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Backflip

Thursday, January 26, 2006

My tired, half-dead body was welcomed by an over-estatic Chihuahua this evening. I came home later than usual, and Rebel started hopping all over me like an Indian with a coconut tree. His legs are pretty steady by now, and he jumps on my lap at complete ease. So up he went, upon my lap while I struggled to remove my stinking day-old socks. Then he lost his balance, did a backflip in mid air, and fell on his ass.

I kid you not.

The Rebelsutra

Tuesday, January 24, 2006

I believe I can fly

Saturday, January 21, 2006

Very reluntantly, I dragged my feet out of my apartment today to brace the merciless heat of the afternoon sun. Rebel needs his excerise, and I'm superficial. I don't want a fat ass for a son. My body feels it has been ran down by a bus. I had my long-overdue workout at the gym yesterday and I suppose my body isn't being too receptive.

Given my physical condition, I allowed Rebel to run about by himself and well, he found a new hobby - chasing birds. Notice that bird in the background. That's the same bird that wittedly lured Rebel into thinking he can fly too. And he ended up on the road for a good 5 seconds before my voice thundered for his return.

The sad thing about Rebel is, he is afraid of cats. Yes, here, I said it. My dog-with-a-really-cool-name is afraid of cats. He's a bigger pussy than the pussies. How is that remotely possible? We bumped into a couple of stray cats, and instead of attacking them like a real man, he crawled between my legs for security. I tried to bring him toward the cats (yes, I'm a sadist) but that bugger simply refused to even move an inch. On a positive note, at least he's not afraid of birds. Man, if that day comes, I will officially change Rebel's name to Princess. Or Singaporean Man*. HAHAHAHA!

*This defamatory statement excludes the likes of Ryan Chua, Cecil Hamilton, and certain political figures I hereby withhold mentioning.

His Piglet



One of his many soft toys. I'll try to take one of him and Tigger the next time.

You know its love...

... when you don't scream at your dog for chewing your Prada haversack.

Sharpening the claws

Thursday, January 19, 2006

This is how he keeps his nails sharp.



Run, Rebel, Run!

Wednesday, January 18, 2006

“Rebel gained weight, huh.”

Or so says one too many readers of this blog. It did not affect me when I had to loosen up a notch on Rebel’s niggerlike collar. But this, whoa, it’s as bad as telling me that I myself have gained weight.

Feeling disturbed by Rebel’s perceived less-than-perfect body; I decided to take him out for a run last evening. Yes, a run. Not an implausible evening stroll your average plump flower-prints-shorts clad auntie may take with her equally obese bulldog*, but a REAL run that probably clocks decent time in a 100m dash.

Almost immediately after I got home, I took Rebel out without even bothering with a change of clothes. So there I was, running like a crazy woman in her baby blue Ralph Lauren shirt and her 517 jeans. Rebel ran almost as fast as I did. Mind you, I was the fastest sprinter back in those days of track and field. So yes, Rebel ran considerably fast for a Chihuahua.

I can’t help but notice Rebel’s growing change in behaviour. When he first got here, he was an anti-social and a complete introvert. Now, he’s either busy humping my dad’s hairy leg or attempting to start a chase with a stranger (now that almost happened a few times last evening if not for my presence). He is able to jump up the sofa these days, and his bark is increasingly sounding more and more like an adult Chihuahua. Aww. My son’s becoming a man.

Here’s a picture of him at 2 months’ old – the same picture that prompted JJ to get Rebel for me.




I wanted to take him out for another run this evening, but then it started raining. So I got him 3 variants of bones instead. They’re not fattening are they? Someone please let me know. He’s now chewing a Japanese one as we speak.

Oh by the way, can someone tell me why everything Japanese is so bloody expensive? Heck, the next time I launch my own product, Imma make sure the packaging is in Japanese.

5am madness

Tuesday, January 17, 2006

That idiot woke up at 5:30am and insisted that I play with him. I tried throwing him out of my room but that didn't work. He wailed like a werewolf under a full moon. Now I'm dead tired and I wanna go home.

Bugger. Now I know how my mum probably felt when I was a baby.

Nailing it.

Monday, January 16, 2006

The first thing I did when I returned home from KL (thanks Gen, for getting us home in just over 3 hours!) was to give Rebel a nice hot shower. Man, he smelt like an entire team of football players after a match. Rebel hates showers, ear cleaning, teeth wiping and the grooming part he probably loathe the most would be nail cutting. And you know what, mummy hates it as much as he does. I've mentioned in Royal Artillery how much I fear nail cutting for dogs. For no apparent reason this evening, I decided to face my fear and nail those 20 irritatingly long nails once and for all.

I first attempted to cut his nails with him on my floor. That didn't quite work. He was struggling too much. Then I did it the local breeder way - having him sit on my lap. That worked until the 5th nail, when he lost his patience and started struggling again.

30 minutes later, all I got was 4 nails? I didn't wanna give up, so this time, I brought him on my bed. And this is what happened.

The stubborn bull didn't wanna let me cut his nails. And decided to tuck his head into a very private, enclosed area for comfort (yes I know how gross this looks).



Then finally, I got him in his Sleeping Beauty position.



Soon, he was really comfortable.



And before you know it, I got ALL 20 nails cut. I repeat, ALL TWENTY NAILS CUT.

Damn I'm so bloody proud of myself. And yes, Rebel's now asleep.

P.S. It wasn't all that perfect. I caused a nail to bleed, but the brave one he is, never even move an inch. Attaboy.

Catch me if you can!

Thursday, January 12, 2006

He invented a new game to play with me last evening. Firstly, he would coyly hold his milky bone between his pearly whites. Then he'd shift his head a tad to the right, almost saying "C'mon sister, bring it on". Before you know it, I'm out and about, chasing him all over our apartment. That, my friend, is called Catch me if you can. Sad to say, I have yet to be able to catch him. Yes, that's right, I run slower than a freaking Chihuahua.

Here's him, chewing on his soggy bone. I'm thankful for my 15x optical cum digital zoom on my trusty Canon Powershot camera. I can never get that close to him without him running away with his milky bone lingering at the ends of his mouth like a cigarette.




I bought Rebel a super gay red tanktop by Adidog (haha) last week. He's probably a Size 2, but a gay dog has to live up to his name, right? I got him a Size 1 instead to ensure that his puny lil muscles buldge out nicely out of the tanktop. Nice anot? Nice right? I also say. And yet I had issues with my mum buying him pink towels for blankets. Pink! What the hell was my mum thinking!?



And this is him, 5 minutes ago, wondering what the hell mummy's doing online.



Imma miss him so much when I make my trip to KL this Saturday. Well he'd forgive me. Mummy's got to have some fun with her friends. Maybe they'd sell cheaper gay tanktops for dogs in Ringgit.

Royal Artillery

Monday, January 09, 2006



Rebel's Royal Artillery set was strategically located at various touchpoints of the living room when I got home late last night. "He brought all these out from the bedroom?" I questioned my Queen (aka mummy). "Ya." was her monotunous reply.

Rebel keeps himself occupied for most of the day that I'm out at work. With at least 10 hours of absence each day, he's got to find something to do besides taking really long afternoon naps. Bringing him over to the local breeder's place was great. Unfortunately, he didn't get to meet his brother, but hey, he got a pedicure. Ever since I caused Jesses' nail to bleed attempting to cut her nails, I've induced a phobia against nail cutting for dogs. It's just plain scary how much blood can ooze out from that little nail, you know? Anyway, Rebel was a pretty obedient boy that day. I watched him marked his terrority dutifully like a Royal Prince in front of a real show dog. Usually, he just pees like a girl. No lifting the leg up or anything, just sissy squating. After his pedicure session, we hung out at JJ's place. Believe this or not, Rebel did his business on the newspapers as told - without needing a familiar scent.

He tasted his first gourmet wet dog food today for breakfast. Beef & liver delicacy served 3 hours late because dear ol me couldn't bring myself to wake up in time. Well, I'm sure it was worth the wait.

Yes, I'm the one who has to bring his artillery back into the room.

He got it!

Saturday, January 07, 2006

Remember how I've previously mentioned in my post Mummy's gotta work that Rebel didn't get the logic behind using my designer stool as a platform to get on my bed? Well, he finally got it today. Woo-hoo! Now he's happily jumping on my bed as and when he wants. But he's pretty obedient though. He won't let himself on the bed until I say so. Typically, he'd wait on the stool for my green light. Attaboy.

I'm going to bring him to see his brother today. They haven't met since I took him away on 23 December. I bet it'd be emotional...Wish me luck.

The Thong Dog

Friday, January 06, 2006



Every morning, I'd retrieve my lingerie from the drawer below my bed, and without fail, The Thong Dog would stick his head in to pick a thong to chew. Sometimes he'd end up with an ugly not-to-be-seen-in-public-at-all-costs granny underwear, but its mostly thongs.

I haven't been in my best emotional health lately (reason I shall not disclose here) and last night, Rebel made me angry when he won't stop biting my hands. I know it's harder for a dog to "unlearn" but I'm getting sick of his fiesty bites, really. He was acting like a spoilt brat, yapping for attention. So finally, I grabbed a old magazine and roll it up... I didn't hit him of cos, but I whacked the magazine hard against the floor and that was that. He cried. Someone else cried too. If something needs to be done, it will be done. I couldn't help thinking of how I used to do the magazine-thing with Jesse. Trust me, my heart ached and aches each time I get disciplinary. I wish I don't have to do so... but you can't rationalise with a dog in words, can you?

He got into trouble with me this morning again when he peed in my room. MY voice thundered thru my neighbourhood and he looked so sorry. I guess I know how my mum felt when she was bringing me up. You get constantly told by people who do not have kids how to educate your kid, you get told not to do this, not to do that, and frankly, I'm just going to do what my mum has done - believe in myself.

I really love Rebel and I'd do anything for him. Yet, he's beginning to affect my personal life and I won't pretend it's easy to cope with the changes. Jesse was a companion. Rebel's a son. There is a difference and I'm still learning.

And yes, I'm still an emotional wheck right now. Don't ask why. Your enquiry will not be entertained.

Boobs for pillow

Thursday, January 05, 2006



I allowed Rebel to sleep on my bed last night because I've missed him too much.

In the middle of the night however, I woke up abruptly, to the sneeze coming out from Rebel's little wet nose. It was then I realised that that smartass bugger had somehow managed to snuggle himself underneathe the big t-shirt I was wearing to keep himself warm! Subconsciously, I was spooning him the entire night whilst he had his face safely tucked between my soft, supple, white ber-dang-dangs.

Jesus Christ, that sounds so wrong doesn't it?

And yes, my ber-dang-dangs had his wet boogy on them.

P.S. Check out this picture - my mum was nagging at my dad while Rebel looked on. Heh.

Mummy's gotta work

Wednesday, January 04, 2006

Going back to work this week has been tough. As silly as it probably sounds, I painfully drag my heavy feet out of home each morning to work, refusing to part with Rebel. You should see those puppy eyes of his. I just wanna stay home and play with him all day and not have to go to work! But then again, someone's gotta pay for his super premium dog food and pedicure. Urgh.

I admit I've been spoiling Rebel silly. He's teething now, so he loves to nibble on my fingers, which I gladly obliged. But his nibbles are increasingly turning into fiesty bites and they are starting to hurt. At this point, one might like to add a voiceover of JJ's saying, "See I told you so! Stop letting him chew on your fingers!". Heh. But we're just playing what... Mind you, I whacked him just this morning for shitting on the living room carpet. I didn't get it - why he'd pee on the newspapers, but shit on the carpet instead? But he got it from me alright.

I brought back a designer stool I've had at work (as inherited from Daddy Ham when he left the company) this evening. The intention was to enable Rebel to climb upon my bed with the stool serving like a platform, but unfortunately, that dumbass didn't get the logic. I tried demostrating, but felt like a complete idiot 5 minutes later when he turned to watch TV instead. Maybe he'd get it soon. He better. He's a chihuahua. Aren't they supposed to be smart?

Sleepy Head Part 2

Monday, January 02, 2006

There is something so peaceful about watching him sleep.

Sleepy Head

Sunday, January 01, 2006



Don't even think about disturbing the Prince when he is asleep.