Alma The Airegirl

This is Alma. She is a cute little Airedale stuffie who was very loved by a little girl who always wanted an Airedale. When the little girl grew up, she began to forget about her stuffies... including little Alma. When her family moved away, they left some things behind in their old house, and Alma was one of them.

Alma has been trying to find her family ever since. In the meantime, she travels all over the world for Airedale Rescue, and because my good buddy, Kirby the Aireboy, thought she should come to GooberStan, he arranged for her trip by making a donation to Airedale Rescue in celebration of my birthday!

Stella & I were stinkin' excited to meet Alma, and to get started on showing her how the goober half lives!



Merv even extended the paw of friendship to Alma, who became fast friends with my catbro. (That Alma knows how to schmooze.)

We only had a few days together, so the goobette training for Alma begain immediately. We repaired to the backyard to begin the training process. (Alma even accessorized for the occasion.)

Alma jumped right in with all four paws and joined Stella in some hammock surfing.

Alma is a natural. Plus, she had a mighty good grip on Stella the whole time.

Here I'm prepping Alma for the Buckaroo Goober ride. I'm checking to see if she was ready, and she gave me a paws up sign.

I bucked and galloped and cavorted all around the yard, yet I couldn't get the stuffie girl to fall off.

So, we moved right into the wrasslin' & bitey face portion of the training.

It started out as a 3-way wrasslin' match, but Stella bowed out pretty quickly. That Alma is one scrappy chica! She went for that under-the-collar move and I thought I was a goner!

We finally called it a "draw". And, if you're thinking that Alma's getting a little frisky with me post wrasslin', she's NOT. She was just telling me about where she learned all her moves.

Alma had such a blast hanging with us goobers, she decided to become a GooberStanian citizen. In celebration of her decision, we bestowed upon Alma the groovy hat. (It was a wee bit big for her.)

Gradually, she worked out the best angle to wear it.

Awww. She's a cutie pie, but she's also rough, and tough, and has a personality MUCH bigger than her actual size!

In our excitement, Stella & I did a little goober dance of joy for Alma!

No sooner did we complete the paperwork for her GooberStanian passport, it was time for us to say good-bye. We sent Alma off with a boatload of goober smooches for the road, and for her to pass out along the way!

Alma, you are a goob among goobs and we here in GooberStan salute you! Come back ANYTIME!

Goober love,

Stanley & Stella

If you want to read more of Alma's story, you may do so here.

Stella Bagged a Bison

Stella went head-to-head with this big buffalo... and the buffalo lost!

He fought back valiantly, but in the end...

He bacame the new rug in her condo.

Now she thinks she's a big game hunter.

And she thinks she's too good for the puparazzi.

Grammie suggested I sleep with at least one eye open from now on. I'm gonna take her up on her suggestion.

Living with a diva,

Stanley

Chillin' in G-Stan

Sometimes my sissy, Stella, and I live completely separate lives. A couple of nights ago she went to a pickin' & grinnin' street music festival with our girl (sorry, no photos) and the next day I went on a hike with the girl by myself. When we get a chance, we like to compare notes on our hoogirl outings.

Inevitably, no matter how sweet Stella is to all the pups and peeps she meets on her excursions, as soon as we get back into the same house together, this is what she does... become a GOOBERSPAZ!

Eventually she slows down enough to cool her GooberSpaz jets and enjoy some lounge time.

I, on the other paw, like to relax by getting some alone time in with my fave udder tug. In the course of my toy-bonding time, I usually end up wowing my hooman girl with my winning smile (which she obligingly captures on film every chance she gets).

She especially loves it when I feign an underbite.

Chillin' in GooberStan,

Stanley

Pee Ess

Our bud, Gussie, is having surgery tomorrow (Tuesday) morning to remove his fatty cysts. Please send him good healing vibes and smooches!

The Next Best Thing

Stella knows that Wally will never be hers, but can't help but snuggle up to every juicy Wallymelon she sees.

No offense, Wally, but I think Stella's a little cracked.

Goober love,

Stanley

Steve Miller Had It Right

This is a big shout out to all my friends who sent words of encouragement and advice about my bug... ahem, phobia. Thanks for being there for me and my girl. We're going to take this thing one bug at a time, and I'm starting with my ladybug stuffie.

We're also experimenting with a lot of different possibilities, including the comfort shirt idea. It didn't seem to make a difference with the bugs, but at least I got to sport a t-shirt that tells you something about me.

It's true. I AM the gangsta of love, and I've got the gun right there to prove it.

I started wondering if maybe Steve Miller was thinking of me when he wrote that song... until my girl reminded me that he wrote it over 30 years before I was born.

Stella said that if I'm the Gangsta of Love then she's the Gangsta of the Bathtub. I thought she could use some pointers on being a gangsta ~ from one gangsta to another.

Hey. At least she has a dream. For whatever reason she LOVES that bathtub, despite the UGLY combination of psycho deli colors and patterns she's exposed to everytime she jumps in there.

So, basically I'm going after this bug thing like a gangsta... after a little shut-eye. Hey. Even gangstas need their rest.

Some people call me the space cowboy... yeah

Some call me the gangster of love

Some people call me Maurice (a-wooo-WOOO)

Cause I speak of the pompitous of love

Love,

Stanley

A Little Help From My Friends

This is a LONG post, but please read!

My girl and I have something about which we need your advice, and like the Beatles sang, I really do believe I could use "a little help from my friends". Even though it is something that seriously plagues me, rest assured it has nothing to do with my health. As of this morning I was doing fine and lounging with Stella in GooberStan. Here's proof.

Actually, it has to do with the obssessive bug phobia I have developed. Now, here is an example of a good chicken dance I do when I'm happy, taped a couple of days ago. (My girl threw me 2 chickensickles for dinner. So I like to play with my food. Sue me.) Please ignore my girl's annoying voice. Sheesh!

This is an example of my phobic Chicken Dance I do almost everytime I go outside during daylight hours.

Some of you may remember that when my girl adopted me she was told that I was sometimes afraid of butterflies and other flying insects. Until this summer, that was occassionally true. Sometimes I'd be outside minding my own business, having a nice whiz or playing with Stella and then... BAM! Something starts dive-bombing me and I start looking for the culprit like this.

Or like this.

It used to be, if I got a little "bugged out" during the day, then I might be a little leary of my going off the deck out into the grass for the rest of the day until the sun went down, or I'd at least be on high alert for anything flying in or around my vicinity. But, by the next day, I'd be back to my old self and I wouldn't be bothered by bugs again for another week or two (or maybe longer). I would even hunt bugs and try to catch them for a little snack.

Just so you know. I'm not afraid of thunder, fireworks, other dogs, cats, hoomans... I can't think of anything else that freaks me out (well, I really don't like to be groomed or have my paws messed with - but it's not at all the same kind of freak out that bugs inspire). And, the bug-phobic behavior usually only happens in the spring and summer mostly, and usually on bright or sunny days. If it is overcast outside I don't seem to notice the bugs as much, but they can still bother me.

Well, this summer I started having longer episodes of bug-phobic behavior if I got freaked out by a bug in my yard. It wouldn't just last that day, but might last for a couple of days. By the time we were getting ready to go to Iowa a few weeks ago, I was starting to have several days in a row of this bug-phobic behavior. By bug-phobic, I mean that I didn't want to be out in my yard and wouldn't leave the deck unless my girl went out into the yard with me. She couldn't distract me from my hyper-vigilant behavior by playing with me. And, I couldn't wait to get back inside the house. An additional thing I started to do was insist that my girl open up the "green room" (her office), which is my favorite room in the house. I wouldn't settle down or go to sleep unless I could go in that room to lie down. (It is a dark room where the curtains and blinds are closed unless my girl decides to open them.)

On the way to Iowa, I was so wound up from about 3 days of being bugged out that I barked at every stinkin' cow or cow-like thing I saw on the side of the road. I didn't just bark, but got really worked up. When we got to Iowa, I was calm and seemed fine. But, about one hour into the ride home from my granny's house (a 6 hour ride total) I saw a bug flying inside the car and lunged from the backseat up to the windshield to try to get it. My girl couldn't get me to calm down even after we stopped to give me a breather outside of the car and a little walk. She finally gave me a couple of Benny Drills and sat with me in the backseat. I eventually calmed down enough to get a little sleep, but I could tell my girl was really concerned about me.

My girl couldn't change her plans for her trip to Colorado on such short notice, but she thought that me being at home getting some individual attention from my dogsitter and getting a break from Stella (who goes off barking at me everytime I get upset about the bugs) for a week might be a good thing for me. It seemed to be, but I'm still very attached to the "green room" and won't eat my raw meaty bones outside unless it is dark out. Some days I run outside off the deck like nothing in the world bothers me, but those days are more the exception now than the rule. My girl is taking me to my vet later this week to see if there might be something physical that could account for any of this behavior. Do any of you or your parents have any idea what might help me or do you know anydog who has dealt with some kind of phobia or OCD-type response to something in their environment?

By the way, my girl has tried to desensitize me to the backyard like Cesar Milan did with that dog that was afraid of tiled floors. But, the problem with my issue is that it involves bugs, who really do buzz around me even if my girl is standing there with me in the yard exerting calm assertiveness. She's trying to find an email address for the dog trainer, Victoria, on "It's Me or the Dog" to see if she has any advice.

So, if you could help a pup out and let me know if you have any ideas about what's going on with me or any suggestions as to how to work through this problem, my girl and I would be forever grateful!

Don't worry too much about me, though. I'm still a happy goob who just happens to have some issues. In the midst of this I'm still lovin' life.

Hoping for a little help from my friends,

Stanley

Devil Dots & Kissie Face

My girl & I were wrasslin on the floor and she started to giggle. Whenever I hear giggling I go right in for the kill and try to smooch the source of the giggles, but my girl had a big stinkin' camera in front of her face. While writhing around on the floor trying to keep my juicy tongue off of the camera lens, she got a few shots off.

This first shot (above) shows off my tongue dots. Can you see them on the back of my tongue? Some Airedale lovers call them "Devil Dots" saying it's the mark of the devil himself on us (because we're so ornery). Any other pups out there (Airedale, or otherwise) have any of these dots?

My girl caught me looking a little doofus-like in this one.









This last shot, I admit, makes me look like a Doofus of the highest order. It was worth it, though. When my girl & I wrassle I always win, and she always ends up covered in goob juice.




Have a good weekend and enjoy the Olympics and the Pawlimpics!



Goober love,
Stanley