Lupin Lions

It was a glorious Spring day with Loopy Loops in full bloom, spreading out a field of lupins for the pups to play in as they filled their nostrils with the sweet effluvia of irridescent blossoms

Fuzzies Sneaking in the Bush

Right

Left

Inspector Fips

~Rompin Rosco!~

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Silence of the Fuzzies

Just gave Shnutz, FipsieWipsie and RoscoBosco MEATY BOWNES. It's suddenly very quiet around here.

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Loopy Loops (Map)

After our first year in Middletown, a neighbour told us of a wild-life reserve north of town on route 175.  He said the doggies would probably enjoy it.   This was good news; for, as I had mentioned to Dwight, one of the paradoxical problems with "the country" is that there are so few spaces that are open. 

So on some warm Spring day, we drove over to reserve.  There wasn't much there, except a gravel parking lot and lots of oaks, grass and mini-creeklets.  Perfect!

There weren't even any trails to speak of, except one that intersected the reserve east west and another that more or less circled the whole park.   People dogs and horses and cut their own informal trails here and there, which looped around through the oaks.   Over time, I gave the trails name, as no doubt the doggies identitified them by nose-sakes.

The Demands of the Day

To a dear friend with a Seasonal birthday:

There are two ways to look at this sort of thing, as illustrated by Fips and Rosco on that other person's birthday.... Both doggies got BIG real bones with an inch diameter of juicy marrow and lots of fat, meat and gristle. Rosco jumps and grabbing his runs off to a private corner where he spends the rest of the afternoon chewing and gnawing in mindless contentment. Fipsie, jumps, grabs and then spends the entire next 12 hours sitting there sullenly guarding the great treasure, looking at everyone with suspicious and worried eyes.

I hope you have a ROSCO kind of day.

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An Equivocally Merry Christmas

I figured it would be a good day to take Fips and Rosco to the mountin'. We climbed to the half way point and then sat there looking out over Napa Valley as the wind blew through our hair. It was a lovely clear day.

On the way down we met a 1/2 wolf - Dalmation. The wolf was pretty impressive, but I asked its owner to hold him back from sniffing at Fips, because Fips would probably get scared and snap. The guy looked at me like I was nuts. Fortunately nothing happened....

When we got home, I gave the doggies their (thawed) presents.

Jumping quivers of expectation!

Rosco tooks his and ran to the dinning room where he immediately began to gnaw, gnaw and gnaw happily.

Fips.... well Fips sat there and looked worried. An hour later he was still sitting there looking worried. Argggh!

Meanwhile Rosco is outside looking for a good treasure trove spot, running around with his bone in his mouth.

Fips remains grim. Of course, I leave him alone and go to the office. He follows me there, with his bone and sits under the chair but grumbles when I pet him. After a while, I get up and go lie down. He follows with his bone, and lies beside me. I can pet him, but he's still just into possessing.

It's much the same 7 hours later. Rosco has buried and unburied his now dirt-caked bone several times. Fips is basically still guarding his treasure. I hope he gets around to enjoying sometime. He can be petted now but I can tell he's still touchy.

What a dog!

I gave 'Shnuts and doofy Bear their bones. Shnuts, hugged my leg, took hers and ran off somewhere. Duffy looked at me in momentary astonsihment: For meeeee? Last I saw him he hadn't budged from the gate and was chewing away.

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Roamin' Rosco

Arrgh.......

Tonight, as I'm falling asleep, I notice a certain lightness of missing fuzzy butts. I reach for the flashlight and see Fips staring out the dining room window into the dark. But where is Rosci? Sigh... Not again!

I get up and flash around the garden. No sign of number two. I call out and check around the house, but there is nothing. Merde.

I pull on some pants and a tee, leash Fips and head out the gate. I'm hoping Fips will smell the right way. He turns left and we head down Hilderbrand. This makes sense because that's were the current bitch-in-heat lives.

Two houses down and we're joined by Peanuts and Bear who make total pests of themselves, quite obviously thinking, "Oooh, this is FUN!" Fipsie more or less makes a bee-line for the bitch's house. When we get there, the troop of us walk half way down the driveway, as I start to call out softly. The guy's truck is there, but all the lights are off and I don't want to start banging on his door. Not at one in the morning. I wait around hoping to hear or see some sign of Rosco chasing and humping. But it's total silence. Merde.

Now I'm worried and wish I had taken the truck. If Rosci's not here he could be anywhere and that includes the highway. I'm also sweaty and clammy since its chilly outside. In Anglo-Saxon, !F&@*$%#!!

Shooing Peanuts and Bear away, Fips and I head back home where, very very carefully, so as not to run over anything dark and fuzzy, I back the truck out. Talk about "tension city!" I head down Mirabel, parallel to the highway, all the way to end, hoping to catch a trotting Rosco in my high beams. Still nothing.

I drive back up on the highway hoping like hell that that's not where he's at... Nothing. The shape I saw on the turn out, turns out to be a paper bag. Whew!....

Back down Hilderbrand. Still absolutely no sign of Rosco.

I return home and wonder if it would do any good to call Michael. Really! What am I thinking, or not? I decide to take another walk down Mirabel. This time I put on my jacket. As I get to the gate... there is Mr. Fuzzy Butt himself, panting and ...I suppose... wondering when I'm going to snap to and open up.

Fips is all kissy poos and runs very right next to his bro. Rosco could care less and makes for the toilet. Slurp, slurp, slurp. It is now 1.59 AM and instead of getting a good early night's sleep, I'm going to get drunk. I still have no idea where the hell Rosco went.

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A Common Appreciation

All concerned -- two cats, two fuzzy-butts and one bi-ped -- are gratefully cool and happy in the wafting chills of insta-arctic. We all spent most of the day sitting in front of the damn thing, just appreciating cold air. Ah the simple things of life.

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