It’s about a dog, but not just about a dog.
Really, it’s about life. And how dogs wriggle their way in and out and make a house a home. They are the children that never grow up. Never decide that their parents are totally lame. Never strike out on their own. They give us their lives. Every single day. They give us every ounce of devotion and quirk. And they give us this in far too little time. We need more years than they do to express our love and devotion.
And more than that again. Buy the book. You’ll understand. That link helps support this blog.
If you aren’t convinced, go read the archives over and Brigid’s place and buy it straight from her. I’m proud to call her a friend.
Yeah, totally stealing Phlegmfatale‘s schtick, but who could possibly resist that face?
Besides, this was the divine Ms. Phlegmmy’s couch. I can prove it. Here’s Heidi chillin’ with one of the regular Sunday, Puppy Sunday Stars, the one-and-only Praline
There exists a picture of all the dogs of the house, but since I’m obviously getting “the look” from the Alpha Dog Himself, I think I best keep that one to myself.
You know, I’ve made some pretty great thrift store finds, but my brother made the best one. And seeing as how there’s a no return policy, he married her yesterday. I even polished up my horns for the occasion. It’s not every day a girl gets a new sister, you know.
Congratulations, big brother. Here’s to many happy years!
As my darling husband has mentioned, we’ve been dusting off the old video game consoles and blowing out the cartridges with TeenBot. The family that stomps enemies together, stays together, right?
Anyway. So we found ourselves at the local fairgrounds this weekend, not for the fun show, but for the inaugural Super BitCon. Yes, there was geeking (so much so that I made a verb). And cosplayers! I’m no EpBot, but I did capture a few for your enjoyment.
Can’t go wrong with the classics. Although, I have to admit to being partial to the next one.
Happiest Mario ever. He was so excited when I asked him if I could take his picture that he almost forgot his hat. His sister, on the other hand
Jumped right up on the planter and gave me her fierce face.
Some of the vendors got in on the costume fun.
I don’t know who these two are supposed to be, but they are adorable. Feel free to educate me in the comments.
This guy just really wants to fit in. (You see what I did there?)
Really though, this last kid stole the show. He’s my absolute favorite.
I give you the winner of the cosplay contest!
Just look at the proud dad! Proof positive that geek is inherited. (We actually represented 3 generations at the Con. My dad came along for the fun.)
ETA: Here’s EvylRobot with the rest of the Cheetahman story.
Okay, so it was never Irish in the first place, but I’m certain when my teachers read through the rolls and found Jennifer Lynn Oclaray listed, they not only pondered the missing apostrophe, but they didn’t exactly expect the olive-skinned girl in the front row to answer to it. Or, at least the typically butchered pronunciation of it. (Oh-Clair-eee, if you’re curious.) And no, it does not include an apostrophe.
It’s not Irish; it’s Filipino, sort of. It’s at least what used to happen to immigrants names when they were imported. The intent was some melting pot blending effect, but I’m sure it wound up causing more than a little confusion in some cases. Like maybe in the case of a multi-lingual Pacific Islander with a decidedly diverse name*. Who also fell for a redhead, so I suppose I come by it honestly.
The rest of the heritage? Mutt. Fairly standard euro blend, good chunk of which is German (I look just like my mother if you can get past the fact that she’s a blue-eyed blond). I’m sure there’s some Irish in there somewhere, in spite of the lost non-Irish yet Irish sounding name.
All that is really just to say Sláinte! To all my Irish, Irish-ish, and fake Irish friends and other internet denizens. And please, drink a real beer, not that swill with the green dye. Don’t worry, I’m not pinching.
*My grandfather, specifically
It’s real! OldNFO wrote a book. And that means you, yes you, need to read a book. I have a copy before it was a real book so I’ll be treating myself to my very own dead tree version. You should too. (Psst-that’s my affiliate link. Go to OldNFO’s post for his. Also with links to Kindle and Nook versions.)
What are you waiting for? You could have this
Picture stolen from OldNFO
on your coffee table. You can even have it signed (visit NFO’s place for details).
Me? I’m not going to wait to have it signed. I’m just going to make sure I have it with me next time I see him in real life so he can roll his eyes and tell me I’m a brat in person.
Edit: Well that didn’t work too well. Sorry if you saw the gibberish
Took a school trip to the Oklahoma Aquarium last Friday. Thought I’d share some of my pictures with all of you.
We had a Starfish just letting it all hang out.
And just for Tam since she provided the nightmare fuel. I know, that’s a moray.
Gasp! I just showed you a beaver!
All the colors!
And what trip to the aquarium would be complete without cookbooks for all the things you just saw!
You can see the rest here.
I know, you love your dogs and cats. I do too. I stress and worry and get paranoid over the littlest things. I buy expensive dog food. The dog eats cat poop and sticks from the yard. Which I guess is alright because I also buy expensive cat food so I suppose she at least gets gourmet cat poop.
I get it, really. They are lumps of love that pull at your heartstrings and ask for so very little in return. They give you their whole lives. I even refer to myself as “Mama” in reference to my critters. My mother refers to herself as Heidi’s “gramma”.
And that’s fine. Cute even.
But understand that having pets is not the same as having kids.
The expectations are completely different. I expect my cat to want to cuddle up in my lap for his entire life. He will spend the rest of his days completely dependent on me. He will never become more than he is today. He doesn’t have to learn the hard lessons so he can make it on his own. The repercussions of his bad decisions consist of getting yelled at. I don’t need to instill a work ethic or worry about a college education for the cat.
Also, if I locked my kid in a box while I was away at work, I’d get arrested. Rightfully so.
It’s been a long time since my son wanted to cuddle with his mom. And that’s good thing. You see, as a parent, my goal is to work myself out of a job. One day, my son will be an autonomous adult. That is, if I’m doing my job correctly.
As parents, sometimes we have to make gut-wrenching decisions. We have to take away the one big thing that is our child’s whole world. It really does hurt us more than it hurts them even though they won’t realize it until years later. It would hurt our children far more in the long run if we didn’t teach them those lessons now.
The dog? She’ll keep chasing toads no matter how often I scold her. She’ll roll in the nastiest thing in the yard and continue to be so very proud of it.
Be a pet parent. Be proud of it. Just don’t try to tell me it’s just like having kids.