G'day - I'm The General. I'm the boss's dog. Well, one of them. I live with my Mum, Queenie - and a Golden Leave-it-there. I am pretty old now, nearly 19 months, and ready for anything.
I had eight brothers and sisters but I am the only one left - the boss got rid of all the others and kept me. I take that as a good sign, although the Missus says there was something wrong with me. I don't think there is, personally. The Boss says I was the biggest of the litter and crawled over my brothers and sisters to get into the milk.
It's the sort of thing I'd do - I don't muck around with food. Sometimes the boss will feed me a chicken wing by hand, because he doesn't reckon I should down it in one gulp. But why mess about? If I get it down quickly I can wander over to my Mum's bowl and have a go there. She doesn't like that much and snarls, but I'm used to her.
Sort of. She's smaller than I am but she's got sharp teeth and a terrible growl when she's unhappy with me; I'm a bit scared of her but I don't let it show. When I'm chasing a ball I can run into her - by accident, you know - and knock her about just to remind her how big I am. As long as she doesn't know I'm coming it works pretty well.
This is my first blog, a dog's blog. People say I'm not very smart because I look about dumb and out of it, but I can tell you, I know what's going on. I know what they're cooking inside, I can smell the toast in the morning and I know when the boss is thinking about feeding me. I reckon I know what he's thinking before he does.
Anyway, I'm going to tell you a bit more about my family as time goes on and what I do from day to day, and how the world would be much better if people listened to me. Right now I need a swim. Woof.