…this is Frasier.
Frasier endured a traumatic experience this morning when he was given a bath. Once the ordeal was finally over and he rushed outside, what was the first thing he did? Pee on the trash can near the entrance.
For just $34.95, I may have to buy it.
This morning I woke up close to an hour earlier than normal, and yet somehow, even before my alarm was set to go off, Frasier knew that it was time to wake up. Half the time I don’t even need to set an alarm because I know he’ll wake up just in time. Whether it’s because he knows it’s time to go for a walk or he’s just being courteous remains debatable, although I’m sure it’s the former.
Sometimes, though, it’s just plain spooky how he *knows* things before they even happen. He knows when it’s time to go for a walk, he knows when it’s time to go to bed and wake up and yes, he knows when it’s time to go to Dunkin Donuts.
I saw several stray dogs on my way to work today, plus one before I left that had fortunately only wandered out of his yard. If nothing else, at least Frasier knows how to follow me around wherever I go.
Forced photo shoots are the best.
If you really want to study canine social interaction, check out this book called On Talking Terms with Dogs: Calming Signals by Turid Rugaas. And if you’re looking for a worthy dog cause, check out the MuttNation Foundation!
I will be the first (well, maybe a close second) to admit that I have a tendency to whine; to be a little snotty. Sometimes it just comes so naturally I can’t even help it. Other times I actually think about it, and then it still just happens.
Either way, it’s good to know that even back in the day my gram could still appreciate my snottiness.
*Because w(h)ine comes from grapes … get it?? Hehehe.
I have a love/hate relationship with cleaning.* I don’t exactly like to do it, but I can’t help myself and feel so much better after I do.
For the past few weeks I knew I had to clean my fan as a thin layer of dust had settled on the blades, but I was dreading taking it apart; mainly because I couldn’t figure it out.
Finally, however, after discovering a pointless screw at the base of the fan, I succeeded. But I was left wanting this fan: a Dyson Air Multiplier.
Life would just be easier with one. Too bad they retail for $300.
*Yes, this is a blog post about cleaning. Sorry, but it just had to be said.
This past weekend, my dad and I took Frasier to Dog Days at Cantigny Park in Wheaton. While this is an annual event at the park, it was only Frasier’s first experience socializing with other dogs outside of his evenings at the dog park and his one time at the dog beach, and it was quite the affair.
From the countless rescue groups like Greyhounds Only, Inc., to Save-A-Vet.org, which rescues military and law enforcement working dogs, to Fido to Go, a canine catering food truck, there was something for everyone, whether human or pooch.
Although Frasier failed miserably at the Peanut Butter Lick contest, he was the epitome of a good dog throughout the whole event.
En route. Frasier knew something fun was ahead.
Right before the Peanut Butter Lick contest.
Exploring the tents.
Watching the military simulation.
Showing off his new (free) bandana.
One pooped pup.
Yesterday morning I was forced to go where no one ever wants to go: the dentist. To have three cavities filled, no less. Not only do I despise going to the dentist (thanks to the very first dentist I ever had who was as rude and obnoxious as they come), but I am severely proud of the fact that I have managed to avoid all said cavities for the last 10 to 12 years.
Until approximately three weeks ago. I blame the Twizzlers and Hot Tamales I’ve come to love so much.
In addition to having the three cavities filled, I also had to have an old filling replaced with whatever new-fangled “dental restorative material” they use now.
While I have nothing but good things to say about my now dentist–who I only just started going to last month–he fell prey to one of the most annoying habits a dentist can possess: talking to you when your entire jaw is numb, you can’t feel your tongue and your mouth is filled with cotton swabs and bizarre contraptions used to make sure your mouth is held open at just the right angle. No, I can’t respond to your inane questions, I can barely swallow.
All irritability aside, I am now cavity free and don’t have to see the dentist again until 2012. I’ve also learned to never underestimate a dentist you truly like. You only have one smile, people.
photo via pinterest.