Celebrations

This time of the year is special for everyone. Chanukah, Christmas., Kwanza, New Year's... But for me it's extra special because tomorrow, New Year's Day, is my Barkday. Yep, tomorrow I'll be nine years old. Nine! And I've lived all of that time -- except for the first two and a half months -- right here with my Mom and Dogdad.


It's an extra special time for them too though. A few days ago -- on December 28 -- they celebrated their tenth wedding anniversary. Yep. Ten. (I was going to ask why they spent more than a whole year without me -- but then I realized that was pretty silly, because I wasn't even born yet when they were married. Hehehehe. I guess even a smarty-pants like me can be dorkish from time to time. Or maybe I caught it from my doofus brother.)


So how did they celebrate? They went back to the place where Dogdad had proposed on July 28 of that year (2000).They toasted with Prosecco. They made their way down the narrow sea-grape-tree lined path. They walked on the beach, which was pretty much deserted because it was still a bit nippy (55F is nippy here in South Land). But they saw a bird. And some bird tracks. And heard the strains of bagpipes -- which turned out to be brothers practicing for a parental (second, we guess) wedding.



Unlike the past few years, we weren't with the folks over Christmas this year -- but our pal H.C. Bird, our intrepid heron-cam (NO relation to the evil heron who likes to eat kois chez les Lambs), flew with them, despite the cold (temperatures dropping to 17F or so) and caught lots of the action.

Like this snowfall which covered everything.




And this strange-looking person on her way to Christmas Eve service as the snow continued to fall.


And Dogdad's brother's house for the traditional Christmas Eve family get together...

The "fourth" generation cousins waiting patiently for Santa Claws.


The annual Christmas Story marathon.



The Christmas tree "before"

"During"...

And "after."
The next day, H.C. Bird accompanied the folks on a trip to Schlafly's Bottleworks for lunch with human brother and his wife and human sister and her fiancee (more celebrations this coming June!).

And finally, home to me and Just Harry.

So, now that they're home, having gone from this --

to this --

I'm looking forward to tomorrow.

Who knows what the New Year will bring!!! So I wish everybody -- the furry ones and their asssistants/ servants/ parental units/ companions/ peeps/ pinkies/ muzzers/ momsters (and popsters)/ mumsies/ mommis and daddis/ secretaries -- all the best in this New Year -- always promising, always unknown, always interesting!!!

Your pal,

Jake

We saw it!!

2:45 am, December 21, 2010:



Dogdad whispers to Mom, "Shall we get up?"



Mom whispers back to Dogdad, "Mmm?" "Will there be ice cream?"



And before we knew it, the humans were up, with robes on, asking us if we were coming too.



Dogdad reconnoitered outside in the front of our house and decided what we needed to see could be better seen from the fenced back patio. So out we went.



And this is what we saw (and Dogdad photographed):



Or at least I saw it, having sat down quietly while my brother, even in the dark, scurried around sniffing under the plants. (He is such a terrier!!!)

It was a spectacular sight, even so far away.



After a chilly while, we went back inside and sure enough, out came the ice cream -- and a lick of peanut butter for each of us.



And back to sleep for all.



Jake

"I won't eat my kibble unless I have some pumpkin!"

This is Jake's mom musing over what happened today. Usually Jake gets two meals a day. The finest of kibbles. Usually he eats hungrily, after making sure that his brother has gotten his own food. Sometimes, however, he doesn't eat right away and I'll spice things up with a bit of pumpkin.

This morning that's what happened: kibble in bowl, Jake looking at it disinterestedly, wandering around until I added the pumpkin, but then crunching merrily away. This evening, same scenario -- kibble in bowl, me in kitchen, Jake not eating. Suddenly I feel two paws scratching at my back insistently. Message clear. Out comes the pumpkin, in goes a spoonful into the bowl. Cue sound of happy dog crunching merrily away. Close in on empty bowl

Who says dogs can't talk?

Joan

Outdoor Christmas Photoshoot

I was looking at the calendar this morning and suddenly realized that it was December 12 -- 13 days until Christmas --- and we didn't have a holiday photo to send to our friends. So I asked Mom what the deal was.

"Well, Jakey, we can do an outdoor Christmas photoshoot today -- but you have to find your Christmas collars. If you don't, we'll just have to go with antlers."

"Rut roh, " I thought. You can imagine that those words helped me focus. And after a bit of head scratching, I remembered that our Christmas collars were probably upstairs with our wooly fisherman's sweaters in a bag from our Christmas trip last year to St. Loulis.

Yep, there they were -- along with two forgotten Christmas toys. So we put the collars on and out we went.

When we got outside in the backyard, Just Harry wasn't quite sure what to do. He remembered his elegant runway stint with Just Martha -- and was kind of confused at this low end photoshoot. "It will be OK," I said, "Trust me. Just do what I do."

So when Mom and Dogdad tried to capture our terrier cuteness, we were in pawfect sync. At my instructions, we looked to the left.

And we looked to the right.

We looked up. Way up.
And we looked down. And then, just when our folks thought we'd never get it right, we looked straight at them and asked, "Is this what you were hoping for?"

And finally, we got to play a bit with our new (year-old) toys.
Of course, JH had to have the toy I was playing with. Actually both toys. But that's my brother. What can I say???

Your pal,

Jake

We Ain't No Turkeys, but We Wuz Plucked...

... and clipped and scissored and -- all in the name of handsome. Sure, Mom says it's important that we wirey guys (and gals) take good care of our furs to avoid health problems -- and we do like to look sharp -- but it's not something we -- especially me -- enjoy. That I can tell you.

Remember all that stuff a few days ago about gratitude??? Sure. Am I supposed to be grateful for being forced to have my jacket stripped and then the rest of me subjected to the clippers? And my paws? DON'T TOUCH MY PAWS!!! I don't think so. Even if it's true that Dogdad is kind and gentle and only plucks the parts that don't hurt (too much), I do not like it. Not one bit.

Accordingly, I have a carefully developed avoidance strategy. Ask Mom. She'll tell you.

Usually we groom Jakey first. He doesn't seem to mind -- even though his fur is woolier and takes longer to do. He's a much more stoic dog, But when JH sees any of the "instruments of torture," i.e., comb, furminator, brush, clippers, scissors -- he disappears. So when Jack was ready for JH and we called him in a normal voice, no answer. I added a usually irresistible "treats for dogs" to the call. Still no answer.

So I began to search: Pillows under the chair by the window in the breakfast room? Bed next to the red chair in the corner of the living room? Comfy pad under the coffee table by the couch? Middle stair? Jakey's crate under the stairs (which Jake never uses and JH has adopted as his private retreat)? No sign of errant terrier.

But then, one more possibility: Next to Jakey's crate is a second crate in which JH eats his meals. In desperation, I looked in there and saw him huddled as far back in the corner of the crate, behind his food bowl, as he could get! Poor baby.

We didn't want to trick him, so Jack let out his traditional "Calling all dogs, Please report to the East Gate for your evening walk." That truly is irresistible. Off he went with Jake and JH and when they came back, the jig was up for one young WFT. Once the grooming has begun, though, he accepts it without much fuss-- except for the paws part.

Well, I got through it -- and I have to admit, I don't miss all that curly stiff around my face and the long black fur down my back. Yesterday we had a photo shoot outside and as you can see, I have my polka dots back -- and my brother can see again.

He consoled me for all my fears and told me to be on the look out for anything unusual in the neighborhood .Not so bad, I guess.

After we satisfied the folks' thirst to record our striking looks, Jake let me sit on his bench for awhile to chill. (It's truly Jake's Bench. Often when we come back from a walk, Jakey will jump on the bench to sit for awhile, catching the smells on the air and observing what's going on. JH never does that

Later, I settled down with my red rooster to ponder a new strategy.

And since Jake was so cool with me, letting me share his bench and explaining how to deal with life's apparent inevitabilities, I let him settle with one of the other toys I choose to call my own. Not that I want him to get used to too much brotherly love or anything... but it is the start of the holiday season and all that!!

Just Harry