The Life of An International Playboy

His name is Sherlock. No Ship Sherlock Shane Sepahpur to be exact.  And can that boy ever play!!! He plays with my dirty socks. He plays with his reflection in the glass at night. He plays with opossums that are playing dead. He plays with my mind. If it exists he can probably find a way to play with it. He is one of the biggest players on earth. Sorry Charlie Sheen and Tiger Woods. You just don’t have as much game.

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But what makes this dude international? Well, to start with, his father was frozen sperm from Canada flown down to Texas to be “introduced” to his USA mom’s egg. His conception started and finished in two different countries. Now unless you and your honey are going to take a blanket and a bottle of wine and find a nice spot to lay between North Dakota and Saskatchewan, good luck achieving the same multinational start to a life.

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Even Sherlock’s DNA has an international dispute to it. Many sources state the origin of the poodle was Germany where it was know as the Pudelhund – a water retriever.  However, the French absconded with the credit for the poodle saying it was a cross between their breed the Barbet and a Hungarian water dog. Germany was in no mood to go to war over the creation of the breed and let France take credit. Strangely enough, Hungary wanted no part of the debate as they were to busy growing cords on their Komondors to give a flip. So, history clearly shows the Standard Poodle as being German, adopted by the French, and shrunk down by the clever Brits. Sherlock’s genes got around Europe like the plague.

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What has Sherlock done to maintain his history of international origins? He has become a mini star across the oceans and continents.  Sherlock originally appeared nationally in his home country of the US with an odd flash during the NBC sports broadcast of the Belmont Stakes.

His second appearance was only seconds longer a British show called Dogs That Make You Laugh Out Loud. Below is a clip of him barking and reacting to the CD. What a loon!!!

That was followed up by a second US flash at fame on the Jimmy Kimmel Show.

He was back to England where the show Harry Hill’s Tea Time paid for some of his work. I am still waiting to get footage from the production company so enjoy a few pictures of him having tea and biscuits without Harry Hill instead (isn’t it sweet he is sharing his biscuits with Shasta?)

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Then the Netherlands and a T-mobile commercial was where he showed up next. Don’t blink. you will miss him.

And those were just the TV spots. Blogs picked up his video. From Germany to Brazil to the US where the AKC featured it and it was picked up by I ♥ Dogs; he was networking the net.

https://iheartdogs.com/this-poodles-reaction-to-american-pharaohs-big-win-is-amazing-have-you-ever-seen-anything-like-it/

Sherlock’s second video to go simi-viral also had viewers from all over the globe. Below is the video and a screen shot of the last of the 195 pages of countries that the video was viewed in. I don’t even know where St. Pierre & Miquelon are although Youtube says they are in North America. Over 170,000 people managed to view him getting his excitement on for a cartoon. 

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For added fun, one of his pictures was picked up by a group of Photo-shoppers. They did some really fun pics but I only manage to download a few before the link disappeared.  It seems he has spent time on the catwalk in Paris, being an awful au pair in Australian, and appearing on Broadway.

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babies daddy

broadway babie
So this playboy needed to do what international entertainers do: move to a different country other than that of his birth. So here is my German/French Poodle who is half Canadian and half American from the Untied States living in our little Mexico village where he he dines on Italian, Indian, Brazilian, French bakery yummies, Sushi, German, Thai, American burgers, Canadian poutine and of course, Mexican – which he swears tastes better if stolen from someone else plate from a hiding place under the table.

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He truly is a dog of the world!

Not Just Another Day, Not Just Another Dog, Not Just Another Dusty Chicken…

Grooming day!!! The day only day I am dog free and I can go eat at a restaurant that doesn’t allow dogs and get major errands done. I needed furniture. Specifically a sofa. My bony butt can’t handle the willow bench any more that has been the only seating option since I moved months ago to Mexico.

I first headed to treat myself to a lunch at a canine free establishment the Spoos never let me go. I scarfed down a serving of green bean and baby potato salad in an amazing vinaigrette and a steak sandwich with grilled chipotles. Then I remembered I was really craving the chicken mole at another pup banned place. Oh well – the next grooming day.

I went to a few furniture stores before I made the command call that I was going to have to go with the custom made sofa because nothing was ringing my bells. But, in the process I found “the bird.”

The Ajijic Plaza has this one story tall kinetic bird sculpture that I have loved. You can kind of see it in the picture picture of the square in the bottom near center. Not long ago I saw a smaller one at a sale but it had been purchased. I was bummed.

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I believe the bird’s head is missing. That is quite okay. I lose mine a lot. (I could not find the name of the photographer to give them credit. If you know who took this, let me know so I can give them their due.)

But what did I find at one of the furniture stores??? I have named him Cromwell. He is temporarily placed by my table sold to me by a couple because they were moving back to the States. I had gone to their place hoping to buy their sofa 🤪

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Cromwell the bird. I have not named the guy who looks like he is constipated or the horse. I’m working on it.

Celebration of finding my rocking crane called for chicken mole. That’s right. I ate two lunches in a three hour time period. Gangstas need that chow. My solution to my bony butt on the bench is to fatten up that fanny

I still had two hours before picking up the Spoos. I decided to go check out an area I hadn’t explored yet. When I arrived in Ajijic, someone told me it was impossible to get lost. If you went too far one way you hit the lake. If you went too far the other way you hit the mountains. I ended up lost…

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Here is the lay out. Mountain (I call them hills as I have spent my fair share in the Rockies,) to the North. The lake to the South. The lake is 50 miles long so I have yet to get lost and ended up on the other side of it.

…on the opposite side of the mountains. I have no idea still after staring at google maps how I did it. But, all of a sudden I noticed the mountains to the south. Ummm – the lake is always to the south. Time to pull over and figure out if Waze knew Mexico. I pulled up at the groomers right at 5:00 pm and still confused as to where I had been.

The dog’s groom looked great. So that wasn’t going to last. I got home and they went into zoomies. Sherlock went into one of his spin jumps just as Shasta hit him full force. Sherlock slammed into the edge of the steel driveway gate where it rubs on the bushes when it opens. Hence the green line on Sherlock’s hip. He went down with a horrid yelp.

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Speaking of bony butt… A few have messaged me concerned about Sherlock’s weight. He is four years old and has always been skin and bones.  I have tried everything and he has been through countless vets and testing and he has always been extremely healthy. He eats higher quality food than I do and a lot of it. If you go to the movie section of this blog you will see he burns two calories for every one he eats. I promise this is not an abused or sick dog. Just ADHD (emphasis on the H,) deluxe.

I ran over, picked him up, put him in the car, loaded Shasta, and headed to the vet. Sherlock laid still during the short five minute drive. Sherlock laying down is never a good sign.

I got to the vets (where they are also groomed,) jumped out, ran in, and told the vet Sherlock was in the car and couldn’t stand up. She went to the car with me and when I opened the back hatch, Sherlock was spinning and jumping in circles like he always does. If it wasn’t for the stain on his back end I’m sure she would have thought that I was one of the worst over-reactors on Earth. She poked it and moved it around and said to see how he was in the morning. Darn dog!

And this is where the dusty chicken comes into play. There is a roadside stand where a man grills nothing but chicken. The locals call it dusty chicken because it use to be on a dirt section of the road and the passing cars coated the chicken as it grilled making a most yummy crust. It is like crack – meat meth. You have it once and you are hooked

It was a dusty chicken that the Spoos stole off the counter after their their last groom. I was unloading everything and made the mistake of bringing the chicken in first. Spoos are smart. Together their IQ adds up higher than mine. Unless I put a roasted chicken in a vault, it will be theirs. Now, let me add that the dusty chicken comes with some roasted hot peppers and onions. When I finished unloading the dogs were not to be found. I discovered them in the back bathroom like this:

It was clear which one ate the one missing pepper and that they had both shared in the chicken. All that was found was the two onions and one remaining pepper. One thing that was not remaining was the plastic bag the chicken was in. Crud! One or both ate the plastic along with chickens and bones.  I called the vet who recommended giving them white bread and watching them for signs of a problem. They got their bread and so did I as now toast was the only thing left for me for dinner. That night I wearily crawled into bed after being on poop vigil. On my pillow was the inside-out chicken bag. They put the evidence in the last place I would see for the day. They knew my anger would be long gone by then. “I love my dogs, I love my dogs, I love my……”

So fast forward back to the day Sherlock hurt his hip and Cromwell came into our life. The vet/groomers is right across from the dusty chicken stand and the smell has lured me in every time we left grooming or vet care before. But since they ate it – bones and all – last time I had decided there would be no pollo for them that as I had left grooming the first time. But, as I looked in the rear view mirror as I backed out of the vets after his “injury” I saw Sherlock standing with his leg up looking miserable. It might not have been broken but he was in pain. He needed chicken crack to make himself feel better. I stopped for a chicken – minus onions and peppers.

It was only after we got home and dug into our treat that it hit me he was holding up his front leg which he has done since a puppy as one of his cute begging poses. I was sure I had been played.

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“Look into my eyes. You are getting very sleepy. Now count backwards from ten. When you get to one, the bacon will fall from your hands and you will have no memory of making bacon.”

Regardless, after my two lunches, I still enjoyed my share of the score. Birds win the day!

Update:

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I have named the constipated guy Congress. As showy as he is, he hasn’t done a thing since I have known him. And the horse is named A Horse With No Name because I’m just not all that clever these days. 

How Mexicans Treat This Gringa Fool With Kindness

Mexicans know how to do magic. Fortunately they choose to use their powers for good not evil.

I went exploring in the car with the dogs today. I was taking random streets of a village two over from mine and enjoying the vibrant lively neighborhoods. I was paying close attention to directional signs because so many streets are so narrow there is only room for cars in one direction. I saw an arrow pointed the way I wanted to go and went.

I was thrilled to see a painted mural at the top of the hill. The murals here are bright colored eye candy. It even looked like on this one they had painted the road to look like steps. But then I got closer I saw that the street did in fact turn into steps.

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I kept driving upward looking for a place to turn around and it soon became clear there was none. I’m an awful back-er-upper and it was a longish steep narrow road so I decided my tiny car could manage to maneuver turning in just the street area.

If you look at the photo, you will see I managed to get my car at about a 45 degree rotation before I was stuck. Couldn’t go forward, couldn’t go backwards. Oh Sh$& !!! I had no flicking clue what I was going to do. I got out of the car and just stared numbly until the Spoos saw a street dog and barked me back to reality. I regret not taking a picture of how wedged in I was from the outside of the car. It truly was dumbfounding.

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At that point the clock turned two. A very important thing happens every day at two: construction workers take lunch. Four men came out of the area you see with the locked chain fence. A conversation ensued of which I understood zero but did gather they were very amused – with the Spoos…

It took a little miming to get them to see I was asking for them to help me get unstuck. I got back in the car to watch as they told me how far I had until I hit a wall and which way to turn the wheels. But they all seemed to be indicating something different and confusing me so I got out and motioned for one of them to get behind the wheel.

At this time I took the dogs out so the driver wasn’t afraid of getting bit and three of the guys were petting and fussing over them. When I turned around, the fourth guy had my car pointed in the right direction! Magic!!!! I tried to pay them some pesos and they refused. I guess the selfies with the dogs and the story about the dingy American told over the dinner table was enough reward.

I took the dogs home and should of called it a day. Heck, I should have called it a year. Instead I headed to Superlake.

Superlake is a grocery store that caters to people living here from north of the border by carrying US/Canada brands and packaging in English. It also charges an arm and a leg and three toes.

I have tried to wean myself off this highway robbery but my ventures into buying items in true Mexico stores based on the picture on the box can/have been solid fails. I bought cookies that were like communion wafers with Elmer glue filling and tuna that turned out to be a can of oil with four or five seafood chunks that I prayed weren’t dolphin. My only success had been cheese but that had taken a long time to get right. I stood for probably 20 minutes watching what everyone else was buying, comparing it to the rest of their basket, and deducing who had like tastes with me. BTW – all cheese here is white. Just like god intended.

Anyhow, I digress greatly. I finished my Superlake shopping, paid the king’s ransom, and headed to the car with a basket full of good ole USA dyes, trans fats, corn syrups, and artificial additives. I had to park way down from the store so I started my trek. The sidewalk was busy so I pushed my cart down into the street and was clipping at a good pace.

Then I hit the invisible wall. The nice paved street in front of Superlake turned back into cobblestone streets of my quaint Mexican village and three of my cart wheels jammed in the crevices between stones. The video below of the dogs show what kind of street I thought I could push a 20 year old wobbly-wheel cart over.

My purchases were heavy so when I started trying to wrench the basket loose it was having none of it. I was aware a lot of other shoppers were watching this lucha libre match I was having with my trolly. I started looking for a cobblestone crevice big enough for me to hide in. No such luck.

Suddenly two men swooped in and started grabbing my bags. Being an American, my first reaction was that they were vultures swooping down on a dead-in-the-road animal and I was being robbed. Then the bi-lingual man said, “which car is yours?” Lighting quick – like magic – they unloaded the items into my car and freed the cart I now call Willie.

I tried to offer them each a cash reward but again they wouldn’t take it. So I walked over and gave the money to the indigenous woman selling needlepoint cloths by the sidewalk. This action caused the non-English speaker to slap me on the back like I had just scored a goal for the local soccer team and then start talking a mile a minute to me. I understood muy bien so I knew he was okay with my move of giving their reward to the old woman but then I thought he said something about a turkey with chicken pox roller skating in Tibet. I really REALLY have to hire a Spanish tutor.

So these were My Mexican Magicians of Mercy today. Now one more unrelated story…

This morning my Architect came by. The day before I had lost my redhead temper about furniture scratches and all the dust mess the remodelers were leaving. He calmed me down and promised to make everything right.

So, buddies once more I was showing him my new fancy vacuum sweeper. In the demonstration process, he watched as I had a hard time getting two “easy release” buttons to work. Then, in my zealousness of showing off the hand held canister feature, I rammed the vacuum into the furniture, hitting the release button just right, and dumping a very full waste container all down my leg and onto my foot and floor. It was all white construction dust. Again!!! If I had thought to take a picture! My foot looked like Pennywise’s face. Now who needed to be scolded?

All-in-all a day of complete humiliation – but it has me basking in the glow of human kindness. What a warm magical glow it is!!!

It’s Not My Fault – Please Don’t Take My Dogs Away From Me!

Momma Mim blogging today.

Let me start by saying I understand. Shasta and Sherlock are without something because of me. But I say what they are missing is a want – not a need.  I feel they can live full healthy lives without owning a cat.

(See http://2spoos.com/2015/02/11/it-wasnt-my-fault-it-was-going-to-be-a-tabby-coon/ for their side of the story.)

My beloved dogs are so determined to get a pet of their own they are now threatening to call PETA or the Humane Society on me. So now I am worried that animal activists are going to bonk me on the head to liberate my 2 spoos.  Therefor, I am appealing to you all: please let me keep my dogs – I do my best to make up for them not having a cat of their own.

For example:

I buy them every toy they put their nose on when we go shopping. This picture shows just the “downstairs toys.”

too many toys

They also have the “upstairs toys,” their “roof deck toys,” and their “garage/dog park toys.”

And then there is their diet. I buy them dog food that has more thought put into it than what I eat. And speaking of what I eat, I share that too.

sharing watermelon

And they have plenty of uncooked bones to chew (this was after I cleaned out both of their hiding spots.)

elephant graveyard

And I make sure they have lots of other kinds of chews.

2013-08-07 19.41.58 spine of small child

They get to choose what channels we watch on TV.

picking channels

And they have their own laptop to use to post their selfies.

thier own computer

They get lots of exercise at dog parks and places I let them “break the law.”

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And as for a comfy place to sleep, I think this says it all – that is MY king size bed.

No room for me

And they have their own spots on the furniture that they begrudgingly share.

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On the furniture

So what do you think? Do you think they have a case?  I love them with all my heart. And my head. So please animal lovers, look into my eyes and see – them not having a cat is not near as bad as us not having each other.

Nothing makes you feel more loved Can you hear him screaming let me go

Mutt Movies – History Was Made With the Last Running of the Belmont Stakes.

Sherlock blogging today.

Let me start off by saying the only reason I insisted Momma Mim turn on the telly was because I heard the Belmont Steaks was on. I always enjoy a good steak.  I was very delighted to learn horses were involved. Some of my best friends are horses. I bark at the police horses and the horses that give rides in carriages around downtown.  They love that!

I quickly picked up on this betting thing.  I was able to get in a quick wager with the boxer next door on the race.  I could tell who would win because, well; I’m Sherlock. No clue escapes me. And of course I won. Three bones, a bag of Snausages, and the exclusive rights to bark at the local opossum – mine! All mine!!!

Momma Mim took some video of the race because she said history could be made.  And it was. For the first time in history, a poodle gave an Academy Award winning performance in a documentary.  I expect the Oscar – steak Oscar. I like asparagus, crab, and Bearnaise sauce!

Watch the video and judge for yourself. Regardless of an Oscar or not, I am already a winner. And American Pharoah wasn’t so bad himself.

Canine Conversations – You Missed the Westminster Boat By An Ocean

Sherlock and Shasta chatting today;

Sherlock: Oh my gosh! Shasta! OMG! Shasta! SHASTA! It’s awful. It’s horrid. It’s unthinkable.

Shasta: Slow down there my favorite Fruit Cake. What is wrong with you?

Sherlock: I missed the Westminster Dog Show!!!

Shasta: It’s okay. Momma Mim can load it up for you on the telly to watch. Chill.

sherlock looking up close

Sherlock: No. You don’t understand. I was suppose to go to the show. I was suppose to be in the dog show. I was suppose to win the dog show.

Shasta: That is ridiculous.  We aren’t show dogs. We are pet dogs.

Sherlock: You may be a just a pet dog. But that is because you were a puppy mill rescue. I am a show dog. Let me go get my papers. My papers prove I am a show dog.

Shasta: I have seen your papers. A million times. {Sigh} You can line a birdcage with them as far as Westminster goes. First off: there is nothing wrong with me. I am 100% spoo. It is true I was rescued from an awful life. But the people at the poodle rescue found me my Momma Mim and now I sleep in a king size bed, have more than my share of toys and chews, and am the boss of you.

I own you

Sherlock: I let you win…sometimes… But my papers show that my dad was a Canadian champion and my mom was a US champion. My grandfather won Westminster’s Non-sporting group. It is my job to carry the torch and win the whole thing.

Shasta: DNA in your case stands for Don’t Notice Anything. For starters, didn’t you notice the poodles at Westminster don’t look anything like either of us? Let’s start with your topknot. A show dog has a long luxurious topknot. Like this:

black poo photoshoped

Your topknot flops. Like this:

Bad flattop sherlock

Sherlock: I can grow a topknot like you have never seen. Just watch me.

Shasta: Then there is they way show dogs carry themselves. See the great posture on this dog? She looks like royalty.

good posture

Now look at your silly self. You look decapitated.

decapitated sherlock

Sherlock: That bow is cheating. I’m a boy. I can’t wear a bow. But I have perfect poodle posture.

Sherlock good posture

I’m down right regal.

Shasta: Do you know to be a show dog, you have to get Momma Mim to get your hair cut like this good looking guy?

silver dog

You can’t show up looking like this:

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Sherlock: Again! No fair. I had just had a “spa” mud treatment. But ohhhh. Look at that cut. He has ball butt. I want a ball butt. Mine will be the roundest fluffiest balls a butt has ever seen. I know Momma Mim will let me have them. She let me have foot balls. (Get it? Footballs – I crack myself up.)

Sherlock foot balls

Shasta: Speaking of balls… As soon as you stop laughing at  yourself, I will give you the last and final reason you can’t win Westminster. Only dogs that can make puppies are allowed. The original purpose of dog shows was to evaluate breeding stock. And; everyone having the same equipment makes judging more fair. You had your boy puppy-making balls removed. I think Momma Mim has them in a jar in the garage. 😉  So there. This fine rescue dog has just as much chance of winning Westminster as you do.

Sherlock: Oh my gosh! Momma Mim! OMG! Momma Mim! MOMMA MIM!!! It’s awful. It’s horrid. It’s unthinkable…….

~

{Shasta: Thank you to Branna, Carmel, and Calder for helping me show Sherlock what a sharp looking poodle is suppose to look like. And no matter if we are black, apricot, red, parti, silver, brown, or white – toy, mini, or standard – show dogs or pet dogs – rescues or well planned litters: we poodles are always canine superstars!}

Tongue Out Tuesday – TV Tastes Better

Shasta writing today.

I know that you have heard that we dogs have a great sense of smell, but Sherlock is convinced he has a great sense of taste too. The coconut head can taste TV. He insists on hanging that long tongue of his out of his mouth every now and then to get the flavor of what he is watching.  I had video of him slowed down from when he was watching the tube. If you watch for a while (around the 1:42 mark,) you will see him wagging that long pink set of taste buds in an attempt to see if his favorite show taste like chicken.

I have tried it without luck although Momma Mim’s cell phone sometimes tastes like chicken – especially if she has just eaten chicken – so I keep trying.  I hate it when Sherlock can do something I can’t. I hope he trips on that darn tongue!

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What I Learned From My Dogs Today – I’m Not Saying Your Child Looks Like a Dog…

Momma Mim being allowed to blog today:

The results are in.  The average dog is as smart as the average two year old human.  So my advice today goes for bare skinned, as well as fur covered, kids. Put this to memory: if you don’t want to do something for the rest of your life, don’t do it even once for your child/dog.

I learned this the hard way with my two footed child. I made the mistake one time of cutting his sandwich in triangles instead of rectangles. Now, I am destined to stress over geometry every time I make one. When I am in an assisted living retirement home and my 65 year old son comes to visit, I will still have to make sure he is not served anything with four sides – three it is for eternity. If you do it and they like it: game over.

No squares

It hit me this applied to dogs as well when I had my dearly departed Shandy.  Shandy would sit at my feet every day while I put on my make up.  One day I decided to let her smell my blush. It was so cute how her little nose went into action. The next day I let her smell my lipstick before I put it on.  Then I got a new makeup brush and, without thinking it through, used the old one and tickled her nose with it.  The monster was born. From then on out, even if I didn’t have time to put my own makeup, hers had to be done. She wouldn’t go pee until she had her NARS bronzer on.  And if she didn’t get to smell check my lipstick for the day she would pitch a fit.  I will admit I would give anything to put a dot of foundation on her nose just once more, but at the time it was heck.

shandy nose

She was such a diva.

bad hair

My current problem I created by not following my own advice involves coconut oil.  I have used this on my face as a moisturizer for decades.  Lately, a blog made it’s way around touting all the great uses for it. The one that caught my eye was that it was good for dogs. So, one night after rubbing some into my cheeks, I called the dogs over to see if they would like the taste. Uggggg. My nightly routine for the last few months is now this: brush my teeth, wash my face, and put coconut oil on my face while being stared at, give Sherlock the opportunity to lick any remaining oil off my fingers, feel sorry for Shasta not getting any and scooping her out some, give into Sherlock’s whining because Shasta got a scoop and he only got a lick and get more for him, give into Shasta’s whining because Sherlock got to lick my finger’s twice and she only got to lick it once and get more out for her, cave to Sherlock’s pestering because Shasta….. you get the drift.

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And it has to be off my fingers. I got a spoon but did not want to put the spoon back in the jar after the dogs licked it and they had no patience waiting for me to wash it. I then put it on little plates, but the idea of me still having a remaining molecule left on my fingers made the plates mute. Now I scoop some with a spoon and let them lick it off my digits. Everyone is happy. Well, except me. I resent the fact every night I am required to become a coconut flavored lollipop.

So the moral of the story is: think about your every action when it comes to your pups/offspring! It may only take a second and not seem like a big deal at the time, but if you do something for your babies once, the 7,529,462 times you will have to repeat it will wear you down.

And for the record – child approved….

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Poodle approved….

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Rabid Ramblings – The Hunt for the Santa Human

Sherlock speaking to you today.

Shasta and I have just a few more days to perfect our plans for catching the Santa human this year. Last year, due to something I am sure was Shasta’s fault, we missed the guy. And honestly, we are both more excited about getting our bark on at his reindeer than the fat man himself.  So now we are reviewing what went wrong last year.

We started by checking to make sure he hadn’t already snuck in and left things under the tree. Shasta checked the big tree and I looked under some of the small ones.

What is under the treeis this eadable

I checked in the dining room and kitchen. Shasta checked in the bedrooms and bathrooms. And then we both looked around outside. We were sure he hadn’t been around yet.

xmas dining table3  silver tree onexmas outside

 

I even ask the quite guy if he had seen Santa and only got more cold shoulder.

friend or foe

We sat down and had a chat about where the red guy would come in at.

sofa one

relaxing

Shasta had paid more attention to the TV and said he always came in from the roof. And it was that moment we were both sure we heard him land. We raced up the stairs.

santa on the roof

But it was clearly just a roof rat because there was no smell of reindeer anywhere up there. We were dejected and headed down to think some more.

our job is done

After we brain stormed for a while we came up with an idea. I would watch the top of the stairs to the roof.

top of stairs one

And Shasta would stay at the bottom on the first floor in case he was lazy and came through the front door.

bottom of stairs

 

Eventually we gave up. I’m sure Shasta gave up first.

sleepy

But I wasn’t too far behind.

enjoying

 

Momma Mim told us he wasn’t coming to our house because of the way we treated his effigy and the way Shasta and Shandy had been to an elf.

killing santa not sharing shandy

We know she is kidding though. We have done worse things in the past and he still came. So here is our plan. We are booby trapping the place. I put our toys everywhere and Shasta gathered all our bones to put on the stairs. The big fellow is sure to trip and fall and then…. those reindeer are ours.

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And we are going to stay alert.

santa watch

Well, at least one of us will. Sigh……

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Regardless, I hope you all have happy holidays and your wishes come true. And Momma Mim says to add, “Peace on earth and good will towards man and poodles.” (Okay – I added the poodle part. But we deserve some good will too 🙂

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