Another Bit with a Dog
We're having puppies! My sister and brother-in-law's hundred-pound black Lab, Daisy, has at least half a dozen buns in the oven, probably eight. (They bred her with another AKC-registered male; these will not be pound puppies.) For a while there we thought nothing was going to happen, but a few days ago her already-round tummy got considerably more bulgy, and she started sitting funny and demanding even more attention than usual, which I didn't think was possible. An ultrasound revealed today that yes, they're on the way. Most are already spoken for, so there won't too much stress to finding them homes.
Daisy is a good, even-tempered dog who can speak, whisper, shake, high-five, drool, roll over, play dead, lay down, look pathetic, and fart audibly and frequently. She only heels for her dad but that's because our family's dogs don't spend much time leashed; we live in the middle of nowhere, for Heaven's sake. Her favorite treat is ice-cubes and she'll fetch you a tire iron if you ask, but if a duck you shot is still alive when it lands, you're getting it yourself. She likes riding in the backs of trucks, jumping on the trampoline, and getting sprayed with the hose. Is she the perfect Miss America contestant, or what?
So, happy Thanksgiving, everybody. Remember, calories don't count on holidays.
I'll be leaving in the morning for LaBarge; I'm not crazy enough to drive in the dark and the snow with all the deer on the highway. Staying at Mom and Dad's (Mom's and Dad's? Mom and Dads'? sheesh) means staying in a motel, because that's where they live, because Mom runs it. But it's a neat and tidy, cheerful, homey place and I have my own bed in a room in their apartment, so it's not like I have to stay in 101, although I have before. It has a door, usually kept locked, that opens into Mom's living room, so it's convenient when there's a whole batch of us at home.
We don't have any quirky holiday traditions to report, and we dine on pretty classic fare. We aren't likely to watch football, and there probably isn't a Nascar race unless it's a rerun, so I'm packing all three Lord of the Rings videos to watch. I might blog from Dad's WebTV, but I don't know how well that would work with him always wanting to watch Fox News or reruns of Seinfeld, so I'll also take a notebook and my crocheting, my favorite books and a sketchpad, and my light snowboots so I can walk off too much food out in the rough country. And, as ever, I'll take my camera, battery charged and xd card empty, and leave the cats. My two cats are wonderfully low-maintenance; just leave them an extra bowl of food and water and make sure the litterbox isn't too nasty and they're all set. Sure, when I get back they'll punish me for leaving them so long by ignoring me and sleeping on the couch for a week, just so I know they can be neglectful, too. But they never destroy things or pee on the rug; in fact I have my suspicions that all they do is sleep most of the time. Yes, really.
Have a good holiday and be safe wherever you're going, and I'll blog about thee most fascinating things ever when I get back. Or maybe not. But at least you theoretically have something to look forward to!
Daisy is a good, even-tempered dog who can speak, whisper, shake, high-five, drool, roll over, play dead, lay down, look pathetic, and fart audibly and frequently. She only heels for her dad but that's because our family's dogs don't spend much time leashed; we live in the middle of nowhere, for Heaven's sake. Her favorite treat is ice-cubes and she'll fetch you a tire iron if you ask, but if a duck you shot is still alive when it lands, you're getting it yourself. She likes riding in the backs of trucks, jumping on the trampoline, and getting sprayed with the hose. Is she the perfect Miss America contestant, or what?
So, happy Thanksgiving, everybody. Remember, calories don't count on holidays.
I'll be leaving in the morning for LaBarge; I'm not crazy enough to drive in the dark and the snow with all the deer on the highway. Staying at Mom and Dad's (Mom's and Dad's? Mom and Dads'? sheesh) means staying in a motel, because that's where they live, because Mom runs it. But it's a neat and tidy, cheerful, homey place and I have my own bed in a room in their apartment, so it's not like I have to stay in 101, although I have before. It has a door, usually kept locked, that opens into Mom's living room, so it's convenient when there's a whole batch of us at home.
We don't have any quirky holiday traditions to report, and we dine on pretty classic fare. We aren't likely to watch football, and there probably isn't a Nascar race unless it's a rerun, so I'm packing all three Lord of the Rings videos to watch. I might blog from Dad's WebTV, but I don't know how well that would work with him always wanting to watch Fox News or reruns of Seinfeld, so I'll also take a notebook and my crocheting, my favorite books and a sketchpad, and my light snowboots so I can walk off too much food out in the rough country. And, as ever, I'll take my camera, battery charged and xd card empty, and leave the cats. My two cats are wonderfully low-maintenance; just leave them an extra bowl of food and water and make sure the litterbox isn't too nasty and they're all set. Sure, when I get back they'll punish me for leaving them so long by ignoring me and sleeping on the couch for a week, just so I know they can be neglectful, too. But they never destroy things or pee on the rug; in fact I have my suspicions that all they do is sleep most of the time. Yes, really.
Have a good holiday and be safe wherever you're going, and I'll blog about thee most fascinating things ever when I get back. Or maybe not. But at least you theoretically have something to look forward to!
posted by A at
6:10 PM
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