Pood needs a surge

Happy Birthday Little Black Dog!

Happy Birthday Maggie!

What happens when a 6lb Morkie smartmouths a 90lb Pit Bull

My littlest dog, Pipi Shortstocking has the bad habit of standing at the fence at the front of our section and mouthing off at dogs who walk by.

Today she did it to a Pit Bull being led past by a know-nothing substance abuser in a dazed and confused state.

As you can see by this photo she was just a little slow getting her Morkie nose back inside the fence. Torn nose, a lost tooth, mucus membrane ripped and a lot of blood.

Don’t get me wrong, I love the dog but I had other plans for $443.

Happy birthday Miss Poodle

Here she is, my most beloved poodle having her mince pie-birthday cake thing. She loved meat pie more than she feared fire and hot wax, pood loves food. I love pood.

Oh I am so proud!

My mother has this scrapbook at home. Everytime us boys would turn up in the local paper, school exam results, science fairs, criminal court, she would clip out the article and proudly past it into her scarpbook. Since Con & I don’t have any children together this has been a pretty much non-event for us.

Until now!

Yes, my two girls are on the front page of MSN Canada. I could not be more proud!

My wahine sent their Halloween photo into MSN for some unknown reason, it’s not like there was bling on offer. Anyway, they got picked for their pet costume slideshow. I will point out that they received the highest rating of all the hounds that were displayed. My script must have worked.

The Little Dog That Ate Breakfast

Mouse is on the menu at Begsie’s house!

I could not be prouder. My daughter Maggie killed her first animal. It was a Peromyscus maniculatus, the common deer mouse. We regularly slaughter a handful of these little f*ckers each time we go off to camp. Yeah I know they are cute, but the wankers insist on line dancing in the ceiling and sh*tting all over the counter top so their days are numbered from the moment I start cubing the cheese and winding back the traps.

I opened up a cupboard at camp this weekend and this bl**dy mouse ran toward me. I am not scared of mice (I save my fear for members of the genus Ursus). But the last thing you expect when you open a cupboard is something running at you. I let out a girlie squeal and leapt back. B*stard. So we were sitting at the table later on that Friday night when this ill-omened rodent ran across in front of us and then scuttled up the wall and ran between the screen and the wind breaker.

Maggie, great dog that she is, was off like a rocket. A meat obsessed muscle bound bitey rocket. The mouse did his best. By best I mean it squeaked in terror, ran backwards and forwards, and then froze in front of the doorway. Maggie has always had a habit of shaking her toys by the neck and breaking their necks, well where their neck would be if stuffed animals were vertebrates. So she immediately used her instincts and shook that little mouse until it squeaked no more.

We were both very proud of her, when Armageddon comes we will be feasting on rodents!