George and Gracie!
Gracie!
Girl, put that tongue back in your mouth.
One day you’re going to trip on it, I swear.
Well, okay, I guess tucked up in one of your nostrils will keep it out of the way.
Seems to grow by the minute.
Whoa. That’s a scary face. I’m terrified, pup. Terrified, I say.
“My job is done here.”
“Don’t forget, I am terrifyin’!”
Happy George is happy.
Two pups, strollin’ along.
“Yeah, chicken. We see you.”
Patrolling around the pond.
“Who, me?”
Taking a break for a drink of water.
(By the way, since that picture was taken, we’ve gotten a bunch of rain and (drumroll please!) the bottom of the pond is now covered! Not covered by much (the “deep end” is about two feet deep), but it’s a start as we go into the rainy part of the year.)
Here are two George and Gracie stories for you:
1. Remember how y’all wondered if we were going to end up with a flock of geese – Canada or otherwise – on that pond? Well, Fred was out in the back forty over the weekend, and a heron was trying to land on the pond, and George and Gracie were NOT having it. Every time it flew down trying to land, George and Gracie chased it off. They’re livestock guardian dogs, after all, and whether it’s a hawk or a heron or even a songbird, they know it’s not part of the flock and off it must go.
2. George and Gracie got huge rawhide bones as their presents on Christmas day. Later, when Fred went out to feed the chickens and ducks, he wandered out to see how full the pond was, which was when he saw that one of the dogs – he suspects George – had tossed his rawhide bone in the deep end of the pond. “Should we fish it out for them?” Fred said to me. “Um, NO,” I said. “If they want it bad enough, they can go get it.” I was envisioning setting up a truly annoying game where we give the dogs something, they toss it in the pond, we fish it out for them, they toss it back in, and so on unto infinity. The next day, the bone was no longer in the pond, and George and Gracie were fighting over a huge piece of unrolled rawhide. What I think happened is that Gracie went into the pond, fished it out, George was all “Oh, thank you!” and Gracie was like “Finders keepers, back off, FOOL!”
On a gray, cold, rainy winter day…
…nothing keeps you warm like an Elwood blanket.
Charlie and his fangs.
They love to pile up on this thing and sleep. Maybe because it’s next to the heater.
“We was sleepin’, Lady.”
I love their adorable little profiles.
“I can haz a snuggle?”
Alice Mo, the calico, sure does love to watch those birdies.
“Yo.”
Previously
2010: No entry.
2009: My fellow Twitterers, you rawk.
2008: No entry.
2007: “Your flight’s been canceled.”
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: Let’s see if this puts you in the mood for a nap, huh?
2003: If you’re wandering through the Cincinnati airport around 10 am tomorrow and see someone with a hideous bag, say hi. It’ll be me.
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.
1999: Best laid plans, and all that.
It’s a happy day because I got Gracie and George pics! LUV them pups!!!
Speaking of things to luv (or not luv), I see you’re reading/have read “Cleaving.” My thoughts about the book were not positive, not by a long shot. Yours?
Oh, I didn’t care for it at all. I ended up mostly skimming the butchering parts and rolling my eyes through the personal stuff. The only reason I rated it two stars instead of one is because I try to reserve the single star rating for the books I actively loathe on par with We Were the Mulvaneys. I mostly find Julie Powell annoying and whiny and I kind of think she might need a good hard smack. I didn’t really care for Julie & Julia, I don’t know why I bothered with Cleaving.
I believe that George tossed the rawhide in the pond to soften it. He figured that Fred or Gracie would retrieve it for him, and he was right. Of course, the bigger win is if he can get the HUMAN to fetch it for him because Fred will probably just hand the (nice, soft, more chewy) rawhide back to George…yummy! Gracie, who was aware of the entire setup from the get-go, was all “HELL NO! Next time think twice before you go tossing your damned rawhide into the water you LUNKHEAD!”
I obviously have given this way too much thought while waiting for coffee to brew. 🙂
Oh, I love the quilt the kittens were sleeping on. I like those tough boots by the door, too.
LOL, I think you might be right, devil!
I actually got three or four of those quilts from Woot last year, and I’m pretty sure Maggie gave birth on one of them. They’re cute, but tend to come apart. I need to get out the needle and thread and do some mending. 🙂
That is not a flattering angle for Miss Alice. She looks a bit…wide, shall we say?
We say “portly” around here. In her old age, Miz Poo has lost weight, and has passed the torch o’ portliness to Alice.
I’m pretty sure I need to find a way for Opie to come live with me and be my little, tail-less love.