Husky Plucking Season is now open. This is bad news for Juno. There's nothing she loathes more than a mother plucker.
"Finally! Alone at last! I am free to express my Siberian softer side!"
Poor Loki stood outside the bedroom, hiding behind the door and refusing to go to bed. I invited him in, coddled and scratched his favorite places, but he only stood there, afraid. Something was wrong but for the life of me, I couldn't see the problem. So I brushed my teeth and ignored the situation, […]
Why is it, whenever I give the dogs a bath and lay out about 187 old towels and blankets for them to roll around on for drying off, the Sibe always insists on going straight to my prized handwoven Turkish rug to finish her drying? Remember that time when Mr. Wild Dingo and I were […]
It isn't easy being Mr. Wild Dingo. Because, I'm not so good with acronyms. Or names. Or numbers. He's always interpreting Wild Dingo-speak. Whenever I ask for the can of W4, Mr. Wild Dingo always replies "W4, WD40 whatever it takes."
This is as close to truffle hunting as I'm going to get for a long time. We found this gorgeous 'shroom in our dog garden. From the top it looked hideous so I picked it. I flipped it over and immediately felt sad for picking it.
"Our neighbors are pigs," said Mr. Wild Dingo. Now, we've lived in Santa Cruz mountains for many years and have had our fair share of neighbors with questionable habits such as decorating their garden with Budweiser cans or solving their leaking roofs with a blue tarp, every winter, year after year. As attractive as those blue […]
"Seriously? This is the first thing you took out of storage?"