This is Ialli on the giant dog bed, which used to be the futon in the living room. But the frame broke so now it is 4 futon mattresses collected over the last ten years piled on top of eachother. I think it was originally intended to be for us, although there was some discussion about strategically placing a hookah in the middle of the floor and burn a few sticks of patchouli to complete the picture. This was back at Christmas. I think a real replacement is doubtful. But all the dogs are like "Hell, yeah! Look what the people got us!" It's got Ialli's seal of approval.
Who says a dog can't pick her own nose?
Daisy Grace of Influenza, the newest member of our pack. Shosha picked her up at the end of our driveway (we later found a bag of Scooby Snacks). And of course she has Parvo and Dr. McKee sends us home with these awful printouts of blood-soaked kennel cages. So we fixed her and now she's ours. She'll be a year old soon. We are all anticipating the next drop off come May or June. For the past three summers, we've had a little mongrel dropped at the end of the drive. And we kept two out of three.
Ialli in mid-flight.
The slimy, green appendage...
Ialli and Daisy. Daisy has taken the appendage. Ialli looks at me indignantly.
Flea-ona! I know everyone else thinks she's a smelly old fart, but I love Fiona. She can't help the way she smells. But she just had a bath yesterday and Berrigan has been doing a deep cleaning of her inner ear, which just makes me throw up a little in my mouth every time I see him doing it.
And here is the gentleman himself. Berrigan J. Berrigan. The pack-leader (despite his humble beginnings as a cardboard box drop off), licker of wounds, earwax, and eye-goop.
Happy girl.
Nostalgia.
