Beastie on vacation

Some dogs go to Europe with their vacationing people. Some dogs go to kennels while their people go to Europe. I go to Yolanda and Johan's Echo Park compound and terrorize their mellow pack and knock things over. This world was not made on a Beast-sized scale.

Anyhow, my vacation pictures are nothing exciting. No photos of me running through the Andes. No late-night, hard-drinking Vegas snaps with Fifi and Tinkerbell. No embarrassing mug shots to turn up on TMZ. But please enjoy these snaps anyway from my mid-June long weekend with my the couple who saved me from a life behind bars -- in a backyard down the street.

In the first one, I'm taking a whiz on some plants in the yard.

Later I'm chillin' inside. It was a mighty hot weekend.

Too bad there's no picture of the skunk that also stopped by for a visit, but I had a fragrant reminder of that experience for several days to come.

How to be Bad, by Beastie

1. Find a skunk. Poke it with your nose.

2. Listen carefully for the sound of the kitty in the litterbox. It could mean she's leaving a tasty Beastie treat inside.

3. Lick your butt, then "kiss" people. They love that.

4. Eat anything on the ground, even if it's not food. Especially if it's not food.

5. Bark at anything that passes by the house. Even if it is a car. Or a stray leaf.

6. Play in the mud puddle and then wait to shake off until just...the right...time.

7. Pretend you don't notice the runner coming down the trail -- just up until the moment you LUNGE.

8. Find something stinky on the ground. Roll in it. Then maybe eat it.

9. Poop a second time on the walk, after the first clean-up bag is already tossed.

10. Bite the guests.

I am sporty Beastie

Oh the indignity. I have been reduced to working dog status. My ape mistress ferries me to many outdoor locations, but straps strange and unsightly hardware to my body so that I may haul gear and foodstuff for her benefit. If it were not for the glory of the outdoor world -- so many things to sniff! New places to leave my scent! -- I would not suffer this outrage. Alas, only the two-legged one knows how to operate the moving metal box which transports me and my companion Bella to many new and wondrous places full of things to explore.

I submit, but when we return home I will be king of the bed, which I will share with Bella. Yaawn. Running through the mountains tires a beast out.

Steak! I command you with my mind to bring me steak.

Very rare.

I may not be able to speak that gibberish the two-legged can openers screech at each other all the time, but I have my ways of being heard. I simply use my Beastie Eyes of Control (tm) to make the furless apes do my bidding, whether it's cleaning out my goopy ears, updating my blog or giving me cheese. Mmm, cheese...

This bone is boring. Bring me cheese! I command you!

Craaaackly zap!



I'll have my cheese yet. Mwa-ha-ha.

A welcome from Beastie

Yes, I am gorgeous. But no touching. Not yet, anyway. I'm not that kind of dog.

I am Beastie, a 1-year-old Newfoundland/border collie mix from Los Angeles. This means I'm drooly and hyper, large but lithe, and smart but sweet enough to get away with it.

I love bonies and doing tricks for hotdog pieces and barking at people and wrestling with Bella, my little yellow girlfriend. She's a doll, but a little slow up there, if you know what I mean, and I think you do. Wink, wink. Labs, hsshh. They don't know nothing.

As you might have guessed, I'm not actually typing this, since I don't speak much English an my paws aren't that flexible. Plus, yo, I'm a dog. So I'm manipulating the mind of the two-footed can opener who lives in my den. It's so easy. And they think they're the smart ones. Hah! Who's going to the office every day and who's staying home in bed?

Anyhow, I've decided I need a blog to share my fabulousness. It just wouldn't be right to keep all this beauty, intelligence and virile dogliness to myself. I trust you won't be disappointed. Welcome to my world, BeastieLand.