All aboard Grandpa’s 1955 Chevy pickup for Greg, Kevin, and Paula, joined by Rex atop bales of hay. Walter and Barbara Mohr’s family farm near Millington, Michigan provided many great photo ops throughout the 1960s.
And who wouldn’t want a kiss from Rex?
Roxie, our Hurricane Harvey rescue pooch from just over a year ago, doesn’t know how to leave a good thing alone. She keeps dragging her dog bed out into the middle of the yard, despite the 35mph winds, and curls up into it when she could be protected on the porch.
Lest you find her bed too diminutive, be aware that she chewed her dog bed up, and has now procured the bed of Tonto, our senior heeler/basset. During a water break, the wind flipped her bed over, and she decided to nest on the blue flamingo cushioned chairs instead.
I remember the vet telling us she “didn’t know how to dog.” She couldn’t take stairs, exclusively army-crawled through the house, wouldn’t get within two feet of the utility room, and leashes still freak her out (yes, we have a harness). She goes flat as a pancake on the ground and trembles at the Petco like she’s in a San Francisco earthquake. So we don’t take her. Instead, she spends her days in the back yard, free to run and play and bark at grackles, incite a weary 9-year-old Tonto into wrestling, and move any cushions/bedding/sprinkler heads/scrub brushes into the middle of the yard, sans consent. But when she gets to come inside, she curls up into my lap.
For a few minutes anyway.
Brian Cranston evidently bored our dogs to tears this morning.
Tonto couldn’t stop yawning.
‘Tis an odd image indeed, of young women in the 1890s, taking part at “a drinking bee” in White Chapel, Dawson, Alaska–a base during the 19th-century Klondike Gold Rush. I can’t say that I understand the canine/wine connection, but I’m certain that it was before this label existed.
Or this one.
But evidently, some dogs do like their ale.
Ah, yes. In the years before talk of puppy mills and Pit Bulls & Parolees, folks would go to the Pet Shop and actually procure puppies there, not just on the days when the Humane Society pimped strays on Saturdays. Can’t you just smell their little puppy breath and the softness of their puppy heads? This is part of a 1956 ad for Friskies.
Now, I’ve had plenty of dogs in my day, and they all liked meat. Carrots, no. Cabbage, wouldn’t touch it. Celery, forget it. But chicken and beef and pork? Yes. Basically any of the Chipotle proteins, dogs like. Now in case you didn’t skim the ad up top, it says Friskies contains “lean red horse meat.” Yum! Giddyup! So we can safely assume those beagle puppies were into horsemeat. It makes me wonder about Jemima. Jemima was the beagle we lost last year to cancer, and she looked nothing like Snoopy, who is also purportedly a beagle. Even this Pinterest image shows you that Snoopy and beagles have hardly anything in common. But I bet they’d both eat horse meat.
And turkey.
And bacon and eggs.
Maybe, just maybe, they’d both like watermelon for dessert, like this happy beagle.
But then it’s strictly back to horse meat.
I made a new friend at the dog park.
Tonto and Cone Dog, aka Roxie, have become quite the playmates over the last couple of weeks. He may be 63 in dog years, but he can still give chase.
I Don't Get It 