A Little Dab Will Do Ya

We had a bit of snow yesterday, and this should be Winter's last hurrah. The bushes are starting to get new leaves, and the Spring flowers are starting to make their appearance. Not a moment too soon either. Warmer weather is still months in the making, but it feels like it might be do-able these days.

The snow doesn't phase Caelan in the least. He happily makes his rounds, trotting around the backyard.

Taren turns all pink from the cold, even though we were out just a short while. Him and I agree, a good snuggle on the couch seems like a better idea than the white stuff.

What's that noise?

Nothing snaps their heads around quicker than the woodpecker. I haven't heard him in a while, so I am glad he has returned. Taren is all wide eyed as he listens. What's that?

Taren says, How about that nap? This photo makes me yawn every single time I look at it.

How It's Done

I love this series of photos, not only is Taren showing KK how it's done, but I can almost read his mind. He is leery of the candle, but food trumps caution when stalking cake.

Taren: Mmmmm....cake. It's on the table, and I'm not supposed to be up here, but the momma isn't clapping her hands at me like an insane person and saying, OFF! So, lets creep in here, maybe she won't notice. 

Closer.....

Mmmmmmm.....Frosting. I'm going to keep my eye on that candle though.

Actions compliments of the ever generous and talented Rita at the Coffeeshop Blog

Birthday Boy!

Today is my sweet, speckled wubba's Birthday. He is two years old. Just a baby, but it squeezes my heart to have them grow older. Not all that much has changed in the last two years. He's still the best *speckled* boy in the house, also the naughtiest.

Taren has been the most kind and patient big brother. He loves KK and has always been very sweet with him. Up and until he touches his suckie and then all bets are off. Some things are sacred. I could not love these boys more if I tried.

Happy Birthday, baby. Cake and presents tonight when the daddy gets home. Momma loves you till the ends of the earth.

Where Brod'r goes, I goes. He knows all about the fun stuff. The naughty stuff too.

What Brod'r likes, I likes. Including dirt clods and sticks.

What Brod'r has, I wants. The momma is gonna be mads when she sees what he has. Aroooo!

I wants it.

Brod'r won't gives it to me. I'm gonna makes him.

Even if I haves to take it and play bitey face. I likes bitely face a lot! It makes Brod'r grumpy.

Sometimes Brod'r trades with me. How abouts my stick for yours foamy thingy?

Sometimes Brod'r just gibs it to me. I has the bestest Brod'r.

Look momma, look what Brod'r gaves me!

I brings it to the momma. We can shares. I lubs the momma.

Stealer

Saturday morning we took the boys into doggie daycare for a little fun as we headed out and about. We went into Portland to the famous Powell's Books, the largest independent new and used bookstore in the world. There is not much better than a leisurely stroll through story after story of books. The photography books are on the very top floor tucked into an obscure corner, and you need an oxygen tank by the time you get there, but I digress. After our purchase we left and drove over to Doner Kebab for lunch which serves German and Turkish food. So good. After a few more stops we head home, and then off to pick up the pups. I stayed home to prepare their food, and upon arrival they burst into the door excited to be home. I hear, "Stealer" drift in from the garage. Your dog is a stealer. In the famous words of Scooby Doo- Ruh-roh. I said, Ohhhhh, who's the bad boy? Of course, I already knew who the bad boy was. I asked what he did. Well, the daycare has toys, treats and bones to purchase at nose level laying all over the place, which I have always thought was a bad idea. Seems someone had a taste for a pig ear, which they do not get at home. It was snatched, and gobbled at lightening speed on the way out the door. Next time we owe them for one ear. My husband said, Taren must have been really hungry. Wha......????? Taren? I could not believe it. I laugh and scratch him behind the ears, telling him he has pig ear breathe, and that he has been a bad boy. He flashes his Weimy grin at me, his wiggle butt at full speed, as if to say, ya and it was good too.

Actions compliments of the ever generous and talented Rita at the Coffeeshop Blog

Catching Snowflakes-Happy Anniversary

We received a bit more snow, and I do mean a bit. Small, dry flakes that lasted till morning. Enough time to get in a little fun though. I can't decide if Taren is catching snowflakes, or expressing how he really feels about these cold blustery days.

Some of you know that Grey Dog-and His Speckled Brother Too, is really my secondary site. A year ago today I posted my first photo on Rainer Blue.  It was a collaboration between two friends and we committed to no less than one year. As my skills improved, and I found my way around the Blogger format, Rainer Blue gave way to Rainier Blue Photography. A site that I felt reflected my growth and vision. Rainer Blue speaks more to the person I am than I could ever express in words. It was a project born of my heart, a labor of love to be sure. With tremendous, tremendous sadness I have decided to close the door on Rainier Blue and its sister site. For one reason, for a hundred reasons. I believe in signs, and I was given one yesterday that sealed its fate. I do not know what the future will hold. Take a last look around if you please, and wish me a happy anniversary. I'll let it be for a small while.

Rainer Blue Photography

Rainer Blue

Nap Time

Weimaraner, Taren

Around 3 o'clock every day, I could seriously take a nap. Maybe because I am a life long insomniac and that is when it all catches up with me, or maybe it's that proverbial mid afternoon crash advertisers use to sell us energy drinks, coffee, and other such energizers. Mmmmmm....Coffee sounds really good right now. I rarely indulge in a late afternoon nap, but yesterday I caved in. Maybe it's Winter and it has been chilly, but I threw some pillows on the floor and grabbed one of the zillion blankets we have laying around and laid down on the floor. It did not take long for the pups to follow, as I knew they would. The late afternoon sun streamed through the blinds creating a very inviting picture. Enough so, I wished I had my camera. The wind was blowing and the tops of the oak trees were swaying in the breeze. That was the single most reason we purchased this home nearly five years ago to the day. On the upper floor we have a bonus room, or depending on the region you live in, may call it a family room, or a media room. Nonetheless, we stood in this room to gaze out on nearly an identical afternoon, among the tree tops, only to see a baby deer laying in what would become our backyard. Sold! On this day though, as I laid under the covers I had a speckled dog laying along side me, my arm around him and his head tucked under my chin. Taren was lying on the other side, his head propped up on my leg, both asleep. It was wonderfully warm and comforting and you come to realize this is the stuff life is made of. Simple moments with those you love in the quiet of winters grasp. An afternoon nap- I highly recommend it.

As always, textures compliments of the ever generous and talented Jerry Jones of Shadowhouse Creation.

Company- The Melt Down

Well, hi there. It has been awhile. Life has been busy and complicated. Isn't that the way it always goes this time of year? We have had company, and it was interesting the way the pups dealt with the comings and goings. Caelan was as you might guess. The first growl led to barking, then to sniffing and then on to pet me, love on me, pet me, pet me, pet me, scratch me. Ya, right there..... Caelan loves everyone and everyone loves Caelan. Then there was Taren. He is not a people person. He loves his family and only his family. Including my mom and daughter, and even that took a few visits before the Weimy wiggle butt hit full throttle. He is not warm, nor particularly accommodating of people in his home. Simply put, the dog lost his mind. More interesting, the company was my son and his wife. All animals love my son, except apparently, Taren. Taren barked, growled, and bristled up each and every time my son made a move, or walked in or out of the room. He was having none of it. He did eventually go easy on his wife though and was fairly friendly toward the end. It got so bad that I felt sorry for my neighbors, it was a continual bark-a-thon. Nothing I did improved the situation, and I was a bit dismayed by the entire ordeal. In the end I did regain some control, but it was an uneasy truce of sorts. When my company departed I realized just how stressful the visit had been to Taren. He was back to his sweet goofy self. He laid on the floor, wiggling his back on the carpet, all four legs in the air, with his silly doggie grin. His tail thumping on the floor. He was happy, and I was happy. I cleaned up and that afternoon I put in a movie and laid down with my boys. Taren snuggled up against my stomach, and Caelan snuggled up against my back, and I covered us all up with a blanket and all was right with the world.

As always, textures compliments of the ever generous and talented Jerry Jones

Copyright Rainier Blue 2010, All Rights Reserved

The Sausage King

I've been a mean momma. I've been giving my dog a hard time about his weight. Taren could stand to lose a pound or two. He is not fat, he is not even overweight, not in the slightest. So do not get me wrong, but to look his Weimy best it would not hurt. He gets plenty of exercise and eats fancy pants dog kibble. I will admit to being the problem. I like to share. A bite of cheese, a few pieces of raw meat to add to their kibble as a treat, a slice or two of apples, and a few doggy cookies for being a good boy and it all starts to add up. I need to cut back. It goes against my nature. Yet they do not need for a pound or two to turn into another obese dog walking the streets of our town. There are plenty of those already.

I pet and love on Taren and tell him he looks like a sausage with legs. (Which he doesn't) I tell him I am going to start calling him Jimmy Dean. You know, the sausage company. I sing to him, he is Jimmy Dean, the Sausage King, James Dean. Taren looks at me like, Lady you are nuts, but keep up the petting and we'll call it good. It's silly and all in good fun, but the extras need to be kept to a minimum to keep him healthy. His brother too. It will hurt me far more than it will him.

Disclaimer: I have nothing against Jimmy Dean or Sausage. In fact, on occasion, I am quite fond of both.

Protection-Weimaraner Style

Today marks my fifth week of Jury Duty. Three more weeks to go. As you walk through the maze of halls that comprise the Courthouse you cannot help but feel the cling of darkness that are the cases we hear. You believe people are inherently good, that your neighbors are trustworthy, and that the community you live in is safe. I am not so sure I feel that way anymore. Victims of crime parade in and out telling their stories, and your veil of innocence lifts. The tears tell the story, the bruises tell the story, and the small stuffie a child holds for comfort, tells the story. You feel the weight. The minutes tick off slowly. The silence in the room after particularly difficult testimony is deafening. All you can think is- What is wrong with people? When the day blessedly ends, you step out into the sunlight, take a breathe of the fresh, warm air and you feel an unbelievable sense of relief. You pull out of the Courthouse slowly, and make your way home. To a nice house, in a nice neighborhood, that has my two boys waiting for me. Where in a few hours my husband who loves me, as I do him, will arrive. Where the worst thing that ever happens is nothing a trip to Lowe's will not fix. Yet, it feels tarnished somehow. As you let the dogs back in the house, you firmly close and lock door. The door, that five weeks prior stood open nearly around the clock. I will be glad when my service is complete. I want my life back, and I want my door open again.

The boys add a layer of protection to my life. Especially Taren. He is always with me, following me from room to room. When he cannot, he waits outside my door till I return. In this photo Taren is watching a family walking their dogs, who has crossed our path. We stop and let them walk ahead. Taren is alert, the hair on his back is bristled, his tail is fluffed. He doesn't bark, but he wants to. I snap this photo to capture the moment, and the light. We go on our way. I rub my hand down his back and tell him he is a good boy. He is my protector.

As always, textures compliments of the ever generous and talented Jerry Jones

Copyright Grey Dog Photography 2010, All Rights Reserved

In Red

This photo was taken last summer. Due to his birthing day, this is the third summer we have spent with Taren. Yet he is not quite two and a half. He is well loved, the Frisbee is a gift from his daddy, and the collar sent from my good friend Amber. He is part of our lives and will always be a part of my heart. He has now lost his puppy fat, he is leaner, and has matured. I see how he has come into his own. I also see the passage of time, and it squeezes about my chest, like a pair of jeans two sizes too tight, hot and chafing. I hope to have many, many more summers with my boy. With new toys, bright fun collars, and his silly Weimer ways. He is well loved.

As always, textures compliments of the ever generous and talented Jerry Jones.

Copyright Grey Dog Photography 2010, All Rights Reserved

Hello Ladies

This photo of Taren when he was just a puppy never fails to make me laugh. I have always suspected he was just a human in a dogs body. A somewhat dorky, and goofy human. Here he sits looking Rico Sauve, Hello Ladies, How are you? Fantastic! Except it starts to derail when you notice his scarf is upside down and there is a blade of grass stuck in his mouth. LOL Better luck next time big boy. Momma loves you anyway.

Copyright Grey Dog Photography 2010, All Rights Reserved

Good Catch!

Taren is a catcher. He rarely misses. So rare, that it takes me by surprise and is usually a result of my less than stellar throwing ability. I think I am the only person on earth that cannot throw a Frisbee. It seems I cannot master the all elusive *snap*. It either whizzes off into the neighbors yard or hovers, then flops to earth like a dead fish. None the less Taren has learned to compensate. He jumps, he dives, he twists and swivels and his accuracy astounds me. He doesn't wait for it to fall into his mouth, he snatches it from the air with precision, large or small. Frisbee, ball, carrots, popcorn, he catches it all. His freckled brother, not so much. It flies over his head or six feet to the left and he cannot quite bother himself to humor me. He will happily trot after it on landing, but if I cannot throw it to his standards, he will not catch it. The thing is Caelan, at 18 months, is learning the error of his ways as waiting in the wing is his brother who has his eye on the prize, who likes to snatch and run, and the chase is on. It makes for good times.

As always, textures compliments of the ever generous and talented Jerry Jones.

Shadowhouse Creations

Copyright Grey Dog Photography 2010, All Rights Reserved

The Serious Side

Weimaraner

My handsome boy, Taren. Resident wonder Weim, stuffie sucker, cat chaser, power napper and all around momma's boy. You can add awesome ball chaser, Frisbee catcher, and napkin stealer to his many charms as well. He's a good boy.

Copyright Grey Dog Photography 2010, All Rights Reserved

Who's A Good Boy

When we take the pups for walks my husband often ends up ahead as I stop and snap photos of whatever happens to catch my eye. Taren is my protector. He only lets me get so far behind before he slams on the breaks. Refusing to budge, and patiently waits for me to catch up. There seems to be a certain radius he is comfortable with as I do not have to come up to join them. As I close in on him he always flashes me his doggy grin that seems to say, Who loves the momma? That's right, I do, I love the momma, before he trots about his merry way. Glancing back occasionally to see that I am safe, and near.

***Taren is on a lead, it has been edited out.

Actions compliments of the talented Rita at Coffeeshop.

Actions and Presets

Copyright Grey Dog Photography 2010, All Rights Reserved

My Blue Eyed Boy

Weimaraner Puppy At Beach

This was Tarens first time at the beach. I remember this day. It was a bit chilly, and he didn't quite know what to make of it all. He loved digging in the sand, the smell of the washed up kelp, but was far less impressed with the ocean its self.  

While his eyes have faded to light blue green his puppyish spirit remains. It is hard to believe he was ever this small. Even harder still, that there was ever a time that we did not have both boys.

Copyright Grey Dog Photography 2010, All Rights Reserved

Home Protection

Taren goes by many names. When he was little we called him Taren-gator because of his sharp little baby teeth. My wonderful friend Amber calls him T-dawg. I call him Tare-Tare, or sometimes Bubba. I affectionately call him my bad boy, but the true title goes to his brother. More often than not I call him, my boy. How's my boy? You're a good boy. Momma loves the boy. All the while he does the Weimy wiggle butt and sticks his wet nose in my face, basking in the attention and praise. Beyond any of those titles, Taren is my protector. He follows me from room to room. He watches me for clues, but more so, he watches others. I always feel safe in his presence and for that he IS a very good boy, and the momma loves the boy.

Copyright Grey Dog Photography 2010, All Rights Reserved

Resting

Puppy Taren-Weimaraner

Copyright Grey Dog Photography 2010, All Rights Reserved