Political science

Wife: What's the dog got in her mouth?

Me: (Prying dog's jaws open and grabbing object.) 

Wife: What is it? 

Me: Oh, God. Eww. (Goes to drop object in toilet.) 

Me: (Washing hand with alcohol before sullying the soap.)

There's a political metaphor in there somewhere.

Polly want a divorce lawyer!

Forget your Smart TV, watch what you say in front of your cockatoo.

The adoptive owners of this cockatoo now get to hear all about her previous owners' acrimonious breakup a couple of times a day.

According to Elaine Sigmon of North Carolina, her Moluccan cockatoo Peaches once belonged to a couple who has since broken up. Today, the bird often breaks into loud (and possibly expletive-laden) tirades, dramatically moving her head from side to side as she screeches and "argues."

Sigmon told The Huffington Post that she thinks Peaches probably picked up her penchant for bickering from her previous owners.

"We had Peaches for several days when one afternoon she began ranting and raving as if blessing someone out," she said. "My husband, Don, was sitting in the chair near her perch and she began to aggressively point her head toward him just like someone pointing their finger while arguing ... We're not sure what she is saying, but she is really giving her opinion."

ON THE one hand, I can't stop laughing at this. On the other . . . that poor, traumatized bird!

I hope the Bickersons feel really good about their legacy -- the breakup that never, ever ends. No, we're not laughing with you, toxic original pet parents, we're laughing at you.

December dog sense

It's 10 degrees in Omaha right now, the ground is covered with snow, it's rather hazy and the wind chill is 1 below zero.

LONG STORY short, I think Molly the Dog has the right idea here.

Alas, I disturbed Her Royal Hunkered-In Highness, who no doubt wants Pop to go away -- and to take the annoying, clicking Rectangle of Death with him.

Her wish, etc., etc.

As you were, Mollster.

Bo! Bo! Bo! Merry Christmas!

I know we live in interesting times, which dictate that we hate those whose politics differ from our own -- especially if they're president -- but I say you just can't hate a man who puts this out as the White House Christmas card.

This is because there's at least a spark of good in anyone who loves a dog. Particularly when he puts that dog -- in this case, Bo the First Dog -- on a Christmas card as charming as the one above.

Molly the Dog,
who is Important

I agree with President Obama on many things and passionately disagree with him on other things, particularly the social issues, but at this time of year, when it seems to me we ought to go the extra mile to see the humanity -- and the divine spark -- in our fellow man, there's only one thing you can say:

Merry Christmas, Mr. President. If you're in the neighborhood, drop by for some egg nog -- or some adult beverages. We can talk sports and music, and we can solve a few of the world's problems while we're at it.

And give Bo an extra dog treat. He's a good boy.

Oh . . . Molly the Dog says hey.

It's a bird! It's a plane! It's a cat! A CAT!?!

On the one hand, there's something warped about doing this to your dearly departed pet.

On the other hand, there's something awesome about something this magnificently warped. What I want the guy to do is attach a small camera to Orville the Stuffed Caticopter, set it to movie mode and record the reactions of people as this dead, flying feline comes straight for them.

But I'm funny that way.


HAT TIP: Rod Dreher.

The boss of us

This house is run with a firm hand, which happens to be a paw.

Molly the Dog is the boss of us, and she knows this. Her pets deny her nothing, especially since the sad passing of Scout the Dog.

It's OK. Molly the Dog is a kind-hearted and benevolent master -- just so long as she gets hugs, is fed on time and gets to lounge in the big, blue chair.

The loyalest dog ever

Scout the Dog
(1995-2011)

I post this through my tears.

The bosses of me

Scout the Dog (left) and Molly the Dog happily pose inside the semiwarm house Tuesday on a frigid, icy Omaha afternoon.

They tell me it beat going outside -- it was, like, 1 below zero at the time -- that it seemed to amuse me, and that they try to be indulgent toward their pets. I can't speak for Mrs. Favog, but this pet is grateful for his masters' beneficence.

What can I say?

Molly the Dog got jealous. So here's a group portrait.

Satisfied, Molls?

Take the picture. Move along.

This is our friend Scout the Dog taking it easy after a hard day of . . . well, pretty much doing just this.

He's not quite sure what the fuss is with this little shiny box Pop keeps pointing at him, but he has learned that the aggravation usually is short-lived if he humors the bipeds.


Finally, it's back to the favorite pastime of 15-year-old dogs. I'm pretty sure Scout considers himself semiretired.

He wishes that Molly the Dog would get the hell, if not off his lawn, away from his food bowl. Kids today. Feh.

That's Molly the IMPORTANT Dog to you

Molly the Dog is important, and she's not about to let you forget it.

She wants you to behold the importance that is herself.



She also wants you to know that treats are gladly accepted.

That is all.

Alone with her thought

Such is life for Molly the Dog, ensconced -- as usual -- in the Big Blue Chair in the living room.

As you can see, things haven't changed much since July.

The not-so-secret life of dogs

Click on photo for full size.

Here's the Molly edition of What Dogs Do.

Mrs. Favog thinks the Big Blue Chair is hers. The woman always was a little clueless -- how do you think I got her to marry me?

It's a dog's life

Our friend Scout, loyalest dog in the world. He's an old boy.




But he's hanging in there.

Natural selection 1, snake owner 0

Draping a 9-foot python around your neck? What could go wrong?

Strangulation, for one thing. No doubt, this poor Papillion, Neb., fool's last words were "Hey, y'all! Watch this!"

PRAISE GOD the snake-squeezed corpse here didn't belong to the little neighbor girl Cory Byrne let play with his python . . . and put around her neck, as recounted by the Omaha World-Herald:

He placed it on the trampoline outside. He let the children play with it.

“My daughter actually had it around her neck,” said David Driggers, 44, the neighbor. “There were about five or six kids over here that day.”

Things went terribly wrong Wednesday when Byrne, 34, tried to show off the python to a friend.

He was critically injured when the snake, estimated by authorities to be 9 feet long, wrapped around his neck and began strangling him.

Byrne died later at Midlands Community Hospital.

A friend tried to pull the reptile loose. Police arrived, finding Byrne unconscious and without a pulse. They managed to pry the python off Byrne.

“It took all they could do to get it back in the cage,” said Lt. Chris Whitted of the Papillion Police Department.

UNFORTUNATELY, congratulations are not in order for Mr. Byrne as a possible Darwin Award winner, being that you win one by "naturally selecting" yourself out of the gene pool.

On the other hand, we can all look at it this way: He may have accidentally sacrificed his life so the neighborhood kids might keep theirs.

That's not nothing.

God help me, I know it sounds cruel -- and maybe it is -- but it's true. Somebody usually ends up paying for that level of stupidity and irresponsibility, and thank God it wasn't an innocent child.