Hold on tight!

Mom, 'Lil Man and I go for walks. A lot. Last year when we went he was little and didn't really do much. Like, he just sat there, kinda like a blob. A cute one, but still, a blob. Well that's all a thing of the past. See, this year, on our very first walk of the year (together, mom and I take walks in the winter, but he's a "baby" and "can't go outside when its that cold" so we went alone.) I'm just walking along side the stroller, when all a sudden I feel a tug. Hu? I look over and guess whose holding my leash? Lil' Man! Seems whenever we go for a walk now, all he wants to do is hold my leash. Which is cool with me, I mean, I'm just happy to get outside and sniff around the block. You know, a lot can change over the winter!

Lil' Man has even found the drawer where mom keeps my leash. Last week he started running around the house holding it yelling, "DOOOOOOOOOOG!" But I didn't get excited. I only get excited when MOM opens that drawer and pulls out the leash, because she can actually open doors and stuff. When Lil' Man does it, its just a tease. So I've found ways to cope:

 I hide under his blankie

-or-

I try and hide under Eeyore

Neither have been super successful, so I'm gonna keep trying. Ahhhh the life of having a little brother...

Arch nemesis

Pretty sure, in every dog's life, when they see a piece of luggage, they know what's coming. Sudden death. This means, they are leaving and who only knows when they will be back. Some people like luggage, they get all excited when its pulled out, I'm sure because they are taking it to some amazing location with lots of drinks and sun and laughs...but me? I see luggage and dread what's to come.

To some dogs, cats are their arch enemy. To some dogs, it might be another dog who puts the crackle in their fire. For me, its those red bags with wheels.

I see them come up from the depths of the basement and I just know I'm going to be left. This means an eternity of waiting for mom to come home. This means a lifetime of cold, lonely nights, left with no one to play with me or take me for walks. This means no love, or attention or fresh water. This means I will have to staaaaaaarve until they come home.*

(*Mom note- he is never left alone or even goes to a kennel. This trip he stayed with my brother in law, who let Jack sleep in bed with him each night (at home he sleeps in his house, which is kept in the kitchen) he got to climb up on the couch (at home, he's not allowed on the couch) and got rawhides each time he went into his kennel for the day (at home, he gets one Milk-Bone. That's it) AND, because we forgot to bring toys with us, my brother in law gave Jack a rope belt to tear up and destroy, while playing tug-o-war...So yes, our dog is a little over dramatic...just a heads up!)

I fit...I don' t know why I can't join 'em!!

 

Once the bags come out, I know what's next. They get filled. With clothing that they will wear without me. Shoes that they will go for walks wearing, without me. Yes, the life of a puggle is a rough one.

But yesterday my luck changed. I was pulled from the bowels of my depression when I found my way home, in the snow and ice, alone and cold. I was scratching at the door, hoping they'd be home and I could get a drink of water when mom answered the door!*

(*Mom note- My best friend, who is dating my brother-in-law (convienent, right?!) put Jack into her car, drove him across town and dropped him off at our doorstep. He did not wander around in the snow and ice until his little puggle ears got frost bite...he rode across town, in a car with HEAT and came into the house, with HEAT!)

It was like Christmas seeing mom!! Then the hard part came...waiting until Lil' Man woke up from his nap so I could give him kisses...but when he did wake up, you bet your bottom dollar, I gave him as many kisses as he'd let me, until he crawled away!!

So now, they are all home and I'm so happy, I'm snoring next to my mom. I hope the luggage stays in the basement for a very long time. My poor puggle heart can't take much more...

This is why I love this kid...

When its his snack time...its my snack time too!

Itch I can't scratch

I thought this summer would be different than all my previous summers.
I thought this summer I wouldn't be itchy.
I thought this summer I would finally escape the pain of seasonal allergies.
I was wrong.

I escaped June, July and part of August. Which, based on my past history, is really good! But now, the end of August, something has sprung up causing me to itch. And scratch. And drag myself across the floor like a soldier in combat training....

Ohhhhh seasonal allergies, why oh why can't I escape you??

Maybe we should move to Alaska? Hmmmm

Schoep- man's best friend

I just read this article about an older pup named Schoep who has really bad joints, and his owner takes him to the lake to float...

Its a pretty inspiring story with some great photos- check it out!

Day in the life...

Naptime!

Shhh, don't whine

A funny thing happened a few months ago, mommy's belly got a lot smaller and our house got a lot louder. Not like, the house starting making noise, like this one little thing* started making a lot of noise. A lot. (*Thing will be referred to as Mr.Pricklepants...otherwise known as our son!)

See, mom had our baby back in December (which is why its been so long since I've posted anything on here...apparently I can't do it by myself, hu. Go figure, right?) And while somethings remained the same, others have changed, quite a bit actually. I'm starting to understand why we watched Lady and the Tramp everyday in November...seems mom was trying to prep me. Again I say, hu.

Its not that I don't like Mr.Pricklepants, in fact, we get along swimmingly. He cries, I whine. We speak the same language. Although, there have been some game changers which I'd like to complain about.

Specifically, when did it become ok to throw up in the house? Everyone runs to help Mr.Pricklepants, but I puke? "OUTSIDE!". Pretty sure we shouldn't change the rules on that one guys. Just sayin.

Also, he farts and everyone gets all googly eyed- "oooh, that was a big one!". I fart, "Ohhhh, that's groooooooooss!" If the rules are the rules, why do we bend them for this little prickly person? Again, just sayin.

But I will say, I've gotten used to the crying. Thankfully he doesn't do it that often...and it seems, based on my powers of observation, mommy doesn't like it when he cries and I whine on top of his noise. Daddy says mommy is "over worked" and a little "on edge" so it would be best to "shhh, don't whine"