to george, with love

 

o george ,my buddy, my dear sweet friend,

stick to you like glue I have,

keeping close to the warmth that you send.

faithful and true, i'll always love you,

but I am ready

for winter to end.

- baxter, 4.2 years old,
written during a wedgie moment of a different sort,  between his beloved heater and his beloved bed

little romeo

But soft! What bark through yonder doorway sounds?
It is the beast, and Baxter is the one.




A little bark sonnet from the baby dog yesterday while I futzed with updating our wreath with a little handmade Valentine's decor. Still not quite done, as I'd like to make some paper leaves and experiment with dipping them in melted beeswax, but it'll all be for another day as today our pack will be in the garage, moving stuff about as we prepare for the termite guy to do a little preventive maintenance work. Which pretty much means that the little kielbasa isn't done with what he was doing either, come to think of it. Our lives, as always, celebrated one craft and bark at a time. :)

chik-fil-yay!

yippee, a snackie,
fresh and super yummy. my
tummy so in love.

- baxter, four years and 27 days old, on his saturday drive thru chik-fil-a experience.

black kitty

stealthy black kitty
walked past me on my walkies
wish i could chase you.

- baxter, 3.9 years old, on his chance encounter with a black kitty whilst walking to the park this past weekend.

something squirrely this way comes

dear diary,
dad refilled the birdfeeders and guess what, the squirrels are back! yep, u could have knocked me over with a duk when i spied the first one. can u believe that he was clinging to the feeder and ignoring me? so needless to say we had a very fine chase. but that all got me to wondering and now i am thinking me n duk duk should build us a gimungous big bird feeder cuz we could hide inside it and give the squirrels a really good scare! boy wouldn't that be swell?

whoo, i gotta find duk duk and tell him we totally gotta sign up for welding class next semester.

toodles!
b.

delicious popcorn

wooty wooty woot,
i smell delicious popcorn.
we must be at the flea!


- baxter, 3.8 years old, happy to discover when mom opened the car door that they would spend Saturday morning at the flea market.

tiny dancer

skippy toed i jump,
working for my lunchtime meal,
dancing for kibble.

- baxter, 3.75 years old, on happily skipping about the deck for yesterday's lunch.

and pigs flew over the moon

hey what's that i smell -
might there be a souvenir
for me those bags??

- baxter, 3.75 years old, sniffing the air as his mom unpacked some of her supply goodies from the NYC portion of her trip.







Talk to me about my trips to New York City and there almost always be three things you'll hear about. The fabulous food, the moments of inspiration, and the shopping. Of course the shopping. Most definitely the shopping. Most of the time there's a story about how Robin and I bought an entire roll or three or four of this or that in the garment district and lugged it down the street to the closest avenue and tried for minutes to hail a cab that would accept both us and our unruly belongings. And I'll gush at how we found wonderful shirtings for song or sumptuous velvets and unusual woolens perfect for making who knows what. But not this time. This time, this trip to NYC, pigs most definitely flew. Not a yard of fabric did we purchase, not a single fabric store did we grace with our ever entertaining shopping ways.

But fear not, our single shopping day in NYC was still spent in and around the garment district, focused as we were on finding wonderful trims and beads and metal findings and supplies. Our craft, I've come to realize with verbal clarity, is not only built on fabric, but ornamentation. And our success lies in having tons and tons of both from which we can mix and match and create to our hearts' content.

And so Robin and I had a blast, spending hours in the bead and trim stores, and soaking up the information so generously offered while we filled our basket with cool vintagey filigrees and jewelry making supplies at the metals store.

A peek at some of the goodies I brought home, most of which will eventually find their way on to purses and serged cashmere scarves, but some that will work their way into new experiments in adornment that I can't wait to start when summer finally says goodbye.

haiku holdup

many miles to go
before my mom returns home
what's that on my butt?

- baxter, 3.7 years old, interrupted mid-haiku by the mysterious appearance of a small plastic doxie making its way across the vast plains of baxter's back.


PS - it's a double post today so keep scrolling down for more! :)

to guy, with love

there was a little doxie all chubby and round,
who needed a home and then he was found
by his new mom and dad.

my name is now baxter, i have a great home,
tis a life without bother,
due largely in part, to my wonderful father.

so today is the day i celebrate my dad,
cuz everything he does, makes me so glad.

like thanks for keeping me company
and sitting with me on the sofa when mom isn't home.
and thanks for taking me places where i like to roam.

thanks for helping me chase squirrels and bunnies,
even if everyone else thinks it's so funny.

thanks for letting me sleep in the big bed at night,
even when I try to push you out with all my might.

and gracias, dear guy, for cleaning up my poopies
and cutting the grass short,
so i can run and play, all around i cavort.

thank you, dear dad, for working so hard to bring home the bacon,
even though i haven't tasted any of that bacon you're makin.

and thanks for always being there when i need you
even if it's just so i can do a leg lick or two.

for all these things, my thanks i express
thanks for having me at your address!
happy father's day!! :)

ode to duk duk

o duk duk, my wonderful friend
what can i say,
cept we're friends til the end.

pranks n maulings n information galore,
our time together is never a bore.
it always leaves me, wanting more.

so come my friend, and sleep with me,
and we will dream of things to be.


- baxter, 3.5 years old, enjoying a midday snooze in the kitchen with his best friend, duk duk.

tiny hider

oh no, not again,
i see shoes, keys, and cellphones.
think i will hide here.

- baxter, 3.5 years old, hiding, and wondering why his mom and dad won't take him along on errands in the 90+ degree heat.

pool boy

stubby legs firmly planted on the ground,
little neck craned out like a giraffe,
and nose all a wiggle,
what is this big wet hole?


- baxter, 3.4 years old, on his first encounter with a swimming pool.

Tiny chumley chose to stay nice and dry while we visited the backyard of a friend Saturday, investigating the swimming pool from all angles before deciding the surrounding tall grasses and wooded grounds were way more interesting. No thanks, I don't feel like swimming today, he decided, but I'll gladly hunt your squirrels!

dapper doxie dud: annabelle's lady in red

dearest annabelle,
totally luv the dragon,
hope u love your dud!

- baxter, 3.4 years old, taking a break
from squirrel hunting to model annabelle's new dapper doxie duds.

Meet lovely Annabelle, a self described sweet tomboy of black and tan smooth doxie whose mom noticed that Annabelle's regular harness had rubbed a raw spot under one of her armpits (Annabelle, not her mom!). Ever the sweet girl, Annabelle didn't complain at all about the owie, but Annabelle's mom decided it was high time to treat her girl to a dapper doxie dud, one of the girly but not too frou frou kinds that would turn heads but not undermine Annabelle's tomboy status with her toyfriends. Somethin like Molly's patchwork dud, which Annabelle's mom really liked, but in reds with an ever so slight touch of blue. The result? This fun mix of velvets and cottons, and even a splash of hand dyed fabric, all bound in a cheery cherry red denim and lined in soft t-shirt cotton, embellished with an oblong baroque freshwater pearl. A little lady in red.

What's that? What happened to the Annabelle tag? Coco Chanel said it best, "Look in the mirror and take one thing off". Annabelle's dud was a little too frou frou with it, and so I left it off, drilling a hole hopefully large enough so that Annabelle can wear it on her collar, or perhaps her winter coat. Because I say, "No coat is complete without a tiny bit of bling."

dapper doxie duds: lepidoxulata lavandula

Whee! Another dud brought to life by the little kielbasa, who not only had to wear this dud for Molly not once but twice, when I decided a little subtle sequiny shimmer would do a world of good for Molly's lavender wings. What? Wings for Molly? Shimmery Wings? What will her big siblings think? Molly's got a reputation to maintain. Fearless molly, queen alpha doxie.

But fear not, whenever Molly wants to conceal her inner butterfly, all she has to do is unsnap her wings and snap on her new vintage carved mother of pearl secret decoder button. Nobody will ever know she's actually a member of the lepidoxierology club. Unless she wants them to know. ;)



Tiny chumley, however, has already been outed thanks to the modelling work he did last week with Annie's wings. Baxter has a long way to go to recover his reputation with the squirrels, but he is hopeful that Duk Duk's new PR plan might do the trick. It's all about attitude, right?

i am butterfly,
superhero and hunter.
run, you squirrels, run!


- baxter, 3.34 years old, hoping his new re-imaging campaign will get back his street cred with the squirrels.

the importance of being hopeful

come down from your tree,
mister squirrel my dear friend,
it is time to play!

- baxter, 3.33 years old, ever optimistic that mister squirrel will come out and play with him.

homework assignment

Today's entry, compliments of Robin's sweet daughter. Thanks, Madwilly, for taking Baxter's picture and choosing him as the subject of your poem assignment! :)


Baxter is a little like a cat.
He sleeps for hours in the sun like a cat.
But he is still playful like a dog.

He chases bunnies whenever he hunts outside.
He is always tummy tanning when he gets the chance.
Baxter is a little like a cat.

Baxter loves to play with his toys.
He also likes to sleep in the fresh warm laundry from the dryer.
But he is still playful like a dog.

Baxter loves his walks.
He will cuddle with you for hours straight.
Baxter is a little like a cat.

Baxter can do lots of cool tricks.
He can be a man and shake hands.
But he is still playful like a dog.

Baxter is the most lovable dachshund in the whole world.
No dog is like him.
Baxter is a little like a cat.
But he is still playful like a dog.

~Madeline, 13.9 years old, written on her visit to Baxter's house.

gone with the wind

walkies on sunday,
my ears flapping in the wind,
one day i will fly.

- baxter, 3.25 years old, waiting for lift off

Funny how the saying goes about March coming in like a lion and going out like a lamb. This year it seemed the exact opposite, with yesterday's warm blustery winds kicking and strewing about the leaves we so laboriously dragged to the curb. Blowing, noisily enough to occasionally rouse my little friend from his Sunday slumber to see what the hubbub was all about.

The wind was still working its ways when it came time for walkies, blowing at Baxter's ears and making his head look like a tiny toy jet plane as we taxied to and from the park. Yeah, so what if our leaf pile is gone with the wind, Captain Baxter is here, ready for take off. Please fasten your safety belts and stow all rawhide in the overhead compartments.

sunday morning singalong: the doxie bunch song

hey everybody, it's me, baxter! i had a fine day yesterday and i even wrote a song about it. well, my mom helped me a lot, cuz, well, i never heard of the brady bunch theme song before. but now i do and and hope you'll sing along with me. ready? let's go...

here's a story,
of little doxie,
who was hanging with his homies in the park.
he was brave then,
a barky doggie,
the loudest one of all.

here's a story,
of that same doxie,
who was barking at the big dogs by the fence.
they weren't doxies,
so he didn't like them,
or so that's what he thought.

til the same day when his mom took him to the other side,
and there was nowhere that this doxie could hide,
that this dog, must somehow get along
with all the other doggies in the doggie park.
oh i'm so proud,
yes i'm so proud,
baxter managed not to turn into somebody's lunch!

baxter o'chumley

There was a wee doxie named Baxter O'Chumley,
Whose tummy did rumble, all noisy and grumbly.
Said he with dismay,
"No rawhide today?"
And looked at his humans, ever so humbly.

- baxter, 3.25 years old, quietly celebrating st.patrick's day due to the Great Rawhide Famine of 2010.

happy st.patrick's day! luv, b.