Brent the Boy Boxer Dog and the Purple flowers

Hey Folks, It’s me Brent!
The Old Lady is having a tizzy spell over what happened today. She is trying to tell anyone who will listen that she was paying perfect attention to me and doesn’t know how a thing like this could happen!
So not true! On my honor as a Boy Boxer Dog I did everything I could to get The Old Lady’s attention, to ask permission to work in the flower bed. But no! The Old Lady was busy reading “Dear Amy” in the newspaper and pondering how it is that peoples lives become so messy. Well maybe it’s from not paying attention to what’s going on around them. Maybe people wouldn’t have to write to a stranger about their trials and tribulations if they had only played more with their dogs, in the yard or taken them for a walk or let them bark all they wanted to at the garbage truck. I mean when’s the last time your dog chewed up a sofa cushion while you were sitting next to them, petting them? See, it’s when we are left alone and get bored and want attention that we chew on the sofa……well of course not that I would know about that or anything.
So the way this all started is that I happened to find the large purple flowering bush in the south east corner of the yard visually very offensive. It was just so last spring with it’s large purple flowers and green leaves. I mean what was The Old Lady thinking when she planted it there five years ago? Just because, a dear family friend buys you an expensive, exotic, flowering plant from Hawaii for your birthday, does not mean that you have to plant it, feed it and trim it regularly. Visually offensive, is visually offensive!
Well, I had had enough of all that purple and green, ugh! So I very carefully dug and snorted through the root system and removed it all in one piece. It was a great accomplishment if I do say so myself. My sister Bebe well she just stared in wonder at me and I believe I did note a mix of pride and envy in her chocolate colored eyes. So I very carefully picked up the bush at it’s base as it is not easy to carry 3 ½ ft. x 2 ft. of bush in ones mouth. You know life without thumbs, it takes some imagination at times.
Well, I was on my way across the yard toward the green recycling bin, when The Old Lady caught sight of me through the back window. Damned if that lady doesn’t sound like a ban-she when she screams at 7:00 am in the morning! Sister Bebe, who moments before had looked on as I worked with sibling pride, now slithered away from me with a look of “I don’t know who the hell he is!”
Soon enough, up runs The Old Lady yelling, “Brent what have you done?” Oh my goodness, wasn’t it obvious what I had just done? You know folks, I must admit, I have noticed that The Old Girl is a bit slow in the morning before her second cup of coffee. Well, I dropped the bush and was about to explain my new found vision for the yard when, The Old Lady took off one of her furry grey slippers and THREW it at me! Yes I said, THREW it at me! Well it bounced off my bum and landed on top of the offensive bush. For a minute the bush reminded me of a Christmas tree with purple ornaments and a furry grey angel on top.
But The Old Lady evidently didn’t have the same visual as me ‘cause there was no Christian spirit in her tone as she uttered those most cruel anti-canine words that no dog ever deserves to hear, “You’re the worst dog ever!” For a second I thought I had misunderstood her, but as I gazed into her pinched face she bent down and repeated her vicious words, “Worst dog ever!” As she said it a fine spray of saliva flew from her thin curled lips covering my mug. Well I’m thinking, just who in the dickens does she think she is, when The Old Girl straightens up and gives the command, “Brent sit!” Now after three weeks of obedience classes, I know darn well what “Sit” means, but did The Old Lady really think I was going to listen to her after all that? I mean really, come on!
So I grabbed Mr. Furry Grey Slipper off the ugly purple flowering bush and ran around the yard with it in my mouth. Around and around the yard I went like a speeding greyhound. Fast and agile I was, if I do say so myself. I caught a glimpse of my sister Bebe hiding under the picnic table, the look of admiration back in her eyes. The Old Girl, well she finally caught me with a leash and a cookie, which she never gave me. As I was being dragged back into the house, The Old Lady stopped and once again gave me the command to “Sit” in a very nasty tone, which our obedience teacher Miss Michelle said never to do under any circumstances. Hah! Guess The Old lady wasn’t paying attention that day. But I was, so I gave her a VERY defiant look, stood my ground and refused to sit. In fact I refused to sit for three days!
Yes, there was a lot of “I’m sorry” from The Old Girl, and “I was just overwhelmed by the size and age of the bush” and my personal favorite, “I shouldn’t have thrown my slipper at you, now can I have it back?” Well folks, it was a little depressing to see her continually groveling. So on day four, A.T.I. (After The Incident), that’s how I measure time now, I sat for a cookie and a pat on the head followed with, “You’re a very good boy Brent!”
But let me tell you, I still have nightmares about that day. The bush, The Old Lady, the saliva and those evil words. At times the only comfort I find A.T.I., is when I sneak off by myself to my private corner of the yard behind the rose bushes and chomp down on Mr. Furry Grey Slipper, which I keep there out of The Old Lady’s sight, and repeat over and over to myself, “You are a good boy Brent, a very good boy.”

Well folks, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it!

Love,
Brent The Boy Boxer Dog

Brent and the Tomatoes

Hey Folks, it's me Brent!

It's been rumored by someone who will remain nameless, that I was recently seen ripping the bark off of the garden tree. Well with this current mood of distrust and slander it has now become obvious that The Old Lady has lost all objectivity to my whole situation. So I will have to tell you what happened myself!
First off, but excuse me I wasn't ripping, I was pruning the tree. The bark was abundant and needed removal, hence me and my teeth were assisting in this procedure. I being "Brent the Boy Boxer", had noted that The Old Lady (I use to refer to her as Ma'am but now she seems to only refer to me as "Naughty Boy" so .......what goes around, comes around Susan!) was on the phone again with one of her "Show Cronies" early this morning.
Granted, I had been fed breakfast at my regular time 5:00 am, thanks to my sister Bebe and her small bladder. Bebe wakes The Old Lady up every morning at 4:45 am to go out. It's amazing what a human is willing to do early in the morning to shut you up and try to go back to bed for a little extra shut eye. So this morning being left to my own devices in the backyard, while The Old Lady was on the phone, I noted that some freshly laid sod and soil were where I had dutifully dug my amazing hole yesterday. A 10 1/2 inch X 10 1/2 inch perfectly symmetrical hole, mind you! Filled in? Who could have done this dastardly deed? I mean how often does one find such artistry in their own backyard?
The hole I had dug was......well gorgeous.....and now this mess?
So of course I removed the sod and dug up the new soil. The hole.......well folks, it's a good one, but does not have the majesty of the one I dug yesterday. But then again how often does perfection come into one's life? I ingested some of the sod in hopes of removing it permanently. It just didn't belong in my hole. But I found the flavor a bit flat with a bitter aftertaste. So I just tossed and spread the rest of the remnants all over the patio. The patio needed a little something-something, you know? It was in my quest for decorating the patio that I became aware of the pretty red, pink and green spheres hanging from the green vines growing out of those silly upside down planters, The Old Lady bought at Home Depot last month. I swear, advertise on TV and she's there with her check book!
Of course I had to stand on my back legs like you humans do to reach them. But reach them I did! Gosh they're fun! You can toss 'em roll 'em and eat 'em. The red ones are more tasty than the green ones. I've heard that they fry the green ones in the southern states. I am so very stunted by The Old Lady. She would never allow me to try cooking!
Well needless to say, I was pretty pleased with myself. If my paw would reach, I would have patted myself on the back. The yard finally looked like REAL DOGS live here!
I decided to round off my morning meal with a little "Treat". The Old Lady doesn't like it when I eat "Treat". She says it's disgusting and makes my breath bad. Like I care what my breath smells like! Teach her to kiss my mug without asking permission first.
Well I had just finished a little "Treat" ("Treat" is a synonym for the word that is the same spelled forward and backwards) No not that word.....Okay.....it's poop! There I've said it. I enjoy a little poop on occasion. It's not like I smoke cigarettes! it's not going to kill me. So get over it Susan!
It was her high pitched, blood curdling scream that first made me aware that The Old Lady was not going to agree with me. She has never appreciated my artistic tastes or endeavors.
And of course it did not help that The Old Man, Jim had just come home early for lunch and found The Old Lady still in her PJ's, frantically sweeping the patio and trying to pretend that "Art" had not just occurred!
I will probably never understand what makes The Old Lady tick. But obviously I have the market on what ticks her off! So here I am in my crate/jail, for heaven knows how long. I have threatened to report her to PETA, but The Old Lady just keeps telling me to "Stop Barking"!
The Old Girl literally does not understand me.
Well folks, that's my story. Young starving artist trying to make a difference in this cruel world being continually squashed by the man/Old Lady.
But not to worry. I'll be back out for more adventures soon. Thanks to Bebe and her small bladder!
Best to you all,
Brent the Boy Boxer

Brent on Being "Just Brent"

When I was but a mere pup in my mother's womb, I imagined myself to be a great champion boxer one day with a wall full of ribbons. In utero I heard whispers of Westminster and Eukanuba. But alas fate is a cruel prankster......and I was born not to be a champion, who would strut my stuff in the show ring, no I was born to be a pet in some nameless backyard, on some nameless street, in some nameless city. But I myself am not nameless, for I am Brent, and though I am the product of a two champion breeding, I myself will never know the thrill of having the title Champion before my name. No not I ! I will always be Just Brent.

It was a hard day for me as a pup when The Old Lady and her mentor looked me over and said, "Nope he 'aint got it!"

Now I will never know the satisfaction of having a judge point at me and utter those lovely words "On this day you are number one". Because of a fluke of the genes I am destined to be a sad, lowly and under appreciated pet pup in someone's yard. With a face so hideous that I close my eyes when I drink from the water pail so as not to see my reflection.


Now, how's that for dramatic? Nah! I'm just jerking your chain. I don't give a gnats behind what I look like nor do I care that I am not a champion like my mom Biscuit, the Big Dog Doc and my snooty, show girl cousin Sonie. Well actually, sometimes I do care a little bit about the champion thing. But I try not to let it get to me.


What I do enjoy in life is being able to dig in fresh soil, bark at the trash man when ever I want and to enjoy a bit of "Treat" on occasion. Now I'm looking forward to sharing my canine wisdom through my advice column with The Boxer Ring readers. I'll also have a story or two to tell about the adventures of my canine family along with the escapades of The Old Lady."

So to all the, Hey Guys! It's Me Brent! I say welcome!