Help! What am I doing?

Hello from your favorite Diva Dog! Your Diva is feeling very confused today. I mean, downright puzzled!
Last night, when Mama #2 got up to put her special shoes on before taking us on a forced march, I found myself whining and barking at her to hurry up, just like everyone else! When I realized what I was doing, I stopped myself and jumped on Harley (it helps me think). Why am I so excited about marching all of a sudden? 
Harley thinks it's because it was a nice evening and met my temperature requirements for marching. Maggie gave me her Stink Eye and snarled that I'd finally come to my senses.
Could it be I might like to exercixe? No, surely not. Forget I even said that. 
I'll delete this post later.

My Cat Sister, Agnus

This is my cat sister, Agnes. She is much smaller than I am, maybe half my size, but I'm scared of her. She hisses and jumps at me and she can double in size (mama #2 calls it "fluffing")!
Anyway, Agnes likes to explore. When I was still a pup, I watched in wonder as she would leap over the fence into the neighbor's yard and into the alley behind the yard. I'd carefully look through the fence to see what she does and why she leaves the yard. She does......nothing! She sits, she watches, she sleeps. Sometimes, she hunts. How boring!
She travels, too. I've watched her walk across the street and go down the next alley. Sometimes she's gone all day. When she comes back, she carries many different, strange and exciting smells.I think she travels a long way; maybe as far as I go on forced marches.
Her mom cat lives with us too; her name is Millie the evil cat. 'Nuff said.
The really strange thing about Agnes is, she likes to come with us on forced marches (so does the evil cat, but she's so fat, she can't waddle very far). Mama #2 always looks for Agnes before she takes us out to march. If she sees her, she puts her in the house.
Agnes is very good at hiding, waiting and watching for us to leave on our marches. When she sees us, she dashes out and joins us. Sometimes Mama #2  will let her come with us for a couple of blocks, then she'll march us all back home and make Agnes go into the house so she won't follow us any more.
When Agnes marches, she gets to run free. Mama #2 never puts anything around her neck to drag her along. She runs from behind us to in front of us. She jumps fences and runs through strange yards. She likes to march on top of one stone fence. She spies on the dogs that scream (bark) as we walk by their houses.
If I could explore yards and go at my own pace, I might like marches too. I'd really like it if I only had to march three blocks!
How do I convince Mama #2 that I'm really a cat?

Mama #1 Cheated on Us!

Don't piss off a Diva. If you do, you are in deep, deep trouble. And I am mad at Mama #1 and My Martha.
Mama #1 left on Friday and just returned home a little while ago. I was happy to see her. I really, really was. I lost myself in the moment and jumped up and down and all around. I forgot I was mad at her for deserting me for two days.
Suddenly, I smelled something (or someone) strange on her clothes. I left her pick me up so that I could get a clear picture of who she'd been with. As I sniffed, something in my memory clicked and I clearly saw a large, furry, white and black dog. Mama cheated on me with another other dog!

The "other" dog, Maddie Bell

As a pup, I briefly visited the "other" dog's house on my way to my own house. The people there were nice, but I was oh, so tired and sleepy. I don't remember meeting the "other" dog, but I did sniff her food bowl.

Why would Mama #1 go and visit this other dog? Did she need to get away from me and my sisters for awhile?

 And, if this isn't bad enough, My Martha (!) also cheated on us and went to see another dog too. She was gone for a whole week!

The other "other" dog, Martha Berry

For now, your Diva is speechless. Both Mama #1 and My Martha made excuses for their behaviors; both said they were not off cheating on me with other dogs. They were visiting "relatives." Mama #1 claims she visited her Dad and My Martha claims that I am an Aunt and she was visiting Peggy (whom I remember fondly from my pup days) and my new nephew. 

This is all too much to take in at once. Other dog relatives. (I think they were both adopted, they look nothing like Me, Maggie or Harley). 

I think I need to check this out sometime. Mattie Bell and Martha Berry, watch out! I'm coming to see you and you'd better not take my Mamas or My Martha away from me ever again!
(OK, maybe my feelings are hurt just a little bit, too....)

Trauma!

There was an assassination attempt on your Diva tonight! It was horrible, and, hours later, I am still shaking.
It's been a long, lonely, weekend. Mama #1 is gone. She hasn't been home since yesterday afternoon. She did contact the Mama formerly known as Mama #2. I heard her voice coming out of the little black thing that the Mama formerly known as #2 stares at a lot and talks at sometimes. The fact is, she abandoned us this weekend.
Late this afternoon, the Mama formerly known as #2, took Maggie out for a forced march. I watched out the window as Maggie strutted away. Maggie loves going on marches by herself. She calls it "alone time," and she loves her alone time. Harley went next. She came home wagging and looking very happy. Then, it was my turn.
Things started out OK. Since this was the Mama's third march, she wasn't moving too fast. I marched slowly and sniffed as I went . The Mama talked nicely to me when we passed the screaming dogs behind fences. They always upset Harley, but I marched bravely past.
Suddenly,  a huge, slobbering, hairy mongrel charged at me! I froze. The Mama watched the dog approach and finally pulled me into her arms. I yelled at the top of my lungs, because, 1) The Mama made this Diva look like a coward by grabbing me like that and 2) That mongrel was trying to kill me! (I'm sure of it!).
We turned and swiftly retreated. Unfortunately, the mongrel was hot on her heels, wagging and jumping. It was definitely an assassination attempt. (It happens with famous people, like me).
After we retreated (with the mongrel hot on our heels), we heard someone call him.  Mama  kept walking and my would-be attacker turned and ran home to his Mama.
I was shaking. I was whimpering  (I have to be completely honest if I'm going to be famous one day. I have to get the truth out there. What if that stupid mongrel publishes a tell-all book one day? The tabloids might have headlines like, "Mabel, the famous Diva. Is she really a shaking, whimpering pup?" I shudder to think about it). Mama was not running, but she should have been. I needed to get home and jump on Harley. (Jumping on Harley calms me down and helps me feel better when I'm upset).
With my attacker out of sight, Mama put me down and talked to me. She told me I was OK. She told me I was brave. She told me I was good and that we were going home now. Good. I couldn't wait to get home for my chewy bone. I figured that I really deserved my chewy bone (and Harley's too).
Once inside, I ran to Harley and told her all about my horrible ordeal. She sympathized, but Maggie gave me the Stink Eye (she has a really, really good Stink Eye) as if she thought I was just trying to get attention. When I got my chewy bone, I chewed out my anxiety. Then I grabbed Harley's bone and chewed some more. Sometimes, you just have to chew.
I climbed onto the couch and contemplated life's mysteries, like, what number did Mama #2 sink to? She did save my life; is she now Mama #1? But then again, she put me in danger by making me march by myself. No one would dare attack this Diva when her faithful bodyguards are present. Hmm, she'll drop to Mama #9734, right after she feeds me tonight.

Practicing a defensive move with Harley, my twin sister. In case you can't tell us apart, I'm the one who is about to snap the head off my attacker (Harley).

Note from Mama #2: Mabel was approached tonight by a friendly Australian Shepherd. She shrieked at the top of her lungs until I picked her up and carried her away. The dog's owner left the gate open. She called the dog home when she heard Mabel shrieking. The dog did sniff Mabel (in a friendly dog way), but otherwise, Mabel was unharmed and is safe at home now. 

I Hate to Admit it, but....

It's very,very rarely that I have to admit I might be wrong, but I panicked today when I thought I was going to be abandoned this weekend with no Mamas, No My Martha, and most important, No Food.
Mama #1 left home earlier today and has not come back yet (Now she's Mama #5998). Mama #2 (Now Mama #1b) is at home with me. I did go for a long, forced march tonight, but I really didn't mind; I still got my treat and chewy bone when I got home. I have food (dry, crunchy, tasteless food) in my bowl, and a Mama to keep me company.
I'm kinda sorry I told everyone about Harley's problems earlier, but, the Diva was worried my dear sister would have a melt down with no Mama to keep her calm. Harley will forgive me; she always does. Besides, who could stay mad at me?

This Can't be Happening.....

Something is terribly wrong with my life. First, it was forced marches. Then, it was the starvation diet. Next, Mama # 4598 found my secret stash of pecans and sticks. Now, I overheard that the Mamas are leaving for the weekend and My Martha is out of town! What will happen to me? Who will feed me? Is this part 2 of the starvation diet?!

Someone needs to fix this RIGHT NOW! The Diva cannot be left alone. And, if someone doesn't rescue me, Harley will go NUTS without a Mama or My Martha here! I've not spoken about Harley's condition here because, well, she's my twin and I don't want anyone to think that I have horrible anxiety like Harley. You know, sometimes one twin is cursed with all the emotional problems. In this set of twins, well it's not me who's cursed.

If we're left alone, Harley will bark herself to death. She hears noises that neither Maggie or I can hear (Or at least that's what My Martha says---"Harley has very good hearing") and she goes NUTS! She barks. And Barks. And Barks! It seems like her barker would break, but it doesn't. It works just fine, even at midnight. And at 4am.

If the Mamas are gone, I won't get any sleep tonight. Maggie will blame us both for Harley's barking. She will growl at us both. (She thinks she's so tough and in charge!). And my beloved twin sister will BARK all night!

Millie, the evil cat

This is Millie, my evil cat sister.
She used to treat me like I was her kitten. She licked me (like a cat-bath), swatted me when I was wrong, and curled up to keep me warm while I slept. I thought she was nice.
Now, I think she was licking just tasting me. When I do something she doesn't like, she still swats me. She uses just a little "claw" to make sure I do what she wants. And now, she lays on TOP of me or tries to push me out of my warm bed.
She tries to CRUSH me!
She's mean to my other cat sister, Sam. She chases her all the time.
AND, she sometimes EATS MY FOOD!

She is such an evil cat.....

Busted!

This has been a hard week for your Diva. Forced marches and extra-long forced marches. I am on a starvation diet after my beloved doctor told me and my mamas that my butt was too big (How rude!). I watched Mama #5613 remove the last of my delicious, beloved pecans from my yard-home (no pecans allowed on a diet). And then, tonight, when I thought things could not get any worse, they did.
This is really embarrassing, but my blog is committed to truth, so I will tell all (with hopes of being a famous, published Diva someday).
Let me start at the with the background info. When I was just a pup, Mama #2 gave me long sticks to chew on. They weren't like the sticks that fall off trees. When I chewed on these sticks, my teeth felt better and the sticks got softer and stickier and better tasting the more I chewed. .
Few things are better than laying on a Mama's lap late at night, chewing on a stick. Especially if it's a stick I snatched from Harley or Maggie and it's nice and soft and sticky. Sometimes when I get a new stick, I hide it quickly. I hide it behind the couch or under a table. Mama #1 laughs if she sees me hide the stick. Sometimes though, she'll unhide my stick and give it to Harley if I steal hers. Usually, I hide my stick and then steal Harley's stick. This way, I can chew one now and I can chew my hidden one later. Your Diva is one smart dog!
My starvation diet must have made me lightheaded (or stupid) tonight. It was late. I really wanted a chewy stick, but Mama #5613 had put up all the sticks. I don't understand why she does this; maybe it's because I took a stick to bed once and propped the gooey, sticky thing against Mama #5613's leg. She shrieked and yelled and threw me out of the bed and took my stick away.
Now, she hides the sticks every night. She cheats. I hide my sticks where I can find them. Sometimes, Maggie or Harley find my hidden sticks. I steal theirs, they steal mine. But she hides the sticks high above my head. Higher than I can jump or climb. Sometimes, she lets evil cat Millie guard the sticks.
Back to tonight. Mama # 5612 was sitting in her usual place on the couch, staring at her big paper thing. Her face was hidden. Everyone else was snoozing. I thought it'd be safe. I thought I could get into my stash and get a stick. I really, really wanted one.
I quietly reached under the couch for my hidden stick. I couldn't find it. I tried again. And again. No luck. Desperately, I dug and pawed and scratched under the couch, searching for the stick I knew was hidden there. Suddenly, Mama #5612 looked up (or was it down) at me. Busted! There I was digging desperately under the couch for a stick. How embarrassing! Now, Mama #5613 was curious. SHE reached under the couch. First, she pulled out a pecan. Drat! I forgot I'd put it there for a midnight snack. She reached again. Another pecan. Again, and pulled out a small stick. "Whew," I thought, "two pecans and a stick. Now she'll stop digging".  But NO, she kept on digging. She pulled out my stick. And my reserve stick. And my extra stick. And my extra, extra stick. She laid them out on the floor, and made an evil noise. Did she let me have one? NO! She put them up. She put all of them up high, high out of my reach. She put them up where the evil cat would guard them.
I was so busted.

Note from Mama #5613: Mabel's Rawhide and Pecan stash. She is so busted! (evil chuckle).
Extra note: Mabel is not on a starvation diet. She is limited to eating from her own bowl. She's used to eating her own food and some of Harley's food. Please ignore any emails she sends asking you to send food so she won't starve to death.

Diva Diet, Day 1

Can barely type.....no energy. Starving, so hungry.....just a small bowl of food for breakfast. Just watched Mama #4567 eat her lunch...she's so cruel...I hoped for a bowl of food but only got a few nibbles of my regular stuff.

Must find energy to go outside and sniff for pecans.  Mama #4567 has been systematically removing them. She found the one I was saving for an afternoon snack.  Must find more.....

How many days does it take to lose 3lbs? 2 days?  3 days? Hopefully, I'll be eating as usual for the weekend. Until then,

Can barely type.....Starving......please, send food.

Uh, oh, time to visit my Doctor!

Why would evil Mama #4534 think that an wonderfully healthy creature like me needed to see her doctor? Just look at me! Don't I have an  amazing body?!
Well, Evil Mama #5443 (her popularity rating with me is quickly sinking), decided for some strange reason that I should go visit Dr. H. I like Dr. H, I really do. He's very tall, and has white hair, big hands, a deep voice, and a special love for dachshunds.
I don't like sitting in that little room while I wait for him to visit me. Shouldn't he wait for me not me wait for him? I mean, all he does is pet me, and check out my amazingly healthy physique. And sometimes I think he gets a little too friendly with his poking and prodding, but both Mamas have told me that it's OK; sometimes a girl has to let her doctor poke and prod. They are watching him closely.
I figure he's using me as a role model for other dachshunds. After all, I'm perfect! (as my Martha often tells me).
Dr. H talked very nicely to me and told me what a healthy Diva I am. Then, suddenly, he said The Words. Yes, the awful, horrible words. I couldn't believe my ears, he is such a nice man, how could he say such things?
I can barely bring myself to write these words, Dr. H said, "Mabel needs to lose some weight."Mama #1 jumped in to my defense and told him that she's never had any trouble with her "kids" self-feeding, "they eat off and on all day." Dr. H replied (and this is just horrible!) "well, some are eating more on than off." Did you read that? Isn't that a horrible thing for my Doctor to say?!
Next, I heard him and Mama #1,999,999 talking about limiting my food! How dare they even think about it! But they discussed it in great detail.
Dr. H said I need to lose 3 lbs! That's almost 20% of my total weight! I'd be nothing but a skeleton! And Maggie, the lean mean walking machine, also needs to lose a pound or two!
I think I passed out. I don't remember anything else until walking into the door of my home. I went straight to the kitchen for a chewy bone (I DO deserve a reward for this ordeal) but Mama #2,000,000 instead picked up my leash and told Mama # 1 that we were going on a long, long forced march.
My life is over.

Snow!

What happened? Last night, it was so hot on my forced march that I thought I'd get a heatstroke before I got home. Today, the wind was blowing so hard and fast that my little low rider self had to stay close by the back door so I wouldn't blow away! Then, it started to get cold.
Tonight, it was too cold and windy to go out on a forced march! Usually, I'd be very happy to stay home, but I had too much energy from being inside all day. (With all that wind, it was hard to get out the doggy door). I had to run through the house several times and jump on Harley and wrestle with her just to calm down. As much as I hate to admit it, my forced march does tire me out and prepares me for my evening nap (not to be confused with my late afternoon nap or my nightly snooze). Tonight, I finally wore out and curled up beside my favorite twin for a long, warm, late evening snooze.
It was almost time to wake up just long enough to move to my bedroom (and to my favorite magically warm blanket!) for my long, nightly snooze, When I was very rudely picked up and thrust outside into the back yard. This was quite a rude awakening, since the wind was still blowing very hard, and little white things were falling from the sky! And it was cold! Very, very cold!
I don't mind the white stuff, but it is only supposed to fall overnight when I'm sleeping. And it's not supposed to fall after the grass starts to get green. It is supposed to be sunny and warm (not too hot) during the daytime right now.
As long as it's sunny and warm when I do go out, I don't mind the white stuff. I don't want to go out in the pitch dark night with cold, white stuff falling on my head. (I know I have to go outside to take care of business, but I don't have to like it!)
When I do have to go out in the white stuff, it's Mama #1's job to wipe me down quickly before I come in the house so nothing melts wetly on my beautiful, brown coat.
I want a full investigation of why it is snowing tonight! I demand that the weather change back to warm and sunny!
(BTW, that's a picture of ME playing in the snow back in February. The snow was deep. The sun was warm, and I had lots and lots of fun chasing Harley!)
Back to tonight's weather; I don't like cold and I don't like wet and I don't like lots of wind. I'm a low rider. I like short, green grass, sunny day with a temperature between 71 and 82 degrees, and a faint breeze. Is that too much to ask?

Why I hate forced marches (Also known as "walks")

Now for a word on forced marches or "walks" as Mama #2014 likes to call them. Maggie and Harley appear to enjoy them; I do not.
I show my displeasure by lagging behind. No matter, Mama #2014 keeps right on dragging me along.
Marines and Army people march. They may join the military willingly, but when they are told to march, they march. I think walking is voluntary. "Do you want to go for a walk?" And if the person says, "no," then the person does not have to go. In the military, they don't say, do you want to go for a march; they just say (or yell) MARCH!
I do not have a choice about going on a march. Mama #6013 says, "let's go!" and the next thing I know, I am being dragged all over the neighborhood at a speed of 3.2 mph. I prefer to stroll along at 2.8mph. (How do I know the speeds? Mama #6013 is a gadget freak! She keeps track of length, speed and time of all my forced marches. Why? I don't know).
I prefer to walk on grass or dirt. There's even one particular type of grass I prefer to walk on, but I do prefer grass. I hate walking on asphalt. Concrete is better and sidewalks are OK. Streets are not OK. Cinder tracks or gravel tracks are OK. Alleys are OK.
I like parks. I like to sniff around and look at the lakes and birds. I like schools (if there's no kids around). Again, lots and lots of interesting things to sniff.
I don't really like marching to a park or a school. Maybe Mama #1 could drive me to the park and I could join Maggie and Harley there. Then Mama #1 could drive me back home. That might be a good compromise.
Another thing, if it's over 82 degrees outside, it is too hot to march. If it is under 69 degrees, it is too cold to march. If Mama #6013 has to wear a coat or jacket, it's way too cold for a short haired diva like me to march!
Uh, oh. Here comes Mama # 9002 with the leash. (Please note how her number keeps dropping the longer I think about forced marching). Gotta go. Wish me luck!

Everyone should have a Martha

Questions! I get questions! Once again, I am taking time out from my blogging to answer questions from my many, many fans.
What is a "My Martha"?
My Martha.
My Martha is a very special person.
Everyone should have a "My Martha."
My Martha is better than a grandmother or an Aunt.
My Martha is a very special person who lives right here in town with us. She is related to Mama #1.
She is alway/has always been here for us. Whenever we need her, she comes.
My Martha was here to welcome me home the night we arrived at our forever home.
My Martha stays with me when my Mamas are gone longer than a day.
She believes in slumber parties, and we have lots of fun together.
My Martha can keep a secret. I email her whenever I have a question or a worry that Mama #2 can't answer.
My Martha is that special type of friend who gives you chocolate for breakfast -- if you are allowed to eat chocolate (and I'm not).
She is the wonderful person who taught me the secret way to gently snatch people food off of a table so that no one will notice.
And, most of all. She thinks I'm wonderful!
Once, when I went to my doctor, he told me I'd been gaining a little too much weight. My Mamas told me I was going on a diet. (I don't know what a diet is, but my food supply suddenly started drying up...and all my wonderful pecans in the backyard....Mama #2 started picking them up and getting rid of them!). In desperation, I wrote to My Martha, because I knew she'd tell me the truth, Is my butt getting fat?
Here's our emails:
 To My Martha,

Do you think I have a big butt?

My Moms and Dr. H say I do and that I have to quit eating pecans.

Pecans aren't fattening, are they?

Love,

Mabel

My Darling Mable,

No, you do NOT have a big butt you are PERFECT! Your Moms and Dr. H are just jealous because you are so PERFECT!

Love,

Martha

P.S. Everyone knows that pecans have NO calories, so you can eat as many as you want.

See what I mean? Isn't she wonderful?

Here I am with my identical twin, Harley. No one ever tells her she needs to lose weight....I don't know how they can even tell us apart...I guess they know that I am the outgoing one; the DIVA!

Let me tell you more about myself, con't

I let myself be interrupted while I was telling my story.Well, it really wasn't my choice since I had to go on a forced march, then stepped in chewing gum and then, well,  the rest is history.
Anyway, I was talking about my plan to make my Moms fall in love with my twin sister, Harley. The breeder, the infamous John A. Puppy, hadn't bothered to tell them about my twin. He thought it'd be OK to separate us. Didn't he know you just can't separate twins? What a dork!
Anyway, I dragged Harley into every photo and, when I heard Mom #1 ask him over the telephone, who's that puppy who's always in the pictures with Mabel? I jumped on Harley out of pure excitement! They noticed her! They were falling in love with her too!
It seemed to take forever for the Moms to come and to take me home. It was just a couple of weeks, but it seemed like forever. When the day arrived, I was so excited! I made sure Harley was close by, so I could coach her on what to do.
Then the doorbell rang, and I got my first look at the Mamas. I thought I'd faint! They were just too perfect!  John P. put me into Mama #1's arms and she held me tight. No one else existed for me as I held my Mama tight and knew that I was is love. (of course, so was she).
When I came back to my senses, I noticed Mama #2 holding my step-sister, Lady Godiva (the names John P. gave us!). I nearly fell off Mama #1's lap. Thank Goodness that  Lady Godiva was already taken. I silently motioned for Harley to move into position and, YES!, Mama #2 picked her up.
Harley cuddled really hard, and the next thing I knew, John P. offered her a half-price deal on my twin! And, she went for it! Harley pulled out every cuteness lesson I taught her while I tried to keep Mama #1 from noticing that she was going to take 2 puppies home. Ha! The Diva got her way!
When Mama #1 came out from under my spell for a few seconds and realized Harley was going with us, I saw her heart melt as she gazed at Harley. Everything was going according to plan. I just had to get us in the car and the Mamas driving towards home.
I started to chew on Mama #1's wristwatch. "Wow, look at the time!" The Mamas put us in a CRATE and carried us out to the car. We settled into our crate. It was loaded with soft blankets and filled with chewy toys. Suddenly, I was very tired.  Harley and I wrapped our paws around each other and went to sleep. We were together forever!

Here we are at our new home! We are so happy! 

On the drive home, I discovered that Mama #1 had chosen names for us, "Mable Ann" and "Harley Jean." Not bad. We made one long stop on our way home, met some relatives, and made a pit stop. We met Peggy, Sarah Kate, Adrian, Neil, DeDe and a few other people. We let ourselves be held and fussed over. 

We finally made it home very, very late that night, but we didn't care! We were at our new home! 

 Once we were carried into our new house, we met Maggie (our sister dog) and My Martha! We knew we loved them. We didn't realize how important Maggie and My Martha would be in our lives.

More to come....

Why Mama #1, Mama #2 and Mama #5012?

This is me, Mabel, contemplating life and such.

Hi All, Mabel here. Once again, I am writing to you from my favorite comfy couch.
One of my many, faithful, loyal fans asked the question, Who are Mom #1, Mom #2, and Mama #5012?

Good question! I haven't meant to confuse anyone; the numbers and the Mamas they go with are just second nature to me.

I suppose Mom #1 and Mom #2 have real names. I don't really care what their real names are; what really matters is how they treat me. (That does sound a little harsh; Let me state for the record that I really do love and adore my Mamas!).

If I'm fed, the person who feeds me is Mama #1. If she makes me go out in the rain (or snow) to do my business, then she quickly drops to Mama # 5012. 

If I'm taken on a forced march (or a "walk"), the Mama taking me is Mama # whatever number I'm feeling at the moment. Right now, a forced march Mama would be Mama #7120. (Thank goodness only one of my Mamas ever takes me on forced marches). 

High number = making me do things I don't like or want to do.

On the other paw, a Mama who gives me some delicious table scraps is Mama #1. Are you beginning to understand? Treating me well will get you called Mama #1. Treating me badly (in my diva opinion) will get you called Mama # 1000+.

Do I get to sleep under your magically warm blanket? Mama #1. Do I have to sleep on the cold, hard floor of the dog room? Mama #50,982.
Allow me to sneak into the cat's domain and eat cat food? Mama #1.

Low number = treating me nicely

If a Mama takes me to see my doctor when I'm feeling well (as opposed to sick), that's Mama #984. Did the doctor call me "overweight" or stick me with something sharp? Mama #7,421. (the bigger the wrong, the higher the number). Did my doctor give me dry, tasteless food to eat? Or huge pills to choke down?
Mama #10,003

I hope this helps you to understand the Mama #1 method.

This is me, Mabel, ready for a nap on my magically warm blanket on my favorite comfy couch.

For the record, I have two Mamas, one identical twin sister, one regular sister, three cat sisters (one is very evil) and one very special person, My Martha.

(The cats all belong to one Mama---the same Mama who takes me out marching every day; Mama #5510).
Love to all,
Your favorite Diva,
Mabel

About my Marching....

 Here I am at one of my favorite marching destinations. 

Lots of smells--birds, people dogs, treats...stuff to watch. The birds mostly walk or swim around, but at least  once each evening, first one bird, then two, three, four, then about a thousand birds suddenly start shrieking and then, with a loud rushing of wings, they take off to fly over the neighborhood to mark everyone's car. (I learned that from Mama #2---beware of birds flying overhead).

Anyway, when they start to fly off and more and more birds join, it's so amazing to watch how they put themselves in order to fly away. I really like watching them. Don't tell Mom that I like to watch them; she'd make me march there every night. It's a very long march. and, may I be perfectly honest? I really do like sniffing and looking at stuff when we march. I just hate having to march so fast and not be able to stop and sniff everything I want to sniff as long as I want to sniff it.
Arriving home is my favorite part of the march. Ahhh! Chewy bone!

Forced March Reward

Another forced march tonight. My chewy bone after the march almost makes the ordeal worthwhile. I don't know why Harley and Maggie enjoy the march as much as the chewy bone.