A Throne for Her Royal Queen of Fluffdom

This was almost labeled: "Peaches and the Pea." ;) I'm keeping that arsenal in my back pocket for a future post.

I have been on a weekend-long date with my recliner. It's been pretty swell. It's treated me well - hey, it even treated me to an all-you-can-eat homework buffet! This afternoon I looked up from some quality recliner-date time and my chemistry buffet to find this in front of me. Curled up on top of a bag, on top of an emptied shoe box, was Peaches.

On top of a box!

This is a first....but probably not the last.

The box was supposed to go to recycling, but now I feel obligated to keep it around. She really likes her new perch. (I wouldn't think it'd be that comfortable - I guess it is!) Hmm...How to make this more aesthetically pleasing...

Dump Day

This is what a spoiled happy dog looks like.

Had someone told me years ago that my dogs would come to love car rides, I'd have laughed. Politely I'd tell them they were mistaken. And then I'd laugh some more.

Our dogs have never been car ride dogs. Peaches hyperventilated and paced the entire time. Amara would stand on her hind legs, watch out the window, and whine and bark at everything. Goodness forbid we had to park anywhere for a time. They'd mouth off at every passing person! (I swear, they're really quite cuddly and sweet. - Barking aside. -  In fact, they are curled up at my feet right now, the pictures of furry angels.)

To be fair, it was probably partially our fault. Car rides only came around during vet visits and groomer appointments. Secret: neither Amara nor Peaches liked the groomers or vets. (Uh, oh. That's  the recipe for disaster right there.)

And then came the invention of Doggie-and-Daddy Dump Day.

I have no idea how the tradition began. I try and try to remember, but nothing comes. It kind of snuck up on us one day, a whim of a thought that became a tradition. Every Sunday my father gathers all of the trash, "saddles up" the pooches, and brings them with him. They sit in the front seat. If they're really good and the right person is on duty, the transfer station workers give them treats. (Treats? No wonder Amara loves it so much! Food is her middle name.)

Talk about a personality change! Now the car is their best friend.

They are excited for whatever rides come their way. But they are especially eager every weekend for their special ride with dad. Come the weekend, in the wee hours of the breaking morning, Peaches and Amara line up at the top of the stairs. Peaches lays her head down on the top stair, pushing her tail up in the air, wagging it a mile a minute. Amara lays down with her paws hanging over the first step, wide-eyes transfixed on the door while she wiggles in place, trying to contain the "ants in her pants." Every time dad brings a new bag out to the truck, Peaches jumps up, prances, and dances around - crying in fear she'll be left behind.

When the door opens for the last moment and dad asks: "Ready to go to the dump?"

Both dogs perk up and dash down the stairs, out the door. I can practically hear them pant: "Dumpdumpdumpdump, let'sgolet'sgolet'sgo!"

Bath Time

Alfalfa!

Last week we had bath-time for my little ragamuffins. Because I could not contain myself - can I ever with them? - I took pawparazzi pictures. Peaches moves around way too much for me to photograph her in the tub, but Amara tends to stand there, frozen, and occasionally huff at me. (Hence the slightly-out-of-focus pictures.)
Both Amara and Peaches tend to be a bit confused about bath time. They always seem to love the idea of it - until they get wet. In the morning when I go to wash my own hair and they hear the rush of water, they come running, begging to be put in the tub. Peaches'll half sit-half stand there, crying, wiggling her bum so fast that she could propel herself across the house with it. Meanwhile, Amara bounces around my feet like an unmanned pogo stick.

"Water? Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy. Bath. We want a bath! Take us with you! Can we come? Please, oh please, please, please let us bathe."

Then comes the actual bath time.

Maybe something gets lost in translation.

Maybe they forget that bath time means the water has to go on them.

Whatever it is, I am not their best friend. Peaches gives a dirty stare (which, given her gentle nature is humorous) as if cursing my existence. I can practically hear her grumble: "This is not what I signed on for."  Amara widens her eyes, the epitome of puppy-dog eyes, and stares up at me, pleadingly: "But-but-but can't I come out now?"

"Mom. Mom, I'm wet. There is water on me.
I am standing in dampness. Mom.
Do something about this."

When it is all over, though, they both look up at me with such excitement. First, they deem me crazy for such torture. They return the favor by soaking me shaking off their excess water. They zip around the bathroom celebrating their freedom - because, goodness knows, they almost drown in that prison filled with an inch of bath water. And then, finally, when they've completed their ritual they stare expectantly at me. Just like this.

"Treat time?"

Got her edgy chick look goin' on. I think she's adorable.
I need a picture.  She's wondering why I haven't gotten her food yet.
#priorities

Little White Fuzzball

 Daily Dose of Cute (for your weekend) this week consists of baby Peaches photos. Where has the time gone? This tiny, baby fuzzball is now a spritely senior. It's unfathomable!

She was only as big as a small rope when we brought her home!

Taking a snooze on one of my parent's sneakers. She had a
foot fetish, even then.

Napping is a talent for Her Royal Queen of Fluffdom.

Don't forget to check out my latest post for Christie Cote's novel Rain! There are a bunch of great giveaways - you don't want to miss out.

I'm Not Watching You

Daily Dose of Cute time!

It's no secret we have two little mischievous love-bug dogs. We really try to train our dogs well. But, seriously, little dogs? They're so cute - and it is a trap. It's like with babies. All of their bad habits make you laugh, you cannot help but think they're adorable. Everyone else, maybe not so much.

Knowing this we are constantly working on training and retraining our dogs. For a rrreeaalllyyy long time we allowed our dogs in the kitchen, but they've a habit of getting under foot and staring up at you with those "isn't that piece of carrot for me?" eyes. The latter is less of a problem than the former, where my grandmother is now getting to the age where her balance is terribly poor. To curb this behavior we now vanquish them to the other room.

Most of the time they go to the living room...but on occasion....

...On occasion Amara'll peaks her head through the curtains and watches us from there.

It's like she thinks she's getting away with something

{Like my post? Check out my last, sponsored post, Creative, Organized and Expressive with BIC® 4-Color™ Pens! , to find out how the 4-in-1 pen can help you express yourself and organize your busy life!)