(not so) wordless wednesday

Cue the music from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory:
"I've got a Gooooolden Ticket!, I've got a Goooooolden Ticket!", and please explain how Toula got the chocolate out of the wrapper but didn't eat the wrapper. Dude, what self-respecting dog doesn't eat the wrapper?

toula proving yet agan her Indian name is Crazy Eye

Costco would be wise to decline this picture as advertisement for their dog beds.

Or, perhaps embrace it (there's no such thing as bad advertising, right?). A new ad campaign titled, "Your dog will love its bed so much, it will be crazy about it!*"

*meaning, certifiably insane. Some insanity limitations apply.

dear "doctor" coren, if you really are a doctor...

So, sidelined a bit by the Michael Vick story, last week there was a news report about the recent study results revealing how dogs are smarter than human two year olds. This has raised the fur on the necks of human and dog parents everywhere. Everyone is comparing and contrasting their kids with their dogs and - let's face it - passively and subconsciously logging how incredibly intelligent their child/critter is over the rest of the cretinous populace.

The article basically goes on ad naseum about the study profile then at the end points out the thing people are really looking for: the list of the smartypants dogs and the dunces, noting that hounds were at the "bottom of the intelligence barrel". Ouch.

(memo to self: create bumper sticker with graphic of basset hound that reads, "it's settled! my dog reached the bottom of the barrel!" get it? "settled" to the bottom? it's a little play on wor.....*sigh*....no, you're right: it sucks. Back to work.)

I found one basset hound blogger so irate about this that she signed off saying she was in tears over it. Uh.... ok. I think they make pills for that.

So, I'm the first to admit that Molly, if human, would be the kid wearing the paper hat asking you if you wanna supersize that?. She purty, but she dumb. Toula, on the other hand, would be the Starbucks employee in the black apron, not the green one, as she is smart enough to open zippered bags, enter wallets and pull out dollar bills to chew just the money, eat only the most expensive lipsticks, guage what day of the week the gardener is coming, and use her nose to negotiate drawers and tools.

So, perhaps it really comes down to the dog, Dr. Coren, not so much the breed. Because you may think bassets are obtuse but my bassset Toula falls over dead when I make my fingers look like a gun and I yell, "Bang!"...most of the time. Stick that in your story and smoke it.

a message to the philadelphia eagles

you guys suck.

wordless wednesday

Taken from my treo phone as Molly and I walked behind.
(Damn, I guess that means this isn't 'wordless'. Oh, well.)

Lazy Sunday. Dogs in their usual positions.

vet day for molly

Molly had to visit the vet today because she takes Deramaxx for her bad knees (luxating patela, if you must know) and has to have her liver enzymes checked to get a refill. Plus, she had to get her rabies shot to continue her license.

When we go to the vet we always take both dogs so that they'll know a vet visit doesn't ALWAYS mean you get poked and prodded and stuck with sharp things. Sometimes your sister gets poked and prodded and stuck and you get to sit in the waiting room and read Dog Fancy magazine and listen to cats maraowwwwling from the next room.

So, it was Toula's turn to have an un-vet day. As you can see, our theory has worked, because she treated the visit like any other day at the office.














Toula, try to remain calm.
Toula....
Toula?

hula dog

OK, I can explain.

My BFF's 7 year old daughter was turning 8 recently, and when asked what kind of party she wanted she said, "a Hawaiian Dog party".

A....what?

I know a little bit about Hawaii having been born and raised there, so I took on the challenge. The 7 year old LOVES Molly, so Molly became the Hawaiian Dog.

Wrapping a white sheet over a table laid on its side, I put a child's fake hula skirt and some plastic leis on Molly, and bobby-pinned a plumeria to her ear (yes, it stayed!). Then I prayed to the Hawaiian gods for forgiveness (I really don't mean to offend! No bolts of lightning or lava flows, pleeeeze), and for a small treat she sat there for about 40 pictures until I got one just right.

After a bit of photoshopping ("Hau'oli la Hanau" means "Happy Birthday" in Hawaiian), we printed the pic on iron-on transfers and made tshirts for all the little girls attending the party.

Add some decorations and Hawaiian-type food, and this little girl had one blastin' pool party!

I'm not one to put pics of kids on the internet, so I smoodged out their faces a bit. But you get the idea. Super cute Tshirts custom made for the party!

I think I'll get Molly an agent. Her list of demands will be short: Trader Joe's peanut butter, ham, short walks, and lots of snuggling on demand.

Ahhhh...a Hawaiian dog can dream....Or, as the Hawaiians say, "moe'uhane".