Lest you think we only torture our dogs

I thought I should share with you these pictures that show that we do also reward them for their suffering.
For example, in this photo from the doggie birthday festivities, note that all their tongues are sticking out and they are looking to their left and upward. Why is that?

Because Allyn is approaching with a package of grated cheese. Everyone loves grated cheese.

Want proof? Check out these two photos.

In the first, all three are in a scrum for the cheese that is now decorating the floor. Yes, we continued the torture in that we made them go for the cheese while still in their hats, but to be fair to us, stopping them would have been difficult once cheese entered the picture.

After Holden and Shibori had eaten their shares, they implored us to remove their hats. In the second photo, Holden's is off, and he has sprinted to reclaim his bone lest one of his domineering sisters decides to take it from him. Shibori is staring sadly upward, desperately hoping someone will remove her hat, love on her, and allow her to reclaim the few tattered remnants of her doggie dignity. (Alas, she had to wait a few minutes anyone could wade across the dog-slimed floor to free her from her cone of oppression.)

Pixil, however, as is often the case, is the craftiest of the three. She has shaken off her hat and is busily taking advantage of the opportunity the others have afforded her by getting every last scrap of cheese off the floor.

Yes, they had to endure party hats, but in the end I like to think the cheese balanced the scales nicely.

Dogs in party hats!

Come on, admit it: You like torturing poor, unsuspecting dogs as much as the next person. Who doesn't?

So, as we were all discussing the fact that yesterday was the sixth birthday of all our dogs, it quickly became apparent that we needed to put them in party hats, just as we did some years ago. Jennie did, though, get them new party hats; hey, we're not mean!

As you can clearly see, the dogs are loving it!

Okay, maybe they're not loving it, but at least they're sitting still for it.

Well, not exactly sitting; more like held in place by my hands and Jennie's; that's her paw reaching in from out of the frame.

Still not convinced? Try these happy expressions on for size.

Fine. I admit it: these dogs were not happy. They were long-suffering pooches, but afterward we rewarded their pain with grated cheese for all! Nothing says love like a sprinkle of cheese on the floor and the permission from all humans present to lick to your heart's content.

For those who do not know our noble hounds, the very short version is that we met them as puppies on a beach vacation almost six years ago, and they turned out to belong to a man in Durham. Our household chose (and named) Holden, the black and white goofy guy on my left. Jennie selected Shibori, the almost entirely black dog her hands are holding. Gina opted for Pixil, who's sitting right in front of me, because Gina is taking the pictures.

These three play together almost every day at our house while we're all working, and I love them all. (If you could see Holden wiggle, you'd love him, too.) They're the best dogs in the world, and if you don't believe me, you simply haven't met them--but you do now know that they look great in party hats.

Neurotic dogs we love

Holden and Shibori, our dog and Jennie's, are pets we love. They're both great dogs.

They're also both neurotic, though in different ways.

Shibori cannot stop herself from licking you. Let your hand dangle for a moment, and she'll find a way to lick you. It's all from love, but relax for a second and you'll have a slimy hand.

Holden hates thunderstorms. To console himself during one tonight, he groomed Shibori's head so much that she looked like an 80's punk dog and her hair felt almost rubbery. Though I can't encourage Holden in this pursuit, I have to say that the results are pretty darn funny. I do hope for his sake that her head tastes good.

Happy PupDay and Stranger Than Fiction

Not quite four years ago, my then twelve-year-old daughter came walking up to our beach house holding a small white and black puppy. Within a few hours, that puppy had won our heart, a mostly black one had captured Jennie, and another white and black litter mate had intrigued Gina. As chance would have it, the owner of the puppies lived in Durham, not far from us. Our fates were sealed.

When the puppies were eight weeks old, we drove to the owner's house, and they came home with us.

The one Sarah was carrying is Holden, our dog, whom I've captured here posing in the sunlight this morning. He's the big goofy lug of the group.





The black and white dog, Shibori, is Jennie's; she's also posing nicely. Shibori is the most willing to please dog I've ever known, and also the owner of the fastest tongue east of the Mississippi.

The third member of the gang, Pixil, is Gina's and is small and in charge. I thought I took a photo of her tonight, but I somehow blew it; I'll update this entry with a photo sometime soon. I trust Miss P will forgive me.



Today was their fourth birthday. Unlike in past years, we did not make them wear party hats. They're grateful for this small kindness. I'm grateful for the love and joy they've brought to our lives. They play together at our house almost every day, and they are amazing creatures, at least to me.

On a completely unrelated note, tonight we watched Stranger Than Fiction on DVD. It blew me away. My expectations were low, but I was curious. The movie had heart, a brilliantly understated performance by Will Farrell, and generally great performances by all significant cast members. Maybe I'm a sucker for anything that can combine metafiction with true and well-deserved emotion, but I recommend it highly.