![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Pepper's prior owner (well, her mom) texted Eleanor. Another family had expressed interest in the dog and she wanted to know if we were sure about keeping her.
YA THINK?
It's been a week now. She's locked us out of the house at least four times, raided at least one garbage can, gone after a toad in the garden, chased a wabbit she saw across the street this morning, and tried noshing on the fallen fledgling of our resident Killer Blue Jay (and met an angry Mama BJ in a big hurry). Dog? You're gonna have to do a lot worse than that for us to give up on you.
She had two outings today. One to the dog park, where again she was the Belle of the Ball with all the boys, and one to pick something up from friends who have another of the Dog Church pups. Jake was quite welcoming when Pepper came to the door. When we came in, though? She headed right for his bowl of kibble. That's hilarious, because she's a notorious nibbler when it comes to her own noms; she'll work a bowl for close to an hour, savoring the flavor; and she turns down treats she's given in the Parp! But put her in front of someone else's food?
All of this is forgiven, though. She hasn't laid a paw or even a growl on either cat; Zoey seems fine with her by now; Michelle The Evil has seemed to accept her, but we've been getting evidence of Acting Out in the form of massive pee bombs in the kitchen and Eleanor's studio area. So Beyotch is gonna be getting crated while we're not actively keeping an eye on her.
The face. The eyes. The utter abandon running around with the other pups. We've needed this. I've needed this.
So, yeah. She's staying.
----
This, on the other hand, is going:
That's three of our five (4½, really) garden waste cans, loaded and ready for the curb. The fourth full-capacity one is also locked and loaded. Almost all of this is from Dave, the pin oak in our back yard. He came home in the trunk of my Chevy Corsica some 20-odd summers ago, and has grown to be the biggest tree on the premises. But, like his namesake's beard, he needs occasional trimming, and that's what came down from the sky through a combination of chain and band saws, further cut back and bent into curb-able pieces.
This, meanwhile, is Eleanor's work for the weekend:
That had been a garden patch up against the back wall of the garage next to our outdoor patio. The plan is to excavate it (mostly done), lay in gravel for drainage (eight bags bought today), and finally turn it into a patio extension using the hundreds of bricks we chopped off a mostly-dead planter on the front of the house last summer.
We're sore. But we're happy. And clearly, so is the dog:)
YA THINK?
It's been a week now. She's locked us out of the house at least four times, raided at least one garbage can, gone after a toad in the garden, chased a wabbit she saw across the street this morning, and tried noshing on the fallen fledgling of our resident Killer Blue Jay (and met an angry Mama BJ in a big hurry). Dog? You're gonna have to do a lot worse than that for us to give up on you.
She had two outings today. One to the dog park, where again she was the Belle of the Ball with all the boys, and one to pick something up from friends who have another of the Dog Church pups. Jake was quite welcoming when Pepper came to the door. When we came in, though? She headed right for his bowl of kibble. That's hilarious, because she's a notorious nibbler when it comes to her own noms; she'll work a bowl for close to an hour, savoring the flavor; and she turns down treats she's given in the Parp! But put her in front of someone else's food?
All of this is forgiven, though. She hasn't laid a paw or even a growl on either cat; Zoey seems fine with her by now; Michelle The Evil has seemed to accept her, but we've been getting evidence of Acting Out in the form of massive pee bombs in the kitchen and Eleanor's studio area. So Beyotch is gonna be getting crated while we're not actively keeping an eye on her.
The face. The eyes. The utter abandon running around with the other pups. We've needed this. I've needed this.
So, yeah. She's staying.
----
This, on the other hand, is going:
That's three of our five (4½, really) garden waste cans, loaded and ready for the curb. The fourth full-capacity one is also locked and loaded. Almost all of this is from Dave, the pin oak in our back yard. He came home in the trunk of my Chevy Corsica some 20-odd summers ago, and has grown to be the biggest tree on the premises. But, like his namesake's beard, he needs occasional trimming, and that's what came down from the sky through a combination of chain and band saws, further cut back and bent into curb-able pieces.
This, meanwhile, is Eleanor's work for the weekend:
That had been a garden patch up against the back wall of the garage next to our outdoor patio. The plan is to excavate it (mostly done), lay in gravel for drainage (eight bags bought today), and finally turn it into a patio extension using the hundreds of bricks we chopped off a mostly-dead planter on the front of the house last summer.
We're sore. But we're happy. And clearly, so is the dog:)