Step by step

We no longer have a couch, so I shoved the coffee table against the wall. Some of the dogs like to lie underneath it (like a little clubhouse) but yesterday Georgie decided to explore the top of it. Since he's way too short and chubby to jump directly onto it, he first hopped up in the littlest dog chair (on the right in this pic), then onto the coffee table, then on the throw pillow that happened to be on it. By the time I got the camera out, he'd already moved on, intent on checking out the sewing machine cabinet.

The watch dog

Years ago, Mr. P. gave me a cut-out metal yard decoration in the shape of a French bulldog looking up at a butterfly. We also have a pug-shape decoration next to it but the Frenchie is bigger and more noticeable. Before the Schwann's driver gave up on trying to sell us frozen delights, he told me during one of his visits that he was kinda nervous of that dog in our front yard. As far as I could tell, he was not the teasing type and quite sincere about his dog anxiety, so I reassured him that the dog would never hurt him because it was made of metal.

"Dang!" he said, "I thought it was real!"

I suggested that he have his vision checked.

Double decker dogs

Did you ever love someone so much that you just couldn't get close enough to them?

I don't know who's more adorable in this photo, Miss Polly with her anxious little head stacked on top of Georgie, or Georgie with his block head tilted to the side so that a slice of sunshine falls on it.

Tastes Just Like Chicken

Frog legs are a popular item on restaurant menus here.

I've tried frog legs several times over the past 40 years. I guess I keep hoping they'll taste like chicken (as my mom promised) instead of swamp, but no luck so far.

Georgie's frog legs, however, look mighty tasty.

Live and in Concert...Georgie!

So, my old digital camera (possibly overloaded by dog photos) finally s**t the bed. The new one I bought today (for $50 less than the original) is smaller, 1000 times easier to use, and it shoots videos too! That feature may seem like nothing to tech-savvy folks who use their cell phones to shoot videos, access the Internet, compose symphonies, and who knows what else. But I am reminded of my childhood home movies, taken with an enormous, clunky camera and viewed with an enormous, clunky projector on an enormous, clunky roll-down screen. My father's brother, Archibald, was our family's photographer (almost to the point of being obnoxious, bless his heart). We kids used to call him "Uncle Archibulb" because every time we saw him, flash bulbs would go off. Each bulb was good for one flash, so sometimes we could escape while he was affixing a fresh bulb to the camera.

But back to today's feature movie, "Hello Georgie." Not nearly as polished as "Hello Dolly", and it features some unneccessary views of my feet, but it does show off my handsome boy and his snuffling, with heartfelt performances by Georgie & Jean, and a delightful cameo by Polly. I suppose I will have to film "Hello Polly" now. We'll need costumes for that.

Note the big stain on the rug, behind Georgie. That's where he puked up a gallon of poop the other day. I've cleaned it with the rug shampooer twice and although it looks a lot better than it did, I fear it will need more work. On my part, Georgie, not yours. Please.

A Peaceable Kingdom, Part XXIV-ii23b

In our peaceable kingdom, the lamb lies down with the lion. Er, no. The lion lies down with the lamb. No, that's not it. I've got it! The lamb lies down with the lamb.

Baaaaa.

Nobody Loves Me

Polly: Georgie, are you awake?
Georgie: Zzzzzzzz.
Polly: Wake up. We need to talk.
(Editor: Four words guaranteed to put any man to sleep.)
Georgie: Arfrmmp.
Polly: Don't you think Patch is getting kind of stuck on herself since she started sleeping indoors? I mean, it's all about Patch now. Isn't Patch darling cuddled up in my purple blankie? Isn't Patch a good girl? Does Patch want a biscuit in bed? Shhh, Patch is sleeping.
Georgie: Who's Patch?
Polly: It's just not fair.
Georgie: Zzzzzz.
Polly: Nobody loves me any more.

Polly's Bad Day

Polly's bad day just got worse.

Earlier this week, we discovered (the hard, messy way) that one of the puppies has diarrhea. After 2 accidents, I caught Berry in the act yesterday afternoon.

Today I cooked some plain white rice for him and mixed Pepto Bismol into it. This remedy, suggested by a long-ago vet of ours, has worked for generations of our dogs.

When it was time to give Berry his medicine, I shut Polly and Georgie in my study and let Berry into the kitchen. He wasn't sure he liked the rice
(new and unfamiliar) but did manage to choke it down. The entire time he was eating, Polly was
shrieking in the bedroom. Finally I opened the door and she shot out of there like a little black
cannonball, only to find that Berry's bowl was empty.

Then it was time to feed her and the rest of the dogs (I'm sorry to confess that Berry ate a second supper with his brothers, sister, and mother - no wonder he's fat). Much to Polly's dismay, Mr. P. put her kibble in her bowl and put Georgie's kibble in the saucepan with the leftover rice (no Pepto). The reason for this: Georgie's the Alpha Dog (in theory, anyway), so he
gets the treats. Polly could not get over the terrible injustice of this, but had to abandon her protest and eat her own kibble before anybody else got at hers.

No dogs on the furniture

I've heard that some people don't allow their dogs on the furniture. As someone who bought an extra-large armchair for the sole purpose of sharing it with her dogs, I find this hard to grasp.

It's also hard to enforce. Years ago when we bought a new sofa, we put one of those electric-shock "scat mats" on it to discourage our dogs and cats from getting up there. It made absolutely no difference, and we soon gave up.

My husband picked out the living room chair he favors. It's a platform rocker and not what I would have chosen, but he paid for it and he sits in it. He strongly discourages the dogs from getting up in that chair. He's generally pretty mild-tempered, but when he yells at the dogs, we all go running. Mostly they do stay away from that chair, maybe because the rocking motion when they jump on it is so disconcerting.

Lately, though, Georgie has been sneaking onto his dad's chair. He rests his chin on the wooden arm rest, which doesn't look at all comfortable to me, but he seems quite content.

It all began like this...

Once upon a time, a happy family lived in rural Tennessee. Papa Bear, Mama Bear, Baby Bear... wait, no, wrong story. I'll start again.

In a modest home on a country road lived me (Jean), my husband (Mr. P), and our two dogs, Georgie (a fawn French bulldog) and Polly (a black pug), with an outdoor cat (Smoky, who you might guess is grey) to monitor the mouse population. Our neighbors are farmers and their cows, plus countless stray dogs and cats. Apparently lots of people think it's OK to drop their unwanted pets into a ditch.

Last fall, a sweet white mutt with a black patch over one eye appeared. She evaluated every home in the area and targeted us to be her new family. She must have seen the neon "SUCKER" sign on our roof. We called her Patch, not wanting to invest a lot of effort in naming a dog who would eventually disappear. But she didn't disappear. We fed her, gave her a crate in our garage, and when she began to get fat and her teats distended, I took her to the vet. He told us Patch weighed 32 lbs, was about a year old, and was about 4 weeks away from delivering a litter of puppies. This was not exactly what we had planned for our family, but that SUCKER sign is there for a reason.

On December 21, 2008, Patch gave birth in our laundry room to 4 adorable puppies. Every time we take them to the vet for shots, he says in awe, "And you're keeping them all?" Well, yes. We can't bring ourselves to part with them. We love them all - how could we chose which one(s) to banish? We couldn't give them away in the Wal-Mart parking lot to any idiot who'd drive up and throw them in the back of his pickup truck. We'd have to do a home visit, a psychological evaluation, and get 3 references.

So the puppies stay. Patch and the pups have a large doghouse (an 8x8 shed with a pet door) and share a big fenced-in yard with Georgie and Polly. Although Georgie was interested in eating the puppies when they were small, now that they are 5 months old and bigger than him (he weighs 23 lbs, they weigh about 40 lbs each), he tolerates their rough-housing with only the occasional snarl. As their behavior improves and the weather gets warmer, Patch and the puppies spend more time indoors, but so far none of them have shown an interest in being officially house-broken. (Georgie enjoys snacking on puppy poop anyway.)

The vet theorizes that the puppies are part Rottweiler, part bloodhound. Two of them (Teddy & Meg) are tan with white markings, and the other two (Berry & Jinx) are black with tan markings. We have had Patch spayed and in a month or so will have the puppies neutered, because we can barely afford to feed this crew, never mind more pups.

As the vet says, "You gotta a whole lot of dog goin' on here!"