What an expression! Deadpan contempt for girlie dress up… Kenai 45 wks old
Kenai is acting like a man-snob again, turning up his snooty nose at a fleece coat. He’s not sure he likes this coat thing. “Does it make me look like a girl?”. “Am I wearing a skirt?”. “A little cutsie for me, ain’t it?”. “DO I look like a Yorkie to you?” Maybe he’ll like it better when he realizes it’s for playing outside this winter. Hum. He doesn’t change his mind easily.
Saturday’s run in the baseball diamonds was as thrilling as the last one. Sir Snobby ran like a lion, almost non stop. I would leave him sniffing at one fence, walk towards the second diamond and call him, and he would rocket right by going to the other fence.
I was startled how easily he came, too! Any excuse to really rip the terrain apparently. And the lack of critters helped I’m sure—nothing more interesting than me around. Wouldn’t it be great if we could do that in our field of battle? I draw the line at hanging dead rabbits and squirrels around my neck…
OMG how cold it was. Reminded me of a high school football game that was so arctic, coffee froze in thermoses. Mom’s lighter fluid froze and she was not happy about it. Okay, it wasn’t THAT cold Saturday morning, but cold enough to launch an all out search for the fleece doggie coat when we got home.
The coat itself is a handmedown, one I’d made for my late Taj to keep his tush warm. It’s essentially a horse blanket, slipping over the head, and a tail opening at the back. Being fleece, it doesn’t slide off one side or the other, either. I’m getting a sideways guess that this will soon be inherited by BB…BB’s not a snob. He’s a cartoon.
Kenai probably wants hunting haute couture, something in moose hide with a manly appeal. That or au natural…Snob! He’s not getting LL Bean for Christmas, no Cabala’s credit card, nor a weekend getaway in Fairbanks, either. He gets too haughty and I’ll put a pink argyle hoodie on him for spite.
I watched a show on Animal Planet last night, “Dogs 101”, that talked about several breeds. One was Great Danes, and they said the hunting, guarding, and working instincts were long ago bred out. Right. Allow me to introduce you to Kenai, AP. Another breed was the bloodhound. Okay, that’s where Kenai fits: so intensely involved in tracking a scent that owner’s commands go unheard.
My toffee tush is a throw back to olden days, the hunter and estate guarding dog. Sigh. He is awfully noble and gallant in spirit though, which is just who he is. (Smile). That’s my boy. We have one Stoic, and one Stumpy to enjoy for their individual personalities. The Brothers Grin are inimitable; Mr. Dignity and Mr. Mess, Zen Master of Vibes and Bump ‘n Wiggle Boy, Straight Line Wind and Gallopoling Gallop…
Sunday was a good day for Kenai, though you’d never know it to hear him whine so much. He was out in the UK not once, but twice for exercise. The weather was about 30 degrees warmer, and the sunshine was good. The downside was it made him hungry, hence the whining.
I serious considered throwing in an extra feeding just to hush him up! Jeez. Noisy boy. Just when we thought he was going to drive us nuts, he followed Mom to the bathroom and initiated himself some entertaining “Messing with Sasquatch” time.
He is hysterical doing that, barking, shaking the widows when he slaps down into a play bow, stomping his feet and whar-wharing at Mom. She makes faces at him sitting in a chair and he gets louder. She stands up and he leaps behind me, sticking his nose around one side of me to bark, then the other.
She stomps her foot and he whacks at it with one paw then retreats. If he gets too close she gooses his tush and he spins in circles a couple times, then play bows again…The two of them are a trip! The bathroom is the only place he does it, too.
Funny guy, having his MWS time with Mom makes him just about grin. He gets to be noisy and rambunctious, unless the tiger paws hit skin. Then he gets scolded. Mom’s skin is extremely fragile from years of gold injections for her arthritis, so pinching her can cause bruises and bleeding.
Kenai gets all concerned about blood on either of us, wanting to lick at the spot and leaning ever so gently against you. Bear boy fix it. He’s a sweetie, though he forgets himself from time to time and inflicts a scratch or two himself in the throes of play fun. Then he gets all sad and tries to fix it. What a love.
Monday involved a trip to the vet for BB, so I made use of it for a weigh in on both boys (separately of course—2 Danes in a small lobby?). I’ve missed a couple updates on my guy’s growth page, forgetful creature that I am. Oops. We weighed the wumps and went home after Beeb’s appt. It wasn’t a warm enough day to linger around town!
The UK (unmovable kennel) is in a rather protected sunny spot, so we had some fun time chasing his squeaky bone and playing touch the tushie as he ran past. It’s the best game for setting off goober runs! If I get touch his rump too many times in a row, he gets all goofy and has to do goober runs to get the silliness out of his system.
I guess it’s like playing tag when we were kids, getting that adrenaline tingle when “it” almost gets you. Or when the creature in the haunted house is running along behind you and everyone is freaking to go faster. EEEECH! Whatever it is, Kenai loves the “touch your tushie” game, and the resulting zoomies.
He was panting when we went inside, and the evening was nice and peaceful. Peaceful is good.
Oh! He takes such great pictures! I just want to reach through my computer screen and squeeze!
That’s a hoot about the special you watched that mentioned the hunting instinct, etc., was “bred out”. Someone doesn’t own a dog.
Oh I LOVE his coat!! I’m going to email you and ask lots of questions! He looks soooo nice.
Ya, he and Partner have a lot in common. Running and smelling. I’d like to teach him the tush game. It sounds like a good way to encourage him to come to me. I just need to find an enclosed area that’s empty at a reasonable time. I can’t believe the time you head out! You rise before the birds!!