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I had to climb a mountain this morning before I even got out of bed.
It was a half blonde, half white-with-dark-brindle mountain, but a mountain nonetheless. My alarm clock went off at the ungodly hour of 6:45am and my first instinct was to slap it silly until NPR went far, far away. I'm glad that I did not do that, because I was pinned to the bed and up against the wall by not one, but two greyhounds.
Jeany was at my head with her hind end naturally pointed toward my face. Profile had managed to wedge himself in between me and the wall that the bed is up against. With one on either side, there was no way I could move.
But what a way to wake up! There's nothing better, and I mean nothing, than rolling over and seeing that little blonde head pop up, ears at Flying Nun position, with her sleepy little eyes staring at me like she wishes I'd get out of HER bed. Or to have 75lbs of love bug roll over into a roach and then wiggle on his back up as close as he can to me, rrrrr-rrrring the whole time.
I think the grumpy people in the world are that way because they don't wake up to a greyhound every morning. Perhaps that's the true key to world peace...or at least getting out of bed on time just because you can't reach the snooze to hit it.
And now as I sit here, the hounds start up the chorus that signals the end of my time to myself to drink my coffee. The rooooooooooo that means it's time for breakfast, Mom...too bad my alarm clock can't rooo, I'd be out of the bed like a shot. Or, more realistically, I'd just lie there and smile, listening to what I think to be the greatest sound on earth...complete with the syncronized gasping for breath before starting another long woooooooooooooooooooooo...
Do you love dressing up, Marky? Yes I dooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!
Raise your hand if you know the name Marlon Perkins? Mutual of Omaha...insurance or trips to the African bush? Good...you'll understand then, when I say my yard has become Wild Kingdom of late.
We've switched Hunk and Profile to a raw diet. Hunky started first on an elimination diet to see if he was allergic to grains. For a week, the tortured pup had nothing but ground chicken or turkey (raw) and chicken wings and leg quarters (also raw). I love my boy but he is not the sharpest crayon in the pencil box. He wants the kibble. (insert sigh here)
Anyway...you saw the picture of the first night of raw feeding, when Hunky buried his chicken in the red mud over the septic tank. Someone on GreyTalk commented that he'd done that for added flavor...(insert disgusted look here)
He's gotten the hang of it I think, though he tends to leave some of his dinner for Profile to finish. I don't mind that so much...he eats what he wants, and he could stand to go on a diet, truth be told.
Hunky enjoying his dinner al fresco...
Hunk and Profile sharing a picnic...
And Profile, wondering why Mommy doesn't love him enough to get the skinless leg quarters...
Am I a sick person because I now love the crunching sound they make when they eat the leg quarters?
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