Freddie decided she had better update her status  --  I am using this blog site to post the adventures of my birds, but The Old Girl will always be Freddie.

"Good morning, all.   I bet you thought I had kicked the bucket, eh?   Well, I'm still around, still healthy, still stiff when I get up from sleep (which is like ten times a day, lol,) but once I get going, I'm okay.

 

Here we are on our way to San Luis Obispo .  I just love those leather seats.  My people take me with them when they go out of town.  Nikki has to stay.  Haha - too bad for her.  Here's a picture of Nikki, my "sister."  We're good friends.  She came to live with us when she was just nine weeks old.  She's darn near four years old now.  She, unlike me, thinks she is a human.  Calls our mistress Mom, and refers to my master as Pop.  Hmmph...!  The younger generation has no concept of hierarchy.  Little dogs running around with clothes on; dogs in shopping carts, AS IF they were someone's child; bottled water - now don't EVEN get me started on that!   Doggy day care, doggy spas, special doggie treats made from stuff humans could eat (okay, I like that - my mistress buys us only the best dog food and treats.)  But the rest of it - pooey.

 

Nikki doesn't like her picture taken.  Most of the pictures that my mistress takes of her are blurry because she's running away from the camera.  You'd think such a big dog would not be such a coward.  This one's okay, though.

 

 

 

 

Here I am with my baby.  I carry her around with me everywhere.  I know she is not really my baby.  My mistress thinks I believe she is real.  The thing is that I never had any puppies.  It makes me feel needed to pretend this is my puppy.  Gives me something to take care of. 

 



Now this is a humiliating picture of me, but I put it here to show you that I just can't get any respect around here.   My mistress thought putting these on me and photographing me would be just hilarious.  She's a card, I tell ya.

 

 

Okay, then.  I'm going to turn this blog over to my mistress.  Her name is Sue, by the way.  Just so you know, I may make fun of her sometimes, but I love her, and I know without a doubt that she loves me, too.  She still will hold me in her arms and cry, because she knows I don't have a lot longer on this earth.   She worries that I'll be in pain, and she won't be able to put me down.  She won't, either.  She'll fill me with pills to ward off the pain, then let me pass away when God says it's time.  You may not think the man above cares about one little dog in Bakersfield, California, but if she cares about me, then so does He.  I'd better sign off before my mistresses tears mess up the keyboard.  (You are aware that I cannot type?")