Sunday, December 27, 2020

Good Riddance 2020

Here we are giving that forlorn, "I'm starving" look.
Due to my age and dignity, I let Emily do the running around when we play.
                                                How's that for a noble profile?
 

We've been told not to repeat things Mom says about 2020 even though you may have heard the same words from your peeps. Things have been OK on our end except that we never get to go close to sniff the other dogs we see on our neighborhood walks. The people just wave and call to each other from opposite sides of the street or make these big detours around each other. Emily is really rude about it, barking and leaping, while I know how to behave--I sit and get a treat. You'd think she'd figure it out by this time.

The thing I hate most about this year is that Mom started bringing me home early from walks and then taking Emily without ME! She says it's because she needs to train Emily more, but I know it's really because I don't want to walk as far as I used to and I certainly don't want to walk fast. I figured out that there's no reason to hurry--it's not like we're heading out to get treats. I let her know what I think by barking and howling loud enough to be heard a block away all the time they're gone. I may not run much, but I've still got the Big Bad Bark better than anybody!

Friday, December 27, 2019

Miro will be eleven



Miró was one of the Airecraft Dirty Dozen, born January 26, 2009. I brought him home to Washington from Ohio on my birthday at the end of March, giving him the registered name of Airecraft Carries Me Home. Named also for the Spanish artist Joan Miró, he worked for several years as a sculptor and installation artist. Some of his arrangements from years back can be found on my blog, sherryrind.blogspot.com. During obedience classes, he figured out that he could stop the action and make people laugh by flopping onto his back and waving his forefeet in the air. Now that he suffers from arthritis, he does it only rarely. He does continue to give himself a full body massage by ramming head first between people’s legs. Lanky and somewhat tall, he’s fortunately not tall enough to cause damage in most cases.

He was a hellion in his youth, the boy on the playground who didn’t know his own strength and knocked all the other kids over like bowling pins and went on his merry way, oblivious. He has a tendency to aim pee on the back of his front foot. To work off excitement, especially when visitors arrive, he humps his bed. Laughter spurs him on. He is nearing the end of his life, and I don’t know how I’ll bear the loss even though I’ve borne many. Every day I tell him some variation of my gratitude, which extends to Dale and Kim Burrier for breeding the dog that did indeed carry me home.

Saturday, December 2, 2017

Emily is turning four

In honor of Indus Emily the Dickens' (named before I ever heard of Grantchester) fourth birthday and in lieu of birthday cake because she could care less how it looks as long as she gets the meat and cheese, here she is.
 She arrived during a snowy winter.

 She decided that Miro was a tasty chew toy.

 Growing up, she became an expert napper just like Miro.

Fuzzy

or freshly groomed

bowed under circumstances

or coming in from the rain,

she brightens every day.
and continues to write doggerel.

Chicken is fickle
meat is neat
fish is delish.
Serve cheese for brunch
crunch carrots at lunch.
You say I'm sweet,
so where's my treat?