There and Back Again

Oooh! The adventures I have to tell you about Mango's estate!

But first, let me address the concerns of some who are worried that I might be unfairly biased toward my sister in the Bad Sport competition. And I totally understand how, under other circumstances, this could be a concern. Especially since TaiChi was my total hero, and Great Uncle Billy is legendary. But they were both portable. Billy was (at most) 15 pounds, and TaiChi at her most rotund was 22 pounds. Not exactly pocket-doggies, but portable if necessary. Abby? 65 pounds. Not so portable. I mentioned that Dad gave himself a hernia picking her up for her weighing-in, right? Yeah. And Dad's a big strong guy. Which makes Abby Not Portable. Now, I'm not saying that ALL Bad Sports should be portable. Far from it. I'm just saying that the only champion Bad Sports I want to live with are portable ones. I hope that clears things up.

Now, as you may (or may not) know, the judges for MangoMinster have all met up at Mango's estate in preparation for the beginning of MangoMinster. I confess, I was a bit surprised to learn that Mango's idea of entertaining his guests was to sucker most of the judges into manual labor in the basement while he and the Thor (the other mastiff) stayed upstairs eating pizza and watching HBO. Thor knows how to use the remote control. However, being a good-natured girl, I was more than happy to pitch in with the labors in the basement.

Being the only one with long leggies, I guess I was on plunger duty. Although I have no idea how Anakin got himself in the toilet to begin with...

Last year, when I was a mere contestant, I recall partying on the beach with Moose and all my fellow sporty dogs, but hey, I can go with the flow. (Or lack of flow, as the case may be! Hah! *ahem*) And getting Anakin unstuck from a toilet is Just Like drinking margaritas on the beach. Or something.

Anyway, after ensuring that Twinkie and Frankie had the painting under control I thought I might take a break. All work and no zoomies makes Fi a cranky doggie.

As I ascended the stairs, I was almost struck down by an overwhelming smell. My first thought was that Rhode Island had attacked the state of MasterChewSits with chemical weapons. But then I remembered the hastily provided instructions, and donned the gas mask that was provided in the judges' hazmat kits gift bags.

I hadn't realized that mastiffs are the dirigibles of doggies. I swear, they must be as big as they are because of their, um, high emissions levels. *whew*

While the two large dogs seemed to be blissfully unaware of their impact on global warming mesmerized by HBO, I snuck in and went over to Dexter.

Oy.

With a new-found respect for Dexter's tolerance levels, I asked him if he wanted to leave the Torpid Twosome to their anchovy-pizza farts. Milliseconds later we were out in the fresh air.

Mango had thoughtfully ordered some snow to be delivered to MasterChewSits before I arrived, so I felt quite at home. Dexter gave me a chance to stretch my leggies and practice my bitey-zoomie technique so I wouldn't be out of shape when I got back to Utah.


Dexter is a fair amount larger than me (or Abby), so I had to be quick on my toes! But it was great to go dash around in the snow for a while.

After a good romp in the snow, I decided I had better head back to Utah for dinner to check in on things.

And get in a little smackdown time with Abby. My workout with Dexter certainly paid off!

I'm now off to spend some quality time with Mom and Dad, and then I'll be zipping back to Mango's estate for more manual labor fun and games!

*kissey face*
-Fiona (and Abby, who seems to be an okay job holding down the fort while I'm in MasterChewSits)