The lowdogs have been laying low lately (no pun intended). Work projects have overcome me and I haven't had a chance to post as often as I'd like. But today was scrumdillyicious because we got to take some time off and go to the beach with the lowdogs, despite the funky weather.
A woman at the beach asked me how old Molly and Toula were, and when I told her Molly was 9 and Toula 7 she was amazed. "Most older Bassets I see are FAT!" she said.
"That's because people overfeed them," I said, "and it's sad because they were bred for hunting rabbits. They can run pretty fast."
She looked at me with a, Yeah, whatever..., look in her eye, but I said, "Give her a few minutes and you'll see...". Here's what we got. Zoom! Pretty good for an old lady of 9. Note the skitter-pat-skitter-pat sound made by her flipper feet.
(That's Big D at the very end saying, "Moll-moll..., one of his 67 his pet names for Molly.)
So, how do we know when it's time to go home? When Molly looks like this. I thought the sand and dirt was bad enough, but about 3 minutes later she found a stinky pile of kelp and rolled around in it. Lord, save me, I love that dog.