Thursday, July 30, 2009

Rain, and Lots of It

What do you suppose I heard when I woke up this morning? Rain, and lots of it. It was coming a toad-washer outside. Cool rain, too, and it was only 70 degrees. A welcome break when I'm used to sitting around with my tongue hanging out from the summer heat. Spent the day helping in the kitchen. Notice how shiny the floor is? Cap, Glynn and I did clean-up duty.

We noticed that Glynn kept shaking her head, and you know what that means. A trip in the pupmobile to the vet's office. Seems she had a truckload of dirt in one ear (she blames me for flinging it around when I'm doing my landscaping). Then the vet noticed something unusual.

The vet found a small tumor growing in one of Glynn's ears. It's just a tiny thing now, so there's no immediate concern, but the next time we're in for our dentals we can have it taken care of. And that good ear-washing she got did the trick. No more shaking her head, and she's got that happy smile back on her face. It doesn't take much to keep little sis happy.

Thursday, July 16, 2009

I Got What I Wished For!

So there I was, endlessly grousing about the lack of wiry pups to help in this area, when what do you suppose we got?

That's right! An Airedale! Rowdy is a nine-month-old pup with impeccable manners. My Family totally fell in love with him while he stayed with us for a couple of days. He got a flea bath, vaccinations, heartworm test and (whisper) neutered while he visited, but did he hold any of that against us? No, sirree Bob. He was tail-waggin' happy the whole time. Rowdy left this morning with a nice lady from Oklahoma Airedale Rescue, and methinks he took a little piece of Mom's heart with him when he walked out the door. What a classy gentleman he was. Good luck finding your furever home, Rowdy. Somebody out there is going to love you!


Tuesday, July 14, 2009

A Rose By Any Other Name

I don't mean to toot my own horn, but I am a connoisseur of fine smells. I love to use my nose to discover the world around me. Here's a good shot of my beak...

And another close-up of my smell-sniffer...
One good whiff through the air vent in the pickup can tell me all about the countryside we're driving through. I can tell you if there are there other dogs nearby, or cows and horses, what's cooking outside on the grill for supper, and where there's a super odiferous pile of goop to roll in. The nose knows, you know.

So imagine my surprise when Mom started coming home with a new smell on her. I couldn't quite figure it out, never having come across the likes of it in my whole seven years. It always seems to be situated on her shoulder, sometimes on her arm and once in her hair. I puzzled over this for awhile until I hit on a way of finding out. I asked Cap. You know Cap, he's older than dirt and seen it all. And he told me the answer.

"It's baby burp, pup. Haven't you ever smelled burp before, young whippersnapper?" Well, nooooo, if I had I wouldn't have asked. I haven't officially been introduced to Little Guy yet. Mom says grandbabies are not squeaky toys and she won't let us play together until Little Guy is old enough not to get knocked over. So I'll just have to settle for whiffs of milky baby's breath until we actually meet. That and pictures, which Mom seems to have an abundance of cute ones to share. He does actually look a little like my yellow rubber ducky, doesn't he?