A tiny picnic lunch for the little kielbasa, his small reward for being such a patient little boy waiting inside while I bubble, bubble, toiled and troubled my way through another science sunday on the deck, making tags for precious Annie and irresistible Ike.
It's not very often really that I see Baxter reared up on his hind legs. By default, it seems our little boy is perfectly happy staying horizontal, save for the times when he's spied a squirrel in a tree. And that suits me just fine, when I think of all the trouble a little doxie can get into, just by rearing up on his stubby hindquarters. Digger, and the case of the missing porkchop. Kep, who could sit up on his hindquarters for hours if he wanted to, and the time he hurt his back trying, we think, to climb out of his confined space in the kitchen.
The knee high world. The level at which many a doxie might lose his way amongst all those lovely temptations, but I can only hope for tiny chumley, just a happy place to get an occasional picnic lunch.
