It’s been a great Friday so far. And yes, I do know my days of the week. Duh. I can also tell time, though this may be news to Beagle Man’s friend Rick. Has anyone ever taken note of the fact that I wake Beagle Man every morning at 8 o’clock, give or take a couple of
Let’s just get one thing out of the way right off the bat: Does this (photo below) look like just some T-shirt? Yeah, that’s right, I’m talking about Kemba’s wiseguy remark in his post just before I left for Austria (One Tough Week Ahead) — that Beagle Man “better bring me back something pret-ty nice, and
I’d be lying if I said I’m not a little bit worried. Beagle Man leaves tonight for his annual Alps ski trip with Matt and Greg and their friends. I saw him packing his bags. That means Mom’s in charge of me. Which is fine. . . in certain ways. I mean, I’ll get fed.
Yup, you remember correctly: Vermont — the place where Kemba cut his paw wide open in mid-November, forcing him to the D.L. for an entire month. But Vermont is also, for a cold-weather dog who hails from Nova Scotia, a little slice of doggy heaven. And as they say, you gotta get right back on
I’ve been hearing all the buzz about this so-called “nephew” of mine since early November, but I was starting to wonder if he was really real. First I’m not allowed to see him because he has pneumonia. Then, he’s all better, but he’s still “contagious.” And when he’s finally not contagious, I’m stuck with a bandage
You haven’t heard from me much lately. I’ve been too depressed. It’s been a tough three-and-a-half weeks since my little boy cut his paw wide open at Gale Meadows Pond in VT. He’s had to keep it tightly bandaged, wear that ridiculous cone, do next to nothing, and report to the doc every couple of
Yup — still grounded, because of this dumb paw injury. Beagle Man tells me to be patient, but it’s getting harder and harder. Here are just a few of the things I’m not allowed to do while I have to wear the stupid bandage on my paw and the stupid cone around my neck: run,
I was in desperate need of relief from the melancholy of being around my poor little Duck Toller, whose paw injury has him more or less under house arrest and condemned to wearing a cone for at least another week. (Imagine trying to tell a tornado to stay in the playroom.) So Tuesday night, after
Oh, no! My boy’s back in the cone again! And the doc says he’ll have to wear it for 10 days! Along with no activity! Can anyone imagine my 15-month-old turbo-charged little red duck dog not running and swimming and fetching and jumping for 10 days?? Wish me luck. This is not going to be pretty. Here’s
What I really wanted to do this past weekend was meet my new grand-dog, Ruckus. But I couldn’t. The poor little guy was diagnosed with a pretty serious case of pneumonia his first week out of the shelter, and even though he was home with Greg and Kelly by Friday, he still wasn’t allowed to entertain other
