My dog has Twitter, therefore she is better than your dog

On Twitter, I must approve of any follower request.  The idea of a stranger reading my thoughts is nothing short of creepy.  Under all circumstances, we should limit the number of creeps in our life.

The other day I approved a follow request from Cher.  The dog, not the singer.  Cher is my family's pup, an eight-old-year German Shepherd/Chow mix we rescued from a shelter in 2004.  She was around two at the time, hence her name stuck.  What was once a sad, scared little thing is now a tomboy diva whom has amazing hair, enjoys a romp in the park, and enjoys life with her head propped on the armrest of the leather couch.

Like all delusional dog owners, I believe Cher has people thoughts.  Her intelligence and actions are borderline human and her actions exceed those of her peers.  (Especially this yippy neighborhood dog named Jade; she deserves a swift punt.)  Cher knows when I'm coming home to visit, when someone is sad, or that Grandma is bat shit crazy and to approach accordingly.  Unfortunately, she can't speak.

UNTIL NOW.

A little big ago, I read about this thing called puppy tweets. This waste of cash device snaps to a dog's collar to "read" their emotions and spew out messages like, "I bit my tail. Ow!" or "I'm bored, come home!"  As if the twitter world wasn't crammed with stupid junk already.  How many days can Justin Bieber possibly one of the most important things in the world?  But the best part about puppy tweets is that I don't even have to know about this device because my dog is better than yours.

Cher Voyles is blessed to take on the qualities on her owners (minus mom) and her peers (minus Gary the cat).  Her insights into the household are witty, charming and full of snappy bitchiness.  She is, after all, a female dog.  Cher doesn't need a freakin' collar tag.  My dog saves money to buy an iPad!  So go follow my dog, she doesn't mind.

Twitter.com/CherVoy

You're welcome.

 The best dog.  Ever.

Does your cat make TOO much NOI-se?!

Only a week until Thanksgiving. Naturally, that means the Christmas season started over two weeks ago. Next week I am going to my parents' for the turkey day holidays. My agenda generally consists of being a glutton and sitting on the couch all day abusing their DV-R. Twice a day I will likely walk my seven-year-old pup, Cher (we adopted her from a shelter and unfortunately her name stuck). Occasionally, I will shuffle off the couch solely to chase down Gary the cat. Gary, named after Spongebob's snail, is a glorious 14 pound snow shoe Siamese with a bit of an eating problem. Although he is my cat, he is proof that a guy should never buy a girl an animal unless he plans to raise the animal in question. For this reason he was adopted by Grandma. However, because he is my cat I have no problem chasing, squeezing and hugging him until he squeals for mercy.

I love my animals so much that I have already started their Christmas shopping. I will let you be the judge of how serious I am about these.

For Cher, the pup, I present you the dog snuggie. Snuggie, you've gone way too far. Particularly on the snuggie for dogs web site where you will notice the dogs are playing BACKGAMMON.


One of my favorite shows. Charlie presents kitten mittens!