guest editor

This week the lowdogs editor (moi) has been extremely busy. Accordingly, I passed the responsibility of updating the photo journal to Big D. Unfortunately, I neglected to remember that his most favorite thing to do with the dogs is to watch them sleep because he is desperately in love with Molly and thinks she's The Most Adorable Dog That Ever Lived.

As usual, when he handed the camera back to me I was presented with multiple photos of Molly sleeping. Seriously, we have about 1,347 pictures of the dogs asleep, asleep on top of the sofa, asleep on top of the sofa and 'holding the tv remote' between their paws, asleep on top of the sofa 'holding the remote' with me catatonic under them after a long day at work (not my finest hour).... You get the drift.


I love Big D and he's a very active and masculine guy, but this fixation he has on how cute the dogs are when they sleep...well all I can say is Thank God, sister, because let's face it, I'm not getting any younger, and someday it will be ME drooling when I sleep, with a face sliding off my skull, snoring and snorting and jerking my legs like I'm running. And believe me, I'm going to be damn happy that he thinks this is So Cute.

OK, he's right. This is the cutest smooshy face I've seen at least in the past week. Aww.

kill da wabbit

There is a very famous 1957 Bugs Bunny/Elmer Fudd episode called What's Opera, Doc, set to Wagner's Ride of the Valkyries in which Elmer sings, "kill da wabbit, kill da wabbit". If you haven't seen it, you haven't lived, because it's brilliant. At our house it's a theme song right now.

Let me set one thing straight, Your Honor: I have never killed a wabbit, nor have I ever caused a wabbit to be killed. There was this one very unfortunate incident involving a rattlesnake that entered our yard and slithered itself up to our back door, and all I can say is that shovels are really weighty and it never felt a thing.

So, recently my neighborhood has been overrun with wabbits and I'm starting to understand why the French snack on them. Speaking of French, the lowdogs were BRED by the French to HUNT RABBITS. I'm not pulling your leg, go look it up.

OK, so here's what I saw the other day out my kitchen window.


This beautiful little furry creature of God and his/her relatives and/or friends dine on every plant in my yard and deposit little ball-shaped turds e.v.e.r.y.w.h.e.r.e. Oh, and they pee, too, which leaves little bunny-butt sized burn marks everywhere.

So, I think to myself, "Hey self, wouldn't it be great to have a natural remedy to this problem?" At which point I embark on a hunt (pun intended) for the 'natural remedy' that I just fed some very expensive kibble and leftover steak to about 15 minutes ago.

This is where I found the Mighty Hunter:

OK, do you see her giving me that evil eye?
Seriously, it's like having a teenager in the house.

Suffice it to say, Wabbit and all his/her little furry friends/relatives will be assured of living a long and glorious life in my yard.

Chalk up one for the Wabbit Union.

"look, mommy, bloodhounds!"

lowdogs live in suburbia, surrounded by minivans, Starbucks, dry cleaning shops, and women who play bunco. But in the midst of all that Wonder Bread world, we are fortunate to have a large lake that is available to fish in, jog around, or trail hike. Unfortunately, dogs are not permitted off-leash, which isn't really an issue for us, since lowdogs have such strong sniffers they'd be off like a shot if they were let off the leash. As we entered the trailhead, a gaggle of kids on bikes with training wheels, handlebar streamers, and wearing helmets two sizes too large, saw us and exclaimed, "look, mommy, Bloodhounds!". Toula, the smart one of the two, whipped out her iPhone, tapped "wikipedia" into the search field screen with her toenail, and spent a moment educating the children on the difference between Bloodhounds and Basset Hounds. Take that, home schooling mommy.

The dogs enjoyed their day in the sun, which frankly was a nice break from the recent frigid 62 degree temps. I'm not sure how we survive it, but in the evenings we actually have to put on a sweatshirt to walk the dogs because it's so damn cold. A couple nights ago I wore flip flops on my walk and I'm happy to announce that I avoided frostbite by jogging with the dogs to keep my blood flowing. Phew.

Toula was in her element sniffing around the lake, looking for random things to put in her mouth, and dragging me along for the ride. The result of which was a 6" long snot trail across her nose, which I had to photograph just for you. Just keepin' it real. You're welcome.

Her little pink tongue is cute, though, isn't it? Try to focus on that.