happy hound harness roundup

It's always gratifying when I get pictures of happy hounds wearing the custom dapper doxie duds I've made for them. And a relief for the little kielbasa, who can finally prove to the world that he isn't a cross dresser, at least by choice.

Today, followups on two of the happy hound posse. First, a peek at Molly the fearless doxie. Molly's picture cracks me up, the way she's got that "I'd rather be climbing trees than modeling for some silly pictures" look on her face. Some days, tiny chumley knows just how she feels.




Miss Edith, the sweet doxie who recently needed and found a new forever home, had some help in opening her package when it arrived, courtesy of her hambone of a sister, Daisy the corgi. I'm not quite sure it was the help she was looking for, but with a rub-my-tummy look like that, who can resist? Hopefully the new harness and matching leash will serve Miss Edith well when she attends a wedding by the lake this summer.



Little kielbasa has been a trooper while my attentions have seemingly been diverted elsewhere lately on projects such as these. But yesterday night he must have finally had his fill, making his presence known by way of a classic doxie move, the head wedge, squeezing his smooshed face between my legs while I sat on the floor working on an office chair I had scored earlier that day.

All this work on stuff and nothing for me??, his eyes asked.



Ahh, fear not, tiny boyfriend, Valentine's day is just around the corner.

i'm a little doxie

I'm a little doxie
Short and stout,
This is my blankie
This is my snout.
When I get all warmed up,
Don't take me out
Keep me wrapped up without a doubt!

b. barker

dear diary,
some days, i can't help but embarrass myself. i mean yeah, sure i passed the canine good citizen class and i really do know better, but u see, i'm really starting to like this thing I have for barking at other dogs. take yesterday, when mom n dad took me to the park for walkies. i barked at big dogs, i barked at small dogs. u name it, i barked at it. well, 'cept for the three doxies i saw, cuz, u know, they're my homies and we homies got 2 stick 2gether, even if that long haired black and tan did kinda wanna piece of me for sniffin at his girlfriend the smooth black n tan. oooh she smelled nice.

anyways, barkin's where it's at, u know? it's just my way of sayin i got my eye on u, so don't get too close to me. and the dog i'm barkin at always walks away so it works, right? mom says i'm not doin my breed any favors by doin all that, but who am i to be representin the breed? i'm just me, a little dog in a big world, tryin to make my way around the park.

toodles!
b.

a little napkin

A wonderful friend has been staying with us these past few days, escaping the snow that he knew would blanket his town. A bonus for Baxter, who can trundle about like Goldilocks testing the three laps now available to him when we watch tv.

Dad's lap? Too far away. Dana's lap? Too cluttered with books. Mom's lap? Juuuust right for a little nap-kin in her lap-kin.

Til, at least, my legs fall asleep, and then it's time for the little chumley to test everyone's lap for doneness again.

rainy friday

cold wet rain again.
maybe it's a last goodbye
from my mom's uncle ed.

- baxter, 3.1 years old






Yesterday's gray weather reflected the news I received by email. My dad's brother passed. My uncle, whom I barely knew, for which I have known for a few months now that this day would come.

I wish I could say I was a saint, that I did and said all the right things to support those who felt the impact of my uncle's illness more deeply than I, but it is times such as this that remind me of how imperfect I am. Times such as this, that remind me how life, even up til the very end, is still a work in progress.

As I have grown older, I realize there is more to life than just the sunny happy highs. The gentle rains of sorrow and loss play an equal role in enriching the life we live.

And so, this post, today, for Uncle Ed.

squirrels at the gate

It's been a while since we out put birdseed. Laziness, mostly, and the fact that up til this past year, Baxter wasn't really into the squirrels that always ate more than their fair share of our offerings. But news of the upcoming snow prompted me to refill our feeders, throw seed on the ground and set up a makeshift feeder in the front yard so that the birds and yes even the squirrels would have something to eat once the ground was blanketed with snow.

Little did I realize what a source of entertainment this would be for Tiny Chumley. Squirrels now linger a little longer on the ground in the backyard, hoping to snitch one last seed before being chased away by our tiny wolf. Turf wars rage in our front yard, with a seemingly endless supply of squirrels battling it out for control of the seed plate and it surrounding area.

Baxter sits on his kitty perch, entranced by the scene before him. Better than Duk Duk (shhh!), better than even sitting by george sometimes, it seems the little kielbasa could stare for hours, tracking the movements of these gray furry marauders.

Yesterday, an unusual event occurred, one would have caused tiny chumley to plotz were it not for the fact that every ounce of his primal being came into play. A squirrel, seeking refuge from that morning's turf wars, ran up onto the windowsill,and sat only inches from Baxter's face. Stunned, little kielbasa didn't quite know what to do at first, til instincts finally sprung into action. Baxter slid his sausagey body between the perch and the window, stumbling about in an attempt to keep up with the squirrel who now seemed to be taunting him by running the length of the windowsill.

It all happened so quickly that by the time I had camera in hand, I only caught the second wave of Baxter's squirrel encounter. Proof, neverthless, that I really should fill the birdfeeders more often.

winter walkies

I know I am getting older. I've said it before, noticed it in so many ways already. But here's another one for my growing list of crotchetyisms. I can no longer figure out what to wear on our walkies just by looking at the people wandering by outside.

For years we didn't even have a need to know what it was like outside. Lameness & arthritis curtailed walkies for the boys in their middle years, and so we spent most of our evenings never even knowing who walked by or how they dressed.

But the little kielbasa changed all that.

Now every night we try to check out the 'hood, see what there is to see, smell what there is to smell. Chase bunnies and squirrels if we're lucky enough to see them, bark at every dog that we pass unless it's a brother or sister doxie, in which case it's sniff and ignore. That's the kind of life we live now, and so it helps to know what to wear to be comfortable on our 30 to 45 minute nightly journeys.

Now, don't get me wrong. I know that the neighborhood kids are the most unreliable group by which I should be figuring out what I should be wearing on our walkies. Kids run around and have peers to impress. Kids wear all black in the heat of summer, mini skirts and tank tops in the dead of winter. Kids are kids. But now I'm seeing grownups wearing shorts and going jacketless on an evening like yesterday, when it still seemed rather chilly out. When Baxter's dad wore a hat and a down jacket, and I wore a parka. Don't people know it's cold out?? What's wrong with them?? What is wrong with ME??

At least Baxter doesn't mind our apparent hyper-sensitivity to the cold. Tiny Chumley is more than happy to don his hoodie for walkies like yesterday. Happy, to be picked up and carried over the melting rivers of snow and salted sidewalks. Happy, I guess, that we're so dang old.

cabin fever

The wonderful snow that engaged us all these past few days is now turning into slush, the wet stuff that makes the backyard muddy and the streets too yucky for a low slung kielbasa boy to walk on.

Optimistically, we had tried to go for a walk on Monday evening, when the streets still looked powdery white. An illusion, it turned out. The start of slush. Determined still to get out and enjoy the wintry sights, Baxter's dad picked up the little kielbasa and we slogged on, moving ever so carefully so as to not endanger our precious cargo. A quickie walk around the block, just because we could.

Tuesday of course was even slushier, made all the more the kind of day to stay inside by the gray clouds that occasionally spitted rain against the windowpanes of our house. No walkies on Tuesday, not even a hunt out back.

And so the little kielbasa patiently waits until life gets dry again.

stuffed doxie pups: frances and filomena

Say hello to Frances and Filomena, two stuffed woolen doxie pups I made and finally gussied up just in time to spread the love and joy for Valentine's day.

Little Filomena was still a puppy the first time she made an appearance with Baxter back in November. But now she and her sister, Frances, are all grown up and want forever homes of their own. So they packed up their bones and moved out of my sewing room and into their new etsy playpen. Hope they find forever homes soon! Baxter misses them already.

peep show: molly's dapper doxie duds

dear diary,
well can u believe i had to dress up again like a girl?? seriously, what is up wit dat? but to be honest with ya, so long as duk duk doesn't find out about it, i think i'm okay with the whole thing. i mean, the snacks aren't too shabby and look at all the friends i get to meet.

take my new friend, molly, a rubenesque red mini. now, i know what you're thinking and let me just say i don't think she looks like a sandwich either, but that's what my mom called her. i think she just looks pretty with all that white hair on her face n paws, and i bet you she'd be really soft to snuggle with, too. like a nice pillow. that is, if she'd let me. i'm not so sure cuz do u see those fangs on her? i wonder if she was just playing with one of her big dog brothers. sometimes the camera catches us at the most inopportune moment, know what I mean?

anyways, here is the first dapper doxie dud my mom made for her. molly's mom really liked the retro brown floral fabric from chloe's harness, and wouldn't ya know mom finally found some more and so she made this one for molly, only this time she bound the duds in fuschia hot pink hand dyed twill and skipped the yellow ruched ribbon in favor of a simple vintage button and glass bead embellishment. don't tell duk duk but i totally felt like marcia brady in this harness, and she was the popular one with all the boyfriends, right? molly is bound to turn some heads wearing this, i do declare, and yet she'll still be able to climb and dig into the log pile with her brothers.


now, for the second harness, molly's mom said that mom mom could do whatever, only they both agreed that maybe a bodacious side flower on the back wasn't molly's thing. partly cuz she's kinda rough n tumble tomboy and partly cuz of the whole sandwich thing. again, don't ask me what that means, though when i look at her recent pictures sometimes it seems like i am looking in the mirror and seeing the dog i was when i first was adopted, if ya know what i mean. so mom wanted to keep the lines simple (ie no ruffles or big ol flowers) yet still do something texturally interesting that would help break up her lines for a slimming effect. so here's molly's second dapper doxie dud, an arty serged patchwork creation using fabrics from mom's scrap bin, bound in a different hand dyed twill and embellished with a pink baroque freshwater pearl and brass tag. girly, but not frou frou girly. the kind of thing molly could wear to the opera or to the park.



well, that is all for now. i sure hope molly likes her new harnesses! mom says i should get some extra zzzs tonight because i need to help her prepare for another etsy post. how cool is that? maybe she'll even give me a sandwich.

toodles!
b.

message to a squirrel

snow is weird to walk on, i must admit
but rest assured i will stalk you, as mom permits.

so watch out, squirrel, one day you'll see.
you'll be searching for food
and there i'll be.


- baxter, 3.1 years old, anxious to hunt again in the snow

snow day

Tiny chumley shivered as he glumly stood outside in the area we cleared for him out back. A typical sight for a snow day, this little dog, trembling so hard that he looked like a bobble head doll all abobble.

Like his brothers before him, Baxter has perfected the art of looking pitiful, of tugging at heart strings in hopes of being taken back inside before he has done his duties. Oh pleeeeze, he shivered in apparent morse code, can't we skip it and go back inside?

Baxter's pleas would have almost worked had he not spied a squirrel. Suddenly, his microcosmic corner of the world got five times warmer. Little Kielbasa darted off, barking and chasing his enemy from tree to tree, frolicking about like a dolphin bounding in and out of the water. We all enjoyed the snow for a few minutes, til the numbness in our noses and paws, and wetness of our clothes, told us that it really was time to go back inside for some rawhide and hot buttered popcorn, and lazing about for the rest of the day.

Ahh snow days at home. Winter's gift for putting up with chapped lips, drafty windows, and scratchy sweaters.

block prints

Whew. Something finally back in the Kalyxcraftopia Etsy shop. To be quite honest I had carved these print blocks years ago, and sent hand blocked prints out in two successive years as Valentine's Day gifts for family and friends.

First came Cupid's Helper, based loosely on my remembrance of Digger's old man snoozy habits, a classic pose that I catch Baxter doing even today as a youngster. Second came Duo, which reminds me of Kep and Padua when they were puppies and were learning how to climb up and down stairs. We showed them, step by step and paw by paw, what to do.

Time helped me forget how long it actually takes to make a print with roller and ink, a process which takes much longer than entrusting it to technology. But nothing can replace the wonderful imperfections of handwork, and so yesterday afternoon I reminded myself why it is I don't make a billion prints at a time.



Tiny chumley lurked about while I rolled and spooned and peeled and waited for ink to dry. He sat atop his kitty perch, watching for squirrels and listening to the strange sound of ink squishing about, all while basking on the cozy warmth of his sheepskin and in the comfort of his cashmere lined harness, an experiment to test cashmere's warmth and durability as a lining. I have a feeling he's going to need all the warmth he can muster tomorrow. The snow started to fall in the early evening, and it has yet to stop.



Tomorrow, possibly a lazy day, but otherwise, work on Molly's second harness. And maybe another addition to Etsy.

peep show: miss edith's dapper doxie duds

o purple lace harness,
why am i dressed in you?
i am not a girl.

- baxter, 3.1 years old, on being lucky enough to fit Miss Edith's dapper doxie dud.

There's something so very Christmas morning about finishing up a dapper doxie dud order. Aside from the wrapping and sending, there's excitement and anticipation, the kind that's hard to ignore when it's so easy to post and show to the world that I've been doing more than just feeding Jenna all day. I am on a roll, ladies and gentlemen, and only the winds of procrastination can keep me from forging on with doxie dud orders.

Yesterday, I finished up a dapper doxie dud for Miss Edith, the real recipient of the lacy harness that Baxter is modeling. This girl is a sweet, senior doxie who only recently found her forever home, and whose new mom wanted her to have something special. Only Miss Edith knows the secrets of her past, why and how it is she ended up needing a new home so late in life. Somehow, it seemed only appropriate that Miss Edith wear purple, that she be graced with the textures of hand dyed lace and silk, adorned with mother of pearl, and comforted by the warmth of a soft flannel lining. The package is on its way, sweet girl.



Tomorrow, a start on harnesses for Molly, and hopefully some late night Etsy postings.

sleepy day

A sleepy day yesterday for the little kielbasa, who was camped out in his bed closest to george while his dad worked upstairs and I focused on making dapper doxie duds. A still day for the most part, save for the times when tiny chumley's little legs would occasionally twitch while he mwoofed at the squirrels in his sleep.

Some days, it not who you bark at, but what you dream.

lil pink socks

When Baxter first came into our lives, I was determined to keep our new boy bribe free. My boy was going to do great things for me, be the Lassie who saves me from the well out of the purity of the love we shared, not because he knew I had a snack in my pocket when I fell in. I figured my goals were realistic, because our 23 pound hound wasn't very food motivated at the time anyway. He had yet to figure out that there was no horn of plenty from which kibble freely flowed like in his original home. And so, he miraculously did the simple things we wanted him to do, without the need for payment in the usual forms of funding a doxie accepts, something edible or shreddable.

That is, until he achieved his ideal weight.

Baxter and I both have become a lot wiser in the two years we have been together. There is trust, there is love, but there is also payment for a job well done. At the end of every session of jazzing, shuffling, and taptoeing, after every crazy thing I might ask him to do, Baxter collects his paycheck as gratefully as I am happy to give it. Work leads to food leads to tummy love.

Yesterday's work was going to be pretty simple, I thought. Baxter would easily earn his week's rawhide knot just by modeling the baby hat and gloves that we found at tiny molly's park, that I had washed back to life just that morning.

Rawhide, once a thing to be buried and savored later, now the ultimate motivator to be gobbled in a flash. Too motivating, perhaps, because all Baxter wanted to do was rush the photo shoot and collect his payment early. "Gimme my rawhide now or I'm going on strike!", he barkingly protested, though it's hard to take a doxie wearing pink socks very seriously.

a rite of passage

My little sack of potatoes managed to situate himself just so in my lap while we we had the sofa to ourselves yesterday evening, so that both my arms looked like they were playing Twister with my precariously placed laptop, and I felt like I was working in the confines of 2x2 cubbyhole. No matter how I moved the little kielbasa, there he was, coming back to fill nooks and crannies like hot, flowing lava.

In all fairness to Baxter, I'm not usually surfing the internet during the hours when our pack watches TV, during the time when he is invited onto the sofa and usually ends up in my lap. A symbiotic relationship, really, especially in winter when we all could use the extra warmth. But yesterday, I had the bug to google and needed my lap for my laptop. Yeah, they call it that for a reason, I told Baxter in my head, though a sleeping sack of potatoes doesn't seem to care much proper terminology.

The thing was, I was googling for him. Planning ahead, for the day less than two years from now when my boy becomes a man..dog. Planning, for the milestone that I've blasphemously pegged as Baxter's Woof Mitzvah, the time in his life when he turns five years old, and, like his brothers before him, is entitled to shed nylon collar of his youth and can don the rolled leather collar of adulthood.

Yep, that's right. Rolled leather collar of adulthood. Or more specifically in Baxter's case, forest green rolled leather collar of adulthood. To last a lifetime, like the lifelong commitment we made when we adopted him. Woof Mitzvah. Five years old. What, dogs can't have milestones, too?

Now, finding leather collars is easy. Finding well made rolled leather collars? Still pretty easy. But finding a well made dark green rolled leather collar in Baxter's size? That was source of my googlitis, the reason why I was willing to put up with my elephant man-ly contortions while sleeping beauty dozed away. The less I found, the more determined I became to find the goods.

So far, I've found only one supplier that fits the bill, a master saddler of the Royal Mews in the UK that also happens to make custom rolled leather collars, and offers it in the very chipper Baxter green I was looking for. Part of me yikes at the thought of such extravagance, but most of me is very intrigued by what is sure to be a fine piece of work for our fine piece of work. After all, it's for his Woof Mitzvah.

flight of the doxie

Well hello again. It's me, Baxter, your roving rover reporter, reporting to you today about me. Yep, that's right, me. You see, today I hope to fly, just like all the birds in the sky. Wanna watch?










Now Duk Duk says in order to fly all I have to do flap my wings, but since I don't have any, I am going to use my ears cuz they've always been pretty flappy

Fasten your seat belts, everybody. I'm ready for takeoff!

Engaging right flapper. Chugga chugga chugga

Oops, I seem to be having a problem with my left ear flap so I'm gonna have to go full throttle to get both my flappers working.

Please, for your own safety and protection from the anticipated sonic boom, stand back as I turn on my thrusters.

Chug chug chug. Vroooosh!

Yipee, I'm almost airborn, I can feel it!

WHEEEEEEEEE!

Whoa THAT was fun! This is Baxter, your roving rover reporter saying let's totally do that again!!!

my buddy tiny molly

Meet Baxter's new buddy, tiny molly, a doxie puppy that the kielbasa sniffed with great intensity while going on walkies around the lake yesterday. Words can't express the cuteness packed into molly's little body. A tiny stuffed toy. The wind up variety that you'd expect to hop about the room in circles once you turned her key a few times. But tiny molly was real, and only nine weeks old. And yesterday was her second day with her new family. Welcome to your new life, little girl.

nyc diary

Another double header day, thanks to the fact that I had taken enough pictures that my camera's file numbering system rolled back over to zero and the last series of Baxter pictures I took before downloading appeared at both at the beginning and ending of the folder. Yeah, probably TMI, but at least this means the little kielbasa does make an actual appearance in today's post, and what's not to love about that?

So here it is, my trip, in a nutshell. And believe me, I get it if you don't read on. Too many words, not enough pictures of the little kielbasa. But hey, it's fun for me and Baxter's post comes after this anyway so fly if you need to, or read on.

Day 1: Drive to Robin's, continue driving with her and her daughter, scoring fine buffet sushi dinner and spending the night at a motel in Jersey.

Day 2: Drive into Brooklyn, passing by the empty parking lot where the flea market would have been if it was open this time of year (doh!). Forge ahead into the Manhattan flea markets where there is as always, cool stuff to be had, including a vintage coat pattern that later had us scouring the garment district for wool and lining to turn the pattern into reality.



Day 2(cont'd): After check-in, mosey into Chinatown via the Union Square subway, making sure to drool as we pass the inspiring windows at ABC Carpet and Home. Take a moment to acknowledge Baxter withdrawal by loving the French Bulldog whose owner parked him outside the cafe where we consumed a fine lunch and cupcake.



Day 2 (cont'd): Haggle in the evening rain with the numerous Chinatown vendors who were all selling basically the same thing - fake cashmere scarves, ear muffs, t-shirts, belts & buckles, sweatshirts. Find a cool knitted headwrap, which certainly deserves to be made in finer materials than acrylic. Love the fact that there's a Baxter Street. Dinner at some noodle shop in Chinatown.

Day 3: Wake up ready for breakfast at Le Pain Quotidien. A sort of chain but consistently simple and good. Dry packed capers. Now that's what I'm talking about. Not the yucky wet stuff I've had in the past. Who knew capers like that could really transform plain ol egg salad. A jar of that, plus some jars of chocolate spread in dark and white, and the Le Pain cookbook, please.

A double doxie sighting on the way back to the room where I leave my purchases and quickly ditch my jacket liner for the day. I never really needed my hat on this trip after all, though all the serged stuff came in handy. Then a walk up to the wholesale accessories and garment district to focus for hours on crafty business purchases, stopping by a few favorite thrift stores along the way. Score much needed rhinestone pins and other embellishment, some pearls, trim, dyeables, shirting, and green woolen coating. The search is on for suitable and - I never thought I would be saying this - cool poly print to use as lining to prototype the vintage pattern jacket.



Day 3 (cont'd): Drop off fabrics at the garage. Grab a fine maple and bacon biscuity cookie and others at a bake shop on the walk to East Village. Abort plans to eat dinner at Momofuku, as the place was packed. Eat instead at a fine Japanese place whose name I forget across the street. Mmmmmm. Unaju, I will always love you and this time you were even in a box set with tempura and shumai keeping you company nearby. Lament that more Japanese restaurants need to offer unaju. Grab a late night showing of Leap Year. Debate to myself whether or not it is fair to consider Amy Adams a low budget version of Nicole Kidman, but give the movie an ok thumbs up for easy watching.

Day 4: A morning stretch to ease my aching muscles. Drop into Dylan's candy bar for Robin's daughter's benefit, before engaging in the touristy act of sharing a frozen hot chocolate (Oprah, businesses across America will cry when you are no longer able to plug their stuff). Savor the artery clogging BLT with brie I ordered. Reflect on how savvy marketing makes all the difference in the world. A frozen hot chocolate frappucccino thingy for nine bucks? The same candy you can get at the drugstore, marked up tons? And people lined up to get in? Pure genius.

Spend more hours in search of beads, metal findings, and fabrics. Carolina Herrera wool. I'm not sure I believe that it's wool she actually used in anything, but the wool is nice and will make for a fine coat whenever I get around to making one. Robin is making the green vintage pattern one, for me, reportedly soon, but we all get busy so we'll see.

Eat beef chow fun for dinner at our favorite Chinese restaurant near the garment district, lug big blue bags of fabric around Daffy's, til finally we head for home and catch a subway back to our room for the night. Gossip. Pack. Mix boohoos with the excitement of seeing family again.

Day 5: Goodbye city life, hello green acres of Pennsylvania and the Amish. One last buying excursion for more trim and a bit of fabric before heading back to Robin's house.



Day 6: So good to be home, but who's gonna help me unpack? Oh yeah, the little happy hound.

wishful thinking

oh pleeeze let there be something for me in here!

trunk show

dear diary,
whew, what a relief that mom is finally home. i really like hanging with my dad but both of us like it better when the pack is together.

anyways, this is me surrounded by stuff in my mom's trunk. there are so many new smells to check out, i can hardly contain myself. mom says she wants to take me with her sometime on one of her trips to the city and i can't wait! i know it will be loud n busy but i think overall it would be fun. i mean, if all those westminster show dogs can do it, y can't i? plus she usually stops by amish country for other kinds of fabric and talk about some fabulous smells - she says the air smells like cow poop. cow poop! just thinking about it makes me want to roll on the ground.




well, today is friday so i hope u have a good weekend!

toodles!
b.

day 6: family tree (digger, part three)

Yippee!!! Day 6 so mom is coming home today. But I digress. It's me, Baxter, your roving rover reporter reporting to you today from my walkies. But don't worry if you already went to the bathroom cuz I'm not a marker either. There will still be plenty for us to do. I brought along another one of my mom's stories for us to read.








"This is the Digger I met and have always known, the little brown dog with white face and paws and a baritone bark. A manly little dog, made even more so because he was, ahem, still very endowed.



Digger's life as a little senior dog was uncomplicated, just the way he liked it. When he would wander out back in his tiny fenced yard, he would walk the perimeter carefully, sniffing at Molly the Golden Retriever on one side, and, having confirmed that she was there, continue walking his beat in circles until he felt it was time to come inside, at which point he would let out a single chesty bark by the door. Digger must have liked orbiting. When dad would stretch out on the floor, Digger would orbit him just as he did his backyard, trundling about with his tail wagging happily.

Although Digger was very spry for his age, by the time his dad and I were engaged, Digger would often set his own bedtime and wander upstairs on his own to turn in for the night in his little bed.



There were other things, we would find out, that he probably did in bed.
Digger's cheeks would occasionally swell and we thought for sure he might have a dental problem and took him to the vet. But to our surprise, the vet didn't find signs of dental infection. He found kibble. Little food packs. Evidence, of Digger's inadvertent but serendipitous method of eating, the mechanics of which somehow trapped food in hamster-like fashion between his back teeth and inner cheek. Our first boy with his chipmunky jowls had become a hamster in his old age, squirreling away snacks to nibble at his leisure in the comfort of his own bed. "






Hey whazit mean to be endowed? Duk Duk said it is when somebody or an institution is given money for a specific purpose. Do you think whoever endowed him could endow me so I could buy some rawhide?

Anyway, this is Baxter your roving rover reporter reporting to you now from my home. Thanks for keeping me company while my mom was gone!!!

day 5: family tree (digger, part two)

Me again, Baxter your roving rover reporter, reporting to you from my house cuz I am still grounded. Today was lookin like it was gonna be the pits but then I found these picture albums. And guess what I found for us to read - the second part to Mom's story about Digger, mom n dad's first doxie. U wanna read it with me?



"This is the Digger I never knew, a young wiggly puppy who grew into a lad that ultimately kept my future husband company when they both lived in a drafty room above a sandwich shop, pursuing his master's degree in a field he no longer practices. Digger's dad, that is, not Digger. During the frigid cold days of winter, Digger would burrow under his blankies and snoooze the day away deep in the bowels of his blanket igloo, patiently awaiting dad's return from a long day of scholastic endeavors. Patiently, but with a dash of howling that could be sometimes heard in the shop below.



In addition to being a howler, Digger, apparently, was a digger, though he had apparently given up that skill by the time I came on the scene. I missed out on the dirt mounds and dirty paws, missed out on the time when my husband-that-I-didn't-know-yet chided poor Digs for constantly whining and digging by the deck at the townhouse, til finally it was discovered that the source of Digger's interest was indeed a rat and the nest it had made under the deck. This boy was on a mission, and neither chiding nor dirt were going to hinder this hound from getting his quarry.

There aren't many pictures of this time in Digger's life. The rat incident came some years after this picture was taken, during, I presume, what I like to call his ready-for-roasting years. Every doxie, it seems, goes through his butterball moments in life.



Though some, earlier than others."



Whoopsie. Is that me?? I guess I was kinda jiggly when I first came into mom and dad's home. Keep me company again tomorrow, will you?

day 4: lookout

dear diary,
so far no sign of mom and quite frankly there is not much 2 do now that i am grounded from the whole car thing. thanks a lot, duk duk.

anyways the weather here is nice and even though it's only in the 50s, i like it when the window is open so i can smell and listen for squirrels. maybe later i will snuggle with dad.

toodles!
b.