A Greenish Surprise

Before a bike ride, I found this fellow hanging out near the wheel. I love tree frogs.
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Grotesque Dog Kennel Stories

WARNING: IF YOU DO NOT LIKE TO LOOK AT LOTS OF LITTLE THINGS IN ONE PLACE, YOU MAY NOT WANT TO READ ANY FURTHER. I have put a non-offensive opening picture, just in case you want to turn back.

[My cute yet un-photogenic pup, Fraser made it on the wall paper at work. Not fair that he's next to that slutty Lassie model-dog though.]

Before I get to the real meat of this post, let me add this:

Before we got Fraser, all we had was a print-out of a picture my aunt and uncle emailed us of him. My sister and I weren't very excited, because we thought he look ugly. 

Luckily, our shallow hearts were stilled when we learned how cute he is in person (or should I say in canine?).

Anyway...

During the last few weeks of work, box elders invaded. 

And I really mean invaded. They were everywhere, crawling, creeping; their very existence was both disgusting and offensive. Especially when you see a big bundle of eggs, bright red baby bugs, and adults swarming on each other in a big clump of horrible.

Little did we know it was just beginning. 

Lauren and I took some down time to research them on Wikipedia. 

We learned they are attracted to the box elder tree. They feed on it. 

[Of course, we have one right by the office. What did you expect?]

[Are you as repulsed as I am by these pictures?]

After relaying to us that the bugs burrow behind siding over the winter, Wikipedia finally offered a small ray of hope:

"These insects can be killed with a dilute mixture of soap and water."

Ah, what a glorious utterance!

Lauren and I took out the garden hose and some dish detergent and went crazy--warrior style-- on the red beasts.
Now, you can't tell in pictures how dead they are, but just imagine the mass of red going from a chaotic movement to a moist stillness.

[again: gross.]

We killed millions that day (or at least hundreds) but our victorious battle did not end the war.

A week or so later, after we had been suspiciously out of dish soap for days, Lauren used her lunch break to buy four brand new bottles (two green apple and two orange, if you were wondering). 

It was a wonderful killing once again. Our soap soldiers got three times the kills, and we even had leftover dishsoap to donate to the ol' dog kennel. 

[Of course... they are still out there... biding their time.]

I must say that killing infestations of bugs is a very satisfying way to spend one's afternoon.

Anyway, here is a tranquil picture to calm your nerves after this horror story.

It was taken in Cannon Falls this summer with Brian:

Pups from the "Dog Days of Summer"

Some dogs at the ol' boarding kennel summer job were barkers and/or scratchers and/or fighters. Most of them were adorable. There were even a select few I loved enough to photograph with my phone!

Brutus

Picture a really ugly dog. Brutus is probably uglier. First of all, something is wrong with the shape of his head... his cranium forms a sort of inverted triangle or pyramid (very strange to pet). His eyes are uncomfortably reddish, he has bad breath, dandruff, and greasy hair.

The thing is, he is the happiest dog EVER.

When the dogs are in their kennels for a meal or bed, even looking at him will cause him to start hopping with uncontrollable excitement. (Please take the term hopping seriously; he is not jumping like a regular dog would.)

When you play fetch with lots of dogs, he is the only one who willingly brings it back right away. And if you aren't in the mood for playing fetch, instead of freaking out or following you like a zombie, Brutus will cheerfully lay down and chew on the ball for a bit.

Also, if you play fetch with an apple (there is a ripe tree on the side of the yard), he tries to give the apple to you for throwing but instead eats it. Except somehow Brutus doesn't know he has eaten the apple and stares at you longingly, waiting for you to throw it again.

[my poor attempt to show the shape of his head]

[Brutus when he is happy.]

Buddy

Buddy is old, deaf, slow and fat. Yet he is so endearing. 

He's just a gentle little guy, whose favorite thing is you petting him.

The first picture shows just how bad of a pet photographer I really am. 

[can't even take a decent picture of a slow, old dog!]

As for the second two, I'm hoping they will suffice. 

[He's not that blurry in real life.]

Before my mom does it for me, I will have to point out that I used to own a dog named Buddy. My siblings and I wanted to name him Happy but my mom was too embarrassed. So Happy was his middle name. Yeah, that's right, our dogs have middle names. 

Buddy Happy Roberts. 

Our Buddy didn't live to be as old as dog kennel Buddy, because he jumped off the top of my bunk bed and broke his back.

He was also a tan cockapoo (cocker spaniel + poodle). Maybe I am a bit biased. 

Simpson

Do I only like dogs with disabilities? The answer is no. Simpson was young and tall with soft, long fur. He was too nervous to do anything at first, but eventually that changed. 

At one point Simpson was doing that thing that dogs do... you know, when they roll in the grass for no apparent reason other than Pure Joy.

[I hope you know what I'm talking about.]

Other/Etc.

Here is a picture of that famous Doggie Pool from an earlier post. 

[Sometimes, they are as happy as you think.]

Don't steal that picture, because I'm probably going to market it as a photo mouse pad.

Here is a picture of my current dog Fraser looking vicious when his mouth is being blown by the wind.

An Uncommon Furniture Problem

A week ago, the dresser I have collapsed in a sudden moment. I was on the phone with Brian and I shreiked before explaining to him what happened.
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