Christmas time is about the family. Or at least that is what I heard Mummy saying the other day. Mummy and Daddy are my family. They are all I have known and they love my little socks off, and I will be with them for Christmas...but sometimes I wonder if they are really all I have known? They don't look like me. Or smell like me. I know that Daddy farts all the time which is a gift I posess too, but somehow I know we are different. Sometimes in my dreams I see other Boxer doggies. I feel them licking me and nipping my ears. I smell their doggy fur and cuddle up with them for a snooze. They seem so real, but I can't quite place them. Perhaps they are not really a dream. Perhaps they are my real family. Perhaps they were the siblings I was thrown into the world with one day, and my Mummy picked me out of all of them. I've heard her say that I was the best choice. But what does that mean? And where will my lost doggy family be this Christmas? Which loving human hands will be stroking their bellies....?

I've been tagged!!!!
Loui got me.
Over my short 5 months, I've played in the park and been nipped at the heels by friendly doggies. I have run like a maniac to avoid being put on the lead, and wrestled with the postman...but just when I thought it was safe to stand still, there he was. Bold as brass. Tagging me. So, it looks like I am 'it'.
But Loui's tag looks like fun to me, so I'll give it a whirl.

5 things I would like this Christmas...

1. To be able to sleep in Mummy's bed. Hhhhhaaaahhhhhhh (big sigh of contemplating contentment.)
2. To get to the Turkey dinner before Loui...ha ha ha ha!!!!! I'm a little monkey!!!!
3. I would just love to dive into the big pile of Christmas wrapping paper on the floor after Mummy has opened all of her presents. I would chew and rip and fling and have just the best Christmas ever!!
4. To lick that dollop of Guiness of Mummy's nose.
5. In fact, I wouldn't mind finishing off the whole glass if she would just nip to the loo.....

5 things I would really prefer not to contend with this Christmas

1. Eating dried doggy food when there are rich turkey pickings on the kitchen counter.....if I just skulk about looking harmless, I might just get to pinch a wing...even a sprout would do.

2. Having to sit on the floor because Auntie Celia and the twins take up far too much sofa room....

3. Making yellow snow. Although I have heard from a trustworthy authority that it is great fun to make warm wiggly lines, I really prefer to hold it in and have a lie by the warm fire...

4. If I manage to aquire one of the twins Christmas presents as a chew toy...I hope that Daddy does not find out :0(

5. If Loui gets to the Turkey dinner first........ooowwwwwwwwwwoooohhhhhhhhh (big whiney howl).

I'd like to sniff some friends bottoms...and I hope that they will see it as a chummy tag and let me know their Christmas wishes too....I tag:

Caroline - http://insearchofadam.blogspot.com/

Ces - http://cesandherdishes.blogspot.com/

Menchie - http://menchie.blogspot.com/

Love Samson

xxx

Happy Birthday Caroline!!!!!!


There are many days in a lifetime. Some days are long, some are short. Some days are rainy, and some are sunny and full of frolicking fun (I should know that best, as I am a Boxer). But the best kind of days are birthdays. Big, blinding, brilliant, beautiful birthday's. And tomorrow, that good, fabulous luck falls at the feet of Aunty Caroline!!!!!!!

21 today!!! 21 today!!!! (If you say it loudly enough, with your eyes tightly shut, it really might come true!!!).

So. I am putting on my best collar - the one with the shiny tab with my name on - and brushing my coat until it shines. I am off to Caroline's birthday party.

http://insearchofadam.blogspot.com/

Friday is the best day of the week. Mondays are long and dreary. They signify the beginning of days when Mummy is at work. The start of boredom. Tuesdays are just a continuation of Monday. Wednesday brings hope, but Thursday is just a dragged out add on to the Wednesday.


Then it is Friday!!! Friendly Friday when Mummy comes home early. I can sleep when she is not home. But lonely sleep in my thermal kennel is not quite the same as warm cuddly sleep on my Liverpool F.C blanket. Warm cuddly sleep next to Mummy. Warm cuddly sleep knowing that I am not on my own.

Poor little fellow, Mr.Squirrel. Oh poor little fella!!! It was an accident by all accounts, and a dreadful one too!

I regularly go walkies along the canal with Mummy. The air is fresh and clean and I sometimes get to meet other doggy friends if I am lucky. Mummy lets me play with them - my favourite boy is Mojo, a fluffy and friendly Husky. We met that day and I was all jumpy and excited. We had been running in the field by the canal and Mojo had a good roll in Fox pooh (not my idea of a good time, but he looked so cool doing it! Smelt great too). His Human called him and we went our seperate ways. Still full of beans, I leapt along, enjoying the long grass tickling my tummy - when suddenly splash!!!!! A little squirrel leaped in front of me and dived into the water!! He looked fabulous flying through the air, and he began to swim effortlessly through the water to the other side. The bank on the far side had been built up with corrugated metal to stop the bank from collapsing and the poor fella couldn't get out. You could see the panic in his eyes as he swam up and down, up and down. Mummy shouted and I barked 'Swim back!! You can get out over here!!' - but he either could not hear us, or he thought I was going to eat him, and he continued splashing with fright.

By the time we walked round and over the bridge to his side, he was nearly dead. Gentle ripples in the water showed where he was, and as Mummy parted the grass, we could see him hanging on to the edge. He was soaked through to the skin and was gently fitting. Mummy was a hero. She always comes to the rescue when there is trouble. When I fell in the canal she pulled me out and dried my wet fur. Now, in this little boy's hour of need, she pulled him out too.

She wrapped him in her coat - it was freezing, but she gave up her coat to warm the frail little chap in her arms. We remembered that my Irish friend the Lock Keeper was only 10 minutes away. He is a special man - he lets me eat his cheese sandwiches (although Mummy does not approve) and always has time to say hello. We took the Squirrel to the Lock Keeper and he put him in his warm shed and left him to recover.

Last night we returned to the locks to see how the boy was doing. It had taken 2 hours, but he had dried out, fluffed up his fur and the Lock Keeper let him out into the wild . Our poor unfortunate friend could go back to his family and Mummy, the Lock Keeper and I could feel satisfied with our heroic moment.

Friday night 1970's disco fancy dress party was a storm! Everybody dressed up with the usual spangley make up, big wigs, flared trousers and clompy shoes. I went Punk.

Nothing about me was real. The tattoo, the pierced nose and spiked hair. But I felt amazing! My request for the Sex Pistols was played and I duely pogoed about the dance floor until I felt dizzy.

Everybody made such an effort. There was a Purple Pimp with a big hat and medallion. Abba graced us with their prescence. Even Elvis was there. What could have been better?!

So. What do you think of my new look? Marks out of 10...??

Hello. I am Juliet, Samson's Mummy. Today is 1st December. There is a whole month to go until Christmas, but tonight is work's Christmas party. The Christmas cheesy C.D is playing and everyone is getting in the mood, including me.

Tonight Christmas indulgence begins, and I am bracing myself for an onslaught of Christmas stuffing with wine and beer and turkey and some more wine. Tonight will be fun. Tomorrow will be painful.

Some bright spark decided to jazz up the nights proceedings with making the nights theme the 1970's. Disco balls and Abba immediately spring to mind, but that would be too predictable.

Not one to do the expected, I have decided to go Punk. I have been practising chewing gum, looking hard and pogoing to the Sex Pistols. I have even managed to find a spiked wristband and a fake tatoo...I am going to look soooooooooo scary! I even frighten myself!

I was born brown. My ears are brown, my tail is brown and so are my legs. The great doggy god up in the sky blessed my brown body with lovely white flashes. These flashes are beautiful. I lick them clean like a cat, and when I can't reach the muddy bits, Mummy washes me. She says my white bits are the best. And I would have to agree.

In the dark winter nights, my white flashes flicker in the shadows so my Mummy does not lose sight of me. If the chilly night air swallowed me up into it's creepy depths, I would be all alone. Anybody who has had the privaledge to meet a Boxer puppy will know how being alone makes us cry and hope for loving warm cuddles from human hands. If God took away my white hair, I would lose my senses. So why do humans fear such a lovely gift? To humans, white hair is a sign of being past ithttp://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33045464&postID=116487749855972349....but to me it is a sign of love and affection. It helps my Mummy find her way to me. It makes me feel at home.

Hello Peeps!

My name is Samson. I am a naughty Boxer Doggy who plays all day, licks my owner to death, eats, pees and plays a bit more before sleeping like a little lamb. I love my Mummy Juliet. She spoils my Waggy Little Stump. What would I do without her? At the end of a long day of foolery and frolicking, we like to sleep like little babies.....zzzzzzzzzzzzz