News / Blog Posts
It Must Be Suppertime
We’re enjoying perfect spring-like weather—so nice that the humans have been eating dinner outside in the new pavilion. Such a switch might fool some less-expert canines, but not Roscoe P. He knows where to wait and when to position himself. That look says it all. It must be suppertime.
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Wanted: Faster Doorman
You have to love spring. We just went through a round of freezing weather and even some light snow, and yesterday the sun was shining and the thermometer topped out at 80º. So, yes, our heat was running earlier this week and the air conditioning cut on yesterday. Frankie Suave says that makes decision making quite easy and he would like to get back inside to his personal air-conditioning vent. If only he had a faster doorman not focused on taking pictures.
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Leaning Into The Curve
The tail tells the tale—Roscoe propels around the yard at maximum velocity. But how can you make quick turns on the racetrack? Any motorcyclist will tell you the critical need for leaning into the curve. Roscoe may have grass stains on the side of his legs, but he can zoom like no one else.
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Welcome Committee
We enthusiastically greet our visitors to Chez Herd. Some might say a wee bit too enthusiastically. In case we haven’t made it clear, Rocky the Raccoon has joined our carvings and our welcome committee. He’s a little stiffer than Roscoe, but the smile is just as big.
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The Little Prince’s Stalker
Being a celebrity is tough, especially if you are royalty. The humans want photographs of His Royal Highness Little Prince Typhoon Phooey for his adoring fans. Passersby on our walks want paw-to-graphs. But things have gone too far. Yesterday, no matter what room the Little Curmudgeon went into, the Little Prince’s stalker followed him. Hu-Dad muttered something about following the path of the dropping fur.
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With Friends Like This
Way back in 2003, Hu-Dad called Nikita to come inside the house. Nikita trotted from a corner of the yard with an attachment. No, not a tick. Eight-week-old Natasha was clamped onto Nikita’s neck like a pendant, her little feet not even touching the ground as she swayed to and fro. For the next three years, Nikita mothered and molded her protégé into the Queen Natasha the Evil who ruled The Herd for a decade. Hu-Dad was reminded of that moment when Typhoon approached with Roscoe chewing on his ear. He seems to think, “With friends like this…” Don’t worry, though, they are still the bestest buddies ever.
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Grassy Bed
We had a beautiful Friday, so lots of outside time. As the sun dropped over the horizon, the temperatures began to fall. Our thoughts turned to sleep time, but Landon couldn’t wait and fell asleep on a grassy bed. Forgive his sleepy look, but Hu-Dad woke him up taking photos.
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How Many Tries Did It Take?
For a dog nicknamed Boom Boom, Landon sure is sitting pretty in this photo. How many tries did it take? Hu-Dad says just one—unless you count the bouncing, racing, twirling, digging, wrestling, not-listening, and general-mayhem-causing outtakes. There might have been eleventy-seven bazillion of those.
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The Pounce
One of the challenges of our favorite game—“tackle-wrestle-bitey face-body slam-tag you’re it”—is knowing when the game starts and when it ends. Last night, the game appeared to be over and Typhoon sat in the grass appearing to be disinterested. Roscoe turned his back and Typhoon saw his opportunity. Today’s photo is the moment the launch started and a split second before the pounce. Don’t worry, Roscoe thought it was great fun and a rousing second round of “tackle-wrestle-bitey face-body slam-tag you’re it” ensued.
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Don’t Brush Me
His Royal Highness Little Prince Typhoon Phooey has many demands for his humans. Cuddles are rare and strictly on his terms. Meals must meet exacting specifications or they will be rejected. Uninvited touching is forbidden. And, most importantly of all, a brush is never, never, never to touch the royal floof. The penalty for violations is the Siberian Death Scream, a specialized, high-pitch shriek guaranteed to elicit concern from neighbors. Thus, the shaggy look comes from the Little Curmudgeon’s “Don’t Brush Me” edict.
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Deer Sentries
We went out to our yard yesterday morning for our dawn activities to discover two surprises waiting for us—a fresh dusting of snow and a herd of deer. The light snow was only moderately interesting, but the visiting creatures alerted our fearless pair of deer sentries. And why aren’t we at the fence sounding the alarm? Absolutely nothing to do with their size or number. Nope, the middle of the yard seemed to be a better place to monitor them. That’s our story and we’re sticking to it.
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Can’t Hear What You Can’t See
Hypothetical situation. It’s a beautiful, sunny day, and the yard feels great. The humans call and say it’s time to come inside. You are a Siberian Husky. What do you do? Landon’s answer is to engage Siberian Selective Deafness, a creative defense that means you can’t hear what you can’t see.
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