What Do You Mean I Stink?

Mom, I understand that our barking and howling at 4:30 this morning might have gotten you up on the wrong side of the bed, but did our morning really have to end in baths, again?

You've got to understand that we were noisy because something was out in our yard! We could hear it. When you let us out, we could SMELL it. And it smelled horribly glorious.

Now, I think you wouldn't have known we had had a little roll in muck, if only Olive Badger was not a white dog. As soon as you saw her, laying on your couch, all her white fur a brownish green color, you knew something was not good.

I hate to admit it, but I got a kick out of you carrying Olive into the bathroom for her bath. Ha, I thought! Olive Badger was sure a mess. Then you came out, with one sad wet dog, and checked Sarah Beagle. Uh-oh. Sarah was also a bit on the dirty side, so off she went to the bathroom too.

I still stayed on the couch, all sprawled out and feeling safe and secure that I would not have to a bath.

I forgot that you are pretty smart, Mom. You came out and headed right for me. I could feel your eyes checking me over and then you leaned close and sniffed.

What do you mean I stink?

I think it's obvious I thought it smelled great. I rolled in it enough to have gunk caked onto my neck fur.

Sad to say, in the battle of bath or no bath, I lost and am once again wet, disgruntled and smelling like shampoo.

But it was a glorious smell while it lasted! Totally worth it.

It's A Three Dog Nap Kind Of Day

This is what we do after a traumatic experience.

No, it wasn't the lack of sunshine and warm weather, or my visit to the vet (my eyes are getting better!) or that hot dogs were made for lunch and we did not get any.

It was much worse than that.

It was, my dear readers, Bath Day.

An event so traumatic, that the girls and I spend the rest of our day making nests out of blankets and pillows and getting all the furniture damp as we nap away the horror.

Mom had the audacity to complain that the house smelled weird, like wet dog.

Hmm. I wonder why? Could it be the three wet dogs, recently bathed?

Hmm?

Side note, my fur looks exceptionally glossy. That, I am sure, has nothing to do with the bath or the fur brushing I was forced to endure. My glossy fur is thanks to my good Beagle genes!

I Do Not Feel So Good

It was a normal Thursday afternoon. The kids let us out of our crates and we ate lunch and ran around and barked and enjoyed the sunshine.

But by dinner time, I did not feel so good. My family's first clue that all was not right was when the dinner call went out and I did not leave the nest I had made in Mom's bed.

My family, bless their dear hearts, immediately started looking for me. They found me in bed, in the dark, and when they turned on the lights, everyone gasped.

I guess I had the looks to match the bad way I felt.

My right eye was closed and swollen looking, while my left eye looked rolled back and the lids drooped a little.

Emergency call to the vet, where they told us to come on in. Then they saw me and said, take her to the emergency vet. I trembled. I drooled. I sat up and laid down in 30 second intervals. Whispered questions were asked of my family. Has she eaten anything bad? Snail poison? Maybe she had a seizure? Or a stroke.

Pizza was dropped off at the house for the kids, and I was not even slightly interested. I sat in the truck, between Mom and Dad and a pizza box, and I did not even sniff the air once. I was in bad shape.

The emergency vet place is actually quite nice. Everyone treated me nicely and they could tell I wasn't faking. After lots of tests, even had my blood sucked out into a tube, we got the news.

I have anterior uveitis. It's worse in my right eye, but my left eye was starting to look iffy. My pupil was the size of a pin head, and I could hardly see. And the pain! Oh, the pain. It hurt terribly. So now I'm on two different kinds of eye drops, one every six hours, and one every eight hours, and I have half a pain pill every 8 hours.

Those pain pills are marvelous. My family can tell when it's time for me to have one just by the way I hold my eyes half closed. As soon as it kicks in, I open my eyes, and even though they are cloudy, I can see well enough to go outside and bark.

It's going to be a long week of eye drops, but my reward is a bit of peanut butter! I love peanut butter.

Swedish Pancake Saturday!

No, this isn't the start of our fight club (which, by the way, we aren't supposed to talk about).

No, this is much more serious. We are waiting for Mom to stop dinking around taking pictures.

Our Swedish Pancakes are on the counter cooling down and we are so ready to eat! We had watched Mom make pancakes for 4 teenagers, and I'll be honest, towards the end of their eat fest, we were getting a little nervous that there wouldn't be enough batter left for us.

It was with great relief when we heard her say, "That's the last pancake for people. This last one is for the Girls."

Olive Badger calmed down and quite jumping at Mom's legs.

Sarah Beagle came out of her bed where she'd been heaving sighs of sadness.

And I, well, I stopped my pouting and started my dancing.

Swedish Pancake Saturday! It's the best day of the week! Followed closely by Regular Pancake Saturday and Waffle Saturday.....

Whose Rug Is That Anyway?

I think the rug that lies in front of the kitchen sink is for me. Mom thinks it is for her when she's doing the dishes. Olive Badger disagrees with both of us and thinks it should be her rug 24/7.

At least I have the decency to just hover by it while Mom stands there, up to her elbows in sudsy water and dirty dishes. Olive Badger lays there, waiting for Mom to make one little move, then Olive edges over. She acts put out when Mom steps back to what she thinks is her spot, only to find a fluffy Badger underfoot.

Mom, since you are taking a break to take our picture, do you think you could give us lunch? I've dragged my food bowl over here because I was going to sit on the rug waiting, as patient as I can, but there is the whole Badger issue.

It's hard to be patient when a Badger has taken over your rug. I'm sure you agree.