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redroanchroniclesThis is my dog Trudeau.
He is very regal. Very dignified. Sometimes he says that with great power comes great responsibility, and I can only assume that he knows this from experience.
Or else maybe he's talking about my power to give him dog cookies, and my responsibility to do so without delay.
Either way, it's true that he actually does have great power. His power is concentrated in his luxurious golden eyebrows, which he uses semaphore-style to communicate with me. The expression I've captured here means simultaneously, "I'm shy around cameras" and also, "Unless there is a treat in it for me."
His nose also is fairly magical. Not only is the world according to his nose just fascinating -- the "let's stop and enjoy the smell of this blade of grass for the next ten minutes, okay?" sort of fascinating -- but the nose itself is also intensely magnetic. You cannot help but want to kiss it.
Trudeau says that when they decide to make a coin with a likeness of his glorious visage, this might be good reference art. He's already told me to send a copy to the US Mint.
Trudeau's life is really hard. Ever since I first got him from the pound in November last year, things for him have just gone downhill.
For instance, I make him come to work with me, which is more or less like child labor. His job is to keep his couch from floating away, in case of any sudden failures of gravity. (Yes, it is his couch, which he occupies for 90% of the work day.) He also guards the copy machine, and if anyone comes too close to it he will act immediately by... er, wagging his tail until the person pets him.
And if that weren't hard enough, I also gave him extra duties as the company morale officer. If he were a human worker, all the touching, kissing and hugging he is subjected to by coworkers and visitors alike would no doubt lead to a massive sexual harassment lawsuit. It's really scandalous, what he has to put up with.
At home, things are even worse. His only confidant is this lobster. He tells it his secrets. With his teeth.
Trudeau and the lobster are inseparable. Unless you have another toy. Or a treat. Or it might be dinner time. Or you grab his leash. Or maybe there's an interesting noise. He's a man of action, our Trudeau.
Trudeau does not have any toys to play with, and we never play fetch or snuggle on the couch. If you were to write him a letterwelcoming him to Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry, you'd have to address it to our front closet. I never let him out.
He never gets to join in any reindeer games, even though he is very nearly reindeer-sized.
The lobster is in fact his only toy ever, and though he often dreams of having his very own squeaky beaver, his wicked auntiemalnpudl would never get him one.
He never gets to leave the house and, say, go for a nice walk along the river.
In fact, he never gets to go anywhere. I would never dream of taking him to the stable with me and distracting him with a huge, meaty bone while I worked horses. And I certainly wouldn't let him hang around with Juno, and she certainly wouldn't decide all on her own that she enjoys him and his shenanigans, and she would never be seen hanging around with the likes of him, not even for food bribes.
Wut?
Alright, Juno. Okay. It's a lie. It's all a lie. I just didn't want to admit that Trudeau is the most spoiled creature of all time, or that he's currently sleeping right next to me on the couch, or that after dinner every night all he wants from his existence is snuggle time.
For the record, Juno likes to hang around with Trudeau even when there isn't food in it for her. She's just a caretaker. She seems think it must suck for him to be tied to that fence and everything, so she just stands there with him. It's so adorable, I hardly even believe it when I see it.
He is very regal. Very dignified. Sometimes he says that with great power comes great responsibility, and I can only assume that he knows this from experience.
Or else maybe he's talking about my power to give him dog cookies, and my responsibility to do so without delay.
Either way, it's true that he actually does have great power. His power is concentrated in his luxurious golden eyebrows, which he uses semaphore-style to communicate with me. The expression I've captured here means simultaneously, "I'm shy around cameras" and also, "Unless there is a treat in it for me."
His nose also is fairly magical. Not only is the world according to his nose just fascinating -- the "let's stop and enjoy the smell of this blade of grass for the next ten minutes, okay?" sort of fascinating -- but the nose itself is also intensely magnetic. You cannot help but want to kiss it.
Trudeau says that when they decide to make a coin with a likeness of his glorious visage, this might be good reference art. He's already told me to send a copy to the US Mint.
Trudeau's life is really hard. Ever since I first got him from the pound in November last year, things for him have just gone downhill.
For instance, I make him come to work with me, which is more or less like child labor. His job is to keep his couch from floating away, in case of any sudden failures of gravity. (Yes, it is his couch, which he occupies for 90% of the work day.) He also guards the copy machine, and if anyone comes too close to it he will act immediately by... er, wagging his tail until the person pets him.
And if that weren't hard enough, I also gave him extra duties as the company morale officer. If he were a human worker, all the touching, kissing and hugging he is subjected to by coworkers and visitors alike would no doubt lead to a massive sexual harassment lawsuit. It's really scandalous, what he has to put up with.
At home, things are even worse. His only confidant is this lobster. He tells it his secrets. With his teeth.
Trudeau and the lobster are inseparable. Unless you have another toy. Or a treat. Or it might be dinner time. Or you grab his leash. Or maybe there's an interesting noise. He's a man of action, our Trudeau.
Trudeau does not have any toys to play with, and we never play fetch or snuggle on the couch. If you were to write him a letter
He never gets to join in any reindeer games, even though he is very nearly reindeer-sized.
The lobster is in fact his only toy ever, and though he often dreams of having his very own squeaky beaver, his wicked auntie
malnpudl would never get him one.He never gets to leave the house and, say, go for a nice walk along the river.
In fact, he never gets to go anywhere. I would never dream of taking him to the stable with me and distracting him with a huge, meaty bone while I worked horses. And I certainly wouldn't let him hang around with Juno, and she certainly wouldn't decide all on her own that she enjoys him and his shenanigans, and she would never be seen hanging around with the likes of him, not even for food bribes.
Wut?
Alright, Juno. Okay. It's a lie. It's all a lie. I just didn't want to admit that Trudeau is the most spoiled creature of all time, or that he's currently sleeping right next to me on the couch, or that after dinner every night all he wants from his existence is snuggle time.
For the record, Juno likes to hang around with Trudeau even when there isn't food in it for her. She's just a caretaker. She seems think it must suck for him to be tied to that fence and everything, so she just stands there with him. It's so adorable, I hardly even believe it when I see it.
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Date: 2010-02-13 03:48 am (UTC)Thank you, it is very good to look at happy doggy and happy horse, tonight.
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Date: 2010-02-13 05:39 am (UTC)They are adorable infinity!
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Date: 2010-02-13 07:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-13 07:51 am (UTC)I mean...that poor overworked, neglected creature.
Gus leads a similarly hard life.
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Date: 2010-02-13 07:51 am (UTC)My.
God.
How is an animal that cute?
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Date: 2010-02-13 07:59 am (UTC)Very nice pictures. And great animals that you have there.
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Date: 2010-02-13 08:31 pm (UTC)- Linden (exeterlinden)
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Date: 2010-02-13 09:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-13 09:26 pm (UTC)He is one gorgeous specimen of canine beauty, he is!
Y'all are similarly lucky to have found each other! ♥