My mom's Westie smells VILE.

That is all you need to know



LIL' BRO: Tess, you smell like an enormous poop!
DAD: [Lil' Bro], you can stop saying things like that.
LIL' BRO: Just keepin' it real, Dad.

Yesterday I had to pick up a prescription for my mom, and I saw these really really really large long weird colorful dog toys on sale.  Arthur and Tess have destroyed all their toys, and a few weeks ago they started playing tug of war with a couch throw.  So I bough them each a toy.

For Arthur I bought a blue one, and for Tess a pink one.  Arthur LOVED his.  So did Tess hers, presumably, but it's bigger than she is, so she had trouble lugging it around.  Arthur just pranced.  That's what he does when he's pleased.  He gets the toy in his mouth and he prances around the house, lifting his paws high into the air and smiling. 

When we went to school today, we left their toys in their respective crates.  I expected that by the time we got back home, Arthur would have chewed his to bits, as he can utterly destroy even an "indestructible" dog toy in a matter of minutes.  He hadn't.

While we were eating a snack and watching Everybody Loves Raymond, Arthur took Tess's toy, ripped the squeaker out, and de-stuffed it. 

Then he picked up his still-intact toy and started prancing.

He must have done it one purpose.

One of my friends got me a BEAR POLAR stuffed animal for Christmas.  (We decided to name it Martín du Creff.)  It has already had adventures.

First, my brother was sitting at the table and said.  THE BEAR POLAR IS DOING THE PEE-PEE DANCE!  It turns out that you can very easily make a stuffed animal look like it is doing the pee-pee dance.  Perhaps it was the lateness of the hour, but we were very amused.

Then Tess the Westie came in.   I was holding Martín du Creff on my shoulder while I cleaned the kitchen.  Tess started crying and whining and trying to climb up my skirt to GET TO THE PUPPY!  A NEW FRIEEEEND!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  It was cute, pathetic, ridiculously stupid... I tried showing her the stuffed animal, but she was not convinced.  To be fair, though, she does have an equally mindless glassy-eyed stare most of the time.

So, Tess and Arthur are great pals.  Or, more accurately, Tess worships the ground Arthur treads on, and Arthur occasionally returns her attentions by play fighting until he gets bored of it.

If Arthur is in his cage for any reason -- I haven't gotten home to take him out to the bathroom, he was bad, he's just tired -- Tess sleeps next to his cage.  She does everything he does.  Just this evening, Mom took her out of her cage, and left Arthur in his because I was upstairs.  When I walked downstairs Tess started crying for me to take Arthur out.  And of course, when I take him to do his business, she gets behind the glass door curtain to watch him walk across the yard and back.

Tess is also Arthur's young padawan.  He has taught her that you should be awfully suspicious and growly if a person is nearby.  He has taught her to bark when people are in the house and they are in their cages.  He has taught her to sit around and stare longingly at the humans no matter what they are doing instead of meandering around the house and entertaining onesself.

But he is also a very sneaky dog.  His newest favorite trick to get her started doing something she shouldn't and then stop.  He most commonly barks once or twice in his cage to get her going, and then lays down and enjoys the show.  [SHUT UP TESS!  STOP BARKING!  (this is your dog's fault!) TESS!  STOP! BARKING!]

This evening he raided the garbage can for (extremely delicious) cantaloupe and banana peels.  We know it was him because they were at the bottom of the garbage can, and she couldn't reach the top on her hind legs, much less get her head over the edge to the bottom of the container.

When my mom came, he had just run off to lie down in his cage.

Tess was left sitting next to the garbage trail looking very confused for a few moments.

Then she realized Arthur had gone, and went to lie down in her own cage as well.

:-)

Now that Tess the Westie is not going to be the reason for having to give up Arthur the Doodle, I am much better disposed towards her.  They are actually pretty cute together.  She is a dumb as a board, and most of the time we don't even bother to order her to do anything, because in light of how long you could spend shouting yourself hoarse without getting any reaction at all, it's easier just to pick her up and put her where she's supposed to be (or take her away from where she's not supposed to be).

So, for your entertainment, a few pictures of Arthur and Tess:

( Little and Large )

I'm pretty sure that fanfiction.net doesn't move your story to the top of the queue if it hasn't been 24 hour since you last posted.  *sob*

In other news.  My stomach growled, and Arthur went on high alert.  Cutest, dumbest dog ever.

In other other news, I apparently forgot to shut the bedroom door when I left.  It's a good thing he's a good dog, or George and Lennie might not be with us anymore. 

After a weekend with TESS THE DEMONIC WESTIE (she's quite cute unless you're an eight-times-bigger-than-Tess wimpy labradoodle who doesn't know how to play with other dogs and as a result you just stare sadly at your humans while said westie tears clumps of hair out of your impressively long beard) Arthur becomes very VERY clingy. 

We are talking I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU PLEASE PET ME AND ALWAYS BE IN PHYSICAL CONTACT WITH ME EVEN IF IT'S JUST YOUR FOOT TOUCHING ME AS I LIE DOWN REALLY REALLY REALLY CLOSE TO YOU sort of clingy.

I think he's afraid that I will take him back to the horrible place that is my family's house...and where he grew up...

Just wait until Spring Break, my little cabbage.  Just wait!  A WHOLE WEEK with Tess.

And then the Summer.

I feel sorry for him already. 

*snrk*

This is my favorite poem from Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats

I have no idea why, but I was suddenly inspired to record it this morning.  Arthur was inspired to give a practical demonstration just when I was beginning, so I left it in...

On another side note, my mother owns a pollicle--Tess the Westie.  And can I say THIS POEM IS TRUE. 

:-)

Me reading the poem out loud in (sadly) not-a-British-accent. I don't even try except between the hours of 12 and 5 am. Also a surprise cameo from Arthur!

Here is the text of the poem:

( T.S. Eliot's awesomeness beneath the cut )