Nobody thinks I can write. Maybe it’s because I’m little. Hank calls me a pipsqueak, and I guess Hank should know. He’s my big bro and one day he’s going to be king of all of us. That’s what he tells me, anyway, and I believe him.
Hank’s got a long name for a dog. King Cavalier Spaniel or something like that. I’m just a Maltipoo and Hank says Maltipoos aren’t as special. That makes me sad.
By the way, Hank doesn’t like when I call him Hank. Says it’s not proper, but I don’t care. I’m not royal at all so I don’t have to follow his rules, only the house rules. That’s what Mama says. You probably know her as Cook.
Anyway, I can, too, write. I may be pint size, but I’ve got thoughts spinning in my head. Like, I’m always wondering what’s at the top of the stairs or who’s that dog in the mirror that always barks back at me when I bark at him.
I wonder about that big thing in the living room that Mama likes to watch for hours on end. Every once in a while I see a strange dog on that screen, eating a gleaming bowl of dog food or prancing about with a human. Frankly, I don’t like it when I see a dog on the screen so I get up on my hind legs to make me look fierce and bark like crazy, which makes Hank bark, too. Mama says its nothing but a commercial. I say it’s nothing but trouble.
I like to play with my toys. I line them up upstairs, which is my favorite hangout place. I then chomp on them until they squeak. The louder the better.
I can get a new toy anytime I want. I just look at Mama with my doe-like eyes and she’s putty in my paws. It’s that easy. Yep, I can turn on the cute factor on a dime.
Sometimes, I jump on her lap so she can cuddle me. Not all the time, though, because that’s mushy stuff and I’m not big on mushy. But I like being petted. Feels good, ya know?
Other things I like: Licking the walls, licking the carpet, licking blankets, and eating chicken. Yum!
I used to chew on the carpet and dug a few holes in them in the process. But I grew out of that habit and no one’s happier about that than Mom.
I love to bark. Which is why I bark every time a truck drives past our house or when the UPS man drops off a package. I even bark at kids on their way to school.
I like when Mom turns on the hose to water the plants. I run under the nozzle and love the feel of the water spraying on my face. It’s the best.
But I hate baths. Makes me tremble like a pathetic cat. Hate it, plus mom uses baby shampoo on me. It’s embarrassing.
Then there’s Hank. Sometimes I growl at him when he tries to eat my food or take my spot on the couch. Oh, who am I kidding? I growl at him everyday to protect what’s mine.
I like to chomp on his tail. It’s so big and fluffy. But for some reason, that makes him snippy. I ask you, what dog doesn’t like to play rough?
One of these days, I’m going to get that tail.
Here’s something else you should know about me: I don’t like to share. Especially when it comes to tennis balls. I mean, they’re the coolest thing on earth! If Mama brings two balls to the park, one for me and one for Hank, I steal both and hide them under my belly. But Hank figures it out and barks until Mama makes me give one of the balls to Hank. No fair!
So, you see? I told you I have lots of thoughts. What more would you like to know? Ask me anything. Just don’t expect me to wait around here much longer. I gotta run and catch me some tennis balls!
in Minnesota! xxx WOOOOOF.
Smile and the world smiles with you! And young Oliver is blowing you kisses. 😉
Oliver, you are brilliant. I always knew you were, this proves it. Never mind Hank, he simply doesn’t realize all the great writers came from humble beginnings. That is my favorite picture of Hank as well.
Val, Oliver says you liking the same photo of Hank that he does makes him feel vindicated. He might use it again the next time he writes, though much to Henry’s chagrin. 😉
Hello little Oliver, you know I was just waiting to read what you wrote, and what a great writer you are, you had me wishing I could come over and play. Your mama says you’re cute as a button, and I’d say she’s right. Please don’t tell Hank, er, Henry that. We do need to be proper and treat him like royalty, well, sometimes.
I have a little girl that is almost 11 and she likes to take her sister’s things, even when she has her own. She hides them when she gets mad, and forgets all about it. Do you forget ? I’m quite certain you don’t forget those tennis balls, I bet you can sniff one out any time. I think she would love to see your chew toys lined up so beautifully, in fact, she would adore you.
Oliver says he never forgets. He accidentally places his toys and tennis balls all over the house, sometimes I try to store them away, but he always sniffs them out. He’s rather good at it, too. Oliver also says he’d love to meet your 11 year old. He thinks the two have much in common!
This is adorable. 🐶🐶
Thanks so much, Gina! Oliver is pleased as punch you liked his very first post. 🙂
Ah, Oliver, of course you can write! Dogs have lots of interesting thoughts (even when they’re sleeping!), and it’s wise and brave of you to put them down. I love your toy lineup — aren’t those “unstuffies” the best? Of course, I’ve had to sew up more than my share of them when Dallas chews a hole to get at the squeaker! I think I’ve only met one Maltipoo, but she’s really cute. Active, too! Do you stand on your back two feet and paw the air the way she does??
Oliver wants you to know that he loves to stand on his hind legs. It makes him feel taller so he does it quite often, especially when he wants to see what’s cooking on the kitchen counter!
Always remember Oliver that Good things come in little packages.
You enjoy yourself, but look after Cook, after all you never bite the hand that feeds you. But as for Hanks tail then I reckon that has to be fair game.
I will let you into a secret young Oliver, I don’t like to share either, if I do it means I only have half of what I had before and that would never do.
Here is a suggestion for a bit of fun. Ask Cook to put Hank into that cone again then ask him to raise his eyes up to the sky in a royal pose. Then, whilst he is doing so try and toss the wet slobber covered tennis balls into the cone. Now trust me it will bring a whole new dimension to Hank’s day, you can take my word for it.
On behalf of Oliver, we thank you for the suggestion, but knowing how Hank, ahem, Henry can be, he will have to take it under advisement of his attorney. 😉