Saturday, October 3, 2009

Same Same But Different

When both Posh and I are brought out together, most people (especially non-dog owners) will have problems telling us apart.

Being the more playful and mischievous dog among us, Posh tend to get scolded more often than I do. Initially, when Posh first came to live with us, Rane and her family often chided me when Posh misbehaved, simply because they mistook me for Posh! It doesn't help that Posh often reacted to the name "Sugar" too! I was often made the scape-goat scape-dog!

(Rane: Posh always assume that Sugar has better privileges than she does, thus when we call for Sugar, Posh will react and come to us even though she knows her name is Posh.)

Luckily, Rane and her family took a pretty short period of time to recognise us and before long, they could easily differentiate Posh and I.


Here are a few ways to tell who is Posh and who is Sugar.

Left: Posh Right: Sugar

Left: Posh Right: Sugar

In both pictures above, Posh is featured on the left side of this picture, while I am featured on the right. The most distinctive feature that tells us apart is our size; Posh has slighter shorter legs and a smaller bone frame, while I have longer legs and a larger bone frame.

If you notice, Posh has a large white patch on her scruff, while I have what my owners call "a skunk stripe". They often poke-fun at me, saying I not only look like a skunk with that stripe, I smell like a skunk too !!! How hurting can that be!

While both Posh and I have floppy ears, Posh's ears are significantly bigger than mine.


While I have a skunkie stripe, Posh has an "exclamation mark" on the right side of her body, near her spine. That reminds me of Bolt.

Left: Posh Right: Sugar

Left: Sugar Right: Posh

Both Posh and I are tri-coloured, however Posh's shade of brown is darker while mine's lighter.


In terms of personality, we are a world apart. Posh is always up to mischief and is forever on the hunt for food (on the sly of course). She won't even spare the green beans that Rane has sprouted for the hamster, not to mention the capsicum that Rane has deliberately purchased for the rabbits!



Unlike Posh, I rarely steal food. I will usually wait for someone to feed me treats. As the humans claim that too much treats are unhealthy for us, they do not feed us treats all the time. Thus Posh will get really impatient at times and decide to bite the cover off the treat box by herself.


Despite our differences, Posh and I share certain similarities.



Both Posh and I really fancy eating treats. We will do any tricks just for it (as long as we know how to).



As hounds, we love sniffing anything and everything; from the ground to the air, from the pole to the fire hydrant. You name it, we smell it!

Left: Posh Right: Sugar
Both of us really hate posing for pictures. We can't understand why the humans must force us to look at the camera lens. The camera lens neither smell nor taste good!

Left: Sugar Right: Posh
Both of us really really love eating ice-cream. The non-lactose ones of course! We adore it especially on hot sunny days.

That's all for today! I'll tell you more on how to tell us apart in time to come. Stay Tune!

Sweet Licks,
Sugar the Beagle
(on behalf of Posh and herself)

Monday, August 31, 2009


These are some of the "animal books" that Rane found while sorting out her stuff.

After spending so much money and time on books, I don't seem to feel better taken care of.

These humans should just spend the excess money and time on us!

Sweet Licks,
Sugar the Beagle

Friday, August 28, 2009

My Name is Sam

The author, Chris Benton, has given her permission to reprint this story and permission for you to use and pass it on to everyone. Her recommendation is that every person who takes an obedience class, adopts a dog or gets a puppy, should have a copy of this story.

After I was discharged from the Navy, Jim and I moved back to Detroit to use our GI bill benefits to get some schooling. Jim was going for a degree in Electronics and I, after much debating, decided to get mine in Computer Science.

One of the classes that was a requirement was Speech. Like many people, I had no fondness for getting up in front of people for any reason, let alone to be the center of attention as I stuttered my way through some unfamiliar subject. But I couldn't get out of the requirement, and so I found myself in my last semester before graduation with Speech as one of my classes.

On the first day of class our professor explained to us that he was going to leave the subject matter of our talks up to us, but he was going to provide the motivation of the speech. After agonizing over a subject matter, I decided on the topic of spaying and neutering pets. My goal was to try to persuade my classmates to neuter their pets. So I started researching the topic. There was plenty of material, articles that told of the millions of dogs and cats that were euthanized every year, of supposedly beloved pets that were turned in to various animal control facilities for the lamest of reasons, or worse, dropped off far from home, bewildered and scared. Death was usually a blessing.

The final speech was looming closer, but I felt well prepared. My notes were full of facts and statistics that I felt sure would motivate even the most naive of pet owners to succumb to my plea. A couple of days before our speeches were due, I had the bright idea of going to the local branch of the Humane Society and borrowing a puppy to use as a sort of a visual aid. I called the Humane Society and explained what I wanted. They were very happy to accommodate me. I made arrangements to pick up a puppy the day before my speech. When I went to pick up the puppy I was feeling very confident. I could quote all the statistics and numbers without ever looking at my notes. The puppy, I felt, would add the final emotional touch.

When I arrived at the Humane Society I was met by a young guy named Ron. He explained that he was the public relations person for the Humane Society. He was very excited about my speech and asked if I would like a tour of the facilities before I picked up the puppy. I enthusiastically agreed. We started out in the reception area, which was the general public's initial encounter with the Humane Society.

The lobby was full, mostly with people dropping off various animals that they no longer wanted. Ron explained to me that this branch of the Humane Society took in about fifty animals a day and adopted out only about twenty. As we stood there I heard snatches of conversation: "I can't keep him, he digs holes in my garden." "They are such cute puppies, I know you will have no trouble finding homes for them." "She is wild, I can't control her." I heard one of Humane Society's volunteer explain to the lady with the litter of puppies that the Society was filled with puppies and that these puppies, being black, would immediately be put to sleep.Black puppies, she explained, had little chance of being adopted. The woman who brought the puppies in just shrugged, "I can't help it," she whined. "They are getting too big. I don't have room for them." We left the reception area. Ron led me into the staging area where all the incoming animals were evaluated for adoptability. Over half never even made it to the adoption center. There were just too many. Not only were people bringing in their own animals, but strays were also dropped off. By law the Humane Society had to hold a stray for three days. If the animal was not claimed by then, it was euthanized, since there was no background information on the animal. There were already too many animals that had a known history eagerly provided by their soon to be ex-owners.

As we went through the different areas, I felt more and more depressed. No amount of statistics, could take the place of seeing the reality of what this throwaway attitude did to the living, breathing animal. It was overwhelming. Finally Ron stopped in front of a closed door. "That's it," he said, "except for this." I read the sign on the door. "Euthanasia Area." "Do you want to see one?" he asked. Before I could decline, he interjected, "You really should. You can't tell the whole story unless you experience the end." I reluctantly agreed. "Good." He said, "I already cleared it and Peggy is expecting you." He knocked firmly on the door. A middle-aged woman in a white lab coat opened it immediately. "Here's the girl I was telling you about," Ron explained. Peggy looked me over. "Well, I'll leave you here with Peggy and meet you in the reception area in about fifteen minutes. I'll have the puppy ready."

With that Ron departed, leaving me standing in front of the stern-looking Peggy. Peggy motioned me in.

As I walked into the room, I gave an audible gasp. The room was small and spartan. There were a couple of cages on the wall and a cabinet with syringes and vials of a clear liquid. In the middle of the room was an examining table with a rubber mat on top. There were two doors other than the one I had entered. Both were closed. One said to incinerator room, and the other had no sign, but I could hear various animals' noises coming from behind the closed door. In the back of the room, near the door that was marked incinerator were the objects that caused my distress: two wheelbarrows, filled with the bodies of dead kittens and puppies. I stared in horror. Nothing had prepared me for this. I felt my legs grow weak and my breathing become rapid and shallow. I wanted to run from that room, screaming. Peggy seemed not to notice my state of shock. She started talking about the euthanasia process, but I wasn't hearing her. I could not tear my gaze away from the wheelbarrows and those dozens of pathetic little bodies.

Finally, Peggy seemed to notice that I was not paying attention to her. "Are you listening?" she asked irritably. "I'm only going to go through this once." I tore my gaze from the back of the room and looked at her. I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing would come out, so I nodded. She told me that behind the unmarked door were the animals that were scheduled for euthanasia that day. She picked up a chart that was hanging from the wall. "One fifty-three is next," she said as she looked at the chart. "I'll go get him." She laid down the chart on the examining table and started for the unmarked door. Before she got to the door she stopped and turned around. "You aren't going to get hysterical, are you?" she asked, "Because that will only upset the animals." I shook my head. I had not said a word since I walked into that room. I still felt unsure if I would be able to without breaking down into tears. As Peggy opened the unmarked door I peered into the room beyond.

It was a small room, but the walls were lined and stacked with cages. It looked like they were all occupied. Peggy opened the door of one of the lower cages and removed the occupant. From what I could see it looked like a medium-sized dog. She attached a leash and ushered the dog into the room in which I stood. As Peggy brought the dog into the room I could see that the dog was no more than a puppy, maybe five or six months old. The pup looked to be a cross between a Lab and a German shepherd. He was mostly black, with a small amount of tan above his eyes and on his feet.He was very excited and bouncing up and down, trying to sniff everything in this new environment. Peggy lifted the pup onto the table. She had a card in her hand, which she laid on the table next to me. I read the card. It said that number one fifty-three was a mixed Shepherd, six months old. He was surrendered two days ago by a family. Reason of surrender was given as "jumps on children." At the bottom was a note that said "Name: Sam." Peggy was quick and efficient, from lots of practice, I guessed. She lay one fifty-three down on his side and tied a rubber tourniquet around his front leg. She turned to fill the syringe from the vial of clear liquid.

All this time I was standing at the head of the table. I could see the moment that one fifty-three went from a curious puppy to a terrified puppy. He did not like being held down and he started to struggle. It was then that I finally found my voice. I bent over the struggling puppy and whispered, "Sam. Your name is Sam." At the sound of his name Sam quit struggling. He wagged his tail tentatively and his soft pink tongue darted out and licked my hand. And that is how he spent his last moment. I watched his eyes fade from hopefulness to nothingness. It was over very quickly. I had never even seen Peggy give the lethal shot. The tears could not be contained any longer. I kept my head down so as not to embarrass myself in front of the stoic Peggy. My tears fell onto the still body on the table. "Now you know," Peggy said softly. Then she turned away. "Ron will be waiting for you."

I left the room. Although it seemed like it had been hours, only fifteen minutes had gone by since Ron had left me at the door. I made my way back to the reception area. True to his word, Ron had the puppy all ready to go. After giving me some instructions about what to feed the puppy, he handed the carrying cage over to me and wished me good luck on my speech. That night I went home and spent many hours playing with the orphan puppy. I went to bed that night but I could not sleep. After a while I got up and looked at my speech notes with their numbers and statistics. Without a second thought, I tore them up and threw them away. I went back to bed. Sometime during the night I finally fell asleep.

The next morning I arrived at my Speech class with Puppy Doe. When my turn came, I held the puppy in my arms, I took a deep breath, and I told the class about the life and death of Sam. When I finished my speech I became aware that I was crying. I apologized to the class and took my seat. After class the teacher handed out a critique with our grades. I got an "A." His comments said "Very moving and persuasive."

Two days later, on the last day of class, one of my classmates came up to me. She was an older lady that I had never spoken to in class. She stopped me on our way out of the classroom. "I want you to know that I adopted the puppy you brought to class," she said. "His name is Sam."

by Chris Benton

I read this story off a local forum and I strongly recommend everyone to spare a little time to read it; it is worth every single bit of your time.

Meanwhile, I strongly urge everyone to consider adopting an animal from a shelter.


The following are some adoption websites (within Singapore):

Animal Lovers League
Action for Singapore Dogs
Dog People
Doggie Rescue Shelter
Jing Jing Dogs
Project JK

Cat Welfare Society

House Rabbit Society Singapore

Hardware Zone
Noah's Ark
Singapore Pets Channel

Sunday, August 23, 2009

Little Gui Lin

Hey Paw Pals,

How have you guys/girls been?

Nothing much have been going on in our lives in the past couple of months (that we didn't blog), except for the fact that I vomited blood so many times that I had to be sent in to the ER. After many blood tests, scans and pain, the doctor could not conclude what exactly was wrong with me. Thankfully, I recovered after a few rounds of medication and was brought to my usual walks.

The following are (backdated) pictures taken when Rane brought us for a walk at Xiao Guilin, a disused quarry which was transformed into a park.

Rane always complain that it's tough to get us looking at the camera. It makes me wonder why is she still trying so hard when she knows that we are not keen in posing for the camera at all!

We are more interested in posing for kids than cameras.

Rane was so busy taking pictures of us, she forgot to take pictures of the scenery! This is the only picture that has part of a quarry in the background.

Both Posh and I are very attracted by the pigeons.

Our attention was caught by the MRT, which had just passed behind us.

As the park is located within residential areas, HDB apartments can be spotted in the background. Unlike most countries, public housing in Singapore are not only meant for individuals who require financial assistance. About 85% of Singaporeans live in these apartments/flats which are built by the government.

Both of us trying to act loving.


Wednesday, April 1, 2009

Good Food!

I'm always behind time. This time, I'm blogging about an outing that I went 3 Saturdays ago.

Posing for a picture because Rane insisted on taking a photo.

The ever-so-excited Posh.

Rane decided to bring us to this new place call K9 Campus. It comprises of a grooming salon, a dog school, a dog hotel, a dog bakery and a cafe (that is dog friendly!)

Posh can't resist the 'free smells' at the cafe.

We were lucky to get a slice of free cake each from a doggy who was celebrating his birthday.

However, I don'tcan cakes, pastries and biscuits. Rane says I'm a fussy dog.

Meanwhile, Posh was enjoying every single bit of it.

And she left some remnants of the cake on my head!

Lots of it in fact! What a messy eater she was.

The birthday boy! We are sorry we didn't catch your name. Neither do we know how old you are. Nonetheless, we'll still like to wish you a nice and wonderful barkday. Happy Birthday!

A close up of the cake.

Rane decided that Posh should not be eating two slices of cake.

Thus, she coaxed me into eating by baby feeding me. How could I not obliged?

The very greedy Posh.

Posh is willing to do anything for food.

Rane says Posh is such an easy victim for a dog-nap to take place.

As usual, Rane wanted both of us to pose for a picture.

We got bored indoors and Rane decided to let us out for a short run.

When the human food came, Posh couldn't stop smelling and staring at it!

How greedy can she be!

I decided to check out the garbage bag but was scolded instead! The human will never understand our love for trash. As the saying goes 'one man's meat is another man's poison'.

Then came out food. I was so hungry I forgot to ask for the name of this dish. I only tasted rice, vegetable and mutton.

Rane was ensuring that the temperature of food was just nice for us, just so that we will not be scalded.

And as usual, we had to pose with the food before we can eat.

Permission granted to eat!

We attracted the attention of other (human) patrons as we ate our meal. They couldn't stop commenting on how fast Posh gobbled her meal and how well mannered I was to eat demurely.

While I was halfway through the meal, Posh has already finished hers.

I had to double check that Posh finished every single bit of her food.

This collie just wouldn't spare Posh's butt!

A gorgeous husky.

An awesome sheltie.

All good thing comes to an end.

I can't wait for the next outing.

Dearest Rane, when will you ever be free to bring us out again!?!?!

Sweet Licks,
Sugar the Beagle