claudia: Claudia.Hildebrandt@sun.com

Hi,

german human beings use weird words for food. It struck me right away when mom recently said: "Hoschi, let's go for you to do your poo and afterwards we buy Berliners and you'll get your treaty." The first part of the sentence is just awkward - stupid babytalk, I gently overheard that. Last part I understand quiet good - treaty - I cocked my head - and suddenly I started. What - I'll get Berliners as treat??
Jette told me then, tin openers use weird names for food. For instance: Hamburgers, which are ordinary burgers, and are usually not burgers with ham; Frankfurters, which are sausages, Amerikaner, that is a iced cookie.
And finally, Berliners, which is a doughnut and so called in some nothern regions of germany, except in Berlin, where the Berliners call Berliners pancakes, whereas in the rest of germany a pancake is truely a pancake, and Berliners are either called "Schmalzgebaeck", or "Krebbel", or "Mutzen". Got it ? Or did I lost you.

However, one thing is certain, german men do not eat Berliners. And I love them.

Now, I'm going to ask Jette for support sitting in front of the treatbox and whimpering until mom gives us one.

cu
hoschi

Hi folks,

they call me Hoschi and that's for a reason.
Day-to-day I am watching dad working at his "thingy", hitting the small pieces and staring on the screen all day long, while I sleep away the day on the couch with my sister.
But today I made up my mind. Now it is my turn: I become a blogdog.

Every morning I walk my dad. As soon as we left the door I usually turn right and start my early morning patrol.
First, I see Manja, the black poodle lady. I really like it to make a beeline for her every morning, and every morning she is really frightened. Satisfied I can proceed.
I am very snoopy and check out everything and everyone thoroughly.
So I realized this morning, too that last evening the neighbours cat crossed the street again at the same place and slipped through the same whole in the fence. I stuck my head through it, as yesterday morning, because, I told you before, I am very curious.
But again the cat wasn't there anymore, so I stepped backwards ... and my head got stuck. "Ho! Ho! Hoschi" - said dad. "stand still, I''ll help you out, big head", and he pulled my head out. Frankly, I felt a bit sheepish about it.
As we kept moving I heard dad mumbling:" Every morning the same procedure, sucks! You are not a big headed, you are pig-headed. Pig-headed Hoschi, pig-headed big headed Hoschi... I think I gonna call you piggy." Hahaha, how screamingly funny, okay- now stop it. No, do not come up with even more sophisticated names.
The rest of the patrol was quiet. We didn't met any other shabby dog today,unfortunately. So I could make my business.
Luckily, dad decided to go to the bakery and bought some biscuits. I always get one and take it home in my muzzle. I love it because the people walking by look at me smiling, and saying:" Oh look, the dog, isn't it cute." Oh yes, mam, I am.

so long,
Hoschi