I’ll Have What He’s Having

Mr. Woo found a delectable something-or-other in the grass and spent a glorious sunny afternoon gnawing on it.  Spring spent a glorious sunny afternoon trying desperately to steal it from him.

It’s kind of nice to know I am not the only person in the house that gets stared at whilst eating.

This morning Donut the cat threw up a goodly portion of her breakfast while trying to dislodge a hairball and at least three of the dogs hovered over her eagerly.  ”Are you gonna eat that or what?

I am hoping she also threw up THE DEVIL INSIDE HER.  I just had her spayed last week, finally (<– world’s most accomplished procrastinator) and it turned out she had a closed pyometra that weighed nearly a whole pound all bunged up in her uterus.  She certainly wasn’t acting uncomfortable or anything – I just spayed her because I am on a personal mission to tidy up loose ends in my life in a timely fashion (someone remind me to enter Regionals soon, please).  We were all kind of blown away by the pyometra and the fortuitous timing of my spay-the-cat-on-a-whim decision.

Anyway, you’d think she’d come back happier … lighter if you will, but no.  Instead she came back POSSESSED BY A DEMON that turned my passive, purry, big-eyed-flat-face cat into a dog hunting monster on a mission to eradicate the blight of K9 from the earth.  I have never seen anything scarier (and I’ve known Tempus for almost 12 years!)

She’d be rubbing up against the dogs like her usual self and then suddenly turn on that dog, who would shriek in terror and run – cat in hot pursuit!  All teeth and claws and hissing growling leonine outrage, she pursued Wootie into a crate where he cowered with his head tucked down against his chest, presumably so she could not rip out his jugular.  Denied this victory she then began hovercrafting around the house at warp speed and lit into Spring who screamed like a person and came running to me for sanctuary – she sprang into my arms from the ground.  Donut then turned her missile on Tweed who, bless his old man self, was standing stock still in a state of complete confusion, as his sense of self preservation has evaporated in his twilight years.  His eyes were the size of dinner plates, making them all the easier for Donut TO CLAW THE F*CK OUT, HATED DOG!!

Ain’t nocat gonna throw down on my Tweedles.  As she launched across the kitchen at him, I booted her mid air like a foot ball.  I had to put Spring down to really get my aim right (I wasn’t putting my hand near those claws and teeth, TYVM!!)  so after arcing gracefully through the living room, the damned cat landed in some crazy ninja tuck-and-roll thing that propelled her straight into the ass end of a fleeing Spring.  Donut cornered her in the bedroom and was trying to claw and bite her face off when I grabbed her by the tail and flung her hissing and spitting into the bathroom, and slammed the door shut.  I then went and rescued poor Spring who was shaking and crying in a puddle of her own urine and evacuated anal glands in the bedroom, while Donut threw herself against the door like Jack Torrance, growling and grumbling.  HEEEERRRRE’S DONUT!!

I would have happily left TERRIFYING MONSTER CAT in there until she starved to death, but all that adrenaline made me need to pee too, and I wasn’t going to do it on the bedroom floor like poor Springles.  So about 15 minutes later I cautiously opened the bathroom door and Donut was all “prrrrow?  prrrow?” purry like nothing had happened.  #Twilight Zone.

This went on with progressively diminishing degrees of severity for about 4 days, before Donut returned to her old self.  She has not tried to maim anydog for days now, but Spring has PTSD and has to come everywhere in the house with me as she fears encountering CrazyNuts.  The other night in bed she start screeching because Donut hopped up onto the mattress just before lights out.

WTF?  I have owned a lot of cats over the years, and I am drowning in them at all times at work, but I have never seen a cat come home from surgery and go literally insane.  I checked the bill – they did not charge me for possession…maybe there will be an outrageous exorcism fee on her recheck exam?  DAMN SNEAKY VETS!!

Anyway, that’s the most excitement we’ve seen around here in ages.  Mostly we have just been chillaxin’, getting our sun on.

It’s pretty rad to go outside NOT dressed like the Michelin Man against the rain and cold.  Although TWooie is SO FRICKIN’ FAT that he always looks like the Michelin Man.

It does not however stop him from being all googly-eyed crazy when the mood strikes him.

Ender, OTOH, is not fat at all.  I was actually worried he might be a little too thin, mostly because people at work keep saying “OMG, he’s so skinny!”  I thought sighthounds were supposed to be slender.

I said slender not ELONGATED, Addy!

I posed the “is he too skinny” question, along with this photo, on an IG group I frequent on Facebook.

I got a lot of replies.  A LOT of replies.  A lot of opinions on his weight, health, handsomeness etc.  However, the only ubiquitous consensus that came out of the discussion was that “Italian Greyhounds are all different.”

Oh rly?  That seems odd to me … I thought one of the mythologized benefits of The Capital P Purebred Capital D Dog was that you always “know what you are getting.”  This the argument I always see popping up like a cork in any purebred-versus-mixed breed discussion.  I always thought IGs were bred for long legged skinny cuteness and not much else.  Shouldn’t they therefore all be, you know, the same?

Anyway, I have decided he is just perfect.  Except for being THE EXACT SAME COLOUR as all the post-Winter vegetation, and therefore eminently loseable multiple times per outing.

And speaking of colour, I need your help!

Every week since she brought her home, I have been photographing The Boss’ new puppy Squeeze.  If you follow my photography page on Facebook you will have seen the progression of props I have been accumulating to make every week different.

What started out as a presumably nice gift for a friend …

Has turned into, apparently, a year long indenture of The Food Lady.  Idly grabbing items from work as props has morphed into frantic shopping to find creative things to photograph Squeeze on, in or beneath.

I topped myself last week with the beautiful blossoms I won on one of those bidding sites on Facebook.

And this week I braved  A REALLY SCARY SPINDLY LOOKING SPIDER for Week 18′s prop.

But what next?  I need ideas for pretty and fun and not-too-expensive props!  I still have 34 weeks to go; help me out!  If you give me an idea that I like and can use, I will send you a photo of Wootie wearing /standing on/covered in/whatever/ it is, and a discount on your own photo session with that prop if you happen to be in the area.

Piper might be condescending about your idea, because she is a snob.  Just ignore her.


Blink and you’ll miss it.

This is a shitty picture, but it is the only photographic evidence in existence of Gemma Bean having the zoomies.  Remember I have a zoom lens with a broken autofocus … and approximately 6 seconds to a) notice she was zooming and b) try and focus.  And bonus c) one (by “one” I mean me, since I am the only person who exists in Gemma Land) must incite the zoomies with careful tickling of the tummy.  ’Careful’ because sometimes tummy tickles are not welcome and the result is not Zooming but rather Biting.  So in summary … tickle at your own peril, try to find Tiniest Dog Ever through lens viewer, focus camera and do it all in under 6 seconds.

When it’s over, you (I) get this look:

BUT – Gemma gets the zoomies from time to time, which is amazing.  Although it shouldn’t be, because I know from experience that the little Grey Devil can run REALLY FAST when she wants to.  Usually she wants to when I am trying to insist she come on a walk with me and the other dogs and she doesn’t want to (which is almost always).  I’ll deliberately carry her about an acre away from the front door and the second I put her down she’s off like she just got shot out of a cannon, and HAULS ASS back to the house.  When she first came into the shelter I assumed someone had tossed her out on the street, but now I think that even with a tumour the size of a Volkswagon and hind legs matted together, she could still win the 500 meter dash.

In other small dog news, I am on a mission to photograph Addy in such a way that she appears to have longer legs.  I think I did pretty well this time.

She is the most adorable little thing, she really is.  She can make friends with anything, and is currently Dexter’s BFF.  He gets down on the floor in this awkward crouching position so he can play with her on the sofa and she doesn’t feel overwhelmed by his enormous size.  In return, she makes sure that whenever he is stationary she pats his whole face over with her tiny little hammer paws and smooches his mouth, which for some reason makes him smile.

I caught her sleeping nestled up against TWOOIE for crying out loud!

But she still does not have Ender’s legs.

He is sloooowly getting better at work … provided I’m around, he has mostly stopped freaking out about anything coming in and out of the shelter doors.  If I’m not around, he simply jumps whatever barrier is in place to contain the staff dogs and comes and finds me.  He remains a giant pain in the ass out in public on a leash though, anywhere there are other dogs.

He does, however, have this adorable ritual in which he jumps up on my computer desk and does a little tap dance for me, periodically pressing his neck against my face, until I get up and pick up his blankie.  At this point he explodes into his kicky-the-happy-deer routine which is basically him rocketing around in a circle before hopping up on what used to be MY tv watching chair so I will throw the blanket over him and he can have a nap.  Ender only sleeps well when wrapped in a flannel blanket, apparently.  The whole thing is pretty endearing and probably a good enough reason to keep him.

But the BEST reason to keep him is that he makes Dexter make funny faces.

Then again, he makes funny faces all by his lonesome.

Another shitty photo … but … but … the DROOL!

And about last weekend’s trial … the weave entries.  NOT!

Actually, we had quite a successful trial.  Dexter messed up his weaves in Steeplechase (whereas Spring messed IN the weaves in Steeplechase, after *promising* she did not need to poop outside, nope) and in Advanced Standard.  I took him behind the bleachers and explained in graphic detail what I would do to him if he didn’t start getting his entries, so he went on to nail them twice in Advanced Gamblers – he was 1st with a Q so now he’s in Masters Gamblers!!  He also got his entry in Team with Tempus, so a Q in that too.

Spring was stellar, other than the Steeplechase pooping.  She also Q’d Advanced Gamblers, GOT her entry in Advanced Standard, so Q’d that too, and she and Rogue Q’d Team as well.  She is such a little dream boat.

Dream of this, beeyotch!

Right now, I am dreaming of a very nice person who will give 14 year old Marvin a retirement home.

Poodles aren’t my scene, man, but I adore little Marvin.  His mum lost her, umm, capacity to care for anyone, much less herself, and Marvin is at the shelter wondering what the hell happened to him.  If I didn’t already have a little shelterpoo foster, I’d bring The Marv home.  Alas.  Maybe you can give him a home?

The Rule of Old Dogs

The first rule of old dogs:  Old Dogs Rule

I tried to get some outdoor photos today, I really did, but I had one of those days where the weather is OUT TO GET ME.  It was sunny all morning whilst I ran around doing errands.  It was sunny while I unloaded and put away groceries, and threw in a load of wash.  It began to sprinkle as soon as the dogs and I stepped outside.  It started peeing when I popped back inside to get my camera.  It stopped for a bit while we played ball, so I ran back to the house to get the camera again…meanwhile, it started throwing down buckets of sideways water outside.  I gave up on the camera and took the dogs for a walk at the back of the property.  Once I’d dried everyone off and got them all back in the house, the sun came out again.  It’s been out for 4 hours.


So instead, you’ll have to settle for a few posed shots of The Most Beautiful Dog In The World.

We ultrasounded the old man yesterday, and his heart is good and strong and all the lumps and bumps I was worried about are mere lipomas.  He’s in great shape for almost 14!

Tomorrow Dexter, Spring and me are entered in an agility trial.  It’s almost that time of year – the Waffling Will-I-Or-Won’t-I enter Dex in Regionals season.  I have to say he has been doing very good at weekly practice.  Maybe it just took almost-five-years for him to grow up and learn that he has a brain rattling around in that bean of his.  He may never be a National Champion, but at long last he is actually pretty fun to play with these days!

Happy Pi Day everyone!