World Peazzzzz...

I must confess. Instead of working on my campaign posters, I took a long nap. When I woke up, I was too tired from napping to call some of my supporters, so instead I took a nap. Some of you may object that a candidate for mayor of Anoka should be doing more to promote himself, that I should be out walking the streets, giving speeches and making guest appearances at local coffee shops. I would argue differently. Imagine a world in which all of you humans took a long nap every day. You would be happier and friendlier, drive more attentively, and drink less coffee.

So when I nap, I'm not being lazy. I'm contributing to the movement for world peace.

Dog Prison?

Another reason to vote for me:

According to recent figures, more than two million American citizens currently live in a prison, which is approximately one in every 142 people. How many dogs do you think go to jail? That's right. None!

Signs of the Time

Many of my campaign staff travelled to the Minnesota State Fair today. I opted to stay behind to work on my campaign. The election season is upon us, and signs of it are sprouting in front yards across Anoka. It looks like this year it will be a three-way election.

Both Steve Schmidt and Bjorn Skogquist (current mayor) will run against one another again, and I will join them in the fray. As is his custom, Bjorn has decided not to distribute lawn signs this early in the campaign under the belief that by the time elections roll around, everyone is so sick of the hype, that they vote against those who advertise most.

Bjorn's a wise dude, and I may adopt his strategy. Still, the idea of hundreds of signs sticking in Anokan's yards with my name on them is very appealing. Signs can be an effective means of communicating a message, as this photograph shows. So maybe I'll go the Steve Schmidt route and blitz the city with flyers, brochures, and yard signs. I haven't decided yet.

Hail Anoka

Today I supervised a moving sale in a town just south of Anoka. I lent my supervisory skills to a campaign supporter in exchange for the opportunity to practice some of my new political catch phrases, such as "It's time for a change instead of another surcharge" and "You scratch my back, and I'll lower your taxes."

When I returned to Anoka, rumors reached my bat ears that a large storm had passed through town. Hail the size of golf balls, I heard. Many of the Mainstreet shopfront windows broke, as well as numerous car windshields. I wish I had been here for the hail. Imagine, thousands of little balls of ice falling like candy from the sky! Only, I guess it would hurt coming down.

We Anokans shouldn't be complaining about a few broken windows, though. In the south metro tornadoes wreaked havoc, destroying homes and injuring several people. One man from Kasota died. I'd like to extend my sympathy for anyone whose lives were affected by the storms tonight.

An Exhausting Game of Tag

It looks like I've been tagged again. This time, by Johann, an agility dog. It's not very fair since Johann is so much more speedy than me, and now that I'm almost three, I've noticed that my stamina isn't what it used to be when I was two. Still, what I lack in speed I make up for in girth.

I am a dog with a mission. I look ahead and upward, with my sights set on the lofty goal of becoming mayor of Anoka. I know that for a dog, this is a daunting task. I could be sniffing butts and chewing on sticks, but instead I'm shaking hands and chewing the fat with the voters. I am unfazed. With your open-minded support, we can all work toward a better city, a better country, and a better world.

Lick o' Rice

While my chauffeur drove me around town this weekend, I discovered a new delight. You humans call it licorice, and I know why. It's fun to lick! My designated campaign aide booster seat allowed me to sample one of the Red Vine licorice strands she was eating, and it was love at first taste.

I am still on a diet, however, so I did not bite. It's actually a nice diet in that respect. I can lick whatever I want and as long as I don't eat it, I'm still within bounds. According to this diet, anything I lick off the kitchen floor is acceptable. Butter off of corn is okay, too, and best of all...ice cream! Okay, my personal trainer hasn't yet budged on the ice cream, but I'm working on it. You'd be amazed at my powers of persuasion.

Staring at Doors

I stare at doors. Sometimes if I stare long enough, the door opens. I think I have magical powers, or maybe it's my political influence. If I'm elected mayor of Anoka, I promise to stare at the doors of social and economic opportunity until they open.

Upgrading My Life

I decided to upgrade my Blogger blog to the new Google Beta version. I couldn't consider myself a decent progressive liberal conservative independent political candidate if I didn't. I haven't had a chance to paw around in the new features, though.

"Beta" seems to be a popular word lately. I think it's just you humans learning to deal with the fact that you're always going to be making mistakes. We dogs knew that a long time ago. I can't tell you how many times I've tried to pee on a fire hydrant and ended up getting my back leg wet instead. Countless.

In the spirit of progress, however, I've decided to release a new version of myself: Thomas Peterson 2.0 (Beta). This version includes many new features, such as faster response time to commands, a large scratch disk allocation, and bigger bat ears.

Kentucky Fried Computer

Kentucky Fried Computer

It's amazing how much I rely on a computer, even as a dog. When it gives up the ghost, everything seems to fall apart. Then I remind myself that I'm a dog, and I go for a run in the yard and roll around on a dead bird.

Tag

It seems that I've been tagged twice. It's a little game bloggers play, and though I am a serious political candidate for Anoka's mayor, I'm not above a little fun. The rules of tagging are easy. I tell you netizens five weird things or habits about myself, and then tag five other bloggers. Those bloggers do the same, then tag five more people. It's the blog version of a chain letter.

Despite having already confessed many of my foibles, I still have at least five more things I can address.

1) Brooms freak me out for no good reason. Whenever I see a broom, I run out of the room - and not just because it rhymes. Maybe it's because I see a broom so infrequently at campaign headquarters.

2) I like to steal toilet paper rolls from the bathroom trash bin and shred them to bits.

3) When I ride shotgun in my campaign car, I always put my right paw out the window. My chauffeur insists that I look like a truck driver, but I find it most comfortable. Having one front leg more tan than the others is embarassing, though.

4) My favorite toy is an empty plastic container of cottage cheese.

5) While I'm managing my finances online, I often take a brief nap between trades.

Now that you know a little more about me, it's time I tag five more hapless victims. I tag Brody, Mugsy, Daisy, Nanook, and those monkeys over at Monkey River Town.

Post Haste

So sorry for the post written in haste. We are dealing with a minor crisis at campaign headquarters. One of our computers has started on fire...or maybe just the hard drive failed. I couldn't tell what my computer support technician was shouting over the panicked din of my other aides. It is a dark day in Anoka.

Pampering

Campaign headquarters has hardwood floors. They look fancy and impress visitors, but the click-clack of my paws is annoying. Everywhere I go, the sound follows, and I can't sneak up on any of my aides to monitor their work without being noticed. Because of this, every few weeks I require a pawdicure. My campaign manager uses a Dremel to file down my nails to nicely rounded nubs, which are perfect for clandestine staff observations. Today I caught one of my campaign aides surfing the 'net for sales on vintage ceramic clown dolls. That's just creepy. Maybe the less I know about my aides' lives the better.

Eating Grass

The rain today was refreshing. Nothing tastes better than a rain-soaked blade of grass when I'm out walking the Anoka campaign trail.

There has been some debate among veterinarians and pet-owners about why we dogs love of a good bit of grass. The Pet Professor, for example, suggests that perhaps we dogs are well-practiced herbalists, consuming the appropriate amount of grass to serve our gastro-intestinal needs, such as treating an upset stomach. Others claim we canines are too dumb to know a laxative from a bone in the ground and that we eat grass because it tastes good.

In reality, we dogs eat grass for many reasons. I know one dog, who I think might be bulimic, who uses grass to control her weight. Another eats grass because, well, he'll eat anything he finds on the ground, and there's a lot of grass on the ground. Personally, I like to nibble on a blade of grass because that green stalk extended from my mouth makes me look thoughtful.

A Vote for Snacks

Football season fast approaches, and that means two things. Firstly, election time is nigh! Make sure all of you Anokans register to vote, and any of you non-residents should try filing for temporary Anokan citizenship during the month of November.

Secondly: snacks! I love football season not because of the sport. I understand the game, but I think it could be improved. What I love about football is how many tasty snacks you people eat while watching. You sure are clumsy with your food, too, but I'm not complaining.

I Knew You Were Going to Write That

Why would anyone pay for a pet psychic? Just give your pet a laptop and a blog account, and you'd be amazed what your furry (or scaly) little buddy will write. Be careful when handing over credit card information, though. Some of us, like me, can spend our patrons' money wisely, but other pets can get carried away.

City at Night

City at Night

Since it was such a pleasant evening, I requested that my chauffeur drive me to Mainstreet. I wanted to stroll the sidewalk and greet some fellow night-lovers. The sky was purple, the moon was full, and I met many interesting Anokans.

The hooka bar, in particular, was very busy with many strangely coiffured young adults. It looked like a freshly shorn group of poodles, to be honest. But I don't hold that against them even though poodles freak me out.

Lazy Sunday

Lazy Sunday

There is another issue that may arise during the political media blitz in the coming months, so it will be best to address it head on.

I never take a day off, but I confess - sometimes I sleep in a little late on the weekends. I understand that you humans consider sloth to be one of the seven deadly sins. As such, some fundamentalists may frown upon my weekend hobby, but I assure you that it does not adversely affect my political or philanthropic work. I still find plenty of time for work and play between naps.

Why Dogs Sniff Each Other's Butts

One popular question I get when on the road is, "Thomas, why do dogs sniff each other's butts?" I don't know why people feel it is approriate to ask this sort of question of someone who is running for public office. Does Bjorn Skogquist have to deal with questions like these? I guess people treat me differently because I'm a dog. I hope that by explaining the official story behind dog butt-sniffing activity in my blog, fewer people will feel inclined to interupt a press conference with that uncomfortable question.

The Great Dog Fire
A long time ago, when dogs went out for a good time, they would all meet at a certain dog club. This club was the very best in canine entertainment. It had music and drinks, good dog biscuits and fancy napkins. Formal dress was required, so the club asked that its canine patrons check their tails at the door. At that time, it was considered very inappropriate to wag your tail in mixed company.

One day, the dog club announced a special event. It would be a big dog party, the largest ever, so they invited every dog in the world. Because of the expected size of this party, the club decided to host the event outdoors, in a very large grassy clearing.

The day of the party arrived, and dogs from all over the world travelled there. As was the custom, all of the dogs checked their tails at the door and took a number, which they placed on their collars.

The festivities were monumental. The club provided the very best cold spring water for drinking and gourmet biscuits imported from Germany. Puppies met their parents, long-lost siblings reunited, and everyone had a grand time.

Many hours passed in happy conversation and play, but when time came for supper, the mood of the party changed. The dog club had made a horrible mistake. The manager had just opened the large shipping crate containing three tons of fine organic dog food, but to the manager's dismay, he saw the label "Grade B Cat Food: 50 lbs." stamped on every bag. Word spread quickly of this calamity, and many dogs began barking and howling in protest. They were all very hungry, and they wanted to eat.

One boxer became so agitated that he jumped onto a table and started stomping like a horse. His back paw knocked over a candle, which fell to the dry grassy earth. The wax poured onto the ground, and the flame leapt to a blade of grass. Then another blade caught fire; and another. A wind from the west fanned the flames, and the fire erupted, quickly spreading through the clearing.

The dogs panicked. They rushed to the tail check to retrieve their tails and go home, but the fire grew stronger and the throng of dogs was too great. The tail check employees could not work quickly enough, so the crowd broke through the barrier and grabbed the first tail they could find. Then they ran.

They ran away from the party in all directions, some to the east, some to the west, some north, some south. They ran and ran until they all found their way home. It was not until they reached their homes and they looked back to their butts that they realized their mistake. Every dog at the party had grabbed the wrong tail. From that day forward, whenever two dogs meet, they always sniff each other's butts, just in case the other has their tail.

As you probably noticed, I don't really have a tail. That's because I was one of the smart dogs who said, "Ah, forget it" and ran home without bothering to stop at the tail check on the way.

Lounging

On a hot day, there's nothing better than some cold concrete on your belly.

Lounging

The Nose Knows

You humans rely too much on your sense of sight. Your crutch has even worked its way into your lexicon. "Look," you begin when trying to explain something. "I see," you say when you understand. Someone who wisely plans ahead is said to have foresight or vision, and someone thinking about the past is said to use hindsight.

What's the problem? Well, you see, sight is unreliable and easy to fake. A good example is how well your fancy new computers can virtually fake the real thing. Actors immitate reality every day, and so do politicians. Can you tell the difference? I can. My sensitive nose can sniff out lies, and that is a handy trick to have in my political grab bag.

A look can lie, but a smell will tell.

Canine Defense

The Sweet-Natured Golden Retriever...

Due to an overwhelming demand, I am helping coordinate a canine self-defense class for small and medium sized dogs. My specialty is sumo, but other dogs in the program can teach various techniques, including krav doga, tae kwan dog, and aikidog.

This picture depicts two golden retrievers demonstrating the flying monkey paw of death move, which is popular with long-haired dogs because of how cool they look in the air.

Catspiracy

It seems I am not the only dog haunted by lurking felines. I'm afraid that the cats, though seemingly innocuous and slightly dull on the surface, may be secretly planning something revolutionary. I'm not an ignoramus. I've seen Cats & Dogs. I know what these critters are capable of.

In response to the imminent threat to our safety in Anoka, I've issued a code red alert to all dogs in the town. If anyone spots a cat loose on the streets, he or she should bark the urgency call immediately. A crackpot team of elite soldiers will be mobilized and deployed expediently to protect and prevent a full-blown crisis.