My Little Senior Citizen...

Buster occasionally has what I like to call, senior moments. The first one I ever witnessed happened when the doorbell rang and he ran into the the kitchen. He regained his composure once I reminded him that the sound was, in fact, coming from the front door and he happily trotted off in that direction. I guess I should have suspected early on that he has these sorts of special moments. When I first adopted him, I kept him in the kitchen during the day while I was at work, and more than once at the end of the day I found him staring up at a blank wall. At the time I assumed he was working out a complicated mathematical proof or charting his next cartography project. *I have different theories about how he spends his alone time.* Anyhow, last week's senior moment topped any thus far. As I was opening the front door, I could hear him barking. I opened the door slowly because he is usually waiting for me right as the door opens. He was not, however, there. Odd, I thought, but I could still hear him barking so I proceeded into the apartment. He was not in the bathroom, nor was he in his bed. I looked around my apartment, which is to say I looked on the other side of my bed. Finally, I walked over to the kitchen and poked my head around the corner. And a certain someone was standing there, facing one of the cabinets barking at it like a madman. Unfortunately, I didn't have a chance to hear the cabinet's side of the story in what was clearly a heated debate.

Sudsy McSudsalot

As we all do, the wee one gets stinky after a while. I gave him a bath this past Friday, and he acted as he normally does once he is placed in the tub: utterly defeated. Unfortunately, there is no video footage available of me chasing him around the apartment afterwards with a blow dryer in one hand and a towel in the other. I think he rather enjoys turning the tables on me and obtaining the upper hand after such bathytime humiliation.

I'm Sorry, I Didn't Quite Catch What You Were Saying...

Occasionally Buster attempts to make his wishes known to me. I'm fairly certain if it could be translated, I would come to find out that he is saying "treats, treats, treats, treats, treats, treats", but that's just an educated guess. *I apologize for the static...*

Mr. Lookout Take Two

Out of nowhere a few months ago Buster finally noticed that we had a sliding glass door in the apartment. So I don't think it's entirely unfair to say he isn't exactly observant, but perhaps in the end the joke is on me. I also thought he was deaf for the first few months that I had him. Turns out he is just really good at pretending I'm not there. Anyhow, once he finally did notice that there was a huge glass door, neither hell nor high water could have dragged him away. He stood there staring out for a good 10 minutes. And when I tell you nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing was out there I am not remotely exaggerating. And yet, you never would have guessed by looking at him....

Did Somebody Say Nitty-Gritty?

Growing up, my brother and I were very attached to our various pets, particularly our dogs. I can't remember exactly how old we were when we invented the "dog voice" or how it even came about, though I vaguely remember a Texas Instrument tape recorder being involved as my brother and I liked to record our own voices and then listen to the tapes over and over again. A slightly odd form of entertainment, I'll grant you, but my parents didn't get us cable until we were much much older. Needless to say the "dog voice" has been around since we were very wee. Anyone who has known me a while has probably heard me use it when addressing a dog I meet on the street or more likely when speaking to my brother on the phone. There's no real way to describe the dog voice, though it has been known to degenerate into high pitched shrieking much to mother's non-delight. Along with the "dog voice" we invented various words as well, the most notable one being "nitty gritty", which for some reason or another was what we called the very small lower teeth in each of our dog's mouths. The only problem being, somewhere along the line I forgot that the only other person who knew what I was referring to when I said "nitty gritty" was my brother, not say a fellow dog owner or more importantly Buster's vet. So you can imagine who the first person was that I called when I first realized that the little one was in fact MISSING one of his nitty grittys. And, yes, the two of us have been discussing it's notable absence in the dog voice ever since.

O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree...

I'm sure if Buster could, he would attest to the fact that I listen to Xmas music out of season, which is to say year-round. I actually force myself to pack away my dvd of Elf so I won't get sick of it by watching it too much in the off-season, though in actuality I think that is highly improbable. "Does it have sugar in it? Then yes." Anyhoodle, being a Xmas freak, I am, of course, already thinking about this year's card. Last year, I forced him to pose looking like the above picture. It was sheer luck that I managed to get the picture, probably because the elastic around his wee neck was kind of impairing his breathing. So, of course, after the photo was taken they were promptly removed.

I'll Have Some Cheese, with a Side of Cheese, and a Glass of Cheese, Please

It is a well-known fact that Buster lurves himself some cheese. My mother actually made the discovery when hiding one of his many pills in a yummy orangey piece of velveeta, and ever since then there has been no going back. With all the meds he gets, he gets a little bit of cheese every morning and every night to go with them. It's the spoonful of sugar that makes his medicine go down. And if I'm not 100% careful, he will eat the cheese off the pill and leave the pill all gross and half melted on the kitchen floor. Someone has to keep mum on her toes! Anyhow, my most favorite picture I have ever taken of the little one is this one. To better explain his expression, I'm holding the camera, eating a piece of...wait for it....cheese.

Oh the Humiliation and at the Hands of My Own Mother...

I picked up this raincoat for Buster in CT one weekend. He never officially wore it for anything other than these pictures, but it was worth every penny. I showed the pictures to a co-worker, who said he looked like a yellow sausage. Maybe someone isn't going to be the next Jenny Craig spokesperson as soon as I thought...

Well, Hello There, Mr. Debonair

Even though for the most part I think winter coats or gear in general for dogs is pretty much unneccessary, that doesn't mean I don't find it highly amusing. That being said, Buster found himself the proud owner of a faux shearling jacket last winter. To say he hated it would be the understatement of the year. Some mornings he would press himself against the wall as to prevent me from getting it on him. Though he quickly learned, I would not be so easily deterred, particularly when the activity provides me with endless gigggling. And there may have been an unfortunate incident or two where I didn't quite put it on him properly, but what first-time mother doesn't make a mistake like that now and again? Anyhow, I must get a picture of him with the collar flipped up because I swear it makes him look like a young Burt Reynolds.

Quiet Time with an Old Friend

I don't know much about Buster's past, but I don't think he had any toys or really had anyone to play with him as a puppy because he shows zero interest in toys or playing in general.
Of course, that hasn't stopped anyone from getting him little friends once and a while. He mostly uses them as pillows, but occasionally he'll look like he's having a heart-to-heart with one of them. Like Mr. Squirrel here, which was a gift from my adorable grandmother. Knowing Buster, they are probably discussing Joyce's Ulysses or something of the like. He can be such a literary snob sometimes...

Yummy, Yummy, I Have Frosty Paws in My Tummy

This summer I entered Buster into a photo contest for Frosty Paws. The winner would get a year's supply of the frozen treats. It is a mystery to me how the little man didn't win, but I guess his mum failed him with not enough product placement. But I love his expression in the picture next to the chair, he's apparently had enough of my antics and clearly doesn't appreciate that I've placed it out of reach...

Mr. Lookout

Buster spends most of his time sitting on his bed staring at the door. It is unclear who or what he is waiting for, but whatever he is doing, at the very least, I have to commend him on his commitment to the task. For the most part I think he is driven by his ever hopefulness that food will be delivered soon. Occassionally though, he'll mix it up a bit and stand guard over his favorite place in the apartment--the place where the treats are kept.

Oh, Frosty Muzzle

As senior citizens often do, Buster has gone a bit grey. Personally, I like his frosty muzzle. I think it makes him look like his Uncle Marco.

Buster's Battle of the Belly Bulge

Much like Kirstie Alley and Eddie Van Halen's ex-wife, Buster has waged an endless battle with his "bulkiness". After I adopted him, we worked hard to lose those pesky pounds. And while he is much a more svelte senior these days, his "problem area" just won't go away. A picture that clearly demonstrates what someone's "problem area" is. Ahem.

Buster Begins a Blog

Buster is a 9 year old Chi/Corgi mix rescue dog. He came into my life one year ago this October, and he is an utter delight. He enjoys cheese, belly rubs, supervising his mum in the kitchen, and long snoozes. At left is the first picture of Buster his mum ever took of him.