Thanksgiving 2021

Wishing all my friends, family, and fans a very

 

Happy and Healthy Thanksgiving!

 

May the ear scratches from family always hit the spot and may the table scraps be plentiful.

 

Camping

Sister and I went camping last weekend. 

Okay, we went glamping. 

Fine, we slept on the floor in the living room for two nights. 

Camping during TS Ida

No matter what you call it, I love it.  Throughout the years, I’ve had many camping excursions.  When I’m not feeling well, Ma usually sits up with me in the living room.  When Sister isn’t feeling well, she’s been known to relocate to her chair to spend the night.  And when there’s a scary wind storm going through the area, Sister’s always quick to head to lower ground (and away from the giant oak that used to live right outside her window). 

So why did we camp out this weekend?  Well, Sister and I were home alone together and rather than drag me upstairs to her bedroom and devise a way of keeping me on the second floor when I normally sleep on the first, Sister thought it would be a heck of a lot easier and fun if we just camped out on the living room floor.  She was right on all counts. 

On the first night of our camping trip, I settled down next to Sister and I fell asleep while she scratched my side.  I woke up only once that night when Sister poked me because I was dreaming and kicking her in my sleep.  On the second night, however, I decided that I wanted upgrade my sleeping accommodations.  So, as soon as Sister made up her bed on the floor, I...well...took over. 

A Bedtime Upgrade

Needless to say, Sister was less than pleased with my decision to upgrade my bed, but what was she going to do?  I had, upon settling down, immediately gone into my floppy dead weight mode—a state in which I cannot be physically moved.  So Sister spent the first part of the night in her chair and only regained her bed after I, feeling a little overheated, moved on to the cold wood floor to sleep.  I’ve never seen Sister move so quickly in my life.

Me and George

Lookin' Good

There is no such thing as a boring walk.  There’s always...

1. Someone to meet (human and/or canine);
2. Something to sniff (I’m a big fan of corner fences); and/or 
3. Someplace to pull (usually from one side of the street to the other).
   

On Saturday, Sister took me for a walk to the park and, aside from pulling her from one side of the block to the other, I got to meet not one but two new human friends. 

At first, I didn’t realize that Sister and I weren’t alone on the block—I was too busy sniffing every fence post and blade of grass to notice.  I only realized that a man and a woman were walking toward us when Sister pulled me aside onto the apron between the sidewalk and the street to allow the couple to pass us by unobstructed on the sidewalk. 

But pass us by they did not. Instead, they stopped and extended their hands for me to sniff.  Obviously friend and not foe, I leaned in toward both to take advantage of the scratches they seemed so eager to share.  “What’s his name?” the woman asked as I dragged my drooly frothy chin across her black sweater sleeve from wrist to elbow.  Sister, speaking on my behalf because I was too busy enjoying all the attention to respond myself, shared my name, apologized for the drool, and then engaged in a conversation with the couple about what a good boy I am and how I’m just a big softie (luckily there were no other dogs around to hear this admission). 

“How old is he?” the friendly lady with the drool up and down her arm asked. 

“Almost twelve and a half years old,” Sister replied. 

The man and the woman gasped and commented on how handsome and good looking I am. 

What can I say?  I’m the George Clooney of dogs.