Monthly Archives: November 2012

Dawgie Style

Perhaps I’ve been watching too much of The Wire with mom, but I’ve got to get something off my chest:

Let’s get one thing straight.

I’m a dawg.

I might mostly be a dog, and a lovely one at that, but I’m a dawg at heart.

Because every good dog has a little bit of bad dawg in him.  Ya feel me? (Or feed me.  I’d almost prefer that.)

So take a look.  And don’t forget what you see.


Bitches Love Me


I know I usually write like the sweet and loving dog I am, but tonight’s a little different.  Tonight I’m a dawg.

And if you don’t like my tone, or if I’m curt with you, that’s because time is of the essence and I’m one bad ass mother-loving pupper.


Bad ass
















So what does it take to be a dawg, you ask?

First of all, you gotta be, act, and live hood rich.

Take a hot second and look at my crib.

Pup pimp lights:


Pup Pimp Lights






And more bling than I could fetch a stick at:


Mercedes Benz Couch

Gold Trim













And let’s not forget my main pig.  She cooks good, looks good, and loves good.  Mad love 4eva piggy baby.  You always gonna be my main pig.


Piggy loves good

Piggy looks good













But to be a real dawg, you can’t just live da life, you gotta love da life.

Go on and marinate on that a minute.  (And marinate something for me while you’re at it.  Daddy gotta eat.)

I don’t just sleep in, I sleep until 3.


They ain’t no alarms in this crib

I sleep when I want
















I don’t just have a posse, I coordinate with my peeps.


We only got gingers in this crew

Tito n Twigz out da house
















And I don’t just have threads, I look better than you ever will.


I got mad threads, yo


So, now you see I’m not just a dog, but a mighty fine dawg.

Ten pounds of dawg-gone, dawg-walkin’, dawg-talkin’, mother-loving dawg.


Word to my mother


And if you don’t agree with me, you can go on and shut the pup up.

Mad dawg love to my peeps and pups.

Tito out.

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I Am Thankful For…Twiga

Mom says that this is the time of year where we have to say to everyone the things we’re thankful for.  There’s a ton of super obvious things I could give thanks for, like my mom and nice weather and yummy food, but instead I’ll give thanks for something most dogs never would: a kitty cat.  And I’m not just thankful for any old kitty cat, I’m thankful for Twiga.

My Bro Twiga

Now Twiga, he just gets me.  Even though we’re different species, we have a special way of communicating, which I won’t reveal here because then mom would know all our secrets.  What I will share with you is how Twiga bathes me in the evenings.  This is one of my favorite times of the day, I feel like I’m at the spa!

Twiga gives me my nightly bath

I know y’all might judge me, but you know what?  I don’t care!  I love my little kitty brother and here’s a video that we made together to prove it:

Enjoy!  And Happy Thanksgiving!


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My Commissioned Portrait

A sprained ankle is not the only thing that mom got for her birthday.  No, there was actually a MUCH MORE exciting gift from Aunt Amanda.  It was….wait for it….


Tito Pedersen, 2011-

Now, I’ve never been to a museum because I’m a dog, but I’ve always figured that that’s where you’d find portraits of people like royalty and presidents and whatnot.  I never thought I’d be worthy of a portrait, but Aunt Amanda outdid herself and honored me with her fantastic gift.  After unwrapping her glorious gift, mom let me check it out to make sure that I approved of my likeness.

Checking myself out

And you know what?  I think it is a surprisingly well-done portrait.  Look at how much it resembles me:

An accurate representation of me, no?

I also love that I didn’t actually have to sit for my portrait.  Now, I’m pretty darn good at the sit command, but honestly what kind of dog can sit for hours while someone paints him.  Not this guy!  Nope, lucky for me Aunt Amanda showed the artist a photo and then the artist added his own flair by putting Kilimanjaro in the background so that we’ll always remember our time in Tanzania.  (Side note, Aunt Amanda just climbed Kilimanjaro so it’s even more fitting!)

I think I’ll ask mom to hang my portrait next to the professional photo of her with her first dog, Greta, when we get home.  It’ll look something like this:

Greta’s portrait

My portrait

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My Mom Turns … OLD

On Saturday it was my mom’s 30th birthday.  As the title says, my mom is OLD!  If she was a dog she’d be 133!  However, when I’m 4 and one quarter years old, it will be like I’m 30 in human years so you might say that my mom is still young.  I think she’d prefer to think of herself as 4.25 rather than 133! (FYI, I got these stats from

Mom went out on the eve of her birthday to enjoy her last hours in her 20’s and when she got home she was disabled.  For Real!  She couldn’t walk and I didn’t know what to do.  Here’s what her ankle looked like:

Compared to her other ankle

Mom’s birthday ankle














My poor mom just had to keep her foot on a pillow all day on her actual birthday with a package of ice on it.  I didn’t particularly mind this arrangement since the ice bag tasted like food from the freezer so I sat and licked the bag while mom iced her foot.  I like to think that my healing energy was being passed from me to her while I licked that ice bag.

I’m very protective of my mom so after she was done icing, I guarded her injury the best way I know how: by laying on it!

Protecting my mom

You might wonder how my mom managed to hurt herself so badly.  Well, the way she tells it she was out with my crush, Miss Megan, Miss Miranda, and Jordan.  They were leaving Miss Megan’s house and getting into a taxi to go to a place called Tilapia.  Now, for all you folks who’ve never been to East Africa, I must describe the road situation for you to understand what happened next.  Most roads in Mwanza have giant ditches on either side for when the heavy rains come.  These ditches are really deep and obviously quite dangerous.  A lot of times there will be a small plank so you can cross and if you miss the plank, you fall into the ditch.  Here’s a photo of what the roads and ditches look like:

Dangerous Ditch!

Anyway, I’m sure you can guess what happened to my mom.  It was pitch dark out (once again an African phenomenon) and mom may have had a couple of Konyagi‘s when she went to get into the taxi she simply stepped off the road (accidentally of course) and toppled straight into the ditch.  In swahili we say, Pole Mama!

So next time you see my mom wish her a belated Happy Birthday (or Hongera wa Kuzaliwa) and ask her how her ankle is doing.


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Bark Obama

Today is election day in America.  I don’t know how much this day really means in the life of a dog, but it means a whole lot to all the people in America and also to billions of people around the world.  If dogs could vote, then this would be my choice:


Now my choice is not so frivolous as might appear.  Yes, his name sounds like my language and is easy for a dog to say, but Mitt sounds like Mutt and I’m basically a designer Mutt, which is totally what Mitt represents, so you see, my choice is more than just a name.

While we’re on the subject of names, I’ll just share this photo with you and then get on to the serious stuff:

Kitt Romney and Bark Obama

So why would I REALLY vote for Obama?  Well, he has roots in Africa for starters.  Obama’s dad was from Kenya, which borders Tanzania, my adopted country.  I figure that a guy who’s half African must care a little more about what my mom and I are doing over here than some rich white guy.

So, when you go to vote today, vote for the children, vote for food for all, and vote for education!  Trust me, people all over the world will thank you!

These kids will thank you too!

These kids will thank you!


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Happy Halloween!

Mom tells me that yesterday was Halloween, which I suppose explains why she dressed me up in ridiculous clothes and paraded me around the house while she took pictures and Jill and Aunt Amanda laughed at me.  I VERY vaguely remember that around this time last year mom did something similar, but I was literally only 10 weeks old, so I could be wrong.  Anyway, first mom put my Cornell hoodie on me and told me I was dressed as a Cornell Undergraduate Student for Halloween.

I’m a Cornell Undergrad!

Then mom thought I’d actually go outside in the rain since I had some covering on, but NO WAY!  Rain sucks and I am NEVER going to change my mind.  I’ll poop inside if I have to.

I’m much too delicate for rain

My next “costume” was a Lifedog, which consisted of my lifeguarding tank top and jean shorts.  I most definitely hated this costume more than the first.  I think I looked downright ridiculous, but mom and her friends sure got a kick out of it.  Especially that dumb tail-hole in my jean shorts.  I’m horrified.

This is what happens when there’s no boy humans in the house













So, from a humiliated doxie pin to you, HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

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