It's all about ME

I am delighted to share with you all that a new suburb of Canberra is to be named after ... MOI! Kenny is in Canberra's north, near the racecourse. Of course when the powers that be in Canberra that name suburbs were looking for a new honoree, they would have found it difficult to go past my humble self. See map here

After all, numerous other things have been named in my honour, for example that 2006 Australian movie (which I have never really understood, not using porcelain bowls myself for my ablutions, although I believe Shane Jacobsen is probably a pretty good bloke).

There is also a character on a comic TV show who keeps getting killed off, called Kenny. This guy has a tragic fashion sense, wearing hoodies all the time (so unlike the very stylish spotted coat that I wear).

There is also a beer that THAT MAN says is named after me. It is apparently an Irish beer (well, an Irish cream ale if you want to be picky) and THAT MAN talks about it when he is cranky with me. (My favourite person usually covers my ears and tells me not to pay any attention. Possibly becaue I am too young to drink?)

Which in turn is, I presume, named after a place in Ireland. Which is somewhat strange to me because I come from the lovely Dalmatia not Ireland, but possibly news of my wonderfulness travelled to Ireland and they decided to name a place after me? I wouldn't be at all surprised.

So I am expecting to be invited to the opening or launching of Kenny in Canberra, the guest of honour so to speak. Hopefully it is not a dog day afternoon when that happens. I will try to ensure that you, my loyal fans, get an invite, but really, the guest list will be so big in that case that the ACT government wouldn't be able to cope. If you don't get an invitation, I suppose you will realise I don't really care about you at all. Oh well. That's what happens when you are as fabulous as me, I can't know all my fans personally. Don't take it to heart.

yours in surburban legend,
Kenny the spotted wonderdog.

PS I have a new friend who arrived for Christmas. She doesn't say much. More information to follow, with pics.

My coat of many colours

Many people remark upon my beautiful coat, because I am a liver (or brown) spotted Dalmation, rather than the common black spotted variety. Think of smooth rich melted chocolate pouring into a glass of milk, or glistening espresso in a glass cup with milk swirling into it, or the brown of Oreo biscuits contrasted with the cream filling.

Some dogs have a double coat, made up of a soft undercoat and a coarse topcoat, or a single coat, without an undercoat. The terms 'fur' and 'hair' are often used interchangeably when describing dog coats, but in general, a double coat, such as that of the Newfoundland is called a fur coat, while a single coat, such as the poodle's coat, may be called a hair coat.

Some (invariably handsome) dogs are spotted. Most often dark pigmented spots on a light background. The spotting on dalmatians is unique as it involves mutations in at least three different spotting genes.

My Dalmatian coat is short, fine, and dense. I shed considerably, and shed year-round. The short, stiff hairs I shed weave their way into clothing, upholstery and nearly any other kind of fabric. While consistent grooming with a stiff brush can lessen the amount of hair that I shed, nothing can completely prevent the shedding. One of the joys in my life is listening to THAT MAN curse and swear when we come back from the coast. I like to take it as a personal challenge to coat the entire back of the car in white Dalmation hair during the 2 hour drive home. The length, intensity and volume of THAT MAN'S reaction is my guide to how successful I have been.

Sometimes I do feel a little guilty about my favourite person's clothes. She wears quite a bit of black - trousers, skirts, jackets, coats. She looks pretty good but invariably - and often where she can't see them - she has numerous white Kenny hairs that she takes to work with her.

Dalmatian puppies are born white, and their spots come in gradually over the period of a couple of weeks. It must be quite disturbing for puppies to think that they are going to be a sickly, pathetic, ordinary looking white all their life. I am sure that all puppies are born with a secret desire to be spotted. I shudder to think of myself as a poor little newborn, looking at my dozen brothers and sisters and whimpering in terror at their whiteness. Luckily the spots arrived for us and we were saved from a lifetime of monochrome white hair. I hope this doesn't sound coat-ist.

The most common colours for Dalmatians are black or liver spotted on a white background. Other spotting colors, although rare and not permitted for showing, include blue (a blue-grayish color), orange or lemon (dark to pale yellow), brindle, mosaic, and tri-colored (with tan spotting on the eyebrows, cheeks, legs, and chest).

Patches often occur in Dalmations and are a disqualification in the show ring. Patches are present at birth, and consist of a solid color. Patches can appear anywhere on the body, but are most common on the head and ears. Patches are not to be confused with heavily spotted areas on a dog, however. Spots should be around the size of a dollar coin. Some people think my right ear is a patch. Phooey to them, I say. My favourite person thinks that my right ear is one of my most endearing features.

I love my handsome liver spotted coat and am glad every day that I don't have an ugly curly coat (poodle, ugh) a brindle coarse haired coat (even though my favourite person loved her previous dog, Aussie, I can tell from from photos he did have an ugly coarse coat) or, heaven forbid, a coat with a backward facing spine like that dolt, Bundy (a Rhodesian Ridgeback). I am sure the reverse spinal hair is somehow linked to slower brain functioning.

While I love my coat, I have to confess that I have another favourite coat. That is the fleecy thermal coat that my favourite person puts on me to go to bed each night. Sometimes she even puts it over the heater vent for an hour or so before she puts it on me - aah, bliss. THAT MAN certainly doesn't do that when she is away. He takes perverse pleasure is either not putting my coat on at all, or putting a cold coat onto me and then expecting me to be able to sleep. What a beast he is!

That's why I take whatever opportunity I can to put my cold nose into his warm places when he is least expecting it. Revenge is sweet!

with love and big licks, Kenny

1 Dalmation

I watched a movie the other night with some of my favourite people. It was called 101 Dalmations, not sure if you have heard of it, it is a 1961 animated Disney movie. It was quite interesting but it gave me an idea about a movie of my own, (because I am such an interesting dog, after all).

I think it could be called 1 Dalmation (which is a little bit like the movie I watched, 101 Dalmations) but really, what is the point of 101 of them? They all looked the same! Whereas I am a very handsome liver spotted Dalmation with loads of character.

I was thinking that I could play myself (of course) although they would have to find an actor Dalmation to play me when I was very small. How hard can acting be? I can play dead, surely I can play myself alive as well?

Casting the other major characters would be a challenge, though.

Probably someone extremely good looking and talented for my favourite person. Maybe Jessica Lange or is she a bit long in the tooth (boom boom, get it?) So maybe Cate Blanchett? at least she is Australian.

For THAT MAN I imagine someone like Jim Carrey. Not that I particularly like Jim Carrey, but I don't particularly like THAT MAN either. Jim Carrey can be funny (and so can THAT MAN, especially when he is not trying).

Casting of my room mate, Bundy will also be difficult. You'd think he could play himself but I don't think he's actually bright enough to know how to be himself, he would probably end up acting like some stupid little Maltese Terrier or something, overacting badly and trying to please everyone, or a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, stressing out with nerves and trying to steal the limelight for himself. No, I don't think so, Perhaps best to write him out of the story early. Perhaps he can go away on holidays, or...

Yes, I know, Bundy could get get dog-napped, perhaps to Dalmatia, which would then give me a chance to go over and save him, meet up with some long lost relatives, try some local food, hmm, sounds pretty good. And while over there I could meet up with a love interest, perhaps another beautiful liver spotted Dalmation (although I have a sneaking suspicion that one of my trips to the vet means that my new friendship may, alas, remain platonic).

In the 101 Dalmations movie there was a baddie, Cruella De Vil - just thinking about her makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up! Whet a piece of work she was! Although we could probably re-work THAT MAN into the baddie, perhaps played by Anthony whats his name that did those cannibal/hannibal movies. Scary. But so is THAT MAN sometimes. I would have to check that the shoe size is right, because I know quite clearly that THAT MAN is a size 12.

Of course I would have to get the better of him in the end and emerge as the hero of the piece. Possibly involving car chases and explosions, and saving my favourite person and my new love interest from death (or a fate worse than death, whatever THAT is). Perhaps banish him to the dog house for a while so at the end of the movie I am the one who gets to sleep in the big bed with my favourite person, instead of him! YeSSSS1!!!!

You'd pay to go and see that at the movies, wouldn't you? After all, if Milo and Otis can do it, surely anyone can!

Let sleeping dogs lie

My favourite person bought me a lovely bed. It is big and soft and warm. It is in the family room inside the house. The other 4-legged friend in our house, Bundy, who is much bigger than me, also has a bed that looks pretty much the same, only smaller. I think he would like the big bed but since I am patently more important than him despite the difference in our sizes, I insist on having the big bed.

I have another bed downstairs in the workshop. In fact it is an armchair. It too is big and soft and warm and I really really like it because it has flowers on it, it smells like me, and it makes me feel more like a person (which is probably what I should have been born as, but by some freak of nature, turned into a DOG!) Bundy also has a bed down there, a mattress thing, which is OK, but I insist on having the armchair even though he would like to have that too. Really when will he learn that it is all about ME!

So in the evenings when my favourite person lets me inside the house, I curl up in the big doggy bed and it is sooooo toasty warm. I sleep and dream of chasing rabbits, and digging holes all the way to China, and suddenly THAT MAN gives me a bit of a poke and insists that I go outside in the cold, downstairs to the workshop and onto the cold armchair! Really it is sooo unfair. No-one makes HIM get up in the middle of the night and move to a different, cold bed. When will he learn that I deserve to sleep inside (although I have no qualms about him putting Bundy outside, that big lug wouldn't know any better.)

I am making my plans. One day, I am going to push THAT MAN inside the cold dark workshop and lock the door on him for the night and see how HE likes it! That'll show him. Although I imagine I will have to keep right out of his way for a few weeks or else I will come into close contact with his size 12s.

With little shuffles and yips from my rabbit-chasing dreams, kisses, Kenny

Contradictions

THAT MAN is always telling me not to pee on the grass. He doesn't like brown patches on his lawn. I don't understand this. After all, I have brown patches and I am very cute and handsome. So what's he talking about?

But then when I "lift my leg" somewhere else, he doesn't like that either.

Case in point: on the weekend he let me out of the house, so I ran downstairs to his workshop and peed there. There was a bad smell in there because he had been painting, but it smelt much better after I had "gone for a tinkle". But he wasn't happy.

Another example: last night he let me out of the house and shut the door. It was really dark and cold outside. We are talking Canberra cold here. So I "spent my penny" on the back step (if he had wanted me to go further away, down the stairs - but NOT onto the grass - he would have turned a light on for me, wouldn't he?)

I wish he would make up his mind. What he is telling me is, don't pee on the grass, but don't pee anywhere else either.

Why doesn't he just let me go in that big white basin inside the house? He doesn't want me to wee there either, every time I go near it he chases me away. There's no lightpole or fire hydrant in our backyard to use (and he would probably yell at me for using them too) and the cars are locked away in the garage so I can't use their wheels.

Sigh. What's a dog supposed to do? Any suggestions?

love and big licks and watch your trouser leg because if it is still for a minute, I might pee on it, Kenny

Sniffing around

I love to smell things. Using my nose I can create a mental map of what's going on in my neighborhood, and what's happening with my favourite people (well, person really, but I am trying to be tolerant of THAT MAN. It's my resolution of the day. Usually my resolutions are things like: "Dig up that old bone in the backyard under the maple tree" or "run around in the pond" or "bark like crazy all day", so I am feeling pretty virtuous about today's resolution.)

My sense of smell is so much better than my eyesight (that's why I bark, sometimes - I can see something a few metres away, but I am not sure of what it is so I bark to show them I am not frightened of it). Also, my hearing isn't that good, one ear is worse than the other.

But what is important is my abilities, not the things I CAN'T do; and I am very good at lots of things. Like: running, eating, jumping, eating, barking, eating, digging, eating. And, I have my sense of smell, which is up to one million times that of a human's.

The smelling receiver is made up of a mucous, a labyrinth of innumerable folds that could cover a surface of 130 m² compared to the 3 m² that humans have. A dog has 120 to 220 million cells next to man's 5 million cells. So, I can detect the change of character of other dogs or humans around me, just by detecting the slight increase or decrease of their hormonal levels and their sweat. This has nothing to do with a sixth sense: dogs can just detect certain signals that go unnoticed by humans.

That's why dogs sniff other dogs, especially their butts. SOOO much information can be gathered! Same with people's butts. Its like a computer check on their mental and physical wellbeing, with a police check and a few character references thrown in for good measure. Which is why I don't understand when THAT MAN tells me off for sniffing. It's perfectly natural, and very helpful, and really I just can't help myself, I HAVE to do it.

So my sense of smell means that I know when my favourite person is happy or sad, I can tell when other dogs think they are the boss of me (they're NOT, see previous post), when humans feel sick, when THAT MAN is getting my food ready. Did I mention I'm very good at eating?

Anyway, the great sense of smell is why dogs are used to track other animals, to find missing people, to track down criminals, to hunt for drugs or money, and find mushrooms (truffles).

So while humans use a handshake to greet people, I'm sticking with sniffing the other dogs' butt. Or the human's butt. It's a lot more informative, you should try it sometime.

with a sniff and a lick, love from Kenny the wonderdog

I am the boss

My owner tells people I am a middle-sized dog. But I happen to know that I am a LARGE, STRONG, FIERCE DOMINANT dog. I want to dominate every other dog I see. In fact, I DO dominate every other dog I see.

Every pack has a leader and basically, that leader is ME. I especially love proving this to THAT MAN who hangs around with my favourite person. I can make him jump up, run around the house after me, open doors for me, and feed me, pretty much at my pleasure.

My favourite person is the only one I allow to tell me what to do (and even then, I have my moments). She is pretty good about proving she is the boss of me, it can be difficult for me to accept at times. She seems to have a mind of her own, which can be annoying. But also keep me thinking, about ways to BEND HER TO MY WILL. So it's a challenge, which I enjoy.

But my room-mate, Bundy (a well-meaning but dumb Rhodesian Ridgeback) shows me proper respect and does as he is told. He is no challenge at all, having submitted to me about 3 and a half minutes after I walked into the house (well actually, was carried into the house, one of my first displays of forcing my favourite person to do as I want, although she won't carry me around any more, not sure why)).

Don't get me wrong, I do have friends. Sometimes this other woman brings over her dog, Ocker, and we play (as long as he does what he is told) and she also brings over 2 very small people (who can be annoying, but sometimes fun. You know they poke me and prod me and lift my ears up. But I can cope. Sometimes they throw a ball for me which is good.)

Anyway, back to ME and how I am the boss.

I am the pack leader and if everyone would just acknowledge that, we could move on. When we go for a walk around the block, sometimes other dogs think THEY are the leader so I have to bark and growl and lunge at them to show how tough I am. My person usually doesn't let me near them which is a pity because then I would REALLY show them.

I don't understand what she means when she tells people "Sorry, he thinks he is a bigger dog than he really is". After all, size isn't everything. Even THAT MAN would agree with me about that.

with big licks from Kenny (the Boss) the spotted wonder dog

Doggy treats

My owner sometimes buys me delicious treats from Milly's company, Happy Yappers

14 years ago, Milly was a front seat passenger in a car that ran off the road and hit a rather large tree. Milly was resuscitated and intubated at the scene and airlifted to hospital. One of her many injuries & the most life altering was a brain injury.

Milly's life changed dramatically, instantly. Overnight she went from being a gregarious 21 year-old student with a social life that would stagger any Hollywood Starlet, to being too afraid to cross the road on her own. After going through a year of rehabilitation, left with permanent injuries and dealing with debilitating depression, Milly had to try and figure out what her new role in society was to be.

She was unable to return to study as she now had trouble learning and retaining new information, reading had now become harder, she got migraines that would last days, the list goes on.For the next five years after experiencing the Criminal court where the Driver was charged, Milly had to endure the gruelling system that many road trauma victims experience the fight to seek compensation.

Eventually after all the legalities were over with, her family bought a puppy to keep her company, a female Golden Cocker Spaniel, named Riley. It was amazing the difference she made to Milly's life.She gave Milly back her confidence and self worth not to mention enjoyment – from going to puppy school, dog obedience classes, meeting other dog owners. Milly began to socialise, but had Riley as the focus, not her or her disability.

Milly also found that she felt more comfortable when she was out walking with Riley, as opposed to walking by herself.

Another positive spin off from Riley entering Milly's life was creating Milly's own business, Happy Yappers – biscuits for your pooch! Milly wanted to make dog biscuits for her own dog at home and with the help of her partner, Tony, a chef, created a recipe. The local pet shop owner, Scruff started to sell the biscuits.

For the first time in years Milly was actually paid for something that she had done – it had nothing to do with her disability, Social Security and the TAC. Today HAPPY YAPPERS are sold all around Australia in selected stores, online and are exported to several countries including the UK. Harrods' in London even stock HAPPY YAPPERS! (you can read this information and more on HAPPY YAPPERS website)

These treats are given my spotted dog seal of approval. Maybe you can buy some for your four-legged friend too. Go to http://www.happyyappers.com.au/ShopOnline.htm

big licks to your face with my hot doggy breath, Kenny

Do dogs stink?

THAT MAN who hangs around with my owner is always telling me I stink. I think that's a little unfair because I do get washed once a month by a lovely man who comes to visit with a car and a little trailer who washes me, dries me and gives me a biscuit.

I think THAT MAN may be referring to the little eruptions that emanate from my rear end every so often. Even so, still unfair criticism! Because I have a delicate stomach, and I get no say in what I get fed. I have to eat whatever is put in front of me (and being a dog, always finish it, even if it is a bit ordinary).So sometimes, a smell comes out of my rear end. But it's not such a bad smell. Sometimes my nose is VERY close when this happens, (being a dog and all, I like to lick, you get what I'm saying?) and it's not so bad.

In fact it smells pretty much like whatever I have eaten (you know the old saying, what goes in, must come out). I find beans and cauliflower to be the worst offenders.

On rare occasions, I must admit, it is a bit too powerful. That's when I get up from my bed for no apparent reason (to you) and go for a bit of a walk around the house. By the time I get back, the air has cleared a bit.

But the worst times, are when THAT MAN seems to let one go (apart from the smell, I can see him shift a little to one side, and raise up one butt cheek a bit), and then he tries to blame me! I quite enjoy that smell. But he jumps up and waves his arms and yells at me and puts me outside. As if my owner can't tell the difference between his little gas bubbles and mine. But to save him from embarrassment, she lets him get away with it.

I think he should just learn to enjoy it. Maybe if he learned to lick himself a bit more, he would relax a bit.

Big licks to your face, and lots of love from Kenny the spotted wonder dog

Barking mad

That man (the one who hangs around with my owner) is always yelling at me to STOP BARKING.

Well I would like to respectfully inform him that that's what dogs do. Yes, if you want to put it so crassly, "IT'S A DOG THING".

Barking is an instinctive reaction for dogs. For example

• Continuous and fast barking, at a medium pitch: Alert. Problems. Some is entering my territory.
• Continuous and slow barking, at a low pitch: The intruder or danger is close. I am prepared to defend myself.
• Fast barking with pauses every 3 or 4: Warning of a problem approaching. I am asking that man to investigate (he never does, just yells at me).
• Long and drawn-out barks at a high pitch, with pauses between each one: I'm alone and need company.
• One or two short high pitched barks: The most normal greeting.
• One bark normal pitch: Curious, alert.
• Short bark in a high pitch: Shows surprise. If it's repeated twice it means "Look at this!" If it's longer then I'm calling you. Sometimes I use this to mean "I want to go out".
• Brief bark, at medium pitch: Happiness (that's right, not often when YOU'RE around).
• Faltering bark at medium pitch: Asking to play.
• Howl or short bark at a high pitch: "Ouch!" Response to sudden pain.
• Repeated howls at regular intervals: Suffering from extreme pain or something that scares them.
• High pitch or urgent barks that sound desperate, without apparent reason: No real reason, I'm just letting off steam.

So, what this all means is, if I see a cat, I bark. If I see a person, I bark. If I see a leaf blow across the path, I bark. If I hear a door close nearby, I bark. If I need to go out to pee, I bark. If I'm happy to see you. I bark. If I'm lonely or bored, I bark. If another dog barks up the street, I bark. If you come home and don't come out to see me, I bark.

Get it? Hello? It's a MESSAGE. I've heard my owner say you're not very empathic, now I know what she means.

So get used to it and stop telling me to stop barking because I'm barking for a reason, even if you're too DUMB to work it out

People who yell at dogs

One of my owners (well really, the partner of my owner, because I don't think of HIM as my owner at all, just some annoying person who seems to be joined at the hip to with my owner whether I like it or not) yells at me. In fact to be honest I don't like him much at all, my owner spends far too much time with him when she could be spending it with ME and we would all be better off. Its not that I'm being jealous (jealousy being far beneath the dignity of a handsome liver spotted dog such as myself) I'm just being truthful.

Now the fact of the matter is, I LOVE IT when he yells at me. It is one of the most fun things in my life. Usually it happens when they arrive home in the evenings, they open the back door and I run in and run around and around the house, slipping and sliding on the polished floorboards and tiles, knocking things out of the way, jumping on and off the furniture - its fantastic! The highlight of my day! The sense of freedom and delight in running around like a mad dog (no leash and walking to heel). And HE yells at me, and runs around after me trying to catch me, which makes it even better. He yells things like "Get on your mat" "sit down" "stop running" "Kenny come here" all of which I ignore and which stir me into more of a frenzy of running and sliding.

I don't think he realises how much it adds to my evening fun to have him yelling at me.But I appreciate it. If he didn''t yell and run, it would take a lot of the fun away. I hope he doesn't stop doing it.

On again off again

My owner started exercising this year, some sort of New Year's resolution apparently. Sometimes (YAY) she takes me for a walk around the block (she calls it a jog but I don't get past a walk). But on other days, she gets dressed in the same sort of gear, but instead of taking me for a walk she gets in her car and drives away!

I don't get it. How does that help her exercise? She does come back an hour later hot and sweaty but I don't understand how sitting in the car can do that. I think she would be much better off learning to run faster so I can get a bit of a run - I wouldn't want to lose MY fabulous figure as I get older, would I?

Upset stomach

My owner gave me some great food over the long Easter weekend. Roast lamb leftovers, roast duck leftovers, all sorts of yummy stuff (although she keeps refusing to give me chocolate, I don't know why, it smells GREAT).

But, to try to put it delicately, all that rich food has given me a bit of an upset stomach. So each night when I go down into my bedroom under the house (which THEY like to think is their workshop, but I prefer to call my bedroom), I'm afraid I have had a little accident. Its not my fault, I'm locked in there, but then in the morning THEY are really angry with me. I don't see what the problem is, its nothing that a roll of toilet paper and some air freshener wont fix.

Well my diet is back to the usual now so perhaps my delicate stomach will recover soon and these little accidents will stop.

Daylight savings

What's going on with the clock thing and sleeping in? Everyone in my house slept in the other day. And they've done it again the past 2 days. I want my breakfast!

They tell me its daylight saving ending or something but really how inconsiderate, why can't they just get up and GET MY BREAKFAST? It's alright for them, they eat a couple of times a day, but they only feed me ONCE and now they're making me wait longer for it.

If they got up earlier they could take me for a walk instead of lazing around in bed.

yours hungrily,
Kenny the spotted wonder dog