See me ride out with the sunrise On my two wheeled machine Dad leans, I reap the benefits If you know what I mean Hondas to the left of me Harleys to the right Sunshine or rain We live on high octane Ride on through the night Cause I'm Char Charlie An elemental force I'm Char Charlie As strong as a horse I'm Char Charlie Where I choose I sprawl I'm Char Charlie A canine…

Yo, dad? Wassup, Charlie? Sure is quiet around here with mom and that hairy little goober gone; even Mia is moving a bit slowly since mom took her to get hit with a shovel. Uh, Charlie, there was no shovel involved; mom took Mia to get "spayed" not "spade"... anyway, this whole bed thing works out a lot better with everyone else gone, don't you think? Don't get used to it, dad; you do realize…

Dad here; Charlie and I will be a little scarce on social media for the next couple of weeks, as the extracurricular activities ramp up a bit. First, mom and Alex are leaving us(sniff) to go to the coast to pick up mom's mom. They are taking two dogs with them, St Echo of Cardiogram and Sir Bolo the Over-Caffieneted. When I questioned the wisdom of crossing the country in a hatchback packing a 2…

Dad here; 0645 at the Casa. I'm trying my best to let mom sleep in, but there is a revolving parade of needy inmates demanding attention. Mia the Unsullied, who, much to get chagrin, has escaped her last incarceration unhumped, is the first to lead the charge. I'm pretty sure that there was an anteater somewhere back in her family tree, as she can snake a tongue far enough into an ear canal to make…

Mom was gone on business for the better part of the week, and between you and me, I'm glad she's home. What with this demon puppy cavorting around the Casa with his bowels in full evacuation mode, dad has not had the time to devote to my ritual adoration. We have learned the hard way that Tootsie Rolls are NOT to be trusted, especially when they miraculously appear on the hearth, or the in the…

Dad here; a long time ago in a mobile home far, far away was a Casa with no Whackos. The trailer park was administered by two elderly sisters, an unholy combination of Nazi obbengrupenfuhrers and the nun from the Blues Brothers; they were so controlling that they were known to lurk outside the tenants trailers so that they could listen for how often the toilets would flush, and adjust the water and sewage bills accordingly.…

Hey, Bob... Wassup, Coal? You want to go on a litte adventure? Uh, I'm not too sure about this; where you're concerned, "adventures" is usually synonymous with "food". Well, not this time; I hear of this place, not too far from where we hang our hang our harnesses, called the Casa del Whackos. It's ruled by a queen with the odd name of Charlie Bravo. Is she hot? Bob, do you ever have any emotion…