Gentle blue is what I like to call it. As in a gentle Blue Heeler. Gentle softens the blow, as I am a pretty, rowdy pup. Actually, I am very soon to be of legal drinking age and that no longer equals a pup. It is doubtful my parents will allow me to drink but a girl can dream, right? My name is Liz Beth. L-I-Z. B-E-T-H. My mother calls me Liddy B. and my dad does not like to call me at all. Sometimes she will grab my lips and pull them out forward - and she will sing a song called “Rubber Lipped Baby”. I have outgrown the knees and elbows period of my life and now have svelte curves. My top coat is heather blue and my undercoat is orange - like an adobe house (does not make me an Auburn fan).
My tail is very short and it sounds like a boat propeller when it wags. The very tip of it is shaped like an art brush and I have the most perfect Bentley mark shaped like a piece of tree bark on top of my head. I have a tremendous appetite and I like most things such as dog food, Busy Bones, blueberries, curtains, toilet paper, shoes and carpet. Sometimes I try to read my mom's magazines and she does not appreciate that I am trying to further educate myself. I usually get whacked with the portion that is left. My parents bought new furniture and I guess I am not supposed to enjoy it because every day when they leave the house they cover it with a blanket, two baby gates, a broom and a Swiffer sweeper. The things they have to do before they leave home are crazy. They have to feed me, roll up the blinds, hide the magazines and make sure all the garbage can lids are closed. Seems like a waste of time if you ask me.
I have two sisters and one brother that are older than I am. My oldest sister is so grumpy and she spends most of her time in the shower. Trust me, I do not get it either.
I can catch a frisbee in mid-air, swim, give a Hi-5, sit -up and watch TV. I like to play, everyone else likes to sleep. I feel so alone sometimes. I've thought of running away and joining the circus and have made it around the block a few times but when I hear my mom's voice it just pulls me back over the fence, back into the house. What can I say? I know where my bone is buttered.
