Thor-in-a-box

My parents gave us a lovely wooden bench to sit on our back porch. It has a nifty little area that opens up and allows you to put junk and whatnots inside. We generally use it to keep our shoes in, but its most prominent occupant is an array of dog toys… and Thor knows it. So, every day, we let him outside to do his biz, and next thing I know, he’s sitting on the box, barking at us to open it for him and get out a tennis ball or frisbee and play. I’ve never met a dog more obsessed with toys.

Anyway, today he decided to stick his whole upper body in the box and Ryan just so happened to help his back end in the box too. So, there he sat. In his little toybox, staring at me like, “where did all the toys go?”

Pretty boy…

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Thor in a Box

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My pretty red boy

 

These photos were taken with my Canon 6D and 50mm f/1.2L lens in mid to late evening light. Adjusted in Lightroom.

Saint PAWtrick’s Day

As some of you already know, I live in a town named Dublin, which is located in the middle Georgia area. It was named by (you guessed it!) Irish settlers who thought the land reminded them of home. (I wish…) Dublin is about halfway between Atlanta and Savannah, which made it useful in trade of agricultural, textile, and other trading. It was also chosen as the site for a Naval Hospital, built in 1945 to convalesce those suffering from Rheumatic Fever. It is now the Carl Vinson VA hospital, which is where I work. I love my job, and Dublin is a nice enough town of roughly 16,000 people.

Anyway, I ramble… The town is named DUBLIN, after Dublin, Ireland… and of course, Saint Patrick’s Day is kind of a big deal around here. The town hosts a parade and other family activities. It’s a lot less boozier than Savannah, but kid-friendly, and makes things interesting for the locals. I’m not Irish at all (or at least that I know of… I’m Scottish, English, Cuban, Spanish, and Italian, actually… I describe myself as 25% Hispanic and 75% Generic White Girl) BUT I enjoy any kind of holiday and an excuse to act sillier than usual.

The Humane Society got in on the action, hosting a “St. PAWtrick’s Day” Dog Costume contest. And of course, since I am the volunteer photographer for the shelter, I was asked to come on down and shoot the event. It was going in the paper, website, and Facebook page, so, off I go with my camera in tow.

It was pretty cute… Here are a few of my favorites:

StPawtricks14-22 StPawtricks14-28

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Miss Livi {Pet Photography}

Miss Livi tends to get overshadowed by my dogs often in my work… but she is beautiful and deserves some attention as well.Β She got some catnip for Christmas in the stocking from her “Grandma”, so I took a cute picture of her rolling around under the bed the other day after playing in it.

Livi

LIVIplaying

Canon 6D with 50mm f/1.2L in low light room, no flash (under the bed) πŸ™‚

Doggy Bath Day

One of the best parts of my weekend is that one of those days, my puppies get their weekly bath. In general, dogs tend to smell unpleasant after a week of running around outside, playing rough, and not getting their bottoms cleaned. Think about it… you would too, if you didn’t bathe but every 7 days.

I decided to document the event in photos. (Ryan said I was mean to just stand there and take pictures.) Personally, I think dog bath pictures are pretty fun.

Duncan

Duncan

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Buckley

Thor

Thor

 

Bonus πŸ™‚

Buckley B&W

Buckley B&W

 

Canon 6D and 50mm f/1.2L

A Shag Rug and The Number 2

When I first moved to Savannah, my Dad did me a solid and offered to buy me some furniture so I wouldn’t have to sit indian style on my apartment floor while I ate my shrimp-flavored Ramen noodles. He took me to Rooms to Go and let me pick out a couch, a matching chair, and a set of tables. Because I was such a wonderful kid and made his heart swell with pride for starting pharmacy school, he even let me get a matching shag rug to go with the set. It was the best rug.

That living room set endured a hell of a lot.

One Sunday night, while I was diligently studying for Biochemistry, I left Baron (my miniature American Eskimo) unattended on the floor playing with his toys. He had been to the bathroom and was playing peacefully until bedtime… or so I thought. Suddenly, a horrendous smell crept through my olfactory, past my blood brain barrier. It was so offensive it cauterized my nostril hairs and resulted in a Niagra-esque cascade of tears. In search of the source of the odor, I scanned the room until my eyes fixated on my sweet little puppy. When our gaze met, he immediately interpreted this as an invitation to run batcrap crazy around the room. Before I could form the “N” in “NNNNOOOOOOOO!!!” he blazed past me, running circles, all over the rug, all over the couch, all over me, creating an all-encompassing vortex of sh*t and stink.

What I soon discovered was that Baron had produced the foulest of all poops on the rug (my beautiful rug), then proceeded to run circles through it more efficiently than any NASCAR driver I know… thus distributing it evenly all over the room. My fluffy white dog was now a gradient of doo-doo brown from his tip toes to his ears, and a feeling of helplessness overwhelmed me. I wept.

At this time, I concluded that there were 2 things that had to happen… Clean the dog. Clean the living room. Not in that order. Well, maybe in that order.

I grabbed the dog and threw him in the bathroom and slammed the door (as if he understood). I paced. I grabbed the cleaning supplies and emptied a bottle of Arm and Hammer on the carpet/rug/couch/chair. I called my Mom.

I’m sure she thought I was dying.

Me: *sobbing* “MOM OH MY GOD THERE IS CRAP EVERYWHERE AND BARON IS COVERED IN IT AND I AM COVERED IN IT AND THE RUG…. THE RUUUUGGGGGG. *incoherent babbling* IT’S ALL COVERED IN IT EVERYTHING EVERYWHERE AND I HAVE A TEST TOMORROW AT 8:00AM AND I AM GOING TO FAIL!!!”

Mom: “Okay. Baron. Number 2. Test. Gotcha. I’m on my way.”

And just like that, my Mother came to my rescue… all the way to Savannah. Mom of the freaking year.

I managed to wipe away my tears and wrangle Baron into the bathtub. I am pretty sure it was the worst bath of his life (and certain it was the worst bath of MY life). I uncapped the pet shampoo and covered him with the entire bottle. He was not happy, but neither was I. Unmerciful, yes. Cruel, no.

And I didn’t make an A on that Biochemistry test… or even a B that time… but I learned valuable lesson even more important than purine and pyrimidine synthesis…

Tears won’t wash away crap… but 16 ounces of “Perfect Coat: White Pearl”, 2 bottles of “Arm and Hammer Pet Stain and Odor Removal”, a roll of paper towels, and a phone call to Mama can sanitize even the most unfortunate “shituations”.

Baron

FYI… My arms aren’t that hairy… (that’s my Dad giving Baron a bath in the sink).
Baron now lives with my parents… NO, not because he made number 2 on my rug. I still love Baron very much. After my Dad was diagnosed with prostate cancer in 2009 and underwent a radical prostatectomy, he was forced into retirement. You could tell it was really weighing on him. When I visited home, he seemed to thoroughly enjoy the company of my dog, Baron. When I moved home for advanced rotations, my Dad became very attached to him, so when I left home again (this time permanently), I let Baron stay. While it was heartbreaking to give away my sweet little bundle of fluff, I knew it was a sacrifice that would be worth it for my Dad. Those two are inseparable and spend every minute together. I’ve never seen either of them happier… and by the way, my Dad has been completely cancer free for over 4 years now. πŸ™‚