The Trials & Tribulations of Super Truffle

Greetings, friends. It’s been some time since I last took over human mom’s blog, but I’ve been saving the stories for just the right moment.  And it now seems that moment has arrived.

In a few short days I will be eight months old. There are days when I feel like I’m still a wee baby and then there are days when I feel like a senior canine citizen, an old pro just doing my thing.

I’m increasingly comfortable in my very fluffy fur. Human mom tried her best not to let the weather get in the way of her taking me on lots of walks during these last weeks of winter.  I couldn’t get enough of the snow but she would have curled up in a ball and hibernated like a bear for several months if it was considered socially acceptable behavior.  However, since hibernation is not particularly recommended, she sucked it up and indulged my love for the white stuff by bundling herself up every day, several times a day, in order to get me moving.  She even slipped on the ice and bruised herself a few times, all for my sake.  I am truly humbled by her commitment to my well-being.

Although the snow has disappeared, I’m quickly realizing that spring isn’t so bad. Now that the weather is warmer, human mom leaves the back door open so I can go out to the yard when I please.  I catch rays on the deck whenever I can.  The sun feels glorious on my fur.


A couple of weeks ago, I was out on a walk and someone we passed said to human mom, “blah blah blah blah blah.” Like the teacher in the “Peanuts.” I didn’t understand a word of it, but I heard human mom repeat the same “blah blah blah blah blah” – with guffaws – to everyone else she spoke to that day. It wouldn’t have been noteworthy except for the fact that I knew it was about me. I was getting paranoid. I mean, the guy was looking straight at me when he made his comment. He pet me, too. According to human mom, the guy said, “Your dog’s so well-behaved!”

Yes, indeed. That was my first official compliment unrelated to my strikingly good looks. I strutted around, confidence at an all-time high, tail wagging, for the next couple of days.  But I’m a dog. And I forget pretty quickly. And let’s just say that the man must have caught me when I was temporarily possessed by my doppelgänger, who happens to be a remarkably obedient puppy.  You see, although my leash manners have greatly improved and I’m making strides with the resource guarding (human mom and dad are still holding my food bowl when I eat, however), I’m still a puppy doing lots of dumb puppy things.  For example…

Running Out the Front Door
Any dog owner’s worst nightmare.  Human mom and my favorite Sophie have been training me to stay in place at the door, but last week my puppy curiosity got the best of me.  Human mom opened the door and forgot to give me the proper command and restrain me. I shot out of the house like a cannonball out of a cannon and ran straight for the street.  In her panic, human mom forgot everything she had learned about just this kind of situation – namely why is she so diligently teaching me the “curb” command if she doesn’t use it when it really matters? – until I was a few feet into the road.  Suddenly, I heard her plaintively yelling my name, as if she was hurt. And her tone freaked me out. And I came running back to her to make sure she was ok. Human mom was beside herself with worry. She blamed herself for what happened, but gave me the cold shoulder afterwards, too. I guess I should have known better. But I’m just a dog and there are no guarantees when it comes to predicting how I’ll behave, especially when I have the opportunity to run with a gentle, cool breeze coursing through my fur.


First Road Trip
The family dragged me on a road trip to Boston this weekend.  My first road trip and hopefully my last.  What in the hell were they thinking?  It was the worst 24 hours of my life.  Human mom, in her obsessive-compulsive way, insisted on how important it was to acclimate me to traveling with them.  The car ride was bad enough – four hours!  That photo below, where I look relaxed and happy in the car with Chloe?  That was me play-acting for the camera.  I hated it.  I only managed to settle down after my favorite Sophie let me use her legs as a pillow.  Then I immediately felt better.


That is, I felt better until they abandoned me in my crate in an unfamiliar hotel room as soon as we arrived.  They had some family thing to attend. Aren’t I family? Why couldn’t I go, too?  I was a wreck.

One of my proudest accomplishments is that I’ve NEVER had an accident in my crate. I kid you not. Not since day one. Until this past Saturday at that godforsaken hotel.  I crapped in my crate. It was absolutely disgusting.  When my human family returned, they smelled it right away.  And they felt awful. As well they should.  Mom immediately started to fret that she’d have to give me a bath – which she’s never done (the groomer gives me baths, ugh).  But then they noticed something remarkable amidst the stench. I was perfectly clean.  That’s right, my friends. I may have crapped in my crate, but despite my fragile mental state, I had the presence of mind not to lay down in it.  Which made my family feel even more guilty.  They cleaned everything up (at least they had the foresight to bring lots of extra towels) and I started to relax. Finally.

Mom spent that evening in the room with me while everyone else went out for dinner. She took me outside in the pouring rain several times. She was not happy.  I hadn’t seen her that stressed since those first few weeks after they brought me home.  In the photo below, I’m lying down on my first hotel bed. It wasn’t comfortable. I can’t believe my favorite Sophie had to sleep on that thing. She would have been better off sleeping with me in my crate.


On Sunday, they wouldn’t let me out of their sight.  The weather was still awful – it was teeming outside.  I got to visit my human cousins’ apartment.  And play with their 1-year old daughter.  Mom kept me on my leash, but I was charming, if I do say so myself.  Didn’t get into any trouble at all. And then it was time to get back in the car for the ride home. It was interminable. But I was feeling a lot better. No whining this time. I remained calm. Except at the end of the trip. I wanted to make sure my family understood – once and for all – that their behavior towards me this weekend was simply unacceptable.  So about 1/2 hour before we arrived home, I puked on my towel.  Because I’m a nice puppy, however, and didn’t want them to suffer too much, I proceeded to eat most of my puke to limit the mess. They were grossed out. But when we arrived home a few minutes later, I was ecstatic. I’ve never been so happy to smell those familiar smells.

Note to human family from Super Truffle: never, ever do that to me again. Or else….

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