Hello. My name is Maximilian (which of course means "The Great One"), but everyone refers tae me as Max, Your Majesty, or Your Royal Highness. I am a fourteen-year-old Scottish Terrier, and I am a verra handsome silver-brindle in color. I'm the Laird o' Clan McDonald, and all follow my rule, well, except for those undignified pups named Cassie and Denver. Och, now, they can try a Scotsman's patience.



This is my second home. I spent two weeks, when I was but a wee lad, with some verra mean humans who dinna know how tae handle a young Scotsman like myself. They abused me and neglected me, then returned me. Well, Mom took me after that (at 12 weeks of age), when I was a verra cute puppy. For some reason though, Mom used tae say I had evil eyes that went along with my evil disposition. Now, I must strongly disagree with this. I had a verra sweet disposition. Just because everyone that walked intae the house would yell "Help! I'm being attacked by a dust mop!" doesna mean a thing. They just dinna ken about our Scottish games. Well, all things considered, life has been good ever since Mom took me in. Well, ok, I admit there were some exceptions. Mom dinna seem tae appreciate me doin' certain things like:

Eatin' her brand new shoes Usin' the furniture as a chew stick Eatin' albums Eatin' books Eatin' that tasty Chess set (What does "Collectors" mean?) Eatin' feathers Eatin' ruby/diamond earrings Eatin' pearls Attemptin' tae eat a snake Knockin' down the Xmas tree an' eatin' all the glass ornaments

It seems tae me that if Mom would have fed me better, I wouldna have needed tae supplement my diet.



Well, much tae Mom's surprise, I survived puppyhood to become a verra dignified gentleman. I'm fiercely loyal tae my family, and have kept both my home, and the next door neighbor's home, from bein' invaded by enemies. I protect my Mom from harm, which doesna always make her happy. Humans can be verra confusin' at times. She lets a strange person intae the house, and then won't let me bite 'em. I try tae explain this is for her own good, but she just wouldna listen.



My hobbies are sleepin', protectin' my house, sleepin', protectin' my yard, sleepin', chasin' feet, sleepin', playin' with my flashlight, sleepin', barkin', and sleepin'.

***Max crossed over the Rainbow Bridge on April 10, 2001. We miss him very much, but cherish the many memories we have of our beautiful and extra special Scottish laird.***

Hi! My name's Little Miss Cassandra, but you may call me Cassie. I'm a nine-year-old Scottie, and my hair is a beautiful, shiny black. I'm Max' half-sister, only I'm not as uptight as he is. He takes this "dignified" thing too far. Heck, he won't even arroo, and we all know how much fun that is. I try my best to get him to play, and to make him be less stuffy, but he just snaps at me and goes back to his "dignity" act. But Max, just one thing, chasing a flashlight is NOT dignified.



Because Mom knew my breeder, she got to come and visit me every week before she took me home. This was great fun. I could show off, letting her see how quickly I could make my baby brother cry. Mom used to say she didn't know how a puppy with such angelic eyes could be such a little hellion. Well, I guess I showed her. She soon found out the only time I was angelic was when I was sleeping.



I'm the smart one in the family (which is obvious, since I'm the only girl). I was valedictorian of my obedience training class, but I only obey when I want. For some reason, this tends to make Mom angry, but all I have to do is give her a big, loud arroo, and she starts laughing again.



When I was ten-weeks-old, I had a wee little accident and broke my foot. Boy was this good for sympathy. Everytime Mom would watch me struggle to go potty (it was my rear foot, and the splint went up past my hip) she'd cry. All I had to do was give her a sad look, and she'd scoop me up and cuddle me. I got cuddled alot. After a couple of days, I learned how to run in the splint, then there was no holding me back. Mom would complain every day because she had to put something called "duck tape" (I didn't see any ducks, and I sure would have liked to chase them) on the bottom of my splint because I ran so much I was wearing through it. Heck, I thought that was the way to get the splint off. This was about the time Mom started calling me pegleg.







When I was a year old, Mom and Grandma gave me the best present. They brought Denver home, just for me. I had so much fun teaching him the important things like how to arroo, and how to stalk just like a cat. I even taught him how to chase lizards (but I had nothing to do with the skunk incident). The only thing I can't get him to do is play with me in the pool. He doesn't like to get his feet wet. Well, he IS just a boy.



My hobbies are cuddling with Mom, playing with Denver, chasing lizards, playing in the ashes in the fireplace (Mom is so funny when she comes home after I've done this) and playing in my swimming pool. When my foot was broken, Mom wouldn't let me play in my water dish anymore. To make it up to me, the day I got my splint off, she gave me my very own swimming pool to play in all I wanted. I like to jump into my pool and blow bubbles in the water, and then chase them. I also like going to the beach and playing in the waves. But I absolutely detest taking a bath. I don't know why Mom doesn't just put the soap in my pool and let me do it myself.



I'm also very helpful to Mom. When she's excercising, I pretend I'm a weight and lay on her chest, or hang from her legs. If she gets too hot, then I go get a drink of water and cool her down with my wet beard. I also take her socks off. She sometimes complains about this though, something about not having any socks without holes in them. You just can't please humans sometimes.





Hey everyone! I'm Denver, and I'm cute!!! I'm a eight year-old West Highland White Terrier, and I visit Cassie and Max everyday (Cassie's my girlfriend). Oh, did I mention that I'm cute? I'll tell ya, being cute sure is an advantage sometimes. Whenever Cassie talks me into eating tissue, playing in the fireplace, or eating that tasty ficus tree that Aunt Laura got so upset about, all I have to do is turn on the charm and my humans laugh instead of punishing me.



Ok, MY hobby is being cute, and I do it very well, as I'm sure you can tell. I also like to fetch the ball, play catch, go for rides in the car (especially in the one with no top), and play with Cassie. She's alot of fun, even if she IS a girl.



Like Cassie, I'm also very helpful. When my Mom comes home, I take her shoes off and put them away. Well, ok, so I hide the shoes. I know that if Mom puts shoes on that means she's going to leave me, and I don't like that much. However, all she has to do is pick up my leash, and I'll bring her shoes right back to her.



I'm also very sharing. After I'm done eating, I take a few pieces of food to one of my humans, and put it in their hands. My humans aren't very smart, and don't usually know what to do with it, so I nudge their hands towards their mouth. They finally get the message, and eat the food I'm sharing*. I have to do this, because they share their food with me. I also sometimes bury my food under Mom's pillow so that I can have a midnight snack.



Now, I'd like to take a moment to clear up a misconception that certain family members have about me. I am NOT spoiled! Just because, after Mom gives me a milkbone, I will follow her around with the treat in my mouth until she takes it back from me and breaks it up for me means nothing. I just like to have more pieces. Just because I have to sleep with my head on a pillow and blankets pulled over me means nothing either. If that's the way my human sleeps, then why shouldn't I sleep in the same manner? Nope, I'm not spoiled at all.



Now, since Cassie was so rude as to mention the "Skunk Incident," I guess I'd better be explaining myself. You see, I was out in my backyard, and I saw a funny looking cat. He was all black, with a white stripe running down his back. Well, I just love kitty cats (for dinner) and thought I'd play with him. He didn't want to play with me. I even tried being cute, but he still wasn't interested. Well, I wasn't taking that, so I decided to be a little more persuasive. I chased him around a little bit, and then all of a sudden he lifted his tail and WHEW! I think this species of cat lives on bean dip. He sure stunk. Well, Mom wasn't very happy with me that night. I'd managed to avoid getting stinky myself, but the whole house stunk. She complained about it all night. I sure wish that cat/skunk would come visit me again. This time I'll show it a thing or two.



Now, I have a secret to tell you. It's about Cassie. She's the one in this picture, don't we make a beautiful couple? Well, she doesn't know it yet, but I'm planning on marrying her someday. Right now she flirts too much, so I'm waiting until she outgrows this. I know we'll be happy together, because we always have so much fun. We both enjoy getting into the trash and spreading tissue across the house. We both enjoy getting ashes everywhere. We both like to stalk each other, and we can have the best fraps when we are together. Yes, she is my true love, and I'm her white knight. By the way, did I tell you how cute I am???



*Editor's Note: We do NOT eat Denver's food offerings, but don't tell him that. It would break his little heart.





Jocko passed on to the Rainbow Bridge in 1995, but I can't do a Scotty page without mention of him. He was just too important to me. So, here is Jocko's story...

The first time I saw Jocko, he was in a pet store. I sensed something about him instantly. I actually cried just looking at him. I made my mother go to the pet store (I was only 12 years-old then) to show her this wonderful Scotty. We'd lost two Scotties the year before, and she'd sworn she'd never have another dog because it was too painful to lose them. Well, she also felt an instant link to Jocko. It turns out Jocko was a special order for a family, but he'd have nothing to do with them (well, except to growl at them). Jocko wouldn't have anything to do with ANYONE, except us. He took to us immediately. The owner of the pet store was very shocked. Well, of course Jocko came home with us.

Jocko was very smart, and very eager to please. He learned everything after just one command and correction, including housebreaking. He was devoted to our family, and very protective of us. He was also very sensitive to our moods. I can remember being in my room crying, and in would run Jocko to cuddle with me. He was also very dignified. I remember one occassion where I was sitting in the car with him waiting in a parking lot. There was a dog in the car next to us that was barking at him. Jocko just glanced over at this dog, then literally through his nose up in the air and looked away. He was NOT going to lower himself to barking at another dog.

I remember when we brought Max home. Jocko was so angry. He hated Max. He would literally walk along the wall opposite where Max was, just to stay as far from him as he could get. But, later I found out that Jocko really did like Max, he just wasn't going to admit to it. Then I got Cassie. Poor Jocko was so put out over her. This picture is of Cassie kissing Jocko, and he was just looking at us as if to say "Do I have to put up with this?"

One of Jocko's favorite games involved a skate-shaped pillow I'd made in Home Economics class. I would keep this pillow in my closet. Jocko would wait for me to leave the closet door open, rush in, grab the pillow and off he'd run. Now, this pillow was bigger than he was, but he sure loved it. Funny thing is, this was before soft plush toys for dogs had been manufactured, and Jocko TOLD me that was what he liked. I should have started making them. Oh well, I should have listened to him.

Jocko was sixteen years-old when he went to the Bridge. He lived a good long life, with lots of precious memories. He will live in our hearts forever. Although losing him was very painful, I wouldn't trade even one of the memories I have of him. I miss him to this day.





The Scottie Challenge - How "Scottish" is your Scottie?

Cyberscots

Scotties.com

Scottish Terriers in History

Scotty's Gifts and Accessories

San Francisco Bay Scottish Terrier Club

Scottish Terrier Ornament Pattern





Tail Waggers - Stories for Dog People

The Star - To help with the grief of losing a pet

Puttin' on the Dog - Collectibles, Accessories and Gifts for the Canine Inclined

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