Tuesday, December 31, 2013

Here's hoping for smooth sailing in 2014

                                         "Trio" copyright 2013

Thursday, December 26, 2013

I was wrong

I was wrong.  Christmas was not a Booth cartoon.  It was more of a Quentin Tarantino movie.  Violence, blood, excrement, carnage, hysteria and a lot of bad thoughts about otherwise good dogs....

Monday, December 9, 2013

My Christmas in a Booth Cartoon

   Family occasions often remind me of one of my favorite cartoonists, George Booth.  Such mayhem.  Christmas 2013 will be rife with Booth.  For the past 22 years, we've had dinner with our neighbors.  The kids grew up together, (well, they got drunk together...) and dinner at the Bartletts is de rigueur.  This year I agreed to watch my brother's two dogs (a bull dog and a large chocolate lab) for that week.  My son leaves his two (pitbull and loon)dogs Christmas Eve through Christmas dinner.  And my daughter will be bringing her rescue pitbull.
    48 hours fraught with hilarity, to be sure.  But here's the rub.  The hostess needs back surgery.  She is not allowed to bend over, much less host 14 people for dinner.
    Last time we had it at our house, it didn't go so well.  So much so that no one suggested having it here again.  I'm sure it will be far better this time.  What could be more festive than five quarrelsome dogs circling the roast beast?

Sunday, December 1, 2013

Able to Leap Tall Buildings in a Single Bound

Sibley, who I thought was the 'good' dog, has freaky leaping skills.  From a dead standstill, she can levitate up and over our fence.  Usually she performs this act in pursuit of a dog, a deer, a squirrel or maybe a passing butterfly.  She also tends to shred the hand that feeds her.  All in good fun.
 One of the many reasons that I enjoy dogs, is that unlike certain nameless children, dogs don't complain.  They don't whine, "I'm bored."  I had a black lab who was able to amuse herself.  When she couldn't find someone to throw the ball, she'd drop it at the top of the driveway and run to the bottom to retrieve it.  Dogs would walk by and she would barely look at them, much less chase them.  Once, when I was recovering from back surgery she joined me on the bed.  I smelled necrotic flesh and discovered she had a large gash on her leg.  Never said a word about it, just soldiered on.  I asked my husband about it and he said, "Oh yeah, she ran a little slower this week."
    Sam, my son's other dog, is a nudge.  If he's not barking or baying, he's grumbling.  I want to tell him to go read a book.
    On the other hand, both Sibley and Sam are excellent cuddlers.  My black lab was more of a, "oh, if you must pet me, go ahead."
    My son returns tonight, God willing.