Three legged tripod spokesdog German Shepherd Wyatt Ray celebrates his birthday.
You know three is the magic number, right? Well guess what? Three is MY number today! Woo hoo! It’s my birfday!
It’s been a long haul from the nasty Oaktown ‘hood where I was born, to where I am today, but now that the bad stuff is behind me it’s been nothin’ but good times since I found my pack.
Not that my big day was a wild pawty or anything, because you know how it goes when your birthday falls right after the holidays. But even though we were all pawtied out from our time with Santa Paws, Mom and Dad made it special, and went out to get me a Flying Dutchman from In ‘N Out’s Secret Menu!
Hey Abby girlfriend, they’re just as good as you always say they are. Yum! Nothin’ better than two burgers and some cheese. I gobbled it up in two second flat.
And that was my big day. I know this year’s gonna be great, because you can’t go wrong with the number three!
Three legged German Shepherd Wyatt travels to California off-leash beaches.
Oh California, how I missed you! Land of wide open beaches and waves and sunny skies.
Ok, forget the sunny skies part. It was Northern California after all.
We left Arizona and drove and drove. I thought the scenery looked familiar.
It was! We went back where we started last fall, to the windy cold city of Eureka.
Mom and Dad drove us all the way back, to say goodbye to an awesome friend they loved a lot. They were very sad. I know they will miss him.
I tried to cheer them up with my crazy antics. And even made silly faces just for them.
It was all fun and games for me. And I even behaved myself wherever we went.
I got to run without a leash on a long, long beach. The weather was nice and cold, just the way I like it.
But my beach bum days are over now. I heard something about going to this place called “home.”
Wherever that is.
See you on the road!
Three legged Wyatt Ray packs up from Arizona and hits the road on another RV road trip adventure.
Look out world. Here I come, King of the Road.
It’s been fun here in dusty Arizona, hanging with the farm animals and wildebeasts.
I’ve never gotten to play in the dirt this much, ever!
I get to run free and bark and poo wherever I want. A leash? What’s THAT?
I love Arizona, there are no rules here for me!
But it’s time to pack up and hit the road again.
Mom and Dad have put away all of my stuff and we’re leaving town tomorrow. Not sure where we’ll end up but I have a feeling it’s some where paved and full of people.
Mom said something about me needing a bath.
Uh oh. That’s just no fun at all.
Three legged Shepherd Wyatt guards his Arizona desert property against Gregory the Peccary.
“What I Did on My Winter Vacation”
by Wyatt Ray Dawg.
When we got here to the dirty, dusty desert, I heard these crazy noises coming from the bushes.
Then I heard snorting, and oinking and digging. So I dug around, trying to find out what it was.
Suddenly, a Dog Awful stench came from the bushes. Dude, it smelled worse than a Monkeybutt, it was so bad.
So I ran over to check it out.
Zoink! Boink! WOWWWEEEEE! What the heck is this thing? Is it a dog? Is it a pig? Is it a pig dog?
Nooooo. It’s a Peccary! What the…..?
“Collaried peccaries are sometimes called “musk hogs” because of a strong odor emitted from musk glands near the rump and eyes. They are also called “javelinas,” the Spanish word for javelin, because of their short, straight tusks, which they use for defense.”
Don’t kid yourself, these things are NOT cute! They smell! Oh DOG do they smell! And they dig! They snoop around and say bad things about me every day before I eat dinner!
This pig thing introduced himself and says his name is Greggery. He wants to be friends, but I know he has other plans. All he wants is to dig under the fence and come inside my doghouse on wheels to eat everything in sight!
So I’m spending my days, guarding my doghouse and the property, looking out for the roving pack of stinky pigs, and Greggery the Peccary, Arch Enemy #1.
Three legged German Shepherd Wyatt Ray parties in Los Angeles with Bad Santa and Granny Kay’s blanket.
Last night was so confusing. A freaky fat guy in a red suit crashed a big pawty I had to go to. Everyone was louder than me and laughing and eating, when Santa knocks at the door. He makes himself at home, pulls up a chair and then my pawrents insist on putting me next to him to take a picture.
Santa said “Hey Dawg, come on, who’s you’re buddy? Come on, come here big guy!”
I didn’t know who he was, right, so I say “Hey fat guy, leave me alone!”
Snap! Goes Mom’s camera.
Then Santa got up and left. Everypawdy laughed so hard when he stumbled outside!
Turns out the fat guy is OK after all. When I woke up this morning, he left boxes with paper for me! Wooo hoooo!!!
“To my buddy, Wyatt Ray Dawg….
Your partner in Crime, Bad Santa...”
I guess I did somethin’ right this year, because there was lots of stuff for me….bones, toys, treats, and a very nice blanket from Granny Kay!!!!!
Thank you Granny Kay, now I’ll stay warm and toasty, and look fashionable too!
I’m a pretty lucky dawggy. I hope that all of the shelter dogs in the world can find their furever homes too someday, because all of us deserve a hoppy Chirstmas!
Merry Merry Hoppy Hoppy Howlidays Everypawdy!!!!