When the momma is away, the boys will play. Oliver seemed puckered about the impending move. He needed stress relief, I had a few frames to burn, so we filled the tub and jumped in.
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New rule. It is OK to do a late holiday post, as long as said post goes up on another holiday. The logic is sound, and I’m sticking to it. Today we flashback two months to our nation’s independence, and what has now become the traditional pooch-pool-party.
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I’ve wasted (depending on your definition) countless rolls shooting the vermin. I’ll come out of the office, and he’ll be basking in the perfect ray of sun. Step out of the shower, and he’s sprawled on his blanket. How can I resist grabbing a camera and firing off some shots? The kid is king of the castle. The way I see it, someone has to record of his dominion.
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Oliver is a city boy, but you’d never know it from the way he loves the beach! On our last trip home to California, we made sure to maximize sand time, and even brought a few weenies for some companionship. I had a few shots pre-visualized that I wanted try in the field, and had a blast making them happen with the Xpan. Looking back, it would have been nice to have had color film (how quickly I forget the beauty of west coast golden hour!) Then again the high speed black and white helped with pre-focusing, a factor not to be overlooked when you’re capturing a speeding French Weinerdog.
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My tribe has left me for the West Coast. This cold apartment has gotten a colder. But I take solace in the fact that my pooch is on the job, working long hours to insure the sanity and safety of his Momma. Exemplifying the required qualities of an Emotional Support Animal, he’s a dog born to wear the black and blue.
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Now that Oliver is a part of the family, naturally he’s also part of the family trips. So for Fourth of July, we slapped on the service vest and hauled him along for a journey out west. Little did the the little guy know what type activities were in store, if he did he would have asked to come sooner
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In honor of the little one going back to school, and consequently leaving school three days later to come back to us, I present to you the Compendium of Kanooks, the Annals of Ansley, or more practically…the Facebook Prof-Pick Pool. All kidding aside, I’ve realized that I have done a bad job of posting the photos of my recent trips back to California, but a GREAT job of hoarding them all to myself. I tend to atone for my sharing sins starting with this post, a showcase of a sister who’s learned to cope with my incessant demands of “stand still” or “lean into the light.” Kunu, this one’s for you.
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Chedda, Cheddy, Flubby, Wubby, Bubby, Wompy, Tompy. Womper, Tomper, Wompy-Tomp, Teedle-Tomp, Wompelio, Count Wompula. Cheechu, Chuchi, Cheedo, Cheddalungue, The Grand Chawhee. Doodles, Doodle Bug, Chub, Che-chub, Chu-Chu, The Big Cheese, Cheeseasaurus Rex.
He was a dog of many names, a reflection of the love he shared, but more importantly, of the goofiness that was Chester. And while it’s hard to say goodbye, it’s easy to remember the good times, and the little things that were so uniquely Chester.
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After a surprise visit to the vet this week, we returned home with the knowledge that young Oliver had contracted a rather unpleasant “anaerobic flagellated protozoan parasite.” I’ll spare everyone the boring details, but as I’ve been saying all along, this dog is full of shit. In spite of the off-putting name it’s apparently a pretty easy fix, with part of the recovery demanding daily bathings. While this might be a problem for more cautious canines, Oliver has always LOVED the water, so this week’s Frenchie fix focuses on the little man’s soft spot for soaking.
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Oliver has been going to daycare lately, and he comes back a different dog. The poor kid is wiped, and I mean sleep-of-the-dead wiped. So to commemorate this brief respite from repetitive rough-housing, enjoy a sleepy Frenchie Friday.
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[gwu] Graham Whitaker Unterberger 