Sunday, October 10, 2010
After what seems like 1 ½ seconds, Mom is pulling me from deep in the compost pile and is hauling my furry short tail back to the dreaded fenced yard in which I belong. I don’t care too much ‘cause I smell good! That dumb half-Jack Russell, actually comes when he is called and follows us in. That must be the Toy-Fox half of him. We full JRT’s would at least hold off for a cookie.
I’m greeting the other dogs and let the sniff how much better I smell than they. I’m heading for my private door that I let the others use too (most of the time), when I get picked up and petted and carried in the house. Dog! I am the queen! No squirrel will sniff me out now.
I finally am smell’n great and what happens? Well someone whom shall go nameless, but whose initials are M.O.M. jumps in the shower with me and WASHES IT ALL OFF with stinky canine shampoo. And she wonders why I like POPO better. The indignity, the shame, THE SMELL!!!
Well, that’s my story and I’m stuck with it.
Ms Nipsy JTR knasel
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Meet John. Because there are so many Johns in our lives we call him Hans. We have had several animals come through the our home from the shelter lately. Mainly pups from some local hoarders. There was three from one hoarded, then a mom and pup from another. I don't yet know the story on this cutie other that he waited at the shelter a month to get his surgery and now he is with us until he gets better. Don't it just make you mad that people will damage an animal and just leave it? Poor Hans will be better cared for now.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Here I sit aggravated with my hopeless attempts to be creative with my digitizing for the embroidery machine, particularly because, after an hour’s work, my new printer refused to work. It sends an error message that there is paper jammed in the back. There is, of course nothing there, not even dust, as we blew it all out with compressed air. Now I have to drive all the way to Mentor, to Best Buy to ask for another on.
May be it is I who has no feck. May be it is a test of my patience. May be I’ll just go take a shower after I check of the three foster pups who are residing in my basement laundry room. Too much foot patter is coming from the basement, indicating they pint size canines have made the great escape from behind out barrier.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
We now foster a lovely beagle who was part of a rescue of 12 beagles from a hoarder. Fiona is 8 years old but you should see her play in the yard. She and the Amer. mix have a great time.
Peanut Butter and Fiona want a forever home and look at you with sad dogie eyes. It breaks our tiny little hearts.