I Wanna Be A Pig!

Not all humans are dog lovers.  Some are actually afraid of dogs!

My mom is not a dog lover.  I do not think she hates me, only that she doesn’t care about me.  She is not mean to me, but she does not pet me much either.  She would sometimes rub my ears, or my back, but she never lets me kiss her  or put my mouth anywhere near her.  When she is feeling extra benevolent, she might let me lick her feet.  “Alis ka dyan!“, which is Filipino for “go away” are her favorite words for me.

She said it would have been better if they had gotten a pig instead.  According to her, pigs are cleaner, smarter and they grow up to 500 pounds and become something lofty called Bacon.  If I were a pig she would probably cuddle with me more, kiss me more and not push me away as much.

Why do puppies love the humans who love them least?  When my mom and dad are sitting apart, I usually want to sit with my mom.  And I don’t just sit with her.  I try to make it a point to have as much skin to skin contact as I can, at which point she will push me away.  I then just lie underneath her table so I could at least smell her feet.

When my dad and mom are kung-fu fighting, it would be her that I defend.

I follow her around like a love-sick puppy.  Ouch! I AM a LOVE-SICK PUPPY!

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Life Lesson:  If you’re not Bacon, you will never be Bacon, and it would just hurt to try.   You can, however, be the Best Meatball!  And believe that that is just as good, or even better.


Do not forget to show appreciation for the one who DOES love you.

Uncle George and Grand Pa

Wow! What a day! I was going to call this post “visiting Old friends”, not that these are friends I have known for a long time. Well grandma and grandpa are if you consider a month out of a three and a half months of life is “old friends”. More like these are friends who, …well are old.  Anyway, Mom, (the sweet one) and Dad, the crazy, (Uh, lets be nice and shall we say, the passionate), one? loaded me/bribed me into the car and off we went. When we finally get out we are at this really nice resort sort of place and they tell me to go say hello to Uncle George. Who? then they explain that Uncle George is like 94, uh that is 658 in dog years. he’s very nice and glad to see me. So we’re sitting with him and  his pack, a couple of other old guys and a woman, thogther they must be about 3,000 dog years old. So I sit on comand, sniff around, play cute with them and we’re all happy. Sorry, but somehow Uncle George got cut out of the picture, I guess he wanted to remain incognito, is part of the witness protection program, or was a victim of editing.

So after that we head to Auto Tourismo Sport to meet Steve, Dave , and Dennis. they work on all sorts of exotic cars, lambo’s, Ferrari’s, Alfa’s and Maserati’s..all the cars with really nice chewable leather. I would love some of that Italian food! However I never get the chance to sneak off into one of the cars, sigh.

Then, you’d think my day was done and I could go home, but noooo.  Up to grandma and grandpa’s house. Boy, if they would leave me alone there for a day or so. I would really love to play with a lot of things there! It is just SO neat, it needs some “lived in” look, the kind a dog could bring, a little fur here, some scent there, maybe chew off some of the hard edges….boy that couch looks comfy!

Sigh, finally it back into the car for a long ride home. It’s been a good day. I met a bunch of new people, got lots of treats, visited foreign lands, more treats. made the old guys smile, got my belly rubbed all over the place. Yup, it’s been good!

Life Lesson: Make time for the old guys. They have seen a lot, know a lot and still want to be a lot. Plus it makes them happy to give you treats and rub your belly.

old guys and me


  Taking orders is never fun.

A nine year old girl came to visit me one day.  She smelled nice and she gave my ears and belly a good rub.  We were having so much fun until she started telling me to sit.

I may never understand why humans automatically assume they have right of command.  I thought to myself “you might have 10, maybe even 20 lbs on me little girl, but I can still take you down!”  And it is not even something that will further my career as a monster dog.  Sit?!!  I already know how to sit.  She just wanted me to sit at her command, making it all the more offensive.  Paw? Roll over? Tricks without purpose!

Didn’t she know who I am?  I am Madigans The Great Barrington! Destined to be Great! Powerful! Ferocious!  A Lion of the Dog Kingdom!  I do not take orders from Anyone!  I AM FIERCE!  I AM WILD!  I AM FREE!!!

There’s no central air in the wild?  Whatever, I’ll keep to the shade and the grass.  I can’t take Mr. Bear, or Yellow Dog?  I have a Charming Personality, I can make new friends.


Hmmmmmm.  How would you like me to sit again?

Life Lesson:  You can probably do anything.  Be anything.  Go anywhere.  But what you really do, or where you actually go, or what you eventually become, is dependent on how ready you are to leave your comfort zone, and give up your comfort things.

My Crate is my Castle!

Hi, I guess most of you know that the common wisdom amongst people is that I should be in a crate, (jail) during the night, whenever the people leave the house, and in general whenever they feel like I need to be. They say it’s sumthin’ about proper training and not pooping inside or eating all of the furniture, shoes, remotes, and anything else they are careless enough to leave lying around or too lazy to clean up. Maybe my job is to be the “clean up enforcer!”

Anyway, I have been very good. It took me only a week or so to figure out that if I pee and poop outside I get a cookie, ..inside, uh well they aren’t so happy and giving with the treats. Hey even at 2:30 or 4:30 in the morning the guy gives me cookies! that lady.. she won’t get up for anything!

Well, it seems to have worked . I have given them the sad look and now I have a two story couple of thousand square foot “crate” Yeah, thats right, they gave me the run of the place! A virtual “get out of jail free card”, well almost. There seem to be some secret rooms I don’t have access to….yet. My favorite place is upstairs in the bathroom, nice cool tile floor, a shower stall that is well protected..kinda’ my own secluded hiding spot. I’ll admit it took me three weeks to learn to navigate the stairs, but once I learned to get past those obstacles they tried to set up, (cake) I was invincible! ok, ok it took me a little longer to learn how to come down, but now it’s noooo problem.

Life Lesson: Start of small and if you play your cards right sooner or later you will have the Big House!

the Jail

back in the old days...a couple of weeks ago


Eating is a gift and a pleasure. Yet it is also one of those life activities where differences in cultures, upbringing, or even just personalities are brought to the fore, bringing much aggravation, laughter and all around craziness.

I am not allowed to eat just anything.  I have prescribed food in prescribed amounts, prepared in a certain kind of way, that my dad follows to the letter.  My dad would boil some Buffalo Blue Healthy Holistic Large Breed Puppy Protection Formula with LifeSource Bits.  My mom thought this was hilarious.  She said that anything and everything is technically a life source bit (or death source bit), depending on perspective and marketing.

My treats are Cage Free Duck Breast with Glucosamine and Chondroitin.  My dad has a grab bag with pig parts – snout, ears, tail, excess skin, for when I had been especially good.  He thinks my mom makes fun of his food rules because she is jealous, she just wants my treats for herself.

She wanted to feed me stuff and it frustrated her that she couldn’t.  She argued that there are millions of other dogs who are not on life source bits and they are fine.  He would counter argue that the dogs that she knows do not have to be fine for long as they become life source bits themselves.  Filipinos will find a way to eat anything, including rare sharks (www.usatoday.com/news/offbeat/2009-04-07-shark_N.htm), and the expensive coffee producing palm civet, so dogs are fair game.


Dear Mr. CEOs or Marketing People of Above Mentioned Products,

I am turning out to be a fine specimen of a dog, thanks to you.  If you have a need for a puppy model, I am available.  This is the time, as I am still unknown, therefore, cheap.  I swear that my mommy has never fed me kare-kare with bagoong and rice.  I have never had dinuguan nor palabok, not even leftover fried chicken wings.  Just the finest in LifeSource Bits.

Sincerely yours,


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Life Lesson:  What goes in is important, but as important is what comes out – it should be soft, smooth, suave – so it wouldn’t hurt your ass.


So, I went to the Vet yesterday, she’s a really nice woman, oh and her assistant too, (they have treats!). I got shots…didn’t even notice, clipped my nails…eh, big deal. I now weigh 36 pounds. Yep, I gained almost 20lbs. of pure Massive Mastiff Muscle in the last 4 weeks!  I’m bad! ..So,  I Barked at the door stop and I barked at the plants…I think I scared them. That’s right “Meatball the terrible”, that’s me.   Then on the way out there was another guy like me! Four legs, long nose, big teeth, tail, check…yeah, he’s kinda’ like me but a little bit bigger, (for now anyway!, HA!). But then he wanted to come near me, aaaaaahhhh, run away! I don’t want some stranger smelling my naughty bits! So of course, then I barked crazy at him, HA!,…I think I scared him.

Life Lesson:  So, even when you think you’re big, there is somebody bigger. My advice is to stay out of range and bark crazy at them.

Kiss My A**!

  Once you understand the principle behind the engineering of an obstacle, no matter how complicated it may seem, you can still go through it.

My dad fortified the barricades in the stairway – there were heavier, stronger objects blocking it.  He used two big chairs that I had been afraid of.  I do not know why he thinks this is different than yesterday’s barricade.  You push things around so that you have a big enough space in the middle for you to go through.

My dad was working in his shop in the basement.  I was watching over my mom while she was fighting legions in her head horizontal on the couch.  My mom decided she has had enough and went upstairs to go to bed.  She made sure the barriers going up were sound.  I was upset because I was left alone again, and I hated that.  At first I tried the crying/whining trick.  This usually works with my dad, but very rarely with my mom.   After waiting a few minutes, I knew it was up to me to get me what I wanted, and so I did.

My mom bursts out laughing when she saw me – good sign.  But she promptly went downstairs to tell my dad to come and get me.  But they didn’t come and get me.  They stayed downstairs laughing, telling future imaginative stories about what I will do when I get older and heavier and smarter.  But I was upstairs left out!  I wanted to join the fun.

So I did the thing that surprised even me – I went downstairs, by myself, one step at a time!

Life Lesson:  You will never know the extent of what you can do until you reach the end of your rope, and you have nothing more to lose, and you just go ahead and DO IT.


Nothing is Child/Puppy proof.

Less than a week ago my parents woke up with me able to climb the big stairs.  They were so happy and proud of me.  “WoW! Mr. Explorer!”


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After that however, they started putting a barrier at the base of the stairs.  I was like, whatever, the only reason I want to go up the stairs is to be with my pack anyway, and they usually take the barrier down when it is time for bed, so no biggie.

I can climb up the stairs, but not down the stairs, so my dad usually carries me.  Today like usual,  my daddy fed me breakfast, walked me and then left me alone downstairs.  But I know my mommy was still upstairs, and I wanted to be with her.  It probably took me half an hour to dispose of the barrier.  I was so proud of myself.  In my mind I was Mr. Ingenuity.  Mr. Think-Outside-The-Box.  Mr. Problem-Solver.  I really think that because I was able to clear my obstacles, my pack would be proud of me too.  But this time, not so much.

My mom woke up because I started barking so she can open the door and let me in the room.  She got mad because  she had to get up and take care of me.  She didn’t want to carry me down like my dad would.  She tried to coax me to go down the stairs with her.  I refused.  She then left and ignored me to so I could fix my own problems.  So there I stayed until my daddy came home.  He fixes everything.

Life Lesson:  Before getting yourself in a sticky situation make sure you have an exit plan that does not involve your mother.

Diverse. Diagnosable. Pack.

 If you think some people are sane, it just means you do not know them well enough.

We probably shared the same loony bin in our past life.  Hi, my name is Meatball and I have Anxiety Disorder NOS.  (Please see last blog).

If you get to meet my mom and dad for the first time, you’ll probably think that they are a perfectly nice couple.  What you will probably never know is that they both have Diagnoses just like me.

My dad is Italian-American.  He is inertia in motion.  Passionate.  Creative.  Productive.  He has a bucket list for EVERY SINGLE DAY and he gets upset when something doesn’t get done on the list.   He has such a great zeal for life that he wants to live to at least 120.  He loves to cook.  He designs and makes furniture.  He fixes cars.  He paints, writes poetry and makes artwork from wood.  He is your all around jack-of-all trades.  He also has Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Anything and Everything should be in their proper place.  Maybe he needs this to keep all his stuff in order.  My mom tells people that she cannot cook.  That’s actually not true.  Under duress, she can probably cook, but not in my dad’s kitchen, she ‘s too messy.  He also has Seasonal Affective Disorder.  He gets depressed in the winter, and during most days when the sun is not shining, all because he cannot do what he has planned to do that day.

My mom is all-Filipino.  She is inertia at rest.  My dad calls her BL – beyond lazy.  If you want her to do something, you would need to explain to her, in detail why it needs to be done.  Then you would have to justify, again in detail, why she should be the one to do it.  She has a death wish, (life to her is just too much work), so she is not afraid of anything (except heights).  She is a high functioning Bipolar with Psychotic symptoms.  She believes she is the lost Skywalker, the  back-up plan just in case Luke and Leia don’t make it.  She is depressed because she thinks she has been abandoned, and she did not have a chance to fulfill her destiny.  She is strong in the Force.  She is practically royalty.  She is entitled to Millions of Minions, but all she has is my dad and me.  She spends her days dreaming of the time when the Empire would need her and put her in her rightful place.  She makes sure she is prepared, she plays Bejeweled Blitz almost all day to keep her eye-hand coordination sharp.

This I think is the purpose of my life – to make sure I keep them off the edge.  Make sure my dad relaxes sometimes, and my mom does not get herself killed too soon.

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Life Lesson:  It is not just who make up your pack, but also what keeps it together:  Meatball, Munication, Mmitment, and Mental Illness, not necessarily in that order.