Chrissy* got a puppy!

(Chrissy's* back story here)

My neighbors have relented and have gotten Chrissy* a sweet little chihuahua mix puppy. Lizzy is a little high strung, but my husband got to hold her, (Gonzo was distracted indoors for this exercise) and she took right to him. (This is not a actual picture of Lizzy; but a reasonable resemblance.)





Of course, now Gonzo runs right to the fence to see Chrissy* anytime she's in her yard. Jealous much, old boy?

Good Boy, Gonzo. Sorry playing hard-to-get didn't pan out for you. But Chrissy's* moved on with her life.

*not her real name. It didn't seem right to post her name, not that there's weirdoes on the internet or anything.
More to come, so come back if you're interested.

Know what I think is funny?

When I hear my husband in another room, arguing with our boy.

"No, she told me she fed you already. You already ate! She told me so. You did so! You big faker..." Now that's funny.

Tonight, I was teasing my husband about how Gonzo seemed freaked out* that my husband was helping me with dinner, for a change. "What's going on? That's not right...AAAAAAH! Black is white, right is wrong, up is down...what's going on?!!?" Annnnnd, my husband told our boy to be quiet, like Gonzo was actually the one talking. BWAHAHAHA! Just priceless.


This video is funny and sweet, and you can almost here the dialogue: "Please, please, PLEASE get this little guy a catnip mouse or something..."




Good Boy, Gonzo. And you have so been fed.


*Our boy was actually looking at the dinner on the plates with wild-eyed amazement and hope, but I turned it into a commentary on the fact that my husband rarely helps with dinner.

More to come, so come back if you're interested.

Such a good daddy!

You may have already seen this, but it happened in my area, so we may have gotten better coverage of it than other areas.
His first foul ball catch ever, and she throws it back. His first instinct is to hug her and let her know it's all okay. Now, that's a good guy. A heartbroken good guy.




Good Boy, Gonzo. See if you can finditfinditfindit!


More to come, so come back if you're interested.

I'm tryin', I'm tryin'!

So I was just playing with our boy upstairs. My husband is laying down on the bed, and Gonzo has set up camp next to him. Typically, our boy sleeps at the foot of the bed, but lately, I'll go in at bedtime and he'll be sitting or laying down at the head of the bed (on my side, of course.)

I'll say, "Oh, I don't think so, mister..." and he'll walk down to the foot, wagging apologetically. "I was trying to lay in my spot, but I tripped." (No, I don't actually think our boy talks; I'm not that far gone yet!) Well, tonight, I patted the foot of the bed, and said,"Get down here, you..." and our boy sort of half limped, and half crawled, and rolled over on his side, then his back, and pulled himself along...for a grand gain of 6 inches, closer to the foot of the bed.

I said to my husband,"We have a bit of a drama queen here, I think, " and I left Gonzo where he was. I heard the soft thumpthumpthump of our boy's tail celebrating his victory as I left the room.

Good Boy, Gonzo. You're easier to move when you're sleeping, anyway.

More to come, so come back if you're interested.

New tricks!

Kinda fun video, showing off beat tricks that this trainer taught her dog. Most would only be useful for a movie stunt dog, but I liked the video.



Good boy, Gonzo. I know you could get most of these without a problem.

More to come, so come back if you're interested.

Poor kitty

Ever feel like you're taken for granted? I do, because of my cat. She mostly stays in the finished basement, occasionally gracing the 1st floor with her presence, and rarely the 2nd floor if she's really desperate.
While I was at home, of course, I was the one who fed her most times, but now that we are both working, it's either or. That doesn't stop her from telling me that she's out of food even right after my husband has fed her. Emma just assumes that I am there to feed her.

Another kitty trying to get fed:



Good Boy, Gonzo. It's ok; it all turns out alright for the pigeon.

More to come, so come back if you're interested.

Rain, Rain, go away...

if you must, you might come back some other day.
Ah, the joys of owning a dog when it's raining. Although we are fortunate enough to have a fenced backyard that Gonzo can do his thing in, there's always that pungent wet dog smell. If a person hasn't ever smelled this complex scent, there is no way to describe it. It isn't the sparkling scent of a freshly washed pup, or the one where the dog has rolled in something to disguise the freshly washed scent; it's more of a dirty-carpet-at-the-city-bus-station kind of thing. Just something if you can avoid smelling, you should do so at all costs.

To minimize the length and strength of this odor, I have two "puppy" towels right inside the door that leads to the backyard. Our boy will come in from the rain, and sit right down to get his massage. At least I that's what I tell him it is. (Our secret, right?)

After that, he dries quicker, and our boy goes back to smelling like Fritos.

Good boy, Gonzo. Just wait a minute before you get up of the sofa, ok?

More to come, so come back if you're interested.