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Category Archives: Hero Litter

The Kota

Hoagy, Harvest and Holly

Didja hear wab Foob Lady seb? asks Holly.

What? asks Harvest. Hey! Ow!

Holly lets go of her sister’s hind leg and clears a dog hair from her throat. [ahem] I said, she says, did you hear what Food Lady said? Hoagy’s gonna come at lunchtime to play.

With her leg now free, Harvest tosses Holly on her back. She jumps on top and starts to gnaw on Holly’s front leg.  That’s cool. says Harvest. We could use some fresh meat. You know, so to speak.

And something else, says Holly. Food Lady says we get to see the Kota too. Yikes! You’re biting too hard, Harvest! 

Ain’t no thing but a chicken wing, says Harvest. Nom-nom-nom ha ha ha ha! Seriously though, what’s a Kota?

I dunno, shrugs Holly. But Food Lady told me we have to treat the Kota with ‘spect. I have no idea what that even means. My turn! Give me your leg.

Respect means [ow] we can’t chew on it, says Harvest. Maybe the Kota is a strappy sandal. Criminy, Holly! Stop using your back teeth!

No, the Kota isn’t a shoe, you toe-eater, says Holly. Food Lady says the Kota is a special kinda dog. She said it’s very powerful and uses mind powers to control other animals. Ow, that’s my ear! I think you hit bone that time.

Oh sure, like it has ESPN or something, says Harvest. That makes no sense, Holly. Roll over and I’ll get your other ear bone to match the red marks.

No really, says Holly. The Kota is supposed to be fast and strong. Like with super speed and it can catch flying things in mid-air!

That’s nothin’, says Harvest. Watch me do that!

Ow, my tail! cried Holly. Oh hey, and and get this … the Kota [dang it! ow!] is black and white. Not yellow like me, you and Hoagy.

Now I know [ow!], says Harvest. You’re pulling my leg.

The dog, the myth, the legend

Well met.
Some better met than others.

Holy cow, what a good dog, Lakota.

While Holly and Hoagy ask for the doggy version of an autograph of the legendary Lakota, Harvest invests some time in researching the family history of the border collie.

Lakota in the meantime, permits this attention from his new fandom. No prob, says Lakota. So long as they leave my flying squirrel thingies alone.

Um.

Oh sure, you can catch this thing in mid-air.
But can you catch me? bwahahaha

Yeah, so anyway after the initial howdy-dos, the three Hero pups went back to merely assaulting each other puppy-style.

No, no I’d say you got two more kibbles for lunch than I did, says Hoagy.
Did somebody say Lunch? says Holly. 

The Kota was left in peace to do his legendary feats of catching flying objects from mid-air. Which is all he really wanted out of the deal anyway.

A good thing he brought two flying squirrel thingies.

Wordless Wednesday: It be raining. Again.

You know, if I’ve learned anything in this long-lived career in the corporate workplace, it’s the importance of being agile. To be flexible. How to embrace change.

Because no matter how carefully you may have planned, things are going to shift on you.

Or wait. No.

No, that’s just life.

So I was thinking that I’d take a weekly photo of Holly. At least until she reached a stage where her growth was not so profound in change. Dunno, maybe five or six months.

And then I figured easy ’nuff to take the photos in the same spot in the yard.

And then yesterday it rained. Stormed, actually. Thunder and lightning and should we be hunkering in the basement stuff going on out there.

Ah, but as many summer storms, it passed within minutes. Leaving us with a light rain shower.

And a tight schedule of taking Holly’s fourteen week photo.

So here we are with a misty rain causing the blackboard paint to run and the photographer’s assistant quickly running out of dog treats (do note The Husband’s shoes, bottom right), me fussing about the precious Canon in the misty rain, and Holly’s tail attempting to underline her name.

So take that, Life.  We can work around all your drama and plot twists.

We give you Holly at fourteen weeks.  Good lord, look at the legs on this pup, willya?

Summer Solstice & Rooster Heads


As we cross the threshold from a lovely Ohio spring to welcome in the Summer Solstice, I’ll refrain from reminding everyone that it’s downhill from here.

Well, that didn’t go well, now did it? By not reminding you that we just enjoyed the longest day of the year, I actually kinda did. Remind you, that is. You know, every day from here until the Winter Solstice in December will be shorter and shorter.

And shorter.

Enough with the downer talk on this gorgeous Ohio summer day. In an attempt at atonement, I offer you a delightful photo of Miss Holly enjoying a moment in the afternoon sunshine. On the longest day of the year. We had time.

Ok, you say. That’s nice. But do you think you might take her leash off for a prettier puppy photo? Isn’t this is your backyard?

Oh dear astute reader, you are correct as usual. But you see, we had a minor mishap. Some puppy misbehavior and similar goings-on. And I find it easier to catch a trailing leash than the elusive puppy tail as it races by.

Because of stuff like this.

must … find … love …


Oh, for the love of nature, you cry. Just look at those roots! That’s still in the shape of the seedling container. You just planted those poor things mere minutes ago, didn’t you? Those flowers should have been in the soil …

I know, I know.  At least a month ago. You see, I have a good reason for waiting so long to plant my flower bed.  Because, well …

1. I hate gardening.

Sure, hate’s a strong word. Maybe that’s a little harsh. I’ll try again.

1. I really dislike gardening.
2. I’d rather be in a dentist’s chair.

So I put it off. And by mid-June, the back flower bed still looked like the terrain on Frodo’s trek to Mordor. An expanse of lost hope and broken dreams. Until I finally motivated myself to plant some sticks of color into the ground.

brookgreen gardens

Still, I say you’ve missed the point here, Dear Reader. That clostridium didn’t simply jump out of

the barren earth by itself in an attempt to find a more loving home.

Clostridium? you say. Um, that’s a bacteria.

Huh. Ok then. Colostrum? Coelacanth? Wait no, that’s a fish that was extinct until it wasn’t anymore. Shoot, I don’t know. It’s a Latin word for chicken head or something. I remember seeing it on the plastic tag thing with the plants.

Wait.

Here ya go.  I planted a bunch of these.

Ah, you say. Might you be referring to the Celosia? The cockscomb?

Right. That’s what I said.

Anyway, you’ve completely derailed my train of thought there, Amtrak.

In preparation for the tender young thing that is Holly, we did a sweet job of puppy proofing the house. We eliminated all dangers – real and imagined – and put any valuables out of easy reach of inquisitive puppy maws.

On the inside of the house.

I admit I didn’t really consider the allure of rooster head flowers in the back garden bed.

In the mind of a young pup, what’s the little girl to think? One day it’s a bleak expanse of dirt and the next all these fluffy headed things appear.

A moment of exploration, a sniff in attempt at identification.

Friend or foe? asks the puppy noggin.

Toy, answers the gray matter. Grab it and run! Run like the wind, Little One!

But hurry, the puppy brain continues. Because there’s a bunch of them. And the Food Lady wants to play too.

And that, people, is why Holly is wearing a leash in my backyard.

Wordless Wednesday: Holly at Thirteen Weeks

We interrupt a period of puppy goofiness, to bring you Holly and her Serious Face.

This is her being serious.

Thirteen weeks old now. She’s growing into those ears quite nicely, isn’t she?

Now she needs to schedule a growth spurt to catch up with that foot long tail of hers.

Wordless Wednesday: Caption This #14

Holy cow, it’s been forever since we’ve offered up a Caption This.

So we’ll start this off with a You’re Welcome when you see that I didn’t pun y’all with saying fur-ever.
And I have to tell you this, too. I was sorely tempted to use the saying Donkey’s Years after having just read this phrase in a Stephen King story, of all places.
I haven’t heard anyone say that in, well … you know.  Turns out that Donkey’s Years is an eggcorn from Donkey’s Ears.  Like, it’s been as long as a donkey’s ears.
But we don’t want to suggest a negative body image to a lovely pup who has yet to grow into her own air flappers, now do we?
Of course not, people.
Still, this expression on Holly’s adorable mug is worthy of a caption, I think.
Maybe …

Holly:  The cat called me a What?!

Or add the photo below for a two-liner:

Me:    Holly! Whacha rolling around in your mouth now?
Holly: [mmph] muffin. See?

Or:

Holly: Hey, Food Lady! D’ya like seafood?
Me:    Oh Holly, that joke’s even older than I …
Holly: Lookit!  Hahahahaha[snort]

And now let’s open it up to more ideas.  Drop us a comment with your clever dialogical thoughts.

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