Stuff and more stuff

Wow, we've had a neat last few days. Aunt Jessica came over two days in a row and brought that little thing she calls Winston. The Boy hadn't met Winston more than one or two times before, and it was nearly a Major Issue for him. But we convinced him not to be scared of a chihuahua, and a good time was had by all.

Okay, so then after Aunt Jessica and Winston came over for the second time, The Typist came home, but The Alpha didn't. And we know what that means...
DOGS on the PEOPLE BED!!!!

Not before the top sheet is properly spread over the comforter, of course. And even then, The Boy kept trying to tell The Typist that he didn't think it was right. Kept honking at her, even when he had his head up on her belly and his body sprawled out on her legs. (Still on top of the top sheet, of course.) Long, extended honks. How can one The Boy be a dog and a goose? Eventually, he hopped down and onto his own bed, and got quiet. Which meant more big bed for me, and a really nice night's sleep for all of us.

The Alpha is back home now, and tinkering. Also, trying to keep me from licking him all the dang time. Don't know what his problem is.

How Good Are We?

We are very, very good, yes.

And very, very, very cute.

Look at us, sharing a crate.

It's easy to do when you suspect that the next sound you hear will be the jingle-jangle of leashes and you'll get to take your w-a-l-k around the neighborhood.



Our faces convey a simple message:
Will Behave For Walks.

In Memoriam: Aunt Sissy

She was tiny. Runt of the litter. Her tail was crooked; she had bugged-out eyes and an underbite that gave us a good view of her crooked teeth. She hardly ever barked -- it was more likely you would hear her sputter and hiss when intimidated. She slept, on average, 20 hours per day. If the bed was unmade, she was too small to spot amid the thrown-back covers.

Ren, the Lead Dog, Pop's Pardner, didn't take too kindly to her arrival back in '94 (or was it '93?). Not sure how kindly he will take to her departure, either. It only happened this morning.

She would wake up Mom in the middle of the night, asking to go out. But when Mom got up to open the door, she'd double back and take the freshly-vacant warm spot in the master bed. Clever little dog, that Sissy.

She was one of Gavin's first words: "Iddy!" (Other dogs, including his own, are merely "dog" to him.)

She had a stroke last year, but managed to get around with just two and one-half of her legs functioning. At Christmas she had a seizure and we had to clean up her pee. But with a little help, she would still take her place on the couch and make a little nest in the top cushion.

Enjoy your nap, Sissy. Rest well.

The switcheroo...

Okay, we still have two thumb-havers here, but The Alpha is missing. Last night he was here and tonight he's not, but last night a guest-room-dwelling thumb-haver showed up, too, and she's still here. Nice enough, but she's definitely no Alpha. The Typist may be promoted, if only for a little while. Especially if she lets us take over The Alpha's spot in her bed. Serious extra points there.

I get the feeling he will be back tomorrow. I didn't notice any of the warning signs of extended travel -- no rolling suitcase, no extra trips out to the car. And no taking me and The Boy and The Typist for a big long ride, which is usually part of the package.

When he does come home, I hope he brings me a big kill from the hunt. You know, Purina One. From Target. I have no idea how he keeps from getting all bloody when he goes out looking for food... maybe he can lick more of himself than I give him credit for...