One Potato, Two Potato

Three potato … eight.

(Hasn’t posted a family photo in a little bit, and now that Addy sortakinda understands what “Don’t f*ckin’ move you scrawny little drowned rat … err ‘stay’ means” I thought I’d post one.  Addy artfully hides the WooTWoofat)

Did you just call me FAT?  DO YOU WANNA DIE?!?!

That’s actually TWooie’s “invitation to play” face.  Much like his play growl, it pretty much *exactly* resembles his “I hate you / I am going to kill you” body language, so nobody ever understands what he’s doing.  And when nobody takes him up on it, he gets MAD … not that anyone can tell the difference.

I said play with me!!!!  Or I’ll kill you!!!

Bless TWooie’s messed up little self.  The other day at work I came thisclose to offering to adopt him to a nice little old man who had come into the shelter looking to adopt a replacement for his recently departed cockapoo.  He’s exactly the size the man was looking for, he’s the laziest little sucker on earth and he walks on a leash like a dream – never ever pulls.  But of course, the first time he went apeshit on a passing dog he’d probably give the man a heart attack.  It is ironic that the kind of life TWooie would probably really like is the one he can’t have, because he’s a dick.  The fact that I love the little bugger and don’t want to give him away aside, I could never rehome him because he’s got problems.  This is something we struggle with daily at work – sometimes people don’t want to adopt some of our dogs because they don’t want to take home a problem.  Sometimes I am irritated with people for not wanting to put some work into what could be an otherwise wonderful companion, but that’s just because I want the dogs to go home.  In reality, why should anyone be expected to *want* to take home a dog that is going to cause them grief and stress?  After Red Dog died, I swore I would never again have a dog-aggressive dog because for while I loved him dearly, and missed him like crazy, I also loved being able to take my dogs everywhere and not worrying about their social interactions.  Leaving TWooie at home causes me both grief and stress, but so does taking him anywhere.

Not that I take all my dogs anywhere very often anymore.  Because, you know, EIGHT.

Well, nine.

Gemmabean is still motoring along – no new tumours, which is fantastic!

But she is so ITCHY, it breaks my heart.  And not itchy like allergies itchy – her ears are nice and clean, her skin is good; not red or flaky.  But her feet seem to drive her crazy and she is always gnawing on them and crying.  Or scratching under her chin and crying.  There is nothing raw or nasty looking on her, so I can’t figure out why she is so uncomfortable or how to fix it.

Yes, fix it human.

^Precious little beast.

NOT a precious little beast:

That’s Addy’s “Stupid Food Lady just yelled at me for digging a hole again” face.  It is, as you can see, full of disdain with a hint of loathing.  The scrawny little dwarf is forever digging holes as big as she is in the lawn.  Pretty soon everyone is going to step in one and break a leg except for her.

She can even dig them in the extremely frozen ground.  I should hire her out as an excavator!  I don’t know how she does it – it’s been FREEZING cold here, well below zero for many days in a row, the ground is like cement.  She says it’s far too cold to poop outside, so she can only poop on the living room floor, but somehow it’s okay to drill her little feet into the frozen dirt.

And I don’t know how she has the energy!  She plays ALL DAY LONG at work with the oh-so-many puppies that every freakin’ one of the staff has recently acquired (except for me.  NOT FAIR!).  I showed you the Frenchie mix and the Dachshund already … then this came along:

Squeeze is full sister to the Sadist’s Aussie Niko, from a repeat breeding.  She is so cute I could EAT HER UP.

Addy loves playing with the puppies, because they are all roughly the same size as she is, and unlike at home, she is The Big Cheese.

At home she is just always trying to play with the big kids, who may or may not notice her:

Here’s a picture of Dexter, because he’s batshit crazy.

 

Here’s a picture of Tweed because he’s almost 14 and AWESOME (and doing awesome!).

Here’s a picture of Piper because I hardly ever post pictures of Piper.

And here’s a photos of chickens going crazy at the waterer, because it amuses me.