What's your problem?

What's your problem?

Do you not understand the importance of feeding biscuits to pugs?

Who cares what the vet says about avoiding overfeeding of pugs? Just because she said I'm beautiful and shiny and sleek doesn't mean I don't need a biscuit. I need a biscuit NOW (stamping her tiny feet). GET WITH IT, MOM! Don't you know that biscuits make my tail curl? Do you want a pug with a straight tail? Do you want a starving, traumatized pug? Do you want me to start barking hysterically and wake up all the other dogs? Do you? Because I'm fully prepared to do that...just give me a biscuit now, and nobody gets hurt. Understand?

Where's My Teddy Bear?

I had a dream, Mom.

I was dreaming. I was dreaming that I was the only dog.

It was so nice, for a while. But then I was so lonely.

Where's my Grammy?

Where's my Teddy Bear?

Where's my biscuit?

Is this my front end, or my rear end?

What time of day is this?

Is it supper time yet?

Is it sleeptime yet?

Can I have a hug?

Zzzzzzzz.

All arms and legs

When I was growing up as a short, chubby girl, people told me I'd grow out of the baby fat. People exclaimed that their own 13-year old daughters were "all arms and legs". As far as I could tell, my body was shaped like a donut with a head and little stubs for hands and feet. Now that Jinx is in my life, though, I finally understand what the "all arms and legs" thing is about. It's about Jinx.

His arms and legs do actually fold at the joints, but you'd never know it to look at this picture.

Girly Girls

I keep trying to capture Polly and Meg together in a photo, because I'm dying to write a conversation between them in which Polly assures Meg that she looks JUST LIKE Hannah Montana, and so on and so forth. But I keep getting shots like this.

And the conversation goes like this:

Polly: Mom! Meg stole my nylabone, AGAIN!

Jean: Polly, you know perfectly well the nylabone belongs to everyone.

Polly: But it's worn down to a tiny nub. It's just my size now.

Jean: Meg, would you please share the nylabone with Polly?

Meg: Who was that at the front door? Was that the UPS man, or was that Miley Cyrus?

Polly: It was Miley! I swear, it was Miley. You'd better go look, right now. I'll take care of the nylabone while you go check, OK?

Meg: Naw, it was the UPS guy, and it wasn't my Victoria's Secret order, either.

Polly (stamping her tiny feet): Hmmph!

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.

The Grinch?

A visitor who would prefer to remain anonymous, but who I recognize nonetheless, pointed out that a Schnauzer dressed as Santa is a travesty because Schnauzers are actually Grinches. After some diligent research (that took me about 35 seconds), I have decided that this visitor is absolutely right. I think it's all in the eyebrow action. To get the defiant hands-on-hips-Grinch look, we would need a photo of Fritz's brother, Ziggy. Maybe Fritz & Ziggy's mom would oblige...

The Job Interview

I can't reprint it without copyright violation, but I think I can safely tell you about the hilarious Peter Steiner cartoon I found in my 2010 The New Yorker Dogs appointment calendar.

A balding man in a suit sits in an armchair before a fire in a lushly-appointed office. His arms and legs are crossed as he looks down and addresses the dog sitting on the carpet before him. He says, "I've told you why I need a dog. Now suppose you tell me what makes you think you might be that dog."

It reminded me of several job interviews I've had, during which I, as bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as the cartoon dog, delivered monologues about what made me perfect for the job. I couldn't help imagining how one of our dogs would fare in an interview like that, so I interviewed Teddy. I will apologize in advance if I offend anybody of Eskimo or Inuit origins.

Jean: I've told you why I need an indoor dog. What makes you think you might be that dog?

Teddy: Because I'm really cute and I deserve it.

Jean: Even after you chewed the wooden base of that chair while you were waiting for this interview?

Teddy: I wouldn't have had to do that if you kept a few issues of Highlights for Puppies in your waiting room.

Jean: So you can read?

Teddy: Well, no, but I also like to chew magazines and books. It's a form of recycling, you know. And it's roughage. Everybody knows fiber is good for you. Keeps the old pooper working.

Jean: We need more poop like the Eskimos need more ice.

Teddy: I understand you have an expert pooper scooper on staff here. It's one of the things that drew me here. I'm very interested in an apprenticeship in that area.

Jean: Let me see if Mr. Georgie is available to interview you. Perhaps you could demonstrate your current skill set for him.

Teddy: No problem! I can also provide references - hmmm, where did I put that piece of paper? (he coughs up a paper spit-ball)

Jean: Spitting on the premises is strictly forbidden.

Teddy: So sorry. It won't happen again. For at least 5 minutes. Maybe 10.

Jean: Miss Meg, will you please page Mr. Georgie to the conference room?