avanta7: (Phoebe)
A dog and her bone
Don't mess with the pooch, especially when she has a new rawhide chewie to defend.
avanta7: (Phoebe)
Courtesy of cubpoppy, Phoebe has been chosen to participate in "The Middle Name Game".

Here are the rules:

  1. You have to post the rules before you give your answers.

  2. You must list one fact about yourself beginning with each letter of your middle name. (If you don't have a middle name, use your maiden name or your mother's maiden name).

  3. At the end of your blog post, you need to tag one person (or blogger of another species) for each letter of your middle name. (Be sure to leave them a comment telling them they've been tagged.)

And, now.....heeeeere's Phoebe!

My middle name is III. No, really. Just look at my AKC registration. It says "Febie III" (but let's not talk about how badly my original thumb-havers misspelled my first name). So, umm, here's my list.

I is for ice cream. I like ice cream. I especially like any ice cream my Typist or her Alpha is eating. (Typist interjection: 'Scuse me. He is not my alpha. And don't let him hear you say that he is. There will be no living with him then.)

I is for inside. I'm an inside dog. I go outside to take care of *ahem* personal business, but I like being inside. Except when I want to go outside. Which isn't as often as I should, apparently.

I is for inbred. Which I am NOT, thank you very much. At least, not overly. No more than any other purebred Pom. No health problems, and I whelped very healthy and pretty puppies back in the day.

So, anyone on my f/list want to play?
avanta7: (Phoebe)
My dear friend Amy has a dog, Cub. Cub has her very own blog, and in Cub's blog, she has been posting interview questions for other dogs of her own or Amy's acquaintance. Phoebe's interview questions are posted here.

Phoebe has dictated her answers to me, and I now post them for the world (and Cub) to share:

  1. Phoebe, you are very fluffy! How does this trait affect your fur maintenance? -- It's funny you should ask! Just yesterday, I had my fur done. My Alpha gave me a bath. Usually he washes me in the kitchen sink, but yesterday he was feeling silly and we both got in the tub. After a bath, the thumbhavers always dry me with a noisy machine that blows hot air. I don't like it very much. But they have to do it that way or my undercoat gets matted up. I get brushed a couple of times a week, too. I don't like that very much either. I'm not a prissy dogglie, although many of my kind are.
  2. I understand you have cats. You look like you're about the same size as these cats. Is that the case, and if so, how do you cope? -- Ha ha ha ha! Both cats are bigger than I am! When my Typist first brought me home, the kitties didn't like me much, which was hard. I cope by staying out of their way, mostly, although I would play with them if they'd let me. I'm a very sociable dogglie and always lived in a pack before. Jacquenetta will now touch noses with me and even sit next to me on the sofa. Mote still won't have anything to do with me. But that's okay. My thumbhavers cuddle me and play with me enough that I don't feel lonely very often. (My Typist is lobbying our Alpha for another little dogglie to keep me company. I don't think she's having much success.)
  3. What is it like to live Out West? -- The sun is closer when it goes down in the evening. And it doesn't rain from the sky much. There are strange rain things that pop up from the grass instead! The first time that happened I got scared and ran for the house. The thumbhavers laughed at me. I pouted, and then they apologized for hurting my feelings. I think they laughed about it some more in their room later on, but I'm not certain.
  4. The question for all dogs: What is one secret of a blissful life that you'd like to share with your thumb-havers? -- Eat when you're hungry, drink when you're thirsty, sleep when you're tired, and play in the grass the rest of the time. But watch out for those pop-up rain things.
  5. Wet or dry food? Explain your answer. -- Wet food? What is this "wet food" of which you speak? There's a kind of food I don't know about? I must have a serious discussion with my Typist!

Ahem. The Typist intends to dodge that discussion.

Now, if anyone -- dog, cat, thumb-haver -- would like to be interviewed by Phoebe or by yours truly, these are the rules:

  1. If you are interested in being interviewed, leave a comment on my blog saying, 'interview me.'
  2. Phoebe (or I) will respond by posting five questions for you. We get to pick the questions.
  3. You will update your blog with a post with your answers to the questions.
  4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
  5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.


Jun. 28th, 2005 04:55 am
avanta7: (Phoebe)
I miss my little fluffball.
avanta7: (Phoebe)
Spouse often uses me for sales pitch practice. It's not my favorite activity, but I get what enjoyment I can out of it by being "the customer from hell." It involves putting on my customer hat, however. So, this morning, he started on a pitch (while I was sitting here at the computer typing an e-mail), so I stalled him while I found my customer hat. It's an old beat-up straw gardening hat with a bent brim. Ugly as sin, but perfectly serviceable. I donned it and played my part, then went into the living room.

Phoebe, from her customary perch on the window sill behind the sofa, started barking her head off as soon as she saw me. "Oh, look!" I said to spouse. "She doesn't recognize me with the hat on!" I went to her, intending to pick her up and let her sniff me. She backed away, barking and growling and snapping, and promptly piddled all over the window sill and back of the sofa. Spouse snatched her up and cuddled her, I snatched the hat off and extended my hand, which she barked at, growled at, then sniffed and licked. I took her from spouse and held her while I put the hat back on and off and on. Then I put her in her pen and disappeared into the other room for several minutes. I came back with the hat. I left. I came back without the hat. I left. I came back with the hat.

Poor dim little walnut-brain finally got it. The traumatized poochie is now sitting in my lap. I'm wearing the hat.

(Spouse cleaned up the mess she made.)
avanta7: (Phoebe)

Look at these cute little toys that arrived in today's mail, courtesy of [livejournal.com profile] madame_urushiol. You, madam, are a true friend and dog lover. Phoebe thanks you and I thank you. *smooch!*

avanta7: (Phoebe)
Multiple journal entries today for a variety of different topics. This entry concerns my walk with Phoebe late yesterday afternoon.

Phoebe and I have a number of different routes we take on our afternoon jaunts when I come home from work. Yesterday we decided to visit the vacant lot around the corner. It's kind of trashy, so it's a good spot for her to do her business -- very little chance of someone casually stepping in a mess, knowhutimean? As we started across the lot, I saw something unusual out of the corner of my eye.

It was a small satin pillow, about 4 inches square, sitting at the base of a dead tree. I picked it up, thinking "maybe I can clean this up and use it somehow." (Yes, and I've gone dumpster-diving, too, so sue me.) It was a cute little pillow, all frilly and lacy. It had a design on one side that said "No Boys." Just the sort of thing that would appeal to a pre-adolescent girl. I glanced down again and that's when I saw the naked Barbie dolls and a pair of crumpled little girl's panties.

Oh dear God, I thought. I put the pillow back the way I found it, and immediately returned home to call the police. As I told the dispatcher what I found, I got upset and teary, just imagining all sorts of scenarios that could have led to those particular objects being left under that tree. She questioned me, took my name, address and phone number, and said they'd send a car out.

I waited until I couldn't wait any longer; we were singing for Ash Wednesday service and I had to be at the church at 5:30. No officer ever came to my door, and I had no messages when I returned home after the service.

I thought perhaps I was overreacting, but when I told spouse about it last night, he said we had a convicted sex offender living on the next block (where the vacant lot is).

Phoebe and I didn't go back to that vacant lot this evening.

I watch too much Law And Order: SVU, I guess.
avanta7: (PinkWall)
The day dawned bright and clear and cold. Late this morning, I tramped about my sparkly neighborhood with the camera. Come take a walk with me!

Welcome to the Quapaw Quarter! )

So, how was your day?

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