Sitting Pretty

Patch had some alone time (every mom needs that, right?) today, enjoying the sunshine on the deck overlooking the lawn. Excuse me. The sea of mud.

Note the daintily crossed paws. Always the lady, Miss Patch.

Mud Season

I fear mud season is upon us.

The leader of this pack, Mr. P., is a professional landscaper. Once upon a time, we had a lawn like a green velvet carpet. Now all you can see is mud etched with pawprints and the occasional hole to China.

I hate girls!

Teddy says: Berry, can I tell you something? Man to man?

Berry: What?

Teddy: I really hate girls.

Berry: Why?

Teddy: All they want to do is talk about their feelings, and does this collar make my butt look big, and will Gramma let us go to the next Hannah Montana concert.

Berry: Funny, Georgie was just saying the same thing the other day.

Teddy: Georgie's a good guy. He's my bud, you know?

Berry: So, what am I? Chopped liver?

Teddy: I wish! No, man, just kidding. You ain't heavy, you my brother. Now if you could just move your leg down a little bit ...yeah, that's it...

Harley's Morning Ritual

Lisa reports that her senior kitty, Harley, has a new morning ritual. She describes it thusly:

Here's the drill: Humans wake up and enter the rain chamber to create drinking water for Harley. Humans let King Harley into the bedroom for his morning drink. Harley yowls loudly to let humans know that we are not moving fast enough and then jumps up onto the vanity indicating that he would like you to turn the faucet on. Once you do, he jumps down off the vanity and cries in front of the shower door. Humans hop to it and open the shower door so the King may enter and drink daintily off the top of the jar lid. Harley then finishes his drink and sprawls on the floor where you are sure to trip over him while attempting to get dressed. Dog are let out of their sleeping crate in retribution and chase King Harley up onto the edge of the tub where he takes a couple of swipes at the dogs. Dogs retreat to go downstairs for potty. Harley stretches out on the tub where the dogs can't get him and settles in for a long winter's nap! The end.

Ah, life! Aint it grand?!

Indeed it is, Harley, indeed it is, when you have three dogs to torture and at least four humans to do your bidding.

Polly Eats Poop

Yesterday I caught a whiff of something distinctive, something disgusting, something poopy. Sad to say, not an unusual smell here. I concluded that someone had pooped or that Georgie had belched. I was busy in the kitchen, so I told myself that it could wait until I was done with cutting up carrots, and that maybe one of the dogs would dispose of the poop before I got there. Georgie, setting his usual good example, has taught Patch and the puppies to eat poop, so I rarely have to scoop up a warm pile any more.

When I got to the living room, who was eating the poop?

Polly.

Polly, my little angel, my tiny dancer, my delicate, sweet flower of girlhood. Eating poop. Man, was that disillusioning.

So I said to her, "Polly, how will you ever get a date with poop on your breath?" and she flounced off.

I imagined Polly's Prince Charming (or Prince Charmin, as the case may be) taking her to a fine restaurant.

"What will it be tonight, my darling?" PC says to her. "Chateaubriand? Lobster? Foie Gras?"

And Polly says, "Sure, if I they use poop for the foie gras, and serve poop-mousse for dessert, and darling, please make sure the maids leave Andes Poop Mints on our pillows tonight."

Aack!

Kitchen Chaos

This illustration, from a calendar I had in 1994, shows exactly what happens in my kitchen day after day after day.

Sex after neutering? Explicit photo!

As far as I can tell, the only thing you accomplish by neutering or spaying an animal is population control. Neutering has never stopped any of my dogs or cats from peeing/spraying to mark their territory or leave messages (pee-mail, as we call it here). Nor has it prevented them from having an active (if ineffectual) sex life. The current canine crew is an equal-opportunity bunch. Meg humps her brothers and her mother, Berry humps all his siblings, his mother, and Polly, and so on. I've been told that the humping is a power thing, but it seems to me they do it for fun. And Berry and Teddy often enjoy (they're certainly smiling while doing it) what was called "69" when I was in high school. Berry does the -um, mouth work - while Teddy does his humping. It makes me laugh. Mr. Parker calls them ugly names that I won't repeat. My mom would catch them at it and exclaim, "Oh please, not before dinner!"

This photo is of our first Frenchie, Buster, whose toybox included a stuffed cat. The first thing Buster did after coming home from being neutered was hump that cat. And he continued doing it at every opportunity until the cat finally had to go to heaven.

What interests me about this is that Buster and the stuffed cat always did it missionary style, not doggy style.