Tag: super schnauzer

February 13th, 2026

Journal Writing

February 13th, 2026

The Big Game vs. a Miniature Schnauzer

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We watched the Super Bowl on Sunday. And I’m not talking about the sporting event — I mean the actual bowl wearing a cape. You know, the one Super Schnauzer eats her super foods out of. It holds kibble by day… and justice by night.

If we did watch the other Super Bowl, it was probably for the commercials. We weren’t rooting for either team. Seahawks pose a legitimate risk to unsuspecting flying terriers, and as for New England — we only eat Claw Chowder in this house. Super Schnauzer insists.

We certainly weren’t tuning in for athletic excellence. We already have a superhero in this household, and she sheds.

As for the halftime show, we don’t understand all the controversy. Would people have preferred a Good Bunny instead? Personally, I would’ve preferred Blue Bunny. I’d gladly fill a Super Bowl with their Super Chunky Cookie Dough and call it a game plan.

They should just rename the whole thing Super Bowl Sundae.

Although Super Schnauzer wouldn’t approve. She’s not allowed to have ice cream. Of course, that didn’t stop her from begging — whether for a bite or for us to switch to the Puppy Bowl. Especially after learning that Cheesecake — one of the stars of Team Fluff — is a Shih Tzu–Miniature Schnauzer mix. Representation matters.

But she isn’t allowed to have cheesecake either. So, she settled for watching quietly, still hopeful, as if dessert might somehow leap from the screen and into her Super Bowl.

January 9th, 2026

Journal Writing

January 9th, 2026

Just Dance Not

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Yesterday, I woke up feeling like my left eye alone didn’t get shut-eye. It wouldn’t have surprised me if it suddenly busted into a rap on the bridge of “Waterfalls.” Maybe what it really needs is some TLC.
See what I did there? Because my left eye sure didn’t.

Of course, that’s easier said than done when I still have to go to work. At least until I can sit around and write these anecdotes for a living. Maybe then I could afford one of those fancy-dancey standing desks—the kind that encourages movement or at least gives me an excuse to dance. Especially since we recently started playing Just Dance Now, and I would very much like to win.

If you’re unfamiliar, Just Dance Now is one of those interactive TV games where you use your phone as a controller and it tracks your movements. The only problem is my girlfriend has two left feet, and I have one left eye that’s still buffering. She dances with complete confidence, which is impressive considering none of the moves appear to be in the same song. I dance like I’m trying to read the screen through soup. Somewhere between us, my Samsung Galaxy phone is just trying to survive, praying not to be launched into the actual galaxy while we’re both passionately misinterpreting “Waterfalls.”

On second thought, maybe we should just watch TLC—the Learning Channel—and learn how to dance the old-fashioned way. You know, back when misinterpreting the lesson didn’t require a trip to the emergency room.

I know what you’re probably thinking: Just Dance Now—that sounds like a recipe for a hot chocolate disaster. But don’t worry—that was only a concern one anecdote ago. These days, when we’re in the heat of a Just Dance Now battle, we hydrate responsibly—with water sourced exclusively from the purest Waterfalls.

After we’ve danced up a respectable appetite, I whip us up some of my infamous TLC Wraps. Basically, it’s tomatoes, lettuce, and cheese rolled into pita bread. It’s the kind of meal that’s been known to raise a brow or two—except my left one. That thing’s still half asleep.

To round it out, I’ll usually serve the wraps with a bowl of soup. Not because it pairs especially well, but because at this point it feels on-theme. Let’s just hope Souper Schnauzer doesn’t get into it. That’s a scoop—or ladle—I’ll happily leave to Louis Dane.

January 6th, 2026

Journal Writing

January 6th, 2026

Stranger Things Have Happened

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Sunday night, my girlfriend was on the couch, sipping white hot chocolate. It was your average, uneventful Sunday night—until Goldie, Super Schnauzer, decided maybe my girlfriend was a tall building she could leap in a single bound.

Truth be told, my girlfriend is pretty tall, so I think clearing her would require at least a few bounds. Or binds. I mean, her beauty knows no bounds, anyway.

I watched in horror, knowing there was absolutely no way Super Schnauzer was clearing her in a single bound—pluralized or otherwise. My girlfriend flailed her arms as Goldie made contact, and I swear time froze. Suspended midair was a single globule of hot chocolate, hovering like a NASA experiment gone wrong.

I couldn’t believe my eyes when that same globule gently plunked back into her mug—not onto my couch. Not the cushion. Not the throw pillow. Not a single drop anywhere that would’ve required frantic Googling, stain remover, or the emotional acceptance that the couch had lived a good life.

My girlfriend laughed and said it was strange that none of it spilled. I told her I’ve seen stranger things—and I wasn’t talking about the show.

After thinking it over, I realized the only logical explanation is the Upside Down. That glob of hot chocolate didn’t fall back into the mug—it fell up. Which means that if we ever binge-watch Stranger Things, we’ll be doing it without hot cocoa—no matter how chilly Netflix and chill gets. I’m not risking another portal opening on my couch or having to plan a funeral for my furniture. Instead, I’ll be handing Super Schnauzer a squeaky hedgehog—something bright, indestructible, and hopefully the canine equivalent of kryptonite.

And with any luck, she’ll go back to just being a normal dog. I mean, stranger things have happened. Otherwise, I may have to call Rex Luther—assuming I can still find my dog whistle.