And she was crazy. And she jumped off the bank into the lake-y**.
(*not a lake, actually a pond
*I know it doesn’t really rhyme)
It was summer-time hot this weekend, like standing-around-sweating-and-complaining-that-it’s-so-hot hot. So of course we went swimming. It appears that the property behind us, with the pond, is being turned into a large-scale grow op, so we’re mostly just hoping to not get, you know, shot.
Her Royal Emo-ness was in a mood today, and didn’t want to fetch the ball, didn’t want to swim really, didn’t want to do anything except sit around looking mopey. It might be because I’ve changed her name to FatFat – because she is a CHONK. Her diet is like 80% green beans, but somehow she is still packing on lbs. She kinda reminds me of me, TBH (except not the green bean thing, and also my diet is 80% chips, Twizzlers and ice cream sandwiches, so at least I have an excuse. I eat my feelings, as it turns out).
I did finally convince her to go swimming by promising her cookies, which I know is counter-intuitive, but at least they are 3 calorie Charley Bears so IN THEORY they aren’t contributing (much) to her weight gain.
She even looked angry while swimming.
The one who SHOULD be mad is Addypants…I had to go buy new windshield wipers today (according to the guy at the oil change place: ‘this one is going to fly right off if you try to use it!’) and I brought The Pants because the store is dog friendly and it’s one of her favourite places to visit because it’s full of PEOPLE and in the warm weather those people are often wearing SHORTS which means Tiny Dog can lick their bare legs in greeting. Once she had firemen (they were all men, so I can call them that) down on the floor playing with her, because she is full of charm. So imagine my surprise when we’d been in the store for all of about 45 seconds when some twatwaffle masquerading as a a human woman walked by and looked at her and said “What is THAT thing doing in here?”
I shrugged and said “I was just going to ask the same thing about you.” That stopped her in her tracks and she just stood and stared at me. I like to think her mouth was agape (typical of morons and mouthbreathers) but as we were all wearing masks it’s impossible to say for sure. I said “She’s here because she’s allowed to be, asshole” and then Addy and I wandered off the find the windshield wipers. Because I tell you, dear readers, I am about UP TO HERE with bullshit, since my life right now is basically just me swimming in a tank of the stuff, and there is no room for any more.
Anyhoo. Several people in the store who were not assholes wanted to stop and pet “the greyhound” and the cashier gave her a chewy milkbone the size of her head, and Addy doesn’t hold a grudge, because she is a better little person than I am. I’m still holding a grudge.
Other than that little blip, the rest of the day was just fine and enjoyed by all. Let Wootie demonstrate.
I honestly didn’t think it was possible to love Wootie more than I have for 16 years, but it turns out that it IS in fact possible, and all it takes it shaving him down. I love me a shaved Wootie so much. And I think Wootie loves himself more when he’s nekkid too. He’s so much lighter and free-er, he runs around more, he’s less reluctant to swim … he’s just an all around happier Noodles. Oodles of Noodles Happy. In fact he is so light/free/happy sometimes I think maybe my wish will come true and he will actually live forever. I mean, how many 16 year old dogs do you know that are running around like this?
He did a two hour walkies on Saturday and had no problems at all keeping up with the gang and it’s not like he was down for the count afterward either. He’s my little machine!
Whereas THIS is my cross to bear.
I think she was dropped on her head as a puppy, bless her. I want to say she tries so hard but … she, like, doesn’t. She’s just her, in all her vacant glory. At least she’s snuggly. And she’s not humping my leg as I type this MAISIE. Why does my otherwise perfect girlie insist on humping my leg every time I sit down? I just shooed her off my leg and she wandered off, walked back over to me and said “UHHH UH UH,” sighed and laid back down. She is so delightfully ODD.
But she is not hiding behind 3 blades of grass like her big brother, who is the oddest of them all.
And I can’t believe this guy is almost 12. And not just because of all the “where did the time go” feelings that go along with it, but because he is still a goofy, dorky too-much-legs puppy bebopping around like a lunatic. He’s got a permanently bum shoulder, but otherwise I swear he hasn’t changed at all in years and years. I remember when I worked at the shelter and we’d have these old decrepit dogs come in and when their people came to collect them, we’d mention things like how their dog’s nails are so long, or they were very arthritic, and they’d say “oh well he’s very old, you know, he’s 10 now” (or 11 sometimes) and I look at Dexter trying to convince me to play fetch with a yogurt container and I think how’s that now? I guess I did something right with my gang of merry idiots, that they are slow to find old age and that they basically secrete youth out of their pores everywhere they go. It makes me feel a little better about the pickle we’re in now, where I feel every minute like I am letting them down, because we can’t find a home together.
There are no photos of The Seasons because there are RABBITS and rabbits make The Seasons both deaf AND capable of vanishing into thin air and reappearing full of pokies and mud and looking a lot less hungrier than they did when we started on our adventure.
Instead, enjoy this photo of 7 one week old kelpie puppies that I got to snuggle this afternoon, because the other gal who lives on the property is smarter than me and got cute dogs that can make copies of themselves (mine just make a mess, and sometimes lots of noise). How cute is this conga line of little future shit machines?
I’m partial to the little feller that decided to go his own way, because I appreciate a contrary doggo :)
Susan Robinson says
Wootie does look like he is enjoying life, doesn’t he? I remember a post you wrote much earlier about Wootie getting loose at night when you were visiting someone for dinner…and the merry chase that he led you (and the other guests) around the neighborhood, in the rain….only to show up happily at the house when you returned from hunting for him. That’s how I remember it, anyway. Your writing made me feel like I was there, too.