Chaos on eight paws~

We got a CB2 catalogue the other day.  I ripped off the cover and threw the rest away, money being what it is.  On the cover, they’d made a Christmas tree design out of a bunch of their ornaments and stuff (I’d show you, but I’m too lazy).  And there were these ornaments I thought were really cool – but I hadn’t been able to find them in the catalogue.  It turned out that they were actually decorated Christmas cookies.  So I figured out how to make the ornaments I thought I was seeing:

I love these color circles.  I ended up with something that looks to me like a distant star.  Or a piece of ribbon candy.  Anyway, I liked it.

The puppies are bigger now.  Much bigger. I’m almost sure of it.  And now, instead of being raging little tornadoes when they are given free range of living room, dining room and front hall (all other parts of the house blocked off by toddler Super Yards and baby gates—one of which, as I came downstairs and turned to go into my office, absorbed in reading a blue print, I walked directly into at full speed: 57 year old woman lying on her stomach on top of a baby gate with severely offended knee, left palm and pride.  It was loud, too—loud gates crashing) – instead (she said, reconnecting with the first, germinal part of this particular sentence) of tearing around, they seem to be willing to actually lie down and chew on things very quietly, sometimes even the things they are allowed to chew on.

Oh, and the stairs.  They have discovered the joys of stairs.  My fault—they’re getting so big, it’s hard to lug them downstairs in the middle of the night, one under each arm.  So I showed them – this is up; this is down.  I didn’t worry; they didn’t seem to like it either way.  But yesterday, they raced up and down the stairs at least six times, just for the joy of it.  So now I keep the door closed upstairs.  In case they want to chew up something priceless, like the bed.

And last night, they piled themselves on us and between us – me wearing a Piper, Tuck, Toby fur comforter, as we watched the U game before bed.

And today, given many opportunities to make messes on multiple floors, they politely asked to be let out.  They did that last week, too – for a while.

Tucker has decided to carry his water dish around.  I heard him in the front hall the other day, scrabbling around, and I realized he was trying to dig in the empty dish to find water.  So I filled it and went back to work.  Then I heard plunk, plunk, plunk—the sound of flappy little paws slapping the water.  Then scrape and swoosh – the sound of Tucker carrying the huge bowl in his mouth – into the living room, where he dumped all the water on the carpet.

They grow so fast, don’t they?

Toby takes the stairs for one of the first times.  I have a caveat: focusing on puppies, especially inside, especially if they are moving directly toward you or away from you, which they usually are, is EXCEEDINGLY difficult.  So expect blur.  The first several times these guys took the stairs, they’d start out very carefully and end up getting cocky, heading downhill like flailing rockets.  Now, they are wiser and are mostly careful, unless somebody starts a fight on the way down.

Puppy jail.  They managed to push this thing around this morning so that they got it angled over the single step into the library, and escaped through the resulting hole in the floor.

Tucker.  In jail.

Toby really does love Piper.

Let the games begin.  Toby, you would think, seems always to be most likely the guy on his back.  But at 2/3 his brother’s weight, he can hold his own.  Also, he’s faster. If you could see them run – amazing speed.

Puppies coming toward us.  This is a picture of love.  They don’t come to you like this if they don’t LOVE you.  And they wouldn’t run if they didn’t LOVE running.  How would it be to live like this?

Two puppies.  One in focus.

Two old men.  They match.

Oh.  Look at the good puppy.  Tucker the good, good puppy.  Uh-huh.  Butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.  And that bad, bad, Toby.

Do you still believe that Tucker is the good puppy?  Can you read that enigmatic face?

Of COURSE he is the good puppy.  He seals the deal.  Skye will bite him later.

And along comes Toby –

Then the truth outs, with much sound and fury.

Toby, NOT on his back.

I’m so glad we got both of these guys.  How sad to live without a brother.   The fighting and the sweet, tired mound of brotherly puppy afterwards—better with two.

Do we like black and white or color better?

Toby retires with Piper to the pine den.

Not many teeth left on this old man.  But he can still tug you across the yard.

Anything is reason for a chase.  This particular chase happens because G is playing with Skye, and there must be repercussions.

Toby is actually pulling a maneuver here.  He stops in mid run, throwing his weight back and around

in order to ambush his brother.  Who is evidently not unsuspecting.

Wanna play?

Wanna sing?

Wanna eat a leaf?

Wanna lie in the sun on the porch with the Old Man?  Tuckered out.

Tucker out of jail.

Tucker out of jail black and white.  I used to do all my work in black and white.  I can’t decide if I like one medium better than the other.

The pine den, where you can keep an eye on the driveway traffic.  Mostly waiting for G to come home from a bike ride.

You can see how distressed Piper’s eyes are now.  Age is a nasty thing.

In the sunset.  Eating dead tree stump.

Fighting over air.

The bear escaping from the alligator.

But with much to talk about later.

Home.  Still some autumn.  Snow a good two weeks before Thanksgiving.

How amazing it all is.