Maybe Tomorrow I’ll Wanna Settle Down…

…until tomorrow, I’ll just keep movin’ on.

Oh hello, “Terminal” Gemma, who ran off up the road this afternoon and only came back because I yelled “I HAVE COOKIES YOU HATEFUL LITTLE WENCH!”

If you facebook, probably you’ve seen this woman’s photography cuz it’s been shared like mental.

A friend posted one of the pictures to my timeline, specifically this one:

dog-photography-alicja-zmyslowska-3__880

and demanded I recreate it.  Or best it.  Or something.

I like a challenge.

My dogs do not.

ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?????

AHHHH!  What the f*ck was that??

Shut UP Piper!!

I’ve got to teach my little dogs to do adorable hugging things (without biting each other’s heads off) and photograph them in little miniature cities made of origami or something.  Instead of weeding the lawns.

Besides, that photographer doesn’t have dogs who are POSSESSED BY EVIL SPIRITS.

(Actually, what the little bastard is doing is stealing all the firestarter from the bonfire pit.  My landlord also had a surveyor come for some reason, and Wootie dug up and stole all the survey sticks too.  I’m totally pretending I  have no idea what happened to them.)

If you pay me in cookies, I’ll keep your secret.

So maybe my dogs won’t do threeways on camera for doggie porn.  But I think they still take a pretty fine photo when the stars align :)

I bet your dogs take a fine photo too!  prove me right; come out to our Pet Pics with Santa and/or Bumble next weekend at Triple Tree in Maple Ridge!

pet pics

Where Oh Where Has The Food Lady Gone

Nowhere, that’s where.  I have too many damn dogs to be able to afford to go anywhere!

Haha.  I stole your freedom and ABSORBED IT INTO MY SOUL.

F*cking Ender.

I am on “staycation” this week, having un-entwined myself from my all-encompassing job for 9 glorious days.  Except for like 6 texts from staff and a brief visit to work yesterday (gah).  It’s hard to be the boss of everything sometimes.  Although I am not the boss of this:

This itty bitty she-demon is the bossiest thing on the planet (except the Sadist )!  Meal time?  Demands food with ear-splitting shrieks.  Nail clipping time?  CHOMP THE FOOD LADY!  HARD!  Am I trying to enjoy popcorn and a movie?  Loooooong whiny sounds that are approximately 20 seconds in duration.  Poke her with your socked foot to get her to shut up?  CHOMP THE FOOD LADY!  HARD!  Gemma is bad ass.  I think she scared the “terminal cancer” right out of her body, as it’s been nearly a year since I brought her home to “make her comfortable for a few weeks, feed her a cheeseburger and send her to Heaven.”

I am fairly confident that Heaven is not where she is headed.

It’s true that the smaller the dog, the bigger the attitude.  Take, for example, this:

Cute right?  (Heart melty, kick yourself in the teeth dreamy, head over heels in love with smushable adorableness, try to adopt her over my cold dead body and I’ll haunt you with everything I got, if you prefer).

But also, The Devil.

Bring it, bitches.

She’ll take on all comers with fight left over to kill one of my slippers. With gusto.  She’s absolutely hilarious!  She wants to Kill All The Things, but not in the terrier way where a black and white dog *coughWINTERcough* kills your baby chicken that was stupid enough to squeeze through the fence, but in that I DECLARE THIS SOCK MINE IN THE NAME OF TINYDOG AND I WILL SHAKE THE LIFE OUT OF IT IF I PLEASE kind of way.  Last year I made a flirt pole out of a lunge whip and a holey roller ball and none of my dogs maintained any kind of sustained interest in it for more than a couple of minutes.  They all just eyeballed the lunge line up to my hand, worked out I was f*cking with them, and were all “if you don’t want us to actually have it, we won’t bother chasing it then.”  Stupid Einsteins, my pack of dogs.

But Fae made the flirt pole her bitch.  She’ll run that thing down to the ends of the earth and when she catches it, it’s on!  She growls and snarls and tugs and whips her head from side to side so hard I think her brains are going to fling out of her ears and go splat! against the fence.  She’s HILARIOUS.

(On like night three of her being with me, she busted out of her crate in the night (the door is broken, she’s not The Hulk!) and climbed up into bed with me, and that’s where I found her in the morning, with her chin resting between my neck and shoulder while she spooned my back, snoring gently into my ear.  *swoon*  And yes, this is where she has slept ever since.  Shut up.)

I tried to get photos of her playing with the flirt pole, but my zoom lens is all but useless at this point, refusing to focus and just generally undermining my attempts to photograph anything.  I’m getting about 1 out of 10 shots in focus, and that seems to be mainly luck.  It’s utterly useless in anything other than the bright sun too.  So it’s a little more challenging to get blog fodder for you all these grey wintery days.  The majority of my photos are only turning out if my subject happens to be standing still.

And posing gracefully, a la me?

Stupid zoom lens makes me crazy.

A la Dexter.

Makes me crazier when I hear/read stuff like “you don’t need expensive equipment to get amazing photos.”  Don’t believe it.  Photographers don’t drop thousands of dollars on gear because they have all this extra money they don’t know what to spend on.  Bah.  The zoom lens I wish to replace mine with is $2200.00.  Screw you, Canon!!!!

So until I figure out a complicated scheme to bilk some old person out of their fortune, I’ll have to just keep grumbling on with my lip dick telephoto lens and hoping to land a shot now and then.

Do I hear a baby chicken begging to be eaten?  But only with my left ear, because my right one is listening for the Food Lady who is going to kick ten kinds of holy hell out of me for eating a baby chicken.  I’d better just really still and pose for the camera.

Or better yet, appease the huffing and puffing Two Legger by posing with food on my schnoz.

I am NOT posing with food on my face.  And f*ck you very much for suggesting it.

Ah TWooie, my little ray of sunshine.

He and his slightly less FAT brother Wootie are going to be 9 years old next week(ish).  Nine!  I have been prattling on about my dogs for almost nine freaking’ years!  How are you all not tired of listening to me yet?

And Miss Piper, the Ageless, is going to be 12 around the same time.  12.  Gah.

I thought *I* was the ageless dog?

Well you are, Tweed.  Although gravity seems to be winning the war against your mouth there.

He is doing remarkably well for a 14.5 year old dog, I think.  I’m not entirely certain, as I have never before owned a 14.5 year old dog before.  But he still plays ball every day, even if he has to kind of put on the brakes a bit prematurely, as otherwise he is prone to running right past it, because he can’t stop or corner like he used to.  His eyesight is still fantastic and he can still hear me most of the time.  For a while I thought he was practicing ‘selective deafness’ – you know, that privilege of ornery children and the very aged – but it seems that he can hear me most of the time just fine.  Sometimes, maybe in certain registers, or where there is lots of extraneous noise, or if he is concentrating on something else and/or sleepy, he seems to miss what I am saying … but for the most part, you wouldn’t ever guess he was going on 15.  He hasn’t even greyed at all.  The only real difference I have noticed is that at paw wiping time, he can’t seem to coordinate standing on three legs if I lift up a back foot.  He’s okay with the front ones, but if I lift up a hind paw the whole back end just seems to give up and decide to sit down, often to the surprise and irritation of the front end.  His back end is still strong, it just doesn’t always talk to his brain apparently.

But hey, at least he’s GOT a brain.  Just sayin’.

Just kiddin’.  When it comes to paw wiping time (can you tell that wiping muddy feet is a consuming part of my life right now?  I only wipe 44 paws at least three times a day, so go ahead, call me obsessive compulsive!) he is brilliant.  He lifts them for me, without being asked, in order of paws needing wiping.  How wicked smart is my Big Black Beast?  Of course, he also hugs my REFLECTION IN THE MIRROR every morning whilst I am blow drying my hair, but I hear genius is also quirky.

It’s Day Three of Staycation 2014 and I am going to go laze around and do nothing for a while. Maybe admire my dogs some more.  I am sure your dogs are cool and everything, but Spring has 3 extra legs and a spare tail, and Winter is shaped like one of those bi-articulated transit vehicles, so ….

Wasn’t Me!

I didn’t pull out a big chunk of Dexter’s ruff whilst chasing him around the property.  Nope.

I didn’t pull back your fitted sheet on your bed and tear apart your memory foam mattress cover while you were at work.  Nuh uh.

What do you mean “Who peed on the area rug 3 feet from the pee pads?”  Why are you asking me?

I dunno who put a big nose smudge on your camera lens, so get outta my face.

Hey everyone!  The Food Lady wants to know who has been making Sock Nests out of her laundry while she is gone every day.  Anyone got any ideas?

Thank doG for Zylkene … Winter’s anxiety has been kicking itself into high gear for the last month or so, so back on the Zylkene he goes.

But who brought home an itty bitty faux border collie when she didn’t want another dog and now thinks you’d have to pry her from my cold dead hands??

Oh wait … that was me.

How freaking cute is this?  Fae (because she’s a Pixie, one of the fae folk for sure) is about 9 months old, and weighs 10.5 lbs.  She looks like one of my dogs might if I’d accidentally tossed one in a hot wash and then the dryer.  HOW IS THIS MUCH ADORABLENESS POSSIBLE???

She is obedient, housebroken, crate trained, and snuggly as a teeny weeny fleece blankie.  Oh and she’s feisty too!

STUPID CUTENESS!  I HATE YOU!

She is learning to play fetch and likes it!

And she is fearless – she’ll take on anyone.  Even hillbilly teeth!

Gah.  I hate myself!  Because even I, adopter of more dogs than Addy digs holes, knows when to stop.  I know I don’t want any more dogs.  EXCEPT I WANT THIS ONE!!

She’s just too much.  TOO MUCH!  ALL THE EVERYTHING!

Big fat le sigh.  I’me getting her spayed next week and then she’ll have to find another home.  After which I will throw myself across my bed (sans brand new memory foam mattress cover), tuck my cold, sockless feet (which have just stepped in pee on the area rug) up beneath me and sob myself to sleep (while tenderly touching the bruise on my eyebrow bone).

Why do I even have dogs again??

Oh right, because this:

and this:

and this (though the lipstick is a bit off-putting):

And of course, this:

It’s Adopt A Shelter Dog Month.  Adopt a dog and bring some furry four legged joy into your life!

adopt a shelter dog

(or, you know, Ender)