Doggie Friends

We are missing our four-legged friend today, but we had some fine supplemental furry friends to help make Christmas warm. Look at those faces!

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Don’t tell Peanut. It was a great Christmas.

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Berries and Doggies and More, Oh My!

Last week included some berries from a local farm.  They were delicious berries, so they deserve a shout-out.

Om nom nom.

See what I mean?  [Okay, you can’t see that they’re delicious, but you can see that they’re beautiful and bright and such.]

Raspberries are my favorite, and add to that a day of sunshine and happy dogs and nice husband and a good outdoor project, and it was just good.  Simple, and wonderful, and good.

Everyone likes the berries. And the squash and the plums and the kale.

We were dog-sitting for some friends last week, so Spot the Dog was part of our family (the big, spotty one).  We love him.  He’s a sweet dog.  He enjoyed sniffing the farmer’s market food with Peanut.

Spot taking in the freshly sanded porch and mostly the head scratches.

Although he didn’t get any kale, Spot did eat some chocolate chips throughout the week.  The chocolate chips didn’t treat him too well.  We tried to talk to him about chocolate chips being bad for dogs, but he didn’t listen.  He went in for more the next day, but don’t worry, no dogs were (seriously) harmed in the making of this post.

There was more porch progress, too.  We moved on to sanding over the weekend, and we got the primer down.

So much sanding!

Now it looks like a blinding white snowstorm hit our porch every time I open the front door from inside.  The next steps are really the most exciting, so that’s good news, too.  Just a few last coats of paint to go.  Those coats of paint will have to wait until post-vacation, however.

What?!  Vacation!??  Yep, I’m headed to the beach with Scott’s family for the end of this week and my family for the start of next week.  We’re pretty excited about it.

Sad Eyes

I might have mentioned a time or two that I love my dog.  I make fun of him sometimes when other people are around, because I know his manners are atrocious (and that’s all my fault).  He loves to greet you by jumping as close as possible to your face and being generally ridiculous.  I don’t discourage him.  He likes to hump other dogs.  There isn’t even a nice way to say that.  I did try to discourage that habit.  I gave up.  Despite his flaws, I can only think of good things to say to Peanut when it’s just the two of us.  The jumping and the humping disappear into the recesses of my memory, and he’s the sweetest dog in the world.

Once in a blue moon, I get home and the jumping doesn’t happen.  Instead, I’m left to search for my dog all through the house.  The most popular spots for those days are on my bed, right by the pillows or smushed up against the wall under the couch.  And inevitably, there’s a pair of very sad eyes looking at me from his handsome dog face.

The worst thing about the sad eyes is that I don’t usually know what caused them.  There’s dejected staring off into space and the occasional sad glance in my direction, and that’s it.  Are the squirrels mocking Peanut all day from the attic?  Are the neighbor cats showing off on the front porch, just out of his reach?  Is he really upset that I’m only home and awake for a few hours a day?  That last one is the kicker.  It gives me all kinds of guilty pangs.

I try ear rubs and tug of war and quality time on the couch, and sometimes I can make the sad eyes go away.  Not last night though.  Sigh.

Now feast your eyes on this:

Westerly Trench Coat by RoverDog on Etsy

Sad eyes are the only thing between me and the purchase of that trench coat.  Oh, and the fact that it’s more expensive than my trench coat.  Anyway, I think we can all agree that the dog in the coat is adorable.  Not even cold hearts can resist that face, and he looks perfectly happy in his trench coat.  Put Peanut in that same trench coat and record-breaking levels of sad would exude from his eyes.  He would hang his head in shame and beg me to take the wretched thing off of him.

There’s a blog somewhere in the vast blogosphere that shows pictures of animals who are embarrassed by weird costumes and items of clothing that their owners make them wear.  I feel great sympathy for those pets.  They’re supposed to be wild and beastly, and here we are making them wear pink frills and constricting headgear.  You can’t properly stalk a squirrel while wearing a bow tie.

So there you are, my argument against clothing for pets and the very first moment I’ve regretted that stance all in one neat bundle.  That trench coat is just so much cooler than most dog clothing.  I would like to avoid the sad eyes though.

Belly Flops

Not feeling verbose today, so instead of an exposition of my feelings on capital punishment (isn’t that the sort of thing I usually discuss?), I’ll leave you with this video from Cute Overload:

My family used to have a corgi, and I can easily imagine her doing the same flop in her younger years.  She jumped off of our second-story porch once.  There was a butterfly hovering below her nose, and she really wanted to catch that butterfly.

Check out that mean swimming action at the end, too.

Squirrel!

Okay, I’ve been processing my pastor’s sermon from yesterday, and I can’t get my thoughts straight enough for public consumption.  To make up for that, I’ll do something for you that never fails to make my dog happy.

Peanut tends to know when there’s a squirrel within a four-block radius, but he occasionally misses one.  If I see a squirrel (or a cat) first, sometimes I point it out to him.  Don’t want the little guy to miss out on his daily excitement, after all.  So here goes…

“Look, there’s a squirrel!”

Pretty cool squirrel, too.

Fat Dog

In case the title left you in any doubt, this is one fat dog (not my photo… check out the actual photographer’s Flickr photostream):

On my way to play kickball yesterday, I got trapped behind a teeny tiny dog.  It had roughly the same body fat percentage as the fellow above.

I’m certainly a fan of dogs, and I don’t discriminate against dogs with issues.  I nearly adopted a dog that was minus a leg, and anyone can understand something as minor as a few extra pounds.  What I don’t understand are dog owners who let their pets get so fat that they can’t even walk properly.
The dog at the park yesterday was obviously working hard and moving about as fast as an earthworm.  I didn’t want to step over him to get where I was going.  He might topple over and end up like a turtle on his back.  So I stood there and watched him try desperately to catch up with his owner as she called for him, “Come on, Buster!*  What’s wrong?  Move faster, Buster!”
If I had been Buster, I wouldn’t have been thinking very charitable thoughts.  My dog might jump on people obnoxiously and sprint out the door at every opportunity, but at least he can sprint.
On a more cheerful note, I was the happy consumer of a chocolate-covered doughnut with sprinkles today.  Sprinkles definitely make up for their lack of taste with loads of personality.  As long as I don’t start feeding Peanut chocolate-covered doughnuts with sprinkles, we’re set.

*Names have been changed to protect the innocent.