Wootube!

Dolittle's got nothin' on me

Kuro

Me And Mr. Jonze…

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At last … Wootie and the Giant Un-Wootie, together in a single photo.

He’s HUGE!

Today we replaced the Wootie Toy, since the Food Lady sucks at throwing the Flying (*looks both ways for Woo, lowers voice*) Squirrel. And yet, improving the toy did not improve the shots.

Some days we get Big Air.

Some days … not so much

But we did get a nice surprise at the beach today. We ran into our … cousin(?), Jonze.


Actually, I’m not sure exactly how Jonze is related to us, but he belongs to Jasmine, who is the sister of the man that my sister has the hots for / lives with / etc.

Anyway. We *Heart* Jonze. And Jonze *Hearts*us. And you too. You can tell, because he carries his heart on his sleeve. Or his bum, rather. See?
Jasmine is a very talented photographer. You should go look at her photos when you have a minute. You will love them.

And you know what else I love?

This puppy.

I love him for reasons galore; his fuzzywuzzyness, his snuzzleability, his cross-eyes, and his Eastie-Westie feetsies and his super duper puppy full body hugs.

I’m going to miss him. If you never see another post on this blog again, it’s because I pulled a runner with Kuro in the night and I’m on the lam!!

But alas, it’s not to be. I don’t have time to pull a runner because Tweed is getting x-rayed at the vet clinic tomorrow. Seems that I broke the front half of him right after I fixed the back half, and his shoulder isn’t working right. My Nicaraguan photo trip money just got funneled straight into my vets’ pockets. I don’t know *how* they do it. They are fiscal sleight-of-hand masters.

Tweed says: “Blows.”

Mr. Jonze!

Dia duit, Kuro!

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And they called it puppy love …

… and I has it!!

ZOMG!

Mr. Kuro arrived on a jet plane from Scotland last night with his sister JoJo. He was born on the 24th of December so is just around 3 months old. He is full of piss, vinegar and SUPER PUPPY ADORABLENESS! I drove in a snowstorm to retrieve him from the airport.

No, for real. I did. Why is it snowing at the end of March?

Then I spent THREE HOURS in Customs waiting for the bright sparks to figure out where the paperwork was (not, you know, in the giant envelope taped to the top of the crate with the words “PAPERWORK’ printed on it or anything. No, that would be too obvious)

Unfortunately, he is not mine. I am, as the criminals say, “holding it for a friend.”

Le sigh.

Kuro stays with me until next weekend, when he goes on to his for-real home, who will ostensibly bring out the latent sheepdog in him, and he will go on to fame, glory and Sheepie Domination.

In my house, he would just get snuzzled relentlessly. So it’s for the best, really.

Parting is such sweet sorrow. It’s a double whammy this week, as the Dust Man leaves for his forever home today as well.

Mr. Pants has been wiggling and waggling his stumpy little rump at me every morning for 2 months now. It’s going to be hard to see him go. But he is all growed up now.

He’s come a long way from this:

Ironically, Dusty Pants is the only dog in the house that welcomed the arrival of Kuro of Scotland. They are right now playing tug-o-war on the sofa while everyone else pouts at me. Tweed looks like he wants to kill himself, Piper keeps flashing Mad Teeth ™ and Wootie just keeps *sighing*. What a bunch of jerks.

Farewell, Mr. Pants.