You can't see them -- but they're up there eating that steak and corn and purple potato salad and roasted tomato caprese and ice cream with roasted berries (for those of you who know her, Ina Garten is a favorite with our Mom). And do we get any. Nope. Never. How sad.
So it's time to chill and dream of kibble a la mode and wonder what life is all about.
Silent Sunday Selfie
20 hours ago


The first time he heard fireworks, his tail tucked under and his legs went limp and we had to carry him home. He still hates noises - which isn't unusual for many dogs - but he's learned to walk under an umbrella and the only outside thing that still sets him off is a little white dog who lives across the street -- we think he thinks she's a white squirrel. When she gets walked in the morning. he and Jake -- staring out the window from the bedroom -- start to bark in harmony -- no need for an alarm clock. And when we've had enough and try the LEAVE IT! routine, JH's bark turns into his own melody that's sweet and plaintive and almost heartbreaking. I call it Harry's song -- and one day I'll record it. (It goes on for about five minutes.)




But he hasn't lost his boyish enthusiasm. When it's time to go out, he stands close to the door with his tail wagging a mile a minute and his muzzle all a tremble-- am I going too? am I ? am I?