Warm, silly furries

We have one tiny sleek dog (Rosie) and one giant fuzzy dog (Buck). They're about as opposite as two dogs can possibly be, except they both have these oversized, radar bat ears. I'm always taking pictures of Rosie (the baby always gets all the attention in the family, it's just a fact of life). I went to take yet another picture of Rosie this morning and someone stuck their face right in the camera. Ahhhh. Can't you just see the "I'm cute TOO, Mom!" look in his eyes. And he is adorable, isn't he, even with his torn ear and his beard like a face full of hanging lichen and his big, wet paws and his directionally challenged fur.

When we had two large dogs (Maybelline, our lab/boxer mix, old girl, died last year), Buck had absolutely no interest in toys, unless they were made of bone or leather and he could eat them. But suddenly, he wants toys. Undoubtedly because Rosie loves her toys and lords over them like a two year old asked to share. Like that's gonna happen. NOT. So this morning I brought home some new toys from Walmart, matching squeakie toys and two braided chew toys, one small and one medium sized.

"This one is YOURS Buck!" "Here Rosie, this one is for you!"

Of course, it worked out as well as it would with any siblings. Buck wanted both his braid and Rosie's braid. Rosie didn't want either of them but she didn't want Buck to have the the one we gave her regardless. She wanted both squeakie toys but could only carry one onto the couch at one time. She'd go back for the second one and Buck would take his back. Rosie would take the opportunity to run and steal his braid and he'd go back and take it from her and then sit on top of both the squeakie toy and braid. Rosie would run back and forth between me and Buck, pleading for me to do something about the unfairness of it all. "Mom! Look! He's not SHARING!" Let's not even mention that she has at least quadruple her weight in other doggie toys stashed about the house.

I tried to take some pics of the whole silly scene, but they wouldn't stop moving and all I ended up with was a series of big golden blurs and tiny black blurs.

Oh, and it's not true, by the way - you CAN teach an old dog a new trick. For eleven years Buck has completely missed the concept of fetch. Maybel, part labrador remember, LOVED to play fetch and would run after a ball/stick/frisbee/toy until she collapsed in exhaustion. For Buck's part, he just ran back and forth beside Maybel, barking at her as if to say - "Stop! What are you doing!? Stop! Can't you see you're just encouraging them to throw it again?!"

So suddenly, like, YESTERDAY, he decided to fetch things for us. He brought William and I a toy, we threw it, he brought it back. More then once. We told Jeff this morning. He thought we were making it up. So we did it again. Buck fetched. It's amazing what can happen in the face of sibling rivalry.

Now, switching to felines.....

No, I didn't wash and dry the cat. Charlie picked this spot for a nap and didn't bother to move when I threw another load of warm-from-the-dryer clothes on top of him.