Eska has been particularly sweet with me, almost consistently, since (the dreaded) Wednesday evening and the disaster it left in its wake. Yesterday, we had a scintillating game of immunnageddit (i goddit) and she was more enthused than I have ever seen her. Right now, she is lounging on my bed, staring at me fondly and longingly as I type from my "dining room" table.
Are we in love, Skarina, my girl?
I thought so.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Puppy Love II
drunken black man, middle-aged, on 29th, to me: I know errrrrbody tell you how beautiful you are ...
to Eska (jumping): Yeah, I love you, too.
Nice.
I always knew I was cuter.
to Eska (jumping): Yeah, I love you, too.
Nice.
I always knew I was cuter.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Puppy Love
A few videos of the puppies from back home (well, one video, because the other won't upload); soundtrack provided by Yours Truly, featuring Mama Zamp and the Pop.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Cesar Millan: Eat Your Heart Out
You got NOTHIN' on my dad.
So, I leave Eskarina, my love, with Daddy-dearest, for three weeks. He alters her diet (she is now eating a mixture of Taste of the Wild and c/d prescription), takes her on extended walks in the woods, lets her enjoy endless playtime with Bruno, and she is returned to me a saintly dog among dogs. True story.
Since we have been back, she has not whined (with the exception of the very first time I put her n her crate), jumped into the sink, gotten into the trash, or hijacked my slippers.
She did, however, get into my lip gloss and chapstick. Again. (Some) old habits die hard.
But in all honesty, I really think she smartened up a bit over her French-Canadian holiday. Last night, I asked her if she would please make sure I got up when my alarm went off at 5am. Because it is hot as the gates of hell in my room (and, more specifically, on my bed, right by the radiator), she spent the whole night sleeping on the floor. At 5am, my alarm rang. 10 minutes later, when she saw I was not reacting to its repeated buzz (on snooze), she jumped up on the bed and, rather than resuming her usual position at its foot, walked all over me and licked my face.
I mean, I didn't get up. But she did what she had to do.
Who even needs an alarm clock anymore?
So, I leave Eskarina, my love, with Daddy-dearest, for three weeks. He alters her diet (she is now eating a mixture of Taste of the Wild and c/d prescription), takes her on extended walks in the woods, lets her enjoy endless playtime with Bruno, and she is returned to me a saintly dog among dogs. True story.
Since we have been back, she has not whined (with the exception of the very first time I put her n her crate), jumped into the sink, gotten into the trash, or hijacked my slippers.
She did, however, get into my lip gloss and chapstick. Again. (Some) old habits die hard.
But in all honesty, I really think she smartened up a bit over her French-Canadian holiday. Last night, I asked her if she would please make sure I got up when my alarm went off at 5am. Because it is hot as the gates of hell in my room (and, more specifically, on my bed, right by the radiator), she spent the whole night sleeping on the floor. At 5am, my alarm rang. 10 minutes later, when she saw I was not reacting to its repeated buzz (on snooze), she jumped up on the bed and, rather than resuming her usual position at its foot, walked all over me and licked my face.
I mean, I didn't get up. But she did what she had to do.
Who even needs an alarm clock anymore?
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