I believe that some people are under the impression that upkeep on a dog blog is of more importance than upkeep on the actual dogs in said blog. With our normal doggy activities, the frigid weather, the holiday season, and my trying to gain what I have heard people refer to as "a life" ... the blog has taken a bit of a back seat. I do promise, though, that as soon as something exciting and blog-worthy happens, it will be posted here! PROMISE!
In the mean time, to appease the masses, I have some random "playing in the snow" pictures.
I will precede the pictures with a statement, a wish, if you may ...
This year for Christmas I wish for dogs that play normally.
At the present moment I have dogs that play like vicious beasts. It most often looks like a blurry blob of fur and fangs. Like this ...
And to accompany the flying fur and fangs are ear-splitting war cries. Gio, the big burly dog that he is, has a substantial and believable "I'm gonna eat you" war cry. Romeo, on the other hand, has a war cry that could more easily be interpretted as "Oh my God, I'm dying!". Together, it sounds, and often appears, as if big nasty Gio is tearing poor helpless Romeo to shreds. Though, if you hung around long enough, you would notice that it is Romeo that emerges from these play sessions with hair stuck in his teeth. Honestly, I swear it people, my dogs are not eating each other. They really do play like this ... REALLY! No need to walk swiftly past, shooting glares of disgust my way for having vicious baby-killing long-haired Pit Bulls*.
I often have to intercept such play sessions with my own "I mean business" war cry to get the vicious beasts to settle down and play quietly before we are kicked out of our "no dogs allowed" vacant school park by the residents of the surrounding apartment blocks.
Quiet play sessions are short, and frequently interrupted by barking "I'm gonna eat you" play sessions. But when they do happen, they are enjoyable.
Gio snurfles around in the snow, often breaking into a gallop to skim through snow drifts with an open mouth. Commonly referred to as the Sheltie Snow Plow.
Today, during one of Gio's snow plow excursions, he CAUGHT A BIRD! And by "caught" I really mean "found" and by "bird" I really mean "the leftover remains of a kitty snack that had a couple feathers still attached so I can be reasonably secure in saying that it was once a bird". He was very proud of his catch and tried to disguise his frantic crunching by turning his back to me. Despite first appearances, I actually am a little bit smarter than that. Luckily, we play the "drop it" game a lot, so I was able to trick him into dropping his prize by excitedly saying "drop it". Usually this means that he gets a cookie. Usually.
Recognizing that he was thwarted, he left his prize and sulked off to survey his land.
And what, you may ask, was Romeo doing this whole time?
Romeo finds no joy in exploring. Though maybe it is because he hasn't "caught" a "bird" of his own yet. So until he does, he spends most of his park visits playing "I'm gonna eat you" with Gio. And when he isn't doing that, he stands in front of me and stares. It's a little disconcerting at first, but you get over it quick enough.
* Please note, I adore bully breeds (in the capable hands of the proper owner) and have swooned over a number of them in my time. The sentence to which this footnote refers should be read with the utmost degree of sarcasm. Throw in a good ol' eye-roll for good measure.