If dogs formed a band.
The little guy in back is the drummer.
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From left: Karsen & Kel (houseguests), Jager, Yaxley and Micron
Category Archives: Wordless Wednesday
Wordless Wednesday: Fur Fur Baby
Wordless Wednesday: Euka vs The Snowball
Snowballs, says Euka. Are kinda weird to catch.
I mean, she continues, you think you’ve got the thing. Then afterwards, you’re all … was that it? Is that all there is?
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Farmer’s Tan. It’s not just for summer anymore.
What do you get when you cross a Golden with a Labrador?
This, people. You get a photobomb that you didn’t notice in the tiny viewfinder of your Canon. A cursory glance at the image might even net you that warm feeling that accompanies the camera’s promise of a rather nice shot.
Then you download the memory card onto your laptop and you now find yourself gifted with the pale, almost not there, but yep, there she is, that’s not a ghost photo bomb.
My handsome golden retriever appears to have developed a white-ish rear end. Perhaps one of them stylin’ Lion Cuts. With the unfortunate result of exposing a farmer’s tan.
In winter. Go fig.
Take a sec here and place your thumb over the tip of plume tail creeping above Micron’s noggin.
There. Now do you see it too?
It’s not just me, right?
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Wordless Wednesday: Frosty Mug o’Jager
This puts me in mind of the song lyric of Jack Frost nipping at your nose. Then I move on to Jager Frost nipping at your … well, there’s no good way to end that sentence.
Or how ’bout this one?
How do you prefer your Jagermeister? What’s that you say? With a frosted mug?
One ice cold Jager comin’ up.
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Wordless Wednesday: Cat Chatter
The cat is chattering at the birds outside.
Hey, batta batta, chatters Bodine. Sa-wing batta!
Or something like that.
Ok, I guess it’s more like the ah-ah-ah-ah of a feline tommy gun. Get it? Tommy gun? Tom cat? hahahhaha.
Oh nevermind.
But you understand what I’m on about, right? I mean, if you’ve ever heard an inside cat talking smack to the song birds outside the window, you know they do emit some kind of chattery clicking sound.
And I wonder how persuasive such chatter would be in the wilds of the backyard.
Cat: Hey. You.
Sparrow: [looks around] Who me?
Cat: Yeah, you buddy. C’mon over here. I wanna talk wif you for a minnit.
Sparrow: Oh, I don’t think I’m supposed to talk to you. Ma said not to listen to, well, you know. Cats like you.
Cat: I’m gonna pretend that doesn’t hurt me right here. [taps a paw to his chest]. Naw, it’s ok. I got an extra daddy long-legs, see, and it’s too much for me to eat. Come closer and I’ll show it to you.
Sparrow: You do? That’s so nice of you. Is it really fresh? Cuz I like ’em to still be squirmy a little. Yeah? Well, ok …
Bodine!, I yell. Leave that nice little bird alone and come in the kitchen. It’s time for your meds.
Oh for … , says Bodine. Food Lady, you’re blowing my street cred here.
He gives one last, long look at the tiny bird before jumping down from the windowsill.
Tomorrow, says Bodine.
Addendum:
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Just a note that Bodine is a one hunnerd percent indoor cat. It’s for his protection, of course.
And for the preservation of the song bird population in our neighborhood. Doing our part to extend those avian lifespans.
Wish the neighbors held the same philosophy.
Go. Do. Be Dog. 