Lots to say

Dieter very rarely barks. For the first month or so he barked twice--weeks apart. Bark. Bark. "He's just finding his voice," said Lloyd.

He definitely found it, but it's still very rare for him to express himself by barking. Now barking is usually precipitated by Tarquin the cat hissing at him. Evidently Dieter is multilingual and understands what the cat is saying. Or perhaps it's just the way the cat is delivering the message. In any event, Dieter barks at the cat when Tarquin hisses. Which makes Tarquin hiss again. It's the circle of life. I liken it to little kids squabbling: "You're a jerk. No, YOU'RE a jerk!"

I don't sing to my kong, but they
didn't take a picture of Funky and me.

You'd think that it would be very quiet around here, seeing as though Dieter rarely barks. But you'd be wrong. He grunts when we go on walks. He yelps, almost like he's in pain, when we try to pick up one of his frisbees (we've been told this is probably resource guarding, so we're working on breaking him of this).

And then there's the singing. I bought him a rubber chicken--its name is Funky. Dieter had it in his house with him and would sing it love songs. The first time I heard it--I was upstairs working on the computer--I thought he was having some sort of medical emergency. It would start with a low, gutteral moan. Ohhhh. Ohhhhhhhh. Then he went into a crescendo--his aria to Funky, I guess. "Ah-oooooooohhhh." It sounded a little bit like Warren Zevon's "Werewolves of London." Unfortunately, we had to throw Funky away--Dieter chewed its toes off. I'm a softie and will probably get him a replacement.

Lucky me: he was singing to me this morning: "Oooh, oooh, oooh....Yipe, yipe, yipe." What he lacks in melodiousness he makes up for in volume and enthusiasm. I think the song was about how he ripped the pages out of "Better Homes and Gardens" this morning and was subsequently sent into a time out. Maybe Dieter's thinking of becoming a blues musician.

Yesterday he was again emoting from the confines of his house. I'm pretty sure this had nothing to do with artistic endeavors, though. He was miffed, dog style. "I'm confined here, my people are outside, there's some glorious mud I could be playing with....life is so unfair. If I had opposable thumbs, I'd be writin' a letter to the ASPCA." I'm sure all the neighbors could hear the hysterical sounds emanating from our house.

I think I'll try my cousin's suggestion: break out the old squirt bottle and fire away. But, knowing Dieter, he'll think that's more fun than any dog should be allowed to have. Or, I'll ask about this in class tonight and earn a Bonus Bone.