WWTBAM Bored

I am proud to announce that I have a job as the guard dog for four chicks who live next door. That is to say, they are real chickens who have a red coop with bunk beds and a play room, but they like to come out in their yard and talk to me through the fence. They like me. I do not yet understand their language, but it sounds soft and fluffy and funny, as if somebody were blowing bubbles into a bowl of Poprocks. I have stopped barking almost entirely, because it scares them, and I want them to feel safe. (My mom says I have stopped "barking mindlessly," but it never was mindless. Sometimes I just had a lot to say.) Even the neighbors have noticed the difference in the sound level. The man of the two-footers who live with the chickens has started to smile at me and reach over the fence to pat my head, or to say "Good dog." He never ever did that before. I guess it's because of the job thing.

BeBe says I should give myself a better job title, something that sounds more like a Super Hero. She suggested "The Guardian of the Free Rangers." What do you think?

Careful... I hear the armadillos are invading! I don't know if they like chicken...

lb13

Lizbit wrote:"The Guardian of the Free Rangers." What do you think?

I think that is an excellent title. And a worthy and honorable position. Congrats.

littlebeast13 wrote:Careful... I hear the armadillos are invading! I don't know if they like chicken...

lb13

But they TASTE like chicken.

It makes most of us feel better to have someone to look after. Good job!

Lizbit wrote:I am proud to announce that I have a job as the guard dog for four chicks who live next door. That is to say, they are real chickens who have a red coop with bunk beds and a play room, but they like to come out in their yard and talk to me through the fence. They like me. I do not yet understand their language, but it sounds soft and fluffy and funny, as if somebody were blowing bubbles into a bowl of Poprocks. I have stopped barking almost entirely, because it scares them, and I want them to feel safe. (My mom says I have stopped "barking mindlessly," but it never was mindless. Sometimes I just had a lot to say.) Even the neighbors have noticed the difference in the sound level. The man of the two-footers who live with the chickens has started to smile at me and reach over the fence to pat my head, or to say "Good dog." He never ever did that before. I guess it's because of the job thing.

BeBe says I should give myself a better job title, something that sounds more like a Super Hero. She suggested "The Guardian of the Free Rangers." What do you think?

That is an excellent choice of titles! You will wear it very well.

That's a most excellent title for a most excellent job, Lizbit!

Lizbit. Can't believe you have entrees living next door. You're a good pup.

Beebs52 wrote:Lizbit. Can't believe you have entrees living next door.

Miss Beebs, you are a teaser. I bet you don't say stuff like that to your own dog, because she knows where you keep your shoes.

I already got to protect my girls from danger.

Yesterday, I was outside watching the four chickens play, when I noticed an odd smell in the air. I looked through the front fence and saw smoke coming from the house directly across from where I live. I remembered that I should not bark, but I figured that emergency conditions required emergency actions. Because my older brother is a fireman (we both have the same mom, so I think that makes him my brother,) I knew there was a fire where there shouldn't be one. I started barking VERY loudly, which got the girls to run back inside their coop where they wouldn't be breathing so much smoke. It also let me tell that fire a thing or two. "Don't you dare THINK about crossing the street," I yelled. "I can bite hard!" I added some growls for good measure, so it would know I meant business.

The smoke was getting heavier, and the fire tried to show me how tough it was by poking through the roof. About that time, a Fire Department SUV pulled up in front of the house, followed pretty quickly by a hook-and-ladder truck and then more smaller FD vehicles and a second big fire truck. Those fire guys got going quickly and rolled up their ladder in the sky, while others were hooking up their hoses. That pretty well filled up the end of the cul-de-sac, but before long two more big fire trucks pulled into the street up a bit, two police cars blocked the intersection, and an ambulance with flashing lights parked on the other side of the police cars and waited there, just in case.

After a couple of hours, the final score was Fire Department 100 million, Fire 0.

Today there was a U-Haul truck parked in front of the house. That made me feel bad for the people who lived there, as they were trying to find stuff that could be salvaged, but I don't think anybody was home when it all started, so as far as I know, nobody got hurt and the ambulance went back to its home empty.

I don't pretend to be a hero or anything. Heroes must be brave, and I didn't have to be brave to yell at the fire, just loud. I've been practicing Loud my whole life. It's kind of ironic that the first time I didn't get in trouble for being too loud was less than a week after I got good at staying Quiet.

This Loud-Quiet switch is indeed a tricky one, but you are on a good path toward having it figured out!

Thank you, Miss Ritters.

Guardian of the Free Rangers is a Most Excellent job title and suits a good guarder like you perfectly.

And you lived up to it! You helped save the Free Rangers from the fire! Well done!

Casey and Annie tried to save me from lots of horrible noises tonight, and I guess it worked. They woofed and woofed at all the noise, and all of a sudden about 10 it stopped. All quiet here now, or my doggies would know the reason why!

Lizbit wrote:I already got to protect my girls from danger.

Yesterday, I was outside watching the four chickens play, when I noticed an odd smell in the air. I looked through the front fence and saw smoke coming from the house directly across from where I live. I remembered that I should not bark, but I figured that emergency conditions required emergency actions. Because my older brother is a fireman (we both have the same mom, so I think that makes him my brother,) I knew there was a fire where there shouldn't be one. I started barking VERY loudly, which got the girls to run back inside their coop where they wouldn't be breathing so much smoke. It also let me tell that fire a thing or two. "Don't you dare THINK about crossing the street," I yelled. "I can bite hard!" I added some growls for good measure, so it would know I meant business.

The smoke was getting heavier, and the fire tried to show me how tough it was by poking through the roof. About that time, a Fire Department SUV pulled up in front of the house, followed pretty quickly by a hook-and-ladder truck and then more smaller FD vehicles and a second big fire truck. Those fire guys got going quickly and rolled up their ladder in the sky, while others were hooking up their hoses. That pretty well filled up the end of the cul-de-sac, but before long two more big fire trucks pulled into the street up a bit, two police cars blocked the intersection, and an ambulance with flashing lights parked on the other side of the police cars and waited there, just in case.

After a couple of hours, the final score was Fire Department 100 million, Fire 0.

Today there was a U-Haul truck parked in front of the house. That made me feel bad for the people who lived there, as they were trying to find stuff that could be salvaged, but I don't think anybody was home when it all started, so as far as I know, nobody got hurt and the ambulance went back to its home empty.

I don't pretend to be a hero or anything. Heroes must be brave, and I didn't have to be brave to yell at the fire, just loud. I've been practicing Loud my whole life. It's kind of ironic that the first time I didn't get in trouble for being too loud was less than a week after I got good at staying Quiet.

Lizbit, I don't know how many of your frens have suggested this, but you and your sister really should consider writing a book or two. I believe wholeheartedly that two-footer children would love to read about your adventures and philosophies and such. If you have trouble with the actual typing out of words I bet your mom could help out with that part if you dictate. I'm sure Mr. Vandal would agree that thee's room for more than one author on this bored.