I'm Roscoe and I live here too.
I'm Roscoe. I live at Lancaster Land. Arguably, I spend more time than anyone protecting, watching, and playing here. It's my house, my land, but I let the Lancaster family live here. I even let them sleep on my bed. I think they've got it pretty good.
I know my mom has been writing gushy words about how much she and the Mr. love it at my house, but I thought I'd steal the thunder and tell you what it's really all about.
I'm Roscoe and I live here too.
At my house, I ride motorcycles. It's like some kind of miracle that I can throw one of my legs over the seat of a bike. Humans do it. Actually, humans do it all the time here. When I do it, the humans laugh so hard, like it's the funniest thing they've ever seen. So, I sit there, listening to them laugh, thinking about how easy it is to entertain humans.
The other day, I really took it up a notch and rode a 3 Wheeler down the driveway. I steered it because I had to. Because Mr. Lancaster wasn't getting to me fast enough and I was about to crash into an embankment. I'm not an idiot, people. Push the handlebars to the right, and the thing turns. It's not rocket science, but I guess over one-hundred-thousand views on your social media thinks otherwise. I love the attention, so keep sharing it.
I'm Roscoe and I live here too.
I dig here. Because there are MOLES and MICE and BUNNIES. And I'm not sure, but I think they taste delicious. So, I monitor the territory, smelling and listening all the time, waiting. I'm waiting for just the right moment when I feel movement under my feet and catch the right scent. It's then that I dig my paws into the soil, throwing the dirt behind me voraciously. My nose gets buried into the ground, sniffing. I don't often catch what I'm looking for, but the chase is more than half the fun.
I run and jump and play and when we go on car rides, I sit in the front seat because the baby is in the back seat these days. I look at the cows and the horses across the field, and I wonder what it would feel like to stand so tall.
It's not all fun and games though. The "protector" part of my job description is serious business. I have a family to take care of. And the baby, well I know she can't take care of herself at all. Mr. and Mrs. do a pretty good job tending to her, but I have my hourly smell checks, combined with gentle kisses, just so I can be sure the little one is doing OK. She cries sometimes. When she cries, I have to find a human to make sure they pick her up and kiss and smell her too. She is my greatest responsibility and my greatest fear. They tell me that soon she'll be big enough to lead me around on a leash, and run with me and dig with me and do everything with me. Right now, I'm happy just doing everything for her.
I'm Roscoe, and I live here too.
I know my mom has been writing gushy words about how much she and the Mr. love it at my house, but I thought I'd steal the thunder and tell you what it's really all about.
I'm Roscoe and I live here too.
At my house, I ride motorcycles. It's like some kind of miracle that I can throw one of my legs over the seat of a bike. Humans do it. Actually, humans do it all the time here. When I do it, the humans laugh so hard, like it's the funniest thing they've ever seen. So, I sit there, listening to them laugh, thinking about how easy it is to entertain humans.
The other day, I really took it up a notch and rode a 3 Wheeler down the driveway. I steered it because I had to. Because Mr. Lancaster wasn't getting to me fast enough and I was about to crash into an embankment. I'm not an idiot, people. Push the handlebars to the right, and the thing turns. It's not rocket science, but I guess over one-hundred-thousand views on your social media thinks otherwise. I love the attention, so keep sharing it.
I'm Roscoe and I live here too.
I dig here. Because there are MOLES and MICE and BUNNIES. And I'm not sure, but I think they taste delicious. So, I monitor the territory, smelling and listening all the time, waiting. I'm waiting for just the right moment when I feel movement under my feet and catch the right scent. It's then that I dig my paws into the soil, throwing the dirt behind me voraciously. My nose gets buried into the ground, sniffing. I don't often catch what I'm looking for, but the chase is more than half the fun.
It's not all fun and games though. The "protector" part of my job description is serious business. I have a family to take care of. And the baby, well I know she can't take care of herself at all. Mr. and Mrs. do a pretty good job tending to her, but I have my hourly smell checks, combined with gentle kisses, just so I can be sure the little one is doing OK. She cries sometimes. When she cries, I have to find a human to make sure they pick her up and kiss and smell her too. She is my greatest responsibility and my greatest fear. They tell me that soon she'll be big enough to lead me around on a leash, and run with me and dig with me and do everything with me. Right now, I'm happy just doing everything for her.
I'm Roscoe, and I live here too.