Playing with the Big Dog Toys

Last weekend while grocery shopping I walked down the pet aisle and caught sight of a massive, 2 foot long rawhide bone.  Walking briskly past it I thought to myself, "who would buy such a thing?"  Wait.  Me.  "Wouldn't you rather have Hank chew that than the leg of your dining room chair?" queried the little devil's voice inside my head.  Why, yes, a practical and functional purchase even if I look like Darth Vader trapped in the land of the canines wielding the thing through the store.  The brief embarrassment was worth it upon returning home and presenting Hank with such a prize.  He immediately devoured half of it and then paused and left it on the living room carpet to seek out and drink the entire gallon of water in the automatic dog-watering station.  That's when it happened.  Red Rocket launched the great rawhide heist, bolting into the living room and dragging the half-eaten rawhide (which was a long as he is) into the safety of his cage where Hank was unable to recover it...

Lap Dogs

The problem with having four lap dogs is that there aren't usually enough laps in the house to go around.  This makes Maggie disgruntled and she retreats to the seculsion and comfort of the master bed where she snoozes warm and undisturbed.  Hank possess the classic "I'm a lap dog and NO, I'm not too big for it" attitude, but the reality is that he is too big and so he must usually settle for being a "beside the lap" dog.  Rachsie and Red Rocket, however, are firm believers in lap possession even if they are forced to share.

Rest in Peace, Fatty Fatacre

Perhaps it was lethargy caused by the bitter cold.  Perhaps it was extra pounds acquired during a hibernatory orgy.  Perhaps it was a slip on an icy branch.  Whatever it was, when Hank dashed out of the back door this afternoon in hot pursuit of Fatty Fatacre, our resident squirrel, Fatty was not fast enough and Hank was victorious.  Adding to the horrificness of this senseless slaughter was Red Rocket's contribution to the carnage: I found him dismembering Fatty Fatacre by the back door.  I am distraught that my sweet dogs have turned into squirrel murderers but I suppose this is what one gets for adopting breeds from the hunting class.  I will spare readers of the Red Rocket Report the photo of Fatty's entombment in a Dillon's grocery sack.  There will be no dog kisses tonight and the water bowls will be spiked with Listerine.

Terms of Endearment

Earlier this evening Edward took Red Rocket's face into his hands, leaned his forehead against Red Rocket's forehead, and said, "I love you very, very, very, very much Rocket."

Guardian

Yesterday was Edward's sixth birthday.  As a "big boy" he rarely naps but the excitement of birthday treasures and adventures at Chuckie Cheese led to a late morning collapse on the couch earlier today.  Red Rocket happily snuggled in next to him and as I walked by the two of them I headed for the camera in anticipation of a snapshot of the pair snoozing away.  But Rocket heard his Momma and emerged from his slumber to pose in what I truly think is the most regal countenance I have ever captured.  He reminds me of one of those lion guardian figures from the famous monuments of the ancient world.  Granted, Kojo the blanket/pillow/gator draped around his neck perhaps diminishes the royal demeanor a bit... Perhaps we can Photoshop that out and insert a velvet and ermine cloak like the one in the famous portrait of King Louis XIV.  Like King Louis, Rocket has the hair to pull off that look.

His Fame Continues....

When I opened this morning's Wichita Eagle and pulled out the Saturday "Home and Garden" section my eye was immediately drawn to the header photo of a black-and-tan dachshund accompanied by the teaser "Long and Low: Dachshunds are Little Dogs with Big Ideas."  "Now here's an article that's right up my alley," I thought as I struggled to turn the page to the feature.  The report began with the story of Oscar, a dachshund who was hit by a car, taken to Heartland Animal Hospital, received a leg amputation with Magnum Fund money, and was now up for adoption from PALS Animal Rescue.  Sound familiar?  I was already aware of Oscar's situation as a young woman interested in adopting him had contacted me to ask about our experience adopting and living with Red Rocket.  I had not anticipated, however, that Red Rocket's story would be recounted in the article as the "success story" that inspired Oscar's rescue.  Red Rocket's fame lives on...share the Red Rocket love...

Scene of the Crime

Interrupted robbery in progress, assailant fled. Suspect is 3 feet tall, 65 pounds, with chocolate brown hair. Suspect is armed with large brown whip that can inflict serious injury. Absconded with 9 chocolate chip cookies. Suspect will no doubt experience intestinal distress and will be unpleasant to sleep with tonight. Anonymous tips can be left at 1-800-STOP-HANK.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

Pillow Pet

Hank uses Maggie as a pillow during an afternoon nap on the couch.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

You Betcha' Dogga' Blogga'

So, did you think we wouldn't get blogging?  Break out your reading glasses and a comfortable chair.  It's not Gone with the Wind or War and Peace but it's a massive dog-blogging effort!  Oh, and by the way, we've posted enough stuff today that you'll need to hit "older posts" to read it all!

Blog-a-thons Are Exhausting

It's hard to stay motivated when the canines around you are all lounging.  Of course, there are NO PILLOWS LEFT FOR ME IN THIS HOUSE!!! so even if I wanted to collapse in exhaustion I'd have a tough time finding a comfortable spot.

Here Comes Santa Claus

Lethal Weapon

Hank has a lethal tail.  So lethal, in fact, that two recent guests who have been visiting and playing with Edward on the floor have requested ice packs after getting thumped in the head by Hank's happy wagger.  I feared for all of my glass Christmas ornaments but remembered that one of the best Christmas memories from my youth was watching in horror as the family dachshunds, during a heated game of chase, got tangled in the lights of my Grandmother's Christmas tree and brought the whole ensemble crashing to the ground.  The Victorian style ornaments we bought her over the next three years to replace the ones destroyed by our dachshunds hang on my tree today.  Hank did well.  He only broke two. 

Thanksgiving

As I prepared the oyster dressing for Thanksgiving I had four, very rapt supervisors.  The aroma of the oysters had them jumping in the air!

Survey

Which is softer and warmer after Edward's bath?  The pink towel or Hank?

Remembering Emma, Part 2

Every year on the anniversary of her adoption day I held a brunch in Emma's honor.  The official adoption day was November 17 and after two years of holding the brunch in Wichita one of our guests dubbed the occasion, "the kickoff event of the Wichita holiday season."  Some years the turnout for Emma's brunch filled the house to overflowing, other years it was a quieter event with just our closest friends; this year it was the latter.  So I was able to plan a sit-down, rather than the traditional buffet-style, brunch.  The meal ended just the way Emma always liked: with dogs licking the leftovers out of the sausage-egg casserole dish!

Remembering Emma, Part 1

I adopted Emma when I was living in Austin, Texas and 3 or 4 times a week I would take her to the dog section of Barton Springs where she rejoiced in frolicking in the water and playing "run after but do not retrieve the sticks thrown for me."  Over the past year and a half since her death I have been collecting rocks from all the lakes we have visited.  Since I didn't take geology as one of my science and math electives in college I probably can't accurately label the types of rocks I have gathered.  I call them pink granite because they all have a pinkish cast and their composition reflects the texture of granite sculptures I have studied, but, as previously disclaimed, I am no expert.  I've used these rocks to create memorial gardens for Emma in our yard.  The first set I collected now borders the rose garden in the section of the backyard where Emma liked to sniff around.  The second set was in a rather inelegant heap at the side of the house until October when I finally purchased the pink tulip bulbs to populate the planned front yard memorial garden.  August and Edward and I all worked together to plant and feed the tulip bulbs, cover them with chicken wire to prevent the squirrels from eating them, and finally placing the rocks over and around the garden bed. 

Scram

"You don't need to stand there and watch me, Mom.  I'm not even the slightest bit interested in snatching cereal from that bowl Edward is precariously holding over the arm of the chair.  No, the side of my lip is NOT raised in anticipation of an accidental (or not so accidental) spill of the cereal.  I'm just smiling with gratitude that you feed me sumptuous beef-infused morsels while you force your dear child to eat dry grains."

Fire Chief

Edward brought home loads of souvenirs from fire prevention week at school and his homework was to collaborate with family members to develop a household fire safety and evacuation plan.  Edward decided Rachsie should be the family fire chief, and given her propensity for barking orders, I think he made the logical choice.

Bathed in Sunlight

One of my favorite coffee-table books is Cats in the Sun, a volume full of photographs of cats in the Greek Isles basking in the sun-drenched landscapes full of stuccoed houses and fisherman's quarters.  The luminous aesthetic of the photos has always inspired me.  Capturing this lighting is, in my opinion, much more effective with an old-fashioned SLR camera but I've snapped a few decent images by turning the flash off on the digital camera.

Braving the Cold without a Coat

When the weather turned cold I made the tremendous mistake of throwing my winter coat over the back of the chair the first day I wore it.  The result: I haven't been able to wear it since.  There is always an animal (or two) curled up on it, napping contentedly, buffered from the cold draughts.  I haven't the heart to displace this hibernatory instinct so I've spent the last six weeks wearing either my ratty old camel hair coat with the shredded lining and the hole under the arm or wrapped in the woolen shawl I bought when I lived in Belgium and used in lieu of a bathrobe since I was travelling light.