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?