45mph Couch Potato Postings

The bloghome of a superfast greyhound named Jasper lookin' for the right forever home and his adventures along the way.

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Hi! I'm Jasper and welcome to my blog! Sure, I'm "just a dog" [as if!] but doesn't everybody have a website nowadays? This is just a way for me to get myself out there and start meeting the right people and get the word out that I'm looking for a forever home, and what I'm all about... This blog will have pics of me, the funny stuff I do, and some pics of my goofy friends--so watch this space!

Friday, May 20, 2005

Dude! I think I'm adopted!

Sorry I haven't posted in a while, I've been SUPER busy being the cute little mo-fo I am.

Plus, since last Thursday (well not this last Thursday, but the Thursday before that) I've been at a new home where I get to chill on a couch and sleep in a bed, and I have a cool new Australian Cattle Dog brother and a Shepherd mix sister to hang out with. Since I've had kind of bad luck with homes and paperwork, all the signing stuff has been saved for later, but I'm telling you, I dig it here, and I know they're diggin' me.

So I just want to say thanks for all the well wishes and nice things everybody has said, it really helped cheer me up when my horrendously emotionally abusive foster mommy was hurling vituperative invective at me. She called me a "dumb@ss!" Me!! Can you believe that!?!

Anyway, I probably won't be posting again anytime soon, but I'll leave this blog up in case any other foster dogs need to web-publish their own voice.

Oooh, oooh, frisbee! Food! Gotta go!

Oh, BTW, The Hamilton Case was a really good book, very tasty.


Saturday, April 23, 2005

I am the snugglin' king!

It's been kind of cold here lately, and while I'm usually content to sleep on one of the dog beds that are scattered around this place, lately I've started asking to share the bed. I've observed the two techniques of the house (Libélula: sit back on haunches, whine loudly while shaking head back and forth, Tahoe: stand and stare) and combined them to a stand-and-stare-while-whuffling-softly technique.

The success rate of this technique is amazing. 75% of the time the covers are lifted up and fostermom or dad scooches back a bit to make room, I jump lightly up, turn around twice and lay down in a soft warm curvy shape best suited to mutual happy sleeping for the rest of the morning.

My previous day time bed access tactic was to leap at full-tilt and with dirty paws from the doorway of the bedroom onto the genitals and/or secondary sex characteristics (read: boobies) of the bed's occupants. This generally resulted in an explosion of curses and bedding and my rapid ejection from the bed.

The other 25% of the time you ask? Well, when those spoiled brat whippets are so spread out and there isn't any room for me, they take a down comforter and wrap me up in it on the dog bed in the bedroom.

Hey, can I ask you guys a question? If you find something in the yard, and you bring it in, shouldn't you be allowed to eat it all by yourself?

I came in from my last piddle before bedtime stroll the other night (two?three weeks ago? time flies when you can't read clocks or calendars) with this on my back:

I don't know what exactly it was but it was mine, and fostermom took it away from me before I could get it off and taste it. I think she ate it herself.

That's okay though, because I got her back by eating one of her flip-flops.

Probably not as tasty as what was on my back, but fair's fair. And I just sort of ate the one. I'm not a pig or anything.


Sunday, April 17, 2005

Lazin' on a Sunday Afternoon...

If I were ever to write a book, I think this might be my author photo:

I don't really know what my book would be about...if fiction, maybe it would be a graphic novel: The Grand Adventures of JasperFantastic. I would be able to fly from dogpark to dogpark, playing hard and ridding the world of strange little dogs--don't get me wrong, I'm cool with little dogs, and cats even, if I've been properly introduced and ground rules have been laid down and followed consistently. Really. I love an authority figure.

Or something Dickensian, how a poor little owner-relinquished puppy from the Sacramento shelter system is rescued, fostered by an awesome lady who taught me how to sit, and down, and learns to be a great dog, building the foundations of the JasperFantastic I am today, of the kind of confusing adolescent time I had in a home, to the foster home where I am today...I am working on writing the happy ending right now of course with this site and with the help of my guardians at the Greyhound Adoption Center.

Or maybe I'd write a non-fiction book on the different play-styles and their health benefits. I. love. to. play. I could play all day (although, I am still a greyhound and naps are important, but brief and scattered throughout the day) with almost anybody once we've been introduced. I can play "fake rough" with lots of mouthing (one of my favourite styles, where you and the other dog get all slobbery and thump each other down) like I do with my little buddy Sheila Doog, my foster mom's niece:

I really love playing with her, because even though she's little, she gives as good as she gets--check out our fangs in this pic!

I would really like to have sporting dog sibling of my own, somebody who will just play play play with me all day day day.

As you can see in the picture, when I don't get enough exercise, I like to shred stuff. Mostly cardboard or paper (newspaper, paper shopping bags, one time I pulled a book off the shelf and had at it, but I only ate a little bit of the binding) but sometimes I branch out. I share this habit with Libélula, my foster sister. I love playing shreddy-tug with her, but sometimes she gets a little intense. She's not so good with the sharing.

But I'm really good at sharing, here I am sharing the smeary remains of a Caesar salad with Crivens, my foster-mom's sister (her mother's dog, GAC's Crimini):

And when my fostermom went out for coffee one night with her friends, she must not have secured the latch on the spare room where she keeps her spinning fiber stash and the three of us (Tahoe, Libélula and I) had a really good night of sharing...now first, before I continue, I should probably introduce some of the key players in my foster family, just so you can picture them:

This is Tahoe.

The little dude is obsessed with Greenies. Months ago, the fosterparents kept the Greenies in this spare room and at least twice a day, he scratches and pushes against the door to see if he can get it open to look for treats. He's obsessed with treats and becomes a total spaaz...this is why he failed obedience (Crivens is in the background watching the bad example):

And here's my foster-sister, a fat, greedy, cranky little girl who always has to have whatever you're having:

As you can see, if I'm going to have a hope in heck of becoming all the dog I can be, I gotta get out of here. I'm a totally charming schmarty-pantz and it's wasted on these dorks.

Anyway, so my fostermom goes out for coffee with her friends, and Tahoe does his door-check thing. Miracle of miracles, he was able to jimmy it open. We didn't find any Greenies in there, but she had a whole bunch of stuff in plastic bags and cardboard boxes and we just couldn't resist...we artistically rearranged it everywhere. Here's some yak fiber (the grey brown stuff, oh it smelled awesome) and the blue stuff was kind of boring Pima cotton:

There was a huge bag of merino wool and possum fur from New Zealand, and all three of us spread it and some more of that cotton all over the deck. In this pic you can see Libélula waiting by the deck gate. She has no idea why fostermom was so irritated when she came home, but I knew, 'cuz I'm smarter than her.

Here's some plain white wool. Man, that was a fun time. We shredded, took stuff out, then went back in...working as a team, you can accomplish a lot in a relatively short amount of time. I think that's one really important lesson I've learned that I'm looking forward to sharing with others.

Most of the time, I stick to "appropriate toys." I love playing frisbee and I'm a huge fan of those soft bright coloured frisbees. I like to snatch them from the air and then be chased by the other dogs, but if the other dogs aren't into chasing, I'll just bring it back to whoever threw it. A little less interesting, but I like it when they call me "good boy." I really like that. And butt scratches.


Saturday, April 16, 2005


Oooh, I am bushed.

I interviewed a potential forever parent, had a bath, and now...I am going to enjoy my Saturday in a very mellow way.


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