What about me...?...?...?....

For all the times I have heard the song, "What about Me?", I thought it was the band Chicago. As I downloaded it from iTunes this week I found out it was actually sung by a band called Moving Pictures. Regardless, the song is my new anthem, my new creed. I too want to proclaim the song's lyrics;

"What About me, it isn't fair
I've had enough now I want my share
Can't you see? I wanna live!
But you just take more than you give..."

Take a look at the picture up on top of this post, in the right corner, do you even see me? Look at them so smug and jerk-like, and look and me locked in my own prison of loneliness. Like a yard ornament or gag birthday gift, I just linger in the background of their lives, just a prop and distant memory.

As the new one arrived, Evelyn they call her, I realized my days were not numbered, as much as forgotten. As long as I don't hurt these little pukes, I am safe. I may never again be acknowledged, walked, massaged or respected, but I will live to see another day. I will only pray they continue to feed me, and maybe splurge for a treat or two from time to time.

But alas, I may have found in Dylan an alliance, no shit, Dylan! My once nemesis, Dylan, feels the wrath from Baby Evelyn as well. No details at this time, but he shared his macaroni and cheese, and I feel that is a promise in my book. If Dylan and I can come together to overtake the adult figures, then I will return from the ashes.

Here is a close-up of me in the above said picture, read into my thoughts as you will, "What about me, I ask, what about me?"

Make room for baby.....

For me to even begin to apologize for not posting since November would be insulting to you all, but I am sorry. Oh, the curve balls life has thrown my way in the past 6 months have been of epic proportions. Shortly after my last posting, the family deserted me for 5 days and went to Denver for Thanksgiving, only to come back with exciting news. Brace yourself, they are having another brat! Can you believe it, after all I have been through with his royal highness, I need to prepare myself for another one of these? Granted, Dylan has grown on me, with his generous helpings of mac-n-cheese he offers by the handful. But another one? A girl none the less!

So if you wonder why I have not written, let's just say there have been some issues I have been working through. The adult figures in the house have truly gone off the reservation, I mean come on. Do they have any idea how much I am going to turn it up a notch when this next one comes? Oh, the manipulation and sneakiness I will deliver on a daily basis. It is my only option to be noticed, and I refuse to settle down and be a lowly house dog. I am Howie Beast, and you shall hear me roar.

Has it been that long?

My good word, has it been nearly 4 months since my last post, time flies when your poppin and sleepin. Well, let me see here, life is actually pretty good. the brat is eating food that falls on the floor and I enjoy that. The man and woman are finally remebering that i exist again, which is nice, I have a new tire rope, made by MilkBone, heard they have a good reputation in making a good product, so far I like it. But let's not get too cozy in the holiday spirit. The are strapping the sweaters on me again and making me look like an ass, can't wait for this year's christmas card photo, who knows what these psychos have in store. But for now, I have found an ally in Mr dylan, he is not bad. If only I could get my chops on one of his shitty diapers, in due time, in due time He is no Max though, note the book in the picture, 'Where the Wild Things Are", I am a wild beast, so I can relate. I miss you Max, Happy Thanksgiving, friend..Howie Beast

It was only a matter of time.....

Well I saw this one coming, but the pain still hurts me to my rotten core. My behavior has become what the handlers call 'unorthodox'. I cannot stand the feeling of being caged into my own soul anymore, and I've taken to a few habits that apparently are upsetting certain individuals. I like to chew high heels, I find them to be delicious and that is all I will say about that. Toilet paper is surprising good to eat before a long nap. Newspaper and important documents are also tasty.

Oh, but what's more, I have found my voice. I bark at the woman as she tries to ignore me while she plays with his crown prince. I bark at the man when he pretends I do not exist. I am Howie, hear me roar.

So, I hear rumblings that I am just 'too much', 'cannot be handled', 'disturbing the baby' and so on and so forth. So stay tuned, I see the tall one digging in the back yard, don't be surprised if I turn up 'missing'. You heard it from me first, the downfall of my existence will be no accident! Inform the authorities, but be cautious, they are sick.

A stolen moment.

This was a nice day, I felt good for a brief moment, and then they left me alone for 6 hours. I'll always have the memories.....Notice the electric collar arond my fragile neck. Go outside of the boundries, and you receive a bolt of electricity that makes you throw up and experience failed bladder and bowel function. Yeah, these are the type of people you want in society! Can't wait to see what they do to the brat once he starts worming his way around.

Oh, the hits just keep on coming!!

As if life were not complicated enough, the world has dealt old Howie yet another wicked hand. Turns out, my belief in the fact that I am a regal and noble Yorkshire Terrier has been called into question. My handlers have been murmuring about my long and luxurious legs for several months now, "He seems a bit large for a Yorkie", they would say after their endless drinking. The male clown figure decided to take it a step further and do a little web research, but nothing came of it, because he is an idiot.

Last weekend, we took a trip to what appeared to be a special little afternoon walking benefit for the APL, Strut Your Mutt it was called. It turned out to be a nightmare for my self-esteem and identity. Some know it all Yorkie owner came up and suggested I might be a Snorkie, that being a Schnauzer Yorkie mix breed. She was walking two Snorkie and they looked eerily like myself. Sickening if you ask me, my blood line has been tainted by the Schnauzer. Now the handlers tell everyone I am a Shnorkie, while the baby continues to crap his pants. I don't know what is worse, the baby, my obnoxious handlers, or finding out my mother was a whore?

The days of my life.....

Where to begin? They threw me a weak, lackluster birthday party last Friday. The saga of my fallen empire continues to baffle me in this house of "King Baby Dylan". The 'walks' have become pathetic, and I can't remember the last time we went to the park. I tolerate him and this situation, well, because I remember how it use to be. I am a shell of the dog I once was. On this site I will do what I can to salvage the good times, bitch about the brat and hopefully learn a bit about myself. Please excuse me, I believe my typing may be stirring up his majesty, god forbid I upset him!