The Scent of a Paw

Lucy's paws smell like corn chips.















I thought she was the chosen one. This gift of frito feet bestowed upon her as some sort of a healing power that would someday be used to help save all of mankind. A google search crushed all hope of what I thought might be true:



















Chips and dip, anyone?

Lullaby...and goodnight...

Mr. Tank enjoying my king size bed all to himself:

Quite the lazy day

Oh why hello there.

I think I'm just gonna...

take a little nap here...

Oh, but there's your finger.

Can I help you?

Please take that out of my face.

You are making me very uncomfortable!!

How about I lick it?

Are we good now?

Good.

Lucy and the TV

Lucy watches a lot of TV because her mother watches a lot of TV. The bad thing about Lucy watching TV is she gets really emotional about whatever she's watching. There are certain channels that I don't even think about stopping at (Animal Planet being number one). I would never even attempt to watch a dog show because it would just be Lucy whining, barking, and lunging at the TV the whole time. She even has emotional meltdowns over cartoon dogs! She knows the difference between a human cartoon and a dog cartoon, who could be standing on two legs like a human, talking like a human, and she will only bark at the human-like dog. Go figure on that one.

Anyway, it's not just dogs that she dislikes as I mentioned in a previous post (she still hates William Shatner, bells and opera). Here are some more things that upset Lucy whenever they come on screen:

The FreeCreditReport.com guy. Hates. Him.

This dog from the Cesar dog food commercials. I don't know if you guys have seen this commercial, but in the background someone is whistling a catchy little jingle. The TV could be completely off and if I whistle this same tune (which, by the way, you should hear me whistle sometime. I'm fantastic.) Lucy will flip out and charge the TV.

Spongebob. No explanation needed.

Pillow Casualties

I came home to this tragic scene today:

This is what happens when I don't put the pillows away.

Pillows I used to have? Five. Pillows remaining? Zero.

I have my guess as to who started this mess. Who do you think did it?

So it's been awhile...

I haven't posted for a bit, I apologize. This past weekend I was in Hermosa Beach for a bachelorette party. My wonderful mother babysat the dogs for me while I was gone.

I don't have any new photos to post, so I thought I'd post a random one. I can't believe how tiny Tank looks in this picture. His head reminds me of that scene in Beetlejuice where that guy sprinkles the dust on Beetlejuice's head and it shrinks.

Oh, and it's kind of hard to tell, but I'm wearing a bindi on my forehead. I just don't want anyone to mistake it for a giant zit or something.

*Toots*

Three fun facts about the dogs flatulence:

1. When Lucy toots, she startles herself.

2. Tank has tooted before and awoken Lucy from a deep sleep.

3. Tanks toots can clear a room.

I don't have a picture to clearly illustrate any of these things so a random sequence of pictures will have to do:

Locked out

I got home from work today, grabbed a beer, my camera and headed out to the backyard to take some pictures. It is 109 degrees here in Arizona, so it's not like I was going to spend a large amount of time outside, but I wanted to try to get some new pictures of the dogs for the blog. Well, as soon as I closed the sliding glass door, it locked. I have no idea how this was possible, as you can't lock the door and then try to shut it. It's impossible. You have to shut the door first, then lock it. The only explanation that I have for this is that I have a ghost occupying my house. A cruel ghost who wants me to suffer from heat stroke.

My house has been robbed. They got in through the dog door because it used to be large enough to fit a Great Dane. A steel plate was made to make it smaller so that the biggest thing getting through that door was a fat pug.

Here's a picture with my hand in front of the dog door for size comparison.

The only reason I was able to fit through that dog door is because I have crazy shoulders. I can pop them out of place if need be. This situation was a "need be" because all I had was a camera and a beer. I might have been able to build some sort of communication device with said beer and camera to contact someone to come and help me, but sadly, I'm no MacGyver.

Here's a picture I managed to get of the dogs during this ordeal. They thought it was necessary to try to help from inside the house, where it was air conditioned. Thanks guys!

My, what a lovely shade of rouge

Tank was obsessed with a dying agave plant that was in the backyard. He would grab entire stems off of this (prickly!) plant and bring them inside and eat them. I ended up having to dig up the whole plant and throw it away. I noticed he had a redness to his lips (the pictures don't do it justice) and an internet search turned up that agave plants can cause irritation to the skin.

I must say, the color really brings out his eyes.

Sweet Dreams Interrupted

First off, let me just start by saying how I really wish I had gotten this photo in focus.

This is what it looks like when you awaken Her Royal Highness out of her beauty sleep.

The Tail

It wags whenever she sees me. It flies at half mast when she's running full speed. And it flattens out when she's relaxed. Sometimes it can even resemble a soft serving of ice cream.

One thing's for sure, it couldn't be more perfect.

Bless you

This photo captures Tank, mid-sneeze. Doesn't he look like a little troll? I should build him a bridge to sit under.

Who's the boss?

Lucy, clearly.

It's 3 am. Lucy hears a noise that is completely inaudible to any other creature on the planet but decides to bark about it, jolting me out of my beauty sleep. She barked, yet continues to lie there in bed and looks over at Tank, as if to say, "you go check to see what that noise was. I'll be right here." And Tank does. He leaps off the bed and starts barking as if it were him that had heard that noise and now he is going to do something about it. And Lucy? She lays her head back down and drifts right back to sleep.
























Who really was the boss? Tony or Angela? I had a hard time figuring out which head to put Lucy's face on. I'm having second thoughts, I think it might have been Angela.

The french model

Lately, Lucy has enforced a new "no photos" policy. She's feeling bloated and agitated and I'm not going to mess with that.

Tank is always willing to pose for photos.

Beware. Evil is lurking in the shadows.

Our sleeping arrangements

Sorry for the grainy photo, it was taken from my camera phone.

An example of how the dogs and I usually sleep. Lucy on my face/neck making it sometimes impossible to breathe, and Tank next to me, although it's usually his other end directly in my face.

Behold!

The awesomeness that is snaggletooth:

How Some Sundays Are Spent