Hah! I hid my squeaky soccer ball upstairs in Mom and Dad’s bedroom. I’m really good at hiding things. Mom knows its up there ’cause she saw me with it, but even she couldn’t find it.

And it doesn’t matter if Dakota sees this ’cause he’s not allowed to go upstairs yet — we’d never get a wink of sleep at night.

So Mom’s always bragging about Kisa ’cause she apparently fetches reliably and everyone knows that Leonbergers don’t fetch. Truth of the matter is that Kisa only fetches her favorite squeaky soccer ball. I couldn’t figure out how come I had all these toys to play with from the minute I got here. Turns out it was all the toys that Kisa wouldn’t play with.

Mom says she bought all sorts of toys trying to get Kisa to play and she wouldn’t have any part of it until Grandma Bell showed up on Christmas with the famous soccer ball. Mom was afraid Kisa would get jealous if she gave me the soccer ball so she waited until I had lived here a while before she brought that one out. Boy, did Kisa perk up. Mom says she hasn’t played with that ball for five years, but she was fetching better than a retriever and as fast as I am, I never got to put a paw on it.

I’ll probably never get another chance because the soccer ball has mysteriously disappeared. I wonder where it went?

Before I knew what was happening, I let Dakota get under my skin and now I’m really starting to like the little guy.  What a tough Leonberger I turned out to be.  I guess getting older has turned me into one big softy. It has been a long time since I’ve played with Larkin, but yesterday I was rough-housing with Larkin and Dakota and I actually had fun. Wore me out they did, but I slept really well last night so I suppose the exercise did me some good. Dakota might help me take an inch or two off my belly which is a little rounder than it used to be.

I think Dad’s a little jealous because when Mom walks into the room, I get really excited. I don’t know why — but when I see her, my tail starts spinning like a helicopter and I just can’t contain myself. She’s being very good about the whole thing as long as I don’t jump too much, but she says I absolutely must start getting used to the fact that she does not need my help going to the bathroom. Last time she left me out in the hallway and no matter how hard I ran at that door, I just couldn’t get it open. Good thing I’m just a puppy — that door’ll never stand up to a full grown Leonberger.

So I seem to have set Mom straight on what I expect from her. At 6:55AM sharp, I will start to whimper because I absolutely must pee at exactly 7:00. That gives her five whole minutes to find her coat and boots which I believe is more than enough. She caught on to that part pretty easily, but it was a little harder making her understand that just because it looks like I’m ready to go back in after I pee does not mean I’m done taking care of business — I absolutely must have another five minutes before I’m ready to do my little poop, ten minutes if we got fresh snow during the night because playing in the snow is a significantly higher priority than my little poop. I promise to be very fussy if she doesn’t do it exactly this way.

Now here’s where Mom has gotten pretty smart. She finally learned that if she gives me my big soupy Leonberger breakfast as soon as we get back inside, I’ll eat quietly while she gets another 20-minute nap on the sofa — 30 if I’m feeling gracious. No longer than that though, because I’m ready for another pee and my big poop.

This morning, she executed perfectly so I gave her a treat — enough time to stop by the coffee pot for a cup of Joe and return to the bathroom to secure the roll of toilet paper on the wall shelf before I shredded it. So now she’s finally awake and I’m fat and happy — enough to be a good little puppy until at least lunch time.

Boy, parents are just like kids — if you don’t provide some structure for them, the day just goes downhill.