Here’s their “report card” from their last stay.

None of this surprises me. Max (I can’t believe he’s 7-8 years old already!) loves to be pet and snuggled. He’s my lap dog. Ollie (I wonder if he answered at all to “Oliver” while there since he never hears it at home.) will fetch and fetch until he drops over from exhaustion. Fetching is his job.

I also love the “I was a little messy” part. Atta boys. You trash that hotel room.

They were playing with the stuffed frog next to my feet when I snapped this one.

September marked Ollie’s 2-year-mark with us, and like magic something went off in his brain and he realized there’s a life above him. So now if I’ll be sitting on my chair he’ll walk over, put his two front paws on my chair and get completely excited about seeing what’s on my desk. Weird little dog.

It’s hard to believe that Max is 7 or 8 now and the only sign he shows of slowing down is that he lies down more. Otherwise he’s scheming ways to swipe the cat food without us looking or engaged in knock-down, drag-out, face-eating brawls with Ollie. He’s smaller than Ollie but he holds his own!

walkwalkwalkwalkwalkwalkwalk

Dreams:

1) giGANTic zit in my face and I had to go to work because I had no mire sick days left.

2) World of Warcraft is launching a new dungeon soon. That part is true. In my dream we got to tour the new dungeon. There were souvenir maps, placards indicating where the bad guys would be, and cake & coffee.

Ollie savors it:

But…guh. It casts a small shadow on my trip to know they’ll be there. Because I’m genetically predisposed to worry, here is an incomplete list of the things that have been dancing through my mind. This is mostly so I can see how dumb I’m being.

• They will be lonely without us.
• They will be frightened and think we’re never coming back.
• They will be cold.
• They will be hot.
• They will be afraid of the flappy doorway that will let them go outside and play
• One of them will lick the Frontline spot on the other, get poisoned and die.
• There’s a sadistic employee there who loves kicking dogs.
• They will go on a hunger strike.
• There won’t be a “double” available (‘though we reserved one) so they’ll get split up into separate pens and they’ll be doubly lonely and doubly scared.
• Ollie’s groomer will call the SPCA on us because his “thumbnails” are starting to curl back on themselves and his fur is matted under his front legs.
• The place will burn down.

Seeing that list makes me want to crawl into a hole. It’s also why WM gave me a Mother’s Day card from the pets this year.

Brothers and very best friends

Max: mom i dont think u shud go to werk today.
Ollie: (blank stare)
Max: dont u want to crall back into bed with us?
Ollie: (blank stare)
Max: aww. u r puting shoos on. shoos meen werk.
Ollie: i choo shoos
Max: can i at leest hav a treet?
Ollie: srsly

Note to new readers – Max is the brown terrier. He is 7. Ollie is the overgrown Cocker Spaniel. He is 18 months. When they appear, it indicates a lack of imagination on my part. Happy Monday!

The young’un is quite scrappy.

I spent this rainy day playing World of Warcraft.

But not nearly as hairy.