grynche

Maybe I'll start calling him Prog. He doesn't respond to Skipper anyway.

Cue theme from Twilight Zone. Just this morning I wrote to a friend that I wondered just who had rescued whom. Later on a shopping for doggie things trip, I found a t-shirt with that saying on it, complete with pawprints. Yesterday he helped me rearrange The Lair so I can get to my work table. Somewhere in my stash, there is a tiny pipecleaner dog, same color as Skipper, that one of you wonderful Greenleafers sent me when I was building a dollhouse for the Humane Society fundraiser. [Twilight Zone theme encore] First mini methinks will be a teensy doghouse, with

The shelter staff person said they would notify his former owner and that the former owner had promised a letter to the new owner, me. Don't know if doggie visits are allowed, or if the former owner's condition would find a visit upsetting ... just have to wait and see.

I call him my upside down vampire. Not enough room in a poodle mouth for a set of terrier teeth. My darling Scottie found me; and somehow so did this little guy. His personality has already done a 180 in the few days he's owned me. He just doesn't seem to understand English. Sit, down, din-din, out, walkies, treat! -- all I get is a stare. Thanks for all the kind words and wishes. I'm going to send Skipper into the basement first ... those fangs'll scare away any monsters, y'think?

He's supposed to be a Westie/Miniature Poodle mix. Nice that he matches the rug, yes?

His name is supposed to be Skipper, but he has exceptionally selective hearing. I think "Hey, You" would work as well. There's a lot of belly to rub; fortunately he likes to walk and I'm expecting that spare tire to diminish in no time. He's part terrier; part poodle. Got that Terrier Butt Strut that I dearly love. From both of us, good to be home.

For the past 7 years, ever since my beloved Scottie died, I said to all and sundry that I'd never have another dog. She was special, she was the last, I never wanted to watch another dog die, I never wanted to feel that heartbreak again. Last Thursday, I clicked on the humane society web page. Why? Who knows. A 10 year old mixed breed with fangs, surrendered when his owner went into a nursing home. I remembered the hurt when I had to put my little darling into foster care when I was sick. Of course I adopted him the next day. Seems it doesn't have to be C

My heart breaks. There are so many Greenleaf furbabies at the Bridge, so many tears. But Sadie won't be alone. I'm certain my Fiona is hugging her right now.

Truly a handsome cat. How could we bear the loss of our furkids without the comfort of The Bridge? hugs.

Grinchy greetings and best wishes.

We're all gonna be elderly drivers some day. Just sayin'.

Thank you! That red roof was made of tin. We often fell asleep to the sound of raindrops plunking into a variety of containers scattered around the upstairs hall and bedrooms.

I finally made something. It's a Putz version of a house I lived in. Simplified a bit. I think there'll be glitter in my rug forever. It looked awfully tiny on that big empty table at the Fair. Hope it's not scared. Pics here: http://www.greenleafdollhouses.com/forum/index.php?app=gallery&image=82107