Hi nice friends!
The nice thing about a bunch of dogs getting together to play on the interweb is that they and everyone else gets to see that it is wonderful to be a dog of any kind. No matter what kind of dog you are, that is the kind of dog you should be, and everyone around you will love you for being that dog.
It just makes me sad when I hear that some of the mommies and daddies of some of the dogs who have gotten together to play here together on the interweb dog show, maybe aren't just letting fun happen the way it should. Sometimes they are barking and biting, when instead we should all just be sniffing around to get to know and like as many dogs as we can. Growling makes it so no one wants to come and play, and that's no fun at all. It even made it so Ezzy, who was our very top most popular Pug friend in the Toy category had so many people barking and growling at her that her mommy took her home, and we miss her.
All of the dogs here are pretty and smell delicious, so why not get to know them? They might then be your friend and share toys and new places to sniff things.
Your nice friend who is a nice dog,
xoxoMorgane
Gentle Readers,
It has become increasingly evident during my lifelong tenure as a New York City Dog that the denizens thereof are not especially frequently exposed to canines of my majestic and generous proportions. This has, on occasion, caused me sadness. Thus I offer the next installment in my Heaves of Grass series of poetical musings.
Rumination of an Uncommonly Large Hound in a City Not Entirely Used To Seeing the Likes of HimWhen you are a very large hound
A very large hound like me
You'll find very quickly as you stroll around
That certain people are quite prone to flee
What they're fearing, I can scarcely guess
I do not mean to cause them any harm,
Or undue fright, or extreme duress
Or any level of excess alarm
Perhaps it is that they've mistaken moi
For a monster or a terrifying bear
To that sort of nonsense, I must say pshaw!
And feign as if I do not really care
But deep, deep down it truly troubles me to think
That I could possibly arouse such nasty fret
Because it's not as if at will, I can suddenly shrink
Though I suppose I could consult my vet
I really would like for all and sundry to learn
That it is not about the size of beast
I hope and I yearn, that they'll no longer spurn
As upon them I do not wish to feast
For I am a kindly dog, albeit rather sizeable
And I understand that's not especially normal
So if you come upon me I'd say that it's advisable
For us to have an introduction formal
Yours, poetically and largely,
Mordred T. Dog
Hi nice friends!
I am so very excited, because that's how you are when you get to meet someone who is a celebrity. That has not happened very often for me, besides meeting Miss Margot Thistleglen the very famous Scottish Deerhound at the National Show of the Dogs a little while ago, and then another time seeing Misters Jerry and Mickey the famous mice behind the refrigerator.
I see Mr. Anderson Cooper inside the television machine a lot of the time, but that isn't, I think, really meeting him because I can not smell his wonderful smell which is probably a lot like nice clean socks, and the oven after Thanksgiving has been cooked in it.
The celebrity I met is a very handsome professional acting dog named Zydeco. He is in the Dog Actors Guild, and it is his job that when movies and the television machine need a dog who looks like him, he goes and plays that dog. It is a job I could not do, because I do not look like him, but I could probably play a dog who looks like me.
Anyhow, he is handsome, and took some classes to learn how to play a dog, because sometimes the dog they want you to play is not the dog you're feeling like right then. Like they want you to be an asleep dog, but you are feeling like an awake dog. Or they want you to pretend to not like and be mean to someone who you probably actually really like because they smell like cheese. This is not an easy job to do, but Mr. Zydeco is very, very handsome at it.
Someone who is also handsome at it is Mr. Mordred, who is trying very, very hard right now to act like a healthy, strong, not-sick dog for our Daddy, but that is really not easy for him right now. Think nice thoughts for him, won't you?
xoxoMorgane
Gentle Readers,
I would like to make it exceptionally clear from the outset that any rumors of my crying in my Daddy's automobile car on the way home today from the chemotological therapy for this so-called "Canned Sir" are thoroughly free of the truth. Anyone who would say such a thing is clearly not sufficiently familiar with the quantity and ferocity of my bravery. For the posterity, I will state that if anything, I was merely singing along with an especially inspiring song on the radio machine, and perhaps maybe also got something in one or both of my keen and soulful eyeballs.
It was certainly not because of the ouchiness of having some of the insides of my sturdy, magnificent bones removed via some very pointy needles, or the pumping of a variety of queasy-making chemicals through my mighty veins by means of the aforementioned pointy needle systems, or the removal of more acreage of my magnificent pelt so as to better accommodate the pointy needles, or the not-allowed-near-ness of my Daddy while all of this occurred.
No – I am far too brave and stoic, and protective of my Daddy's feelings to allow any of that to reflect upon my stately countenance. It surely must have been the Avril Lavigne. And perhaps a sandstorm.
Yours, ever bravely and handsomely,
Mordred T. Dog
Hi nice friends!
I think it is just so nice that some people who aren't even dogs or people are writing in to help Mr. Mordred feel better about what is going on in his big, no-longer-furry tummy. This got written to us by our cousin Peepers who lives in a house along with our Mommy Girl's sister girl. Peepers is a cat, but he also understands some things about what it means to be a pet of someone and how that someone might feel when you do not feel so good yourself and about how you can take care of your someone at the same time as taking care of yourself.
Hi,Peepers wanted to give Mordred some advice for the his trip to the vet
tomorrow. Since he has been at the vet 5 times in the past 10 days not to
mention other trips in the past, he feels that he is an expert.Peepers suggests taking one of two approaches, total terror or total
sweetie. The pros of being a terror include being quite memorable to
everyone, the fun of scaring people in the waiting room as they hear your
(or preferable the vet's) screams, and prefential treatment (quickly
getting you to a room so you do not terrorize the waiting room and they
can get you out of the office). However, Peepers cautions that if you
have any concern that you cannot keep up the terror image the entire
visit, do not go that route as then you will look like a pathetic wimp.
Peepers'most successful campaigns as a cat from hell include the time he
was brought out to the waiting room in a sealed box that was moving and
hissing a la the Tazmanian Devil. You should have seen the faces of the
people in the waiting room as the box was opened! The reign of the 20 lb.
terror! His other triumph was the time it too 4 people and 30 minutes to
get blood from him. Everyone emerged from that room drenched in sweat.However, Peepers does acknowledge that being a sweetie has its benefits.
Mordred will get tons of love from the vet and vet techs, lots of comments
on how handsome he is, and extra attention and possible treats. Peepers
has taken this approach lately he has enjoyed the people fawning over him.Peepers also said that if Mordred really wants to be sneaky, he could play
sweet and then attack. Peepers has not tried this but he said he is
considering it should he have to go back to the vet any time soon.No matter what, Peepers wants Mordred to make sure he plays it up tomorrow
so that he gets all kinds of sympathy from you. Treats, extra play time,
attention- all good things.Peepers also wanted to wish Mordred all kinds of good thoughts for
tomorrow, even if Mordred is a dog.Peepers did get good news today- no heart disease. We both hope Mordred
gets the most positive news he can get.Good wishes.
P (and his scribe)
xoxoMorgane
Hi nice friends!
I think that maybe possibly Mr. Mordred just might find a reason to feel awfully much better since the love of his whole life wrote in and said this in the comments after he put up his poetical poem:
Querido Mordred,
My mami and papi and me are thinking about you very hard right now. Even when they think I am esleeping, I am in reality using all of my thoughts to make that canned estuff in your estomago go away. I hope to present you with a gift of chicken bones upon your return to health. Also, please tell Morgane that I am truly sorry I growled at her when she came to Mami's fiesta. I am sometimes forgetting the manners I learned since coming here from the streets of Puerto Rico.
Besos,
India
I am just a little whippet dog, but I know that when your heart thumps very hard and happy for someone, it can't help but make your heart feel good all over your body.
xoxoMorgane
Hi nice friends!
Sometimes when you are a sad dog, something can come along and make you a not-as-sad dog. Maybe this can be one of those things. It is a blog by some dogs who are not us, but who we think will make you not only be not sad, but maybe even do some smiling and wagging.
xoxoMorgane
Gentle Readers,
Upon the upsetting revelation of the health status of my innards, I have penned a new entry to Heaves of Grass.
On Being a Large Wolfhound with an Unfortunate Medical Condition
I've learned a new term - an unfortunate one
For what's going on inside me
Lymphoma's the word. I assure you - no fun
And neither's the one with the "C"
The words give my Mommy a wet, salty face
And Daddy - his jaw clamps up tight
For them, I shall weather with oodles of grace
And soldier forth with all my might
Chemo's a word I've been hearing a lot
I'm not quite sure what that entails
If it makes them feel better, I'll give it a shot
For my Daddy, I'm tougher than nails
The rumors of tumors - I wish they weren't true
But now that we know that they are
I'll marshall my courage, to sticking place screw
I'm not ready to say au revoir
Yours,
Mordred T. Dog
Gentle Readers,
I hear much talk of this Canned Sir that is inside me, and of which many are concerned. Harrumph! I know of what I consume, and I take particular note of treats cannned! I know of one Sir, and he is Fresh, and he is none but My Daddy!
Yours, ever freshly,
Mordred T. Dog
Hi nice friends,
There was a time not long ago that Mr. Anderson Cooper was not inside the television machine, but instead there was a man who was talking about dogs who have jobs. Sometimes the job is about 
having a nose that sniffs out things that are against the laws, and sometimes it is about having more fur than I do and coming and being strong for people who have fallen down in the snow rain.
I would not be good at that last one, but I hope very much that I can be good at the job that I am about to have to do, which is to be the Only Dog while Mr. Mordred is away having various items taken out of him. This is a very important job that involves being nice and being warm and being very next to people who are worried about the items inside Mr. Mordred, even though I have watched him a lot and have only seen delicious kibble and sometimes rice, chicken, and floor treats go in.
The job is also about if I see salty water on the faces of Daddy and Our Mommy Girl that I should go and kiss it off - not because it tastes good (which it does) but because it makes them smile and the salty water stops coming.
I think this is a job I can do.
xoxoYour Face-Kissing Friend Morgane
p.s. You can buy a very nice Cone Dog Lamp so you will never have to be scared by the boiler or the mop in the dark again.
Hi nice friends!
Big, brave Mr. Mordred is not a pupcicle, but soon he will have to be wearing a cone anyway. I think he will look very delicious, just like this good dog in a picture by the most important artist in the history of ever, Mr. Brandon Bird. It is because of the opening up to look for things and then the putting back together that the Green Pajama Man will be doing soon, but I still say that I can tell them what exactly is in there. Maybe it is that people do not trust Whippets when they say things, because I have been tryingtryingtrying to tell everyone that if there is something inside Mr. Mordred that they wanted at one point, they probably don't want it any more.
xoxoMorgane
Gentle Readers,
As the day of my tummy surgery impends, I share with you a poem I have penned for my beloved Daddy. It will be included in the next publishing of my collection of poetical, hound-centric musings, "Heaves of Grass", and it is entitled:
A Poem to Amuse and Relieve My Daddy Upon the Soon Occasion of the Exploring of My Tummy by the Doctor in the Green Pajamas
I am a large wolfhound, ‘tis patently true
And when a large wolfhound feels rotten
It makes those around him so awfully blue
And good times are all but forgotten
I truly don’t mean to abandon my post
As watchdog of my family pack
You know I don’t care much to brag or to boast
But you’re safest when I have your back
But argue I can’t, with this yuck in my tummy
So to the nice doctor I’ll journey
He says that I’ll feel a good deal less crummy
Once they make me sleep on the gurney
Awake, I’ll be decked in a plastic cone collar
To keep me from nibbling my stitches
I will do my dog-darndest - not whine, cry or holler
No matter how badly it itches
I weather these things ‘cause I want for you, Father
To not have to worry or fret
I’ll soon be much stronger – eschew all the bother
I’m surely not done with you yet
Yours,
Mordred T. Dog
Hi nice friends!
Sometimes when Mr. Mordred is having his eyes-shut time (which he would say is never of the time, but I would say is a lot of the time), I can hear and see with my Whippet eyes and ears that he is moving and making small noises like he is thinking of things that are probably squirrels and probably about the chasing of them.
I cannot say for sure what it is that I am thinking of when I am making those sounds and moves while I am sleeping – mostly because I am asleep while they are happening, but I think it is probably also squirrels, Mr. Anderson Cooper, and cheese, because those are the things that I am thinking about when I am not asleep. Sometimes Mr. Anderson Cooper is feeding cheese to the squirrels, and sometimes cheese is feeding Mr. Anderson Cooper to the squirrels. Those are the thoughts I do not like as much, and probably when those happen is when you hear me make the sad noises.
xoxoYour Helpful Friend Morgane
Hi nice friends!
Have I told you about my Daddy and the tallness and the smartness and the nice-smellingness? I probably have, but sometimes I forget things. I feel so, so bad saying one thing that isn’t entirely nice, though, but maybe I will forget also that I did that. At least I hope.
That thing is that while when Daddy sees me shivering from being skinny and not very furry when we are inside of the doors, he will wrap me up in a soft blanket, or walk over to a magical button on the wall that makes the cold go away, but when we are out of the doors on our walkings, he has not yet figured out where that button is, and the cold stays and laughs at me and makes me sad. I wish I could run back to the inside of doors where the warm and my blankets live, but Mr. Mordred is big and majestic and covered in lots of fur, and these things mean that he sometimes takes a long time to decide what place will get to host his potty-time. I know that is an important and royal decision, and the places all want to be that place, but that does not help me not shiver a lot. Some people and dogs might think that it is a cute or funny thing to see, but mostly it is just a cold thing, with no funniness added.
So if you see my tallsmarthandsome Daddy, and you know where the out-of-doors button for warm is, will you please show him?
xoxoYour cold and shivery friend, Morgane
p.s. Maybe if you see my Daddy, could you ask him to click here for the Weather.com Pet Cast that will tell him and Mr. Mordred when it is not as nice to have skinniness outside?
Hi nice friends!
I know that in this year that is new, Mr. Mordred said that he would like to be a dog who has thumbs so that he can be of more help when it is time to reach food that is high up and times when we want to make Mr. Anderson Cooper be in the television machine (which is always). I think it is nice of him to be so full of help, and I am certainly always liking when there are snacks and Mr. Anderson Cooper, but I do not think I would be good at having thumbs. I am much all-over closer to the ground than Mr. Mordred is, and the things that I could reach and hold onto with my thumbs are probably not things that I would want to have my thumbs on for very long. Plus naps are very nice, and when you do not have thumbs, no one one needs you as much to help them with things, and that way more naps can happen.
It is not that I am lazy and do not want to help. It is just that it is already very tired making being small and skinny, and I want to keep being good at it.
xoxoYour nice friend with just toes, Morgane
Gentle Readers,
While I realize that some of you may have come to regard me, Mordred T. Dog, as a calm, cool, elegant fellow with an appreciation for life's rarified pleasures – a sip of Chateauneuf du Puppy, a nibble of a Ferragamo loafer, a whiff of Kennel No. 5. - what you may not guess is that even I can become as giddy as a Chihuahua at the prospect of sinking my teeth into a new challenge. No, it is not simply the upcoming multi-park promotional tour for my poetical volume "Heaves of Grass" (though that does delight me so). Rather, it is that I have at long last arrived at the solution as to how I will best be able to be of service and assistance to my Daddy in areas in which I have until now required his assistance (i.e. food acquisition, certain wipings, typing, self-walkery).
It all comes down to thumbs - of which I have always to this point had zero. This, my friends, will be the year that number is enlargened for Mordred T. Dog. I know not how. I know not from whence. All I know is that it will be so. And they will be appropriately splendid.
M.T.D.
