"Diabolical" Is Fine

Dear Beth,

I take no umbrage at being called either "slightly diabolical" or "ENTIRELY diabolical."

Quite the contrary!

Hallie

I Will Be Admiral Cain

Against my better judgment, I returned to my past life regression therapist this weekend. However, instead of having more of my past lives illuminated (see my post re Leonid Brezhnev), I was informed about a future life still to come . . . Apparently, many centuries from now, my soul will transmigrate into the body of a monkey-person named Admiral Helena Cain, who will be Captain of this massive, as far as I can tell, flying station-wagon thing called the "Battlestar Pegasus." From what I could gather, in this new manifestation, I will still be interested in asserting my dominance and keeping order in the Pack, sometimes with a prosthetic tooth that I brandish with my paw.

So, like I told my therapist: Sounds good!

Hallie

Morning Walk Report

After having to repeatedly chew out my monkey-person, he finally took me outside this morning. Once out - paradise! The sun was obscured by clouds. The temperature was below freezing. And there were still patches of snow in the park. I had a lot of territory-marking fluid available for this trip, so I was able to conquer several small piles of leaves, sign poles and other sites that had been previously tainted by my foes and inferiors. Then I took a few steps into the woods, assumed the "curl" position and had a massive poop. Then I demanded a treat from my monkey-person. Then I kicked up a lot of dirt behind me. Then I chased a squirrel. And then, I was more or less ready to go back to the den for my mid-morning nap.

Hallie

I Rolled in Deer Poop

While sniffing and tracking in the park yesterday, I detected a trail that deer had used only recently. Then I got a lucky break: fresh deer poop. After carefully analyzing it, I did what any responsible and, to my way of thinking, generous Pack Leader would do: I rolled around on it - especially the top of my head - then ran back to the monkey-people in my party to let them get an informative whiff of our mission objective for that day. To my surprise, instead of displaying curiosity or licking my mouth in gratitude, they lepy away and made these terrible yelping sounds. I continued to offer the top of my head to them for a few minutes, but I finally just had to give up. Talk about leading a horse to water! Man, that's the last time I share scat scent with them. Unbelievable!

Hallie

Boozer

In my personal Canine Hall of the Immortals, the hound known as "Boozer" must hold a place of honor. Boozer served as Pack Leader for Shemya Air Station in Alaska's Aleutian island chain for almost 15 years. He had all the meat he could consume and, apparently, all the beer he could drink, too. Every monkey-person at the base was quick to demonstrate their submission. And as these photographs attest, these hominids understood how to show their proper Respect when Boozer's day as Pack Leader was done.

I salute you too, Boozer.

Hallie

For more information, please visit the Boozer Memorial Page:

http://www.hlswilliwaw.com/aleutians/Shemya/html/shemya-boozer.htm

Expectations High for '08

Having only recently mastered the complexities of helicopter flight, I can now turn my attention to you -- My Pack. While I can't complain too bitterly about 2007, I would be lying if I told that I'd be content with the same 'ole same 'ole for 2008. To quote Anthony Bourdain: "I'm hungry for more." And that's where you - as of today - my 49 self-selected subordinates come into clearer focus. Look at me in this photo (above). Sure I'm regal. Of course there are no monkey-person sounds to adequately describe my Majesty.

But examine the image more closely. . .

I'm wasting away! Starving! Famished!! I mean, the girth abruptly stops at my legs. DO Cry for Me, Pack of Hallie. Then, after you have wiped away your tears, I want you to get into your car, drive to the nearest Giant Eagle, and bring me a fresh calf's liver. Actually, the good news of today's communique is that I have decided to make Sunday mornings (10 am) a designated "Do Drop In and Feed Hallie" fete. To maintain your (ever precarious) status in my pack hierarchy, please make plans to start attending.

Your Leader,

Hallie

Give a Dog a Fish . . .

We've all heard the old saw: Give a dog a fish and she eats for a day; teach a dog, well . . . in this case, to operate a AH-1 "Cobra" Attack Helicopter and that's a hell of a lot of dead squirrels and rabbits!!! I have to thank my monkey-person and the surplus division of the Tennessee Army National Guard for making this the best New Year ever. My flight instruction is going well (Call Sign: "Hell Hound"), so any day now I expect to be pumping 6,000 rounds a minute into a treeline near you.

Hallie