I showed them who was boss!
They're afraid of the gates, the big babies!
Anyway, despite all that I like my great-grandparent's place. Great-grandpa knows how to talk to a lady hound and he gives me lots of love and attention. And there are good puppy treats so you know it is a good house!
This week's famous hound is one of my favorite basset bloggers: Gustaford F. Baros, or Gus for short. He writes the blog Hounds About Town, which tells of his adventures with moving, bacon, irritating little brothers (how great would that be? A brother to play with!), and sheep creatures. Gus is a hound's hound, and is very vocal and sarcastic. We love him for that, and also for his love of bacon.
Gus' little brother is named Walter, and I guess he is annoying. I am the youngest hound here at Jowls of Fury and I guess I am sometimes annoying. I think Breezy and Layla can be annoying so it can't possibly be me. So I guess not all little brothers are annoying - just Walter. Either way Gus is our newest famous hound!
The dogs said we could have our blogging rights back if we agreed to pay homage to them with a few of our newest blogs. I agreed to be the first one since I am the most peaceful and creative cat.
So today's stupid human word is "catnap". The dogs felt that the word should actually be "dognap", or maybe even "bassetnap". It is more fitting since they are so good at napping and obviously better than cats.
This week's famous hound is in honor of the 4th of July, in which we celebrate the history and independence of America. And what better dog to represent America than the basset hound? We are as American as the Statue of Liberty, which was a gift from France. Seeing as how hounds can trace their ancestry back to France, we are actually another gift from France. Except instead of being 100 feet tall and made of metal, we are 1 foot tall and made of a mixture of awesomeness and cuddlyness.
Really America, you got the sweet end of the deal with the basset hound gift.
Anyway, our famous hound this week is none other than the Basset President of the United States, as shown in the webcomic DogFort.
Hail to the basset
DogFort is pretty funny! But sometimes they show other presidents instead of the basset president. I think that's because the basset president was during World War II. It makes me glad that I don't have to fight any wars, but can take a nap on my couch and in my bed instead!
So our newest famous hound is a famous basset hound president! Happy 4th of July!
