When I was only a few weeks old, one of Momma’s “friends” took one look at me and said, “Do you think she’ll ever grow into her ears?”  When Momma got over her irritation, she took a closer look and realized they really were quite large.  Thinking maybe she was on to something, she nicknamed me “Little Big Ears.”

My ears in all their glory

When I started my Blog, they became a really big deal for Momma – she had pie-in-the-sky ideas of making money off the big ear concept.  Therefore, you can imagine that what happened a few days ago was a near-tragedy in her mind.

We had just returned to Florida when Momma decided to buy something for me (probably to keep up with the other doggie mommas in her building).  She swung into the local pet store and found a cute tee (which would be great if I wanted to wear a tee) with “Marco Island” emblazoned on it.  Not knowing if it would fit – and not wanting to have to return it, Momma insisted that the sales lady try the tee on another dog who weighed about the same as me.  It fit perfectly and Momma shelled out the money.

Arriving home, Momma called out, “Lina, wait ’til you see what I bought you!” and pulled my new tee from the bag.  (It should have been a clue to her that this was a bad idea when my ears fell and I ran into the next room to hide.)  Undeterred, Momma found me and pulled the shirt over my head and tucked my little legs into the openings.  Satisfied that it fit – and picturing showing me off to her friends – she exclaimed, “Don’t you look fetching, Lina?” and went about her putzing.

Meanwhile I noticed that something was wrong – my left ear felt funny – so I started whipping my head back and forth to get rid of the sensation.  After about five minutes of this, Momma looked at me and said, “Okay, Lina, let’s take it off for now.”  She removed the dreaded tee but the strange feeling in my ear did not go away and I continued to vigorously shake my head.

Now I really had Momma’s attention.  “What’s wrong, Lina?” she asked, taking a good look at me.  At this point she saw that my left ear no longer stood up like the right.  In fact, it was plastered against my head!  Momma went into a panic and wailed, “Oh my God, Lina, what’s wrong with your ear?”  Momma was terrified that her tugging the tee over my head had done some permanent damage and frankly, extremely concerned that our “Little Big Ears” franchise was in danger.

Seeing no alternative, Momma called the emergency animal hospital who predictably recommended that she bring me in.  So off we went – me in the front seat so Momma could keep an eye on the precious ear and see if it popped up again.

When we arrived, Momma carried me up to the front desk of the hospital.  The two receptionists looked at us quizzically and asked what the problem was.  When Momma explained that there was something wrong with one of my ears, they paged a nurse who came into the waiting room to take a look.

Admittedly, it didn’t look like much was wrong, so the nurse asked Momma to tell him what was going on.  “Well, I bought a new tee shirt for Lina and tried it on her and now one of her ears won’t stand up anymore,” Momma explained and added helpfully, “and she keeps shaking her head to straighten it out again.”

As you can imagine, every eye in the place was now on us, all ears perked up (except for mine).  The nurse looked at us as if we had just dropped in from Mars.  Also I’m pretty sure I heard a few snickers from the other dog owners.  Seriously, who brings their dog in because one of her ears won’t stand up?

Also, by now my errant ear was looking better – it was at least at half-mast.  Just so the nurse didn’t think Momma was totally crazy, I shook my head emphatically to demonstrate that something wasn’t right.  Although he had pretty much determined there was nothing wrong with me – indeed that maybe he should call security – the nurse invited us to have a seat and wait for the doctor, warning us that it would be about an hour (it was three).

At the point Momma was wavering.  It didn’t appear the nurse was concerned – and did she really want to spend Saturday evening at the animal hospital?  That all changed, however, when she learned that the young, hot Dr. Varny who had seen us before, was on duty.  (Am I the only one who suspects that she knew this all along?)  Suddenly a three-hour wait on a Saturday night for a likely unnecessary $150.00 exam seemed like a gift from God.

File photo of Dr. Varny and me

When Dr. Varny finally appeared, Momma repeated the ridiculous tail about the tee and the lopsided ears.  He listened patiently, if warily, but as expected couldn’t find much wrong – even though I did the head-shake for him too.  Nevertheless he gave me an anti-inflammatory shot before sending us on our way.  To Momma’s disappointment he did not say we needed a follow-up exam.

Lina, The Author Formerly Known As Little Big Ears

WOOFDA!

Momma is glad Christmas is over.  Not that she doesn’t celebrate the birth of the Christ Child and enjoy all the related festivities.  She just finds that Christmastime gets more stressful and complicated every year.

First, there is the yearly debate about whether one can still say “Merry Christmas” or should play it safe with “Happy Holidays” – or something even more milktoast like “Happy Winter Solstice.”  Actually, though, this is not a big dilemma for Momma who freely (and pointedly) calls out “Merry Christmas!” to everyone she sees.  (“We are celebrating Christmas, Lina – others can say what they want.”)

To Momma, worrying about what to say so as not to offend was a waste of time and detracted from the true meaning of Christmas.  She had other things on her mind – there was shopping to be done (some even for others), self-promoting Christmas card to be ordered and cocktail parties to attend.

Next, just like clockwork, the annual legal battles over religious displays in public places pop up.  Just as predictably the issue of school music programs arises every year – what type of music is permissible – indeed, is a program allowed at all?  Surely someone would be left out even with the best intentions and efforts humanly possible.  Momma fondly remembers the good old days when she taught music in North Dakota and could have the kids sing whatever she wanted – at their Christmas program.  Come to think of it, she bets they can still do that in North Dakota!  Maybe she would just move back there.  (For once, I’m onboard with Momma – I hear they have almost no lakes.)

While tiresome and annoying, these are not the biggest issues confronting Momma at Christmas.  The one that takes the cake (speaking of food) is making dinner for her family on Christmas Eve.

Is used to be so easy – she’d buy a honey-baked ham at a specialty store, some pre-made Swedish meatballs (she could never find/didn’t know if there was such a thing as Norwegian meatballs – close enough though she thought), some pre-made mashed potatoes (always being careful to remove the store packaging and imply she made them herself) and call it a day.

When a relative asked what they could bring, she’d assign a time-consuming item like a complicated hor d’oeuvre, salad or vegetable to round out the menu.  For dessert, she’d usually take the chocolates out of a box she got from someone else and arrange them on a platter as though she had just thrown together some gourmet chocolate truffles.  (“People don’t really need dessert anyway, Lina.”)

As with the rest of Christmas though, dinner was more complicated now.  Out of the nine family members she served on Christmas, at least four had special dietary needs.  Two required food to be gluten free.  Those same two were also lactose intolerant.  Two others were vegans – although one would occasionally make exceptions – like when someone brought something especially tasty that was not allowed on his/her diet.  Plus two were organic farmers which also had to be factored into the mix.  And one ate only dog food.

First off, Momma had only a vague idea what these terms entailed.  Gluten-free she was pretty sure meant no wheat, but were other grains allowed?  Lactose intolerant meant no dairy she thought, but really what constituted “dairy?”  And vegan totally threw her – she knew there was almost nothing they could eat (really how did they stay alive?) – but she was reasonably sure vegies were okay – but only if they were organic, right?  And did anyone require that their food be pasture-raised?  (When Momma first heard that term being used by two granola crunchers at the grocery store, she was sure they were confused and corrected them, saying “It’s pronounced pasteurized.”)   I’m glad I was at home.

Luckily (as is usually the case with Momma), others came to the rescue for Christmas Eve dinner this year, bringing enough food items that were lacking in one or more prohibited ingredient that everyone was able to eat.  For her part, Momma’s big concession was that she made her own mashed potatoes and, being careful to stick to prescribed dietary guidelines, did not use butter or cream.  (She was in something of a snit later though after being told that butter is okay for the lactose intolerant – but come to think of it, that wouldn’t have worked for the vegan crowd would it?)  Anyway, she found a recipe online for “Delicious Creamy Dairy Free Mashed Potatoes” and dutifully whipped them up.  The fraudulently-named and nearly inedible recipe basically called for potatoes and chicken stock.  But whatever.  The vegans did not need to know about the chicken stock.

Paw-ning off the meatballs on me

Hanaramakwanzmas!

And all the best to my readers in 2016 ~ Lina

WOOFDA!

The other night as Momma and I watched Fox News, I noticed something outside our living room window.  I sprang to my paws and glared mightily at the creature.  My ears shot up, my fur stood on end and my legs twitched.  I looked at Momma expectantly.  Even she could tell something was up, but she dismissed it saying, “Oh Lina, that’s just your reflection in the glass you see,” and went back to The Factor.

My nightly in”dog”trination . . .

Then I saw the same shadowy figure appear around the corner at another window. Instantly I hopped off the couch for a better look – but what I saw was so scary that I immediately high-tailed it (well, I ran fast) back to Momma emitting a ferocious little growl.

Now I had her attention.  Although annoyed that this incident was interrupting The No Spin Zone, she decided to investigate.  Remembering that bad guys can see in when the lights are on, she snapped them off and turned the deck lights on.  Not surprisingly, she saw nothing – I mean, who/what stands there bathed in bright light waiting to be identified?  Then Momma walked to the back door and turned on the security system.  As she walked past the front door, she saw an animal approach and gaze in.

Yikes, she thought! – is that the big gray cat that she had been seeing in the neighborhood for weeks?  Probably not, she reasoned – too big.  And too feral looking with a pointy nose and beady little eyes.  What was it then?  (Momma grew up on a farm, but somehow managed to learn nothing about animals.)

As the animal continued to stare in through the door, Momma tried to identify it.  (I had wisely stayed in the living room guarding us from a possible attack from the back of the house.)   She thought that it could possibly be a wolf, raccoon, fox, coyote, cougar, lynx or dingo (just kidding – even Momma knew better!), but she really didn’t know what any of them looked like.

As the animal sauntered away Momma took one last look and tried to memorize the image, but it was hopeless.  Five seconds later she couldn’t even remember if it had a tail.  Then she had an inspiration – she would Google it!  Truth be told, that search engine pretty much did all of her thinking these days.

She plugged in “small wild mammals in Minnesota” and clicked on IMAGES (she was pretty proud that she knew of this feature).  At this point Momma didn’t even really care what the animal was anymore – she just wanted to appear knowledgable to her friends – being a farm girl and all.  Admitting that she didn’t know if the thing was a wild animal or a big gray cat (which she hadn’t ruled out) would just be too embarrassing.

Momma had heard that coyotes were appearing all over the Twin Cities – so why wouldn’t they be in our backyard she thought?  She would go with that.  It fit in nicely with her narrative – coyotes were known to go after small animals so now she’d be fearlessly protecting me from a dangerous predator.  Yup, it was a coyote!

Once Momma had finished watching the nightly lineup of Fox programs, she suddenly remembered me and had a frightening thought – she still had to take me out to go potty once more!!  Could she make me hold it all night?  Force me to go on the pee pad in the laundry room?  (Not that she was scared, but she had to protect me after all.)

We did end up going outside for potty but only just outside the door where it was well lit.  When I wasn’t able to go within about 7 seconds, Momma pulled me back inside explaining, “It’s not that long ’til morning, Lina.”

We haven’t seen the animal since, but now Momma is talking about buying a gun, pointing out that she is going to exercise her Second Amendment rights.  I just hope she can tell a Toy Aussie from a big gray cat.

Lina, Guard Dog

WOOFDA!

You have to give her credit.  Sometimes Momma tries to cut spending on herself (on select items) and sometimes she even tries to do good for others.  Somehow, though, things always come back to “bite” her . . .

The Drug Dilemma

Recently Momma switched insurance companies and she thought this would be a perfect opportunity to cut costs.  She had enrolled in, well, let’s just call it the Big Government benefit she had been waiting for her entire life.  She was looking forward to what she thought would be free healthcare!  She soon learned however that healthcare was not the bargain, nor as simple as, she thought it would be.

When it came to selecting a cost plan to partner with Big Government’s benefit, she was going to be selective.  No wasted premiums was her motto.  Therefore, when Big Insurance asked if she wanted an Rx plan on her policy, she said emphatically NO!  She wasn’t about to pay for a plan she would not use.  In her mind, she is still in her 20s and doesn’t use medication (none of those unsightly pill organizers with the giant letters for her!).  Plus, Big Insurance was charging about $50 extra per month for the drug plan – money that could well be spent elsewhere – on clothing for example (see below).

Her new austerity plan worked for about a week.  Then she discovered there was a prescription she needed after all.  (I’m thinking – hoping – some sort of mood stabilizer.)

When she went to pick up the pills, Momma had a rude awakening.  The pharmacist handed her a little white bag and announced, “that will be $416.00.”  Gripping the counter, Momma croaked, “There must be some mistake” (the same reaction she has when her credit card is being declined.)  There was no mistake, however – she just didn’t have drug coverage anymore.  Who knew drugs were so expensive?

On the way home, Momma did the math in her head and decided maybe the Rx thing was the way to go after all.  She was just praying that she wouldn’t have to pay a penalty – a consequence she previously chose to ignore – for adding it after her initial enrollment.  She also hoped it was still the open enrollment period.  Why did this insurance stuff have to be so complicated?  In the back of her mind of course she was already blaming Obama Care.

Resigning herself to the fact that she had made a mistake, Momma dialed Big Insurance back up.  When she finally got through to a human being, she had to do the whole enrollment process again which took the better part of the morning.  After a few torturous moments on the phone with Momma – and wanting to end the call I’m sure – the representative inquired of Momma, “Do you know how to use the Internet, dear?”

The fact that Big Insurance’s representative was lumping Momma into a category of elderly people that may not even know how to use the Internet was almost more than she could bear.  She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.  She stuck with it, though, not wanting to hang up and have to start the hellish process all over again.  (At this point, I rewarded her with a face lick!)

The Closet Catastrophe

The drug matter put to bed for the moment, Momma turned to another project she hated -cleaning out her closet.

She knew it was necessary because her closet was jammed with stuff she never wore.  She also rationalized that if she got rid of some old stuff, she would be justified in getting some new items – applying her own backwards version of the rule mandating that if one bought something new, they must get rid of something old.  And Momma had a plan for the disposal of the old clothing – she would give it to Goodwill (“It’s time to give back, Lina.”)

Filled with warm feelings of, well, goodwill, Momma hurriedly pulled things off hangers, out of drawers and off shelves and stuffed them into shopping bags.  She wanted to get this done and get it done fast – like ripping the band-aid off quickly!

The day after Momma’s frenzied purging, she went to put on her favorite pair of jeans.  The only problem was that they were no longer in her closet.  Realizing instantly what had happened, she howled, “No, Lina, no!”

How could she get them back?  Would Goodwill allow her to go through the bags she dropped off the day before?  Would they even still be there?  Would she have to buy back her own jeans if she found them?

Getting no good answers over the phone, Momma showed up bright and early to shop for her jeans at Goodwill (really could things get any worse, she thought??)  To no avail as it turned out – Momma never got her jeans back (another face lick from me).  Luckily, she has some space for new ones in her closet.

Me shopping for a pill organizer and jeans

Lina, Momma’s Rock

Woofda!

Dear Little Miss Perfect – I mean Lina,

Just read “Another Hasty Exit.”  I think you forgot to mention that you chewed up Dr. Becca’s iPhone earbuds during your blissful week with the Bs.  Just saying . . .

Momma

Momma was leaving town again and she was bound and determined there be no issues or drama this time for Dr. Becca or Nanny Becky.  I don’t think she was as concerned about inconveniencing them as she was about another humiliating Blog post.

She almost made it.  She had dog food, bones, and treats on hand.  She even managed to leave a key for Becca so she could get in and out of the house to care for me.  She was, however, running a tad behind as usual and quite harried as she prepared to catch a ride to the airport.  Since I hadn’t gone potty for an eternity, Momma decided she should take me out, even though she really couldn’t spare the time.  “Hurry up Lina, let’s go potty!” she commanded.  She clipped me to my leash and then, forgetting what she was doing, ran to the kitchen to make coffee for the road.  I trailed behind her, wondering what happened to my potty trip.

As Momma attempted to force the lid on the coffee cup, it squished out of her grasp and the steaming hot liquid flew everywhere.  The counter, the cabinets, the drawers, the floor and her clothing were all drenched.  The hot coffee even burned her skin in places, and for a brief moment, she thought of suing someone over this (the figure $3 million crossed her mind).

But first things first:  In pain and nearly hysterical, Momma began hopping around and yelling, “Lina, Lina!” while I watch in horror (with my legs crossed).  She became a maniac at this point, trying to rip her clothing off and clean up the mess at the same time.  Taking me to the bathroom was the last thing on her mind.

When Momma finished wiping up the coffee and had carefully selected a new traveling ensemble, she finally remembered that I was running around with my leash attached, desperately needing to go potty.  Now really out of time, she pulled me out the door shrieking, “Hurry, Lina, go potty quick – Momma’s gotta leave right now!!!”  Luckily I was able to perform and off she went.

In her haste, Momma had left the coffee-soaked clothing, including her favorite sweater, in the laundry room.  Suddenly it occurred to her that if someone could take her sweater to the cleaners immediately, they might be able to save it.  Becca was coming over anyway, and Momma thought she would just call and give her a little heads up.  It seems Momma forgot that Becca had a full time job and might not be up at 6:30 on a Saturday morning.  Since Becca didn’t answer, she left a message and then called Becky – just in case she was standing at the ready with nothing to do.

When Momma got to the airport and – temporarily – came to her senses, she realized that a stained sweater maybe may not be the national emergency she thought it was, and texted the Bs to apologize and explain.  (She was also a little nervous that this might be the last straw for both of them.)  By then, however, the Bs had come to the rescue and the precious sweater was already at the cleaners.

The morning’s emergency over, Momma’s worries now turned to the Blog.  She texted Becca, warning her that I better not broadcast her latest fiasco and referring to me as “The Little Tattletail.”

With Momma finally out of my fur, things calmed down at home and my week with the Bs progressed nicely.  They often reported to Momma on our activities, in case her thoughts ever turned to me.  Becca told Momma that she took me along to run errands and even to work (“To what?” Momma queried) one day.  Becca also sent a photo of my new Halloween toy:

Me with my Hedgehog!

And my new size-appropriate pink harness:

Don’t tell Momma I said this, but I saw her studying the picture when trying to figure out how to put it on me.

Mercifully there are never any emergencies when the Bs are in charge and we had a fun, relaxing week.  All too soon though, Momma’s (and my!) vacation was over and she returned.  In case you are wondering, the stain did not come out of the sweater, the replacement cost of which can only hurt the Bottom Lina.

Lina, The Little Tattletail

WOOFDA!

This morning Momma discovered to her dismay that she was out of K-Cups for her coffee maker.  Thus, she decided she would have to venture out to get her required caffeine fix.  She also decided that we would stop at the local pet salon on the way and get my nails clipped (compliments of Nanny).  This went well and the ladies even trimmed the matted fur by my ears.  (Ahem!)

After my “grooming” visit, we were off to get coffee.  That was not as easy as it might sound.  We couldn’t go to the nearest coffee shop because she was boycotting it.  She felt she must make a statement due to the company’s politically correct policies and practices with which she did not agree.  Momma was really on her high horse about this.  (“We’re going to hit them where it hurts, Lina – in the pocket book!”)

She really needed a cup of coffee though and had already equivocated, deciding that buying just one cup from them wouldn’t be a huge breach of her boycott – or make much of a difference to them.  However, she really needed the K-Cups, too – and that was more of a major purchase – and a boost to the company bottom line.  She decided to stick to her guns and go somewhere else.

Just then, though, Momma remembered that this PC company did give away a great doggie treat – and that the doggie treat was FREE!  Now Momma was facing a really big dilemma – should she stand on principle or get a free treat for me (a dream come true for her)?

As we sped into their drive-through lane, I was already licking my chops.

YUM!

Lina, One Happy Pup!

WOOFDA!

As you might expect, Momma is a big proponent of the trickle down theory of economics, where all the money starts at the top and allegedly trickles down to the little guy.  As you also might expect, Momma doesn’t always practice what she preaches – the only thing that trickles down at our house are spending cuts.

Arguably the best example of her version of the trickle down(to dog) theory was when I got stung on my paw by what I can only assume was a bee.  We were at the end of the driveway retrieving the mail when the sting occurred.  It hurt like heck and I immediately let out a little yelp and started hopping around, signaling my distress to Momma.  She paid little attention at first though, engrossed as she was with her daily stack of catalogs from Nordstrom and Neiman.  Finally, though, she couldn’t help but notice that I was only walking on three legs.

Grudgingly (“now what, Lina?”), Momma did a little exam of the injured paw and saw that it was bright pink and two of the pads were quite swollen.  Not knowing anything about insect stings, especially on dogs, Momma was once again forced to call the vet’s office.  (What if she did nothing and I died – how would she explain that to her friends?)  The nice young technician who answered the phone suggested that Momma bring me in.

When we pulled up a few minutes later, Momma examined my paw again in the car and saw that it was looking much better.  At that point she almost bolted, but then she had a better idea – she would ask the tech to take a quick (free) look to confirm, but avoid the vet and his fee.  Amazingly, the tech agreed, said the paw looked good, and we were on our way – Momma breezily calling out “no charge, right?” as she whisked me out the door.  I only hope we have no reason to return anytime soon.

Momma’s stinginess is not strictly limited to the vet of course.  One of my favorite gifts from the infamous birthday party was a gift certificate from Nanny Becky for our neighborhood pet salon.  Nanny thought it was about time that I got a nice shampoo and blowdry.  Momma immediately nixed the idea though, informing me that Nanny would continue to give me my baths in the laundry room sink (so much for benefits trickling down to the little guy).

After a bath with Nanny!

She said that the certificate would be used only for the occasional – my guess would be annual – nail clipping.  As a result, I have been reduced to “paw tucking” until Momma can squeeze in an appointment for my nails.

One area in which Momma doesn’t scrimp is on my “calming aid” treats.  Nanny had suggested them to help with anxiety during thunderstorms.  What Nanny didn’t realize (but frankly should have) was that Momma would use them to drug me whenever she wanted a little free time.  And judging by the number we go through, I’m pretty sure the aids do not trickle down to just me.

Lina – Fur A New Deal

WOOFDA!!

Paw Script:  Yesterday Momma got a card in the mail reminding her that I am due for my Bordetella Shot and Wellness Examination.  She has already determined that:

A)  I do not need the shot because I am not going to a bordello anytime soon, and

B)  I am well.

Momma had a birthday recently, too, but unlike mine she wanted to keep hers under wraps.  Therefore, she won’t be happy to read about it on my Blog, but it is my Blog, after all and I retain complete editorial control.  And as much as she doesn’t like big government or entitlement programs, trust me – she is happy with her new medical benefits.

Momma did not spend her birthday with me.  She told me she must drive up to Bemidji for business meetings on the weekend.  Frankly, that was okay with me because Dr. Becca came to stay.  Nanny Becky also came by and played with me when she could.  So all in all, it was a nice weekend – and frankly good to have a little adult supervision for a change (did I just woof that?)!

Momma wanted to be sure that she had her ducks in a row before she left this time because, as she put it, she did not need anymore bad press from me.  I’m pretty sure she was thinking about the time Becca stayed and Momma forgot to leave dog food.  But I dogress.

Momma really tried hard this time.  She made sure I had food, water and a bed, and she even gave me a little 2-calorie treat before she left.  I was proud of her – it seemed she had actually become a responsible dog owner.  It soon became apparent that she was not quite there, however, when Becca discovered that Momma had locked her out of the house.  (If I had to guess, I’d say that Momma got a little distracted towards the end because of all the outfits she was trying on for her “meetings.”)

Anyway, as usual Becky came to the rescue and the weekend proceeded swimmingly. Becky and Uncle Tom came over and played with me and brought me a cupcake in honor of Momma’s birthday.

Becca spent quality time with me, too – she did some training with me and took me for walks.  When Momma complained to Becca that I had not been minding her on walks, Becca calmly pointed out that treats work better than threats.  She also told Momma that she would go to the dog supply store before her next visit and get me a harness that fit.  (Ouch!)  Becca also took the time to create a birthday card for Momma from me.

If I do say so myself, I think I look kinda cool!

When Momma came home from Bemidji, she spent all evening on the computer.  It seems she had gotten some birthday messages on Facebook and she didn’t know how to respond. For example, was she expected – or even able to respond?  What if she said the same thank-you message to everyone, would her well-wishers think she was thoughtless and be offended?  What if she said something personal to one person – would everyone be able to read it?

The issue only intensified when she switched between devices and email and websites.  She soon forgot who she had (possibly) responded to and was now worried that she was responding twice – and if it showed up on Facebook, she would be a laughingstock.  And of course she didn’t know what showed up on Facebook because she did not know how to navigate the site.  What was the difference between a status update, a wall and a time line???

In the event you were one of the people who sent her a birthday greeting and didn’t hear back from her – or heard back more than once – please accept this as a personal heartfelt thank you from Momma.  I know she appreciated it!

Lina, Damage Control Specialist and Editor in Chief

WOOFDA!

As summer winds down, and Momma’s outdoor activities cur”tail,” she has decided that it was time to step up our efforts to bring my Blog to the next level.  She still views it as a vehicle to pay for her dog-related expenses (limited as they are).  Consequently, she decided we must “bone” up on how to modernize the site and get more publicity.  And she knew just the book to help us with our strategy – Blogging for Dummies.  (“I know it’s beneath us, Lina, but desperate times call for desperate measures.”)

Me doing some preliminary research . . .

When the book arrived Momma flipped through the Table of Contents, trying to pick out the parts on which we should focus.  She quickly decided to skip many topics such as “Setting Up Your Blog” and “Creating Great Content” since in her mind we had mastered them already.  This was going to be a breeze she thought.  Maybe she would even help me write a book called Blogging for Smarties!

She soon hit a snag, though, when she came across chapters with words she didn’t understand like Tumblr, Squarespace and Vlogging.  Maybe we didn’t know everything there was to know about blogging just yet.  Momma was in a hurry to get to the part of the book on making money, though, so she decided to skip some of the more technical chapters for now.

Next she came upon the part of the book on marketing and promoting.  This was it she thought – this would be the key to instant success!  She soon reached another dead end, though when she read that marketing involved more things she knew nothing about – like RSS and Twitterverse.  How could this book be for dummies???

Skipping ahead again (she really had no choice), Momma finally hit paydirt when she got to the section called “Getting Paid to Post.”  Now we’re cooking, she thought.  Her excitement was short-lived, however when she saw she would have to read about 100 pages and research new terms and sites like MediaWhiz and SiteScout.  And there was that term again – RSS!  Oh, and pawdcasting, er… podcasting.  At this point Momma knew she was “licked” and put the book away.

So that’s where we stand at the time this goes to press – still stuck in the stone age.  In the meantime, I hope you will spread the word about my Blog – and keep your paws crossed that someday someone will miraculously decide to buy some ad space from us.

Lina, Research Assistant

WOOFDA!