…for old people.
An iPad, a comfortable bed and a snoring Dachshund.
Welcome to 2022!
Hiya! They call me everything from Angel to Fluffy Butt. I love you!
Daisy is 14 today! Unfortunately she hates the camera… but here she is this morning.
Can’t deny I think my dogs are cuteness taken to the nth degree. Here, they’re watching a vehicle pulled up outside -the person inside obviously making room for someone to get into the passenger seat. They were absorbed by his every move but never made a sound after he first pulled up.
Our neighbor came out and got in the car and it pulled away. Silence. But they relaxed.
Badger is much more cunning than Daisy about the whole people coming and going thing. I’ve watched her wait until someone comes up the drive, navigates the side walk and at the moment they reach the door she goes full crazy dog. This activates Daisy, who adds to the general clatter of barks. It’s an uproar.
But… as soon as I reach the door it stops. Well, Badger stops. Daisy is feral, so crazy keening is her stock in trade. By that time Badger is at the door beside me, ready to meet friend or foe, mouth firmly shut.
I’m calling my yard a ‘garden’, if that’s alright? K.
Perhaps I need a third crepe to name ‘Love’. A red one!
So, the yard guy doesn’t know that Purple Heart is a valuable member of the garden community. Either of them! I am bereft, but they’re tough little monkeys; I’m sure they’ll be back soon.
She is actually tearing the rock apart. Daisy once ripped a lawnmower to pieces. Tires, rubber thingys that hang down, etc… We thought it was so incredibly cute we let her do it.
That’s who we are; enablers.
I’m currently working in the front. So far I’ve pared a bed of areca palms by half. It’s hot, nasty, ant riddled work, but satisfying. Pictures to follow. Of course.
…is a happy Dachshund.
The little auld lady, a.k.a. Her Majesty Queen Daisy, 13 years old, goes in for the kill. Er… up, rather.
Yep, it’s a mess out front but my back is bad at the mo.