My World of Parkinsonian Delights

Dogs. Everywhere. Dogs.

We have a dog infestation.  They’re everywhere.  You go to the kitchen and get yourself a cup of coffee?  BAM!  There’s a dog in your chair.  And if you notice, she is doing everything in her power NOT to look at me.  Because if Raven LOOKS at me, then she must acknowledge that I WANT to SIT in my CHAIR.  If she DOESN’T look at you, then she can claim culpable deniability — however that works in “dog politics.”

But, eventually, I reached my chair, put down my coffee cup and asked her, very politely, to “get down.”  Which she did.  Instantly.

"You made me MOVE!"

She hopped over to the couch, plopped down and put her face on the arm of the couch and gave me THIS look.

Now, I’m generally hardened to this sort of thing.  I’m not easily affected by the dirty looks I get from my dogs because there are so many of them I get every day.

But for some reason, this look cried out for attention.  So I pet her, stroked her fur and told her what a good girl she was.

It wasn’t enough.

Raven wanted a kiss.


A Dad does what a Dad has to do!

Kissy Kissy Kissy!

Our other dog, the German shepherd (or Dingo, we’re not really sure) Shiloh remained above it all.

Or below it.

"Nobody can see me cuz I'm HIDING!"

It’s a Saturday morning at the Schmalfeldt Dog Ranch, where temps are forecast — again — to reach the 100 degree mark.

I hate summer!

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