I’m so humbled. The response I received to my first blog post was a huge inspiration.  Thanks to all of you for tuning in.  My new human mom has agreed to make me a contributor to her blog, so you’ll continue to hear about my escapades from time to time – and here’s the latest.

I survived my first night in my new home.  Just barely.  My new human mom had the gall to put me in my crate. She thought I’d fall for it, seeing as though I slept in a crate when I lived in Pennsylvania.  First of all, did they really expect me to go to sleep without a fight?  Without my six siblings to cuddle with me?  Second of all, I’m a dog. I have an acute sense of smell. And I can smell a new crate from miles away.

I did not grin and bear it. I vehemently protested my imprisonment with wails and whining that would rival any human two-year old’s cries.  I have S-T-A-M-I-N-A.  I wailed and whined for a good 45 minutes (that’s 5.25 hours in dog years) before giving in to dreams of my next yummy meal.  But just to let my new human parents know I wasn’t going to be pushed around, I whined frequently in between reveries – it was the principle of the thing, you know?

I still haven’t used the crapper to crap today. My new human mom is a crazy woman.  She takes me out to do my business every few minutes.  What is she thinking? I only weigh nine pounds. I can’t do much damage, even if I wanted to.  I can pretty much pee on command but the poop thing only happens once a day if my insides are functioning properly.  I’m playing along as best I can (every frantic trip to the crapper gives me a chance to chew my leash and lie down on those cozy rocks), but she’s tiring me out. I need my beauty sleep.

Some additional thoughts now that I’m starting to get comfortable in my new home.

(1) I still don’t know how I feel about the name ‘Truffle.’  Am I a boy or a girl? Am I a fungus or a chocolate? Am I an Australian labradoodle or a muppet? Will I need therapy to grapple with these issues one day?

(2) My new family tried to give me stupid nylon bones so that I’d stop chewing on their yummy human skin.  Yo, Earth to new human parents.  I’ve been eating delicious raw meat since I was five weeks old (that’s 35 weeks in dog years).  What on god’s green earth makes you think I’d settle for this fake chicken-flavored shit?

(3) I grudgingly admit that I like playing with the fake bones known as Kongs that have holes in them for treats.  Trying to get at the little food inside that bone kills some time – time during which I don’t have to be outside pretending to find a place to poop.

(4) I went on my first walk earlier today. It was short but ever so sweet.  Two hot mamas stopped in their tracks to admire my beauteous mug.  One of them even asked me out on a date. To her house. Where presumably I’d play with her dog. I really think I’m going to like living in this town. Luckily, there aren’t too many mirrors in my new house.  I’d be doomed. You know, the myth of Narcissus and all.

(5) A few of Chloe’s friends came to meet me today.  Frankly, they freak me out.  I hid in my man cave (aka under the table in the kitchen), but they invaded my favorite space in order to bake something they call “brownies.”  Those bozos have no idea what they’re doing. For once I’m glad I don’t eat human food because their concoction smelled worse than my poop.

(6) I haven’t seen much of my new human dad today. I think I intimidate him.  Until yesterday, he’d spent years enjoying his privileged status as the only man in the house.  I wonder if he feels threatened by my testosterone.  Have no fear, human dad. In a few short months, I will be a castrato.