I love my dogs. Who doesn’t? (Love their own dogs, I mean.) I try to write about said dogs’ adventures, in as humorous a way as possible, here. But sooner or later, well. Umm. Here ends the well-worded part of this ramble.
I’ve got quite a backlog of Chloë photos waiting to be used. I will probably use them on individual posts sometime, but for anyone who wants to get to know Chloë the basset hound/just bassets in general better, :
As I foretold, this part of the year was filled with semi-strange humans and dropped food – but, by some miracle, the humans lost the Elf Suit. I wonder if that had anything to do with the Scrap of green chew-toy that I heroically Discovered and was Kind enough to share with Marshall…
Arggg! Only 24ish days to Christmas! Which means, inevitably, The Costume. There are good things and there are bad things about this time of year, the worst of which is certainly The Costume.
I like Ducks. I know that now. When I woke up yesterday, I did not. Yesterday was a Day of Revelations and Eye Openings.
The humans took me to a New Park yesterday. The main feature is a Dam. There were men Fishing in the Dam. Now there are not.
Humans are Astounding, Strange Creatures. Yesterday, ours took Marshall and me to a New Park. It is mostly water.
Ever tried to wash a basset hound? Yes, well, if you have, you know where this is going.
If you’ve been here for a while, you’ll remember the last time we washed Chloë the basset. You’ll remember it wasn’t much of a fight. You’ll remember that the problem was keeping her clean.
These dogs. Hounds. Regrets? Sometimes.
Two things everyone knows about hounds: independently intelligent, howl.
Marshall has had an itchy face for a long time. Sometimes he also licks some other random area for a few weeks, e.g. paw, leg… But since he has no coords, when he tries to scratch with a back leg he misses and when he tries with a front paw he claws himself very viciously. Early this year, the vet said to bath him weekly. They offered to do it for the first three weeks, because MARSHALL HATES BATHS
Somewhere around six thirty this morning, a Younger Human came downstairs (not really downstairs, just down the stairs, the house has two different ground-levels with stairs in the middle). Marshall jumped on her and she started scratching him. Then an Older Human called Marshall onto the bed. And so the weekend begins.