Miss Sophie on the way to the Groomers. She’s fuzzy and she has no idea what’s in store for her.
Finally! After 4 years of trying, we finally scored a grooming slot at Hammond Groomers. I was excited to get the slot, because there is no way I can groom her here in the hotel. And BONUS! She no longer looks like her mother cut her hair.
Look at me being all drama queen down there. A big thank you to those of you who left comments and sent email and notes on facebook—I have a lovely set of friends. Y’all amaze me. I’m going to be OK–but I’ll send a group email when I have answers. Until then, we pray and pray and laugh at crazy dogs. It’s good therapy.
It’s a good thing you’re cute. That’s all I’m saying, dog.
You do not belong on my bed, in my studio, or in the laundry. Knock it off. And, yes, I know Snickers does it too, but we’re not talking about the cat. We’re talking about you. You, I still have some control over. Oh, and could you work on pooping the first time someone walks you in the rain? Thanks.
We get it, you’re hell’s little minion. Now, stop corrupting the dog or I’m going to get you generic cat food the next time I’m at the store.
UPDATED: Ms. Pamela of the lovely Beancounters went so far as to make a poster. Way to play along, Pam. Gold Star for YOU!
This dog has us in stitches. She has a serious addiction to a new bone she demands we keep in stock. I swear, she walks around with one of those things in her mouth and she looks like she’s smoking a cigar. “See my Â bone, my bone, my bone?” Yeah, we see it Miss Sophie. It’s a slimy mess. I think she chews on both ends just to make it harder for us to grab.
And she’s gaining weight. Â IZ insists on carrying her around like a suitcase. “Geeze, Soph, you weigh a ton!” Â So, we’ve been calling her Pudgums.
She hates us.
Anyhow, go ahead and caption this photo. I’ll print mine and IZ’s later, but I’m curious what you’ll say.