Rainy Season

It is rainy season in Oregon. For those that do not live in the Pacific NW the rain starts on a bad year in October and lets up sometime the following June. It has been bad this year. The rain has been oppressive. It is dark and grey. Everything is water laden and sloppy. It makes it hard to be a pup that doesn't like to get his feet wet. The last few days in particular it has just poured. It is cold and windy. Taren does the potty dance and I take him down and he runs to the door. Hurry up momma! Hurry up! I fling open the door and he takes one look out, screeches on the brakes, and heads back up stairs. Lather, rinse, repeat throughout the day. At some point I tell him- Bubba, you are going out to potty like it or not. He can be horrifically stubborn and refuses to move. I end up lifting his back hips gently off the floor and steering him out the door. It is the only way. He is much too big to lift fluffie style and use the heave and toss method I see so often deployed by the owners of our smaller, hairier and more yappy cousins. The long suffering finally gives in and walks out into the rain, but not before giving one last look over his shoulder to his betrayer. Ya, the momma knows. Here's the phone, Animal Welfare is on speed dial. In the end he gets his final revenge, as he shakes off and his muddy paws leave a trail on my white tile.

Then there is the mighty squirrel hunter. I laid out some nuts for the squirrels for Christmas. I got a lot of bang for my nut bucks. The squirrels went crazy and Caelan is in stalker heaven. I cannot get the door open quick enough. He often clips the side of the door as I fling it open. I have glass french doors and I do not think they are long for this world, I can see a little sit training in our future. Nonetheless, he cannot get out there fast enough. He stalks and quivers, jumping on and off the deck racing along the fence. Back and again. All the while the squirrel chatters and throws down nut shells, teasing. Caelan is getting wetter and wetter. The rain running off his coat. I call him in, he hears me, as he glances over his shoulder and goes back to watching. Bad boy! I give him a bit more time, and go get a towel. I call him again, a bit more sharply. Nothing, the dog does not move. Note to self, train, train, train. I am kind of like Taren, I glance out and decide if I am going to have to go out in the rain barefoot and drag Caelan back in the house. He is just sopping wet. I finally go get the treat bag and shake. He comes running, as does Taren from upstairs. The clearest way to a dogs good sense is through his stomach. He takes his turn shaking water all over the house and I dry him off. Summer cannot come fast enough for any of us, especially my poor, poor carpet.

Textures compliments of the ever generous and talented Rita.

The Coffeeshop Blog: Action and Presets

Merry Christmas

Wishing all our online friends Peace, Love and Joy at Christmas and all the year through.

Much love to all- Taren, Caelan and the Momma.

PS-To those not celebrating have a wonderful weekend!

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

Dear Santa

Dear Santa,

I have been a good boy this year. Nearly perfect. The best boy ever. Even better than my brod'r, and certainly better than those fluffies across the street.

Well, I did eat the momma's three cell phones. I couldn't help myself they were so shiny, and new. The last one was red, you like red.

Then there was that Direct TV remote, but they charged the daddy for a new one, and new is good. Aroooooo!

I did steal my momma's fancy memory foam pillow, and dragged it to the backyard, but she has lots of other pillows and this one was really funny shaped anyway.

Oh, and I did tear a big hole in the side of the chair, and ripped the trim off, but the momma has been wanting some new furniture, so I was only too glad to help, I loves the momma. I have been a good boy.

I am sorry I ate those two collars, that pair of sandals, all those books, measuring spoons, that briefcase and daddies glasses. The eye Dr said that happens a lot and he gots a new pair. I have been a good boy.

Then there were all those kitchen sponges. I really like the green ones, but the blue ones aren't half bad either. I really like to helps the momma in the kitchens. I like to help put the groceries away, like the time I took the brown sugar out behind the A/C, the French bread, and the cornbread too. I likes breads. Oh, and I like the toilet paper also. If you pull hard on it, it unwinds and unwinds. I like that game. Momma closes the door now, but I bring in big dirt clods from the backyard and chew it all ups on the carpet. That is almost as fun. I have been a good boy.

I really like to bark at the fluffies across the street, the fluffy down the street, and that cat behind our house. I like to do my part to keep the neighborhood safe. Momma says, the neighbors must just love me, and I know they do. Aroooooo! I have been a good boy.

I know I have been good Santa. Momma says I am the best speckled boy around. I snuggles with her at night and I keeps her warm. I helps her cook dinner every night, and I drag the dirty clothes downstairs to helps with the laundry. I really love daddies yummy smelling exercise clothes and I only hide the socks once in a while. I like to take out the garbage too, I eat what I can. Anything to helps the daddy.

I am a good brod'r too. I only steal Taren's suckies once in a while. Not near as much as I want to. I like those stupid cats too, I help them clean up their food everyday so they don't have to. I always plays tag with the black one, but he bites. He's bad, but I have been a good boy.

Please Santa would you brings me lots of new toys for me and my brod'r. A big bone too. Maybe something for the stoo-pits. They are not smart, and they meow a lot, but they are fun to chase. I loves to eat them. I loves them.

I have been a good boy!

xoxoxoxox Caelan

O' Christmas Tree

Taren Looks Out Window

Ahhhhh....Christmas. The time of year where a great many of us indulge in the yearly ritual of trimming the tree. Insert Grinch-masy sigh. Every year soon after Christmas I lovingly take the tree down, and store all the keepsakes in their proper places. I remove the twinkle lights, coiling them carefully in individual bags. I nestle them protectively on top of one another, and close the lid of the giant plastic container, specifically chosen for this purpose. I then stow them away underneath the stairs in a climatically inclined storage room to await the following year. Upon which I wrestle the ridiculously enormous container back out, and prepare for another exercise in futility.

Here is what I want to know, how come all these lights worked when I placed them in the bags, yet a mere 12 months later a third refuse to do their job? I have finally gotten smart. I plug them all in BEFORE I put them on the tree. That cuts down my aggravation by a full 50%. Some years they light but do not twinkle. Fine, I slap them up anyway. I can deal. Only to find that now not only do they not twinkle, they do not light at all. Not to be outdone by what I am sure is a Wal-mart conspiracy to get you to buy more lights, and Christmas Ho Ho's to soothe your frazzled soul, I just slap some more lights over the top of their non working brethren. I refuse to take those soul killers down. I stand and admire my handy work of carefully wound and spaced lights. Ignoring the hazard label warning against too many extension cords. I like to live dangerously. I plug them in and the miracle of Christmas has arrived. The tree shines and twinkles. All except the strand right in the middle. *sob* This year, I am whipping those lights off, cramming them in card board, and shoving them into some spider laden corner of the garage. Now who's the boss?

This year I decided to move the tree out from the large window as it blocks the heat vent. That was short lived as the pups decided a rousing game of keep away around the tree was in order. Have you ever tried to move a fully decorated, ten ton tree? I finally put my feet at the base of the stand and shoved. Hoping for the best. That really got their attention as things fell and bounced off the carpet. The first of many pine cones met their demise. I put the nice glass ornaments on the top portion, I had bought plastic ones for the bottom. I know these dogs. It was all good for about three days. I sternly said- leave it, and they left it. Right up and until no one was looking. I would come downstairs to see the occasional pine cone crushed on the carpet, where Taren would have the good grace to at least look guilty. Then I began hearing the unmistakable sound of plastic being scrunched and I would walk down to see my Christmas Wubba with a crushed ball in his mouth surrounded by a big doggy grin. He, however, does not look guilty in the slightest. In fact looks quite pleased with himself. I tell him to drop it, he does. I put it back on the tree, all teeth marks and dents. It's their portion of the tree, crush all the balls you want. Up on my eye level, I can hear a chorus of angels sing from the sheer loveliness, and so goes the great tree debacle of 2010.

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

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