Chix-a-Lot Friday: Love me? Love my sweater!

Guys, you will never believe your luck. You know this gorgeous, haute couture sweater I modeled for the camera ahead of our exclusive fundraiser raffle?

Remember how many of you fainted at your desks, just from seeing me in all of my gorgeous, dog-model glory? And how many of you instantly felt an intense and primal need to get your hands not only on my stunning self but also on a sweater just like mine?

Well. You may never get your hands on this fine body of mine, but as of today, you can get your hands on one of these luxurious, handknit sweaters!

It gets even better: now, for a limited time only, our dear friend Emily is selling these fine, fine pieces to benefit the medical care of her own foster elderbull, Ginger Rogers! Ginger is having some pretty serious ear and dental issues that need to be cared for before she can be adopted, and Emily has cleverly decided to allow all of us dog-lovers to help Ginger and be fashionable and warm all winter long. I mean, seriously — a hand-knit sweater, custom made for any dog size, for $25-$30? And at the same time helping out that hottie Ginger Rogers with her ear and tooth issues? I’m in. Mama, get the checkbook please, I need a sweater to match every mood!

For more info, visit Emily’s blog, here!

XOXO, Sir Chicky

PS- mama said that even though Friday is MY day, I have to share with my stupid foster sister Zee, who is stealing all of my elderbull thunder. So here are some stupid photo of stupid Zee, with her stupid hand-knit sweater.

Foster Dad’s Take: Guard Dog

You’ve heard a lot from FosterMom about Zee’s beauty, her love of car rides, and her fine taste in furniture.  But I wanted to share one of my favorite things about our little lady: her utter incompetence as a guard dog.

Every evening when I walk in the door after a long day at work, Zee hears me fumble with the lock and lets out a staccato but somewhat hoarse woof.  It’s never more than a lone syllable, but it’s loud.  Next, however, she doesn’t come bounding over to the door to check me out.  Instead, I hear her slowly disentangle herself from the cozy jelly bean she’s formed at Foster Mom’s feet and saunter toward the door.  As she rounds the corner, coming within sight of the door, she pauses, head and ears cocked, her forehead wrinkled with curiosity.
When Zee sees it’s me, she romps over for a hearty back massage, leaning so far into me that she loses her balance and plops her butt down on the floor.
Good guard dog!

Little Zee, party animal

Our good buddies came over for drinks the other night, and Zee showed off her party animal side. Her favorite way to party is by sitting in the various laps that are made available to her, including our friend Amanda’s:

Although she is an equal-opportunity lap-sitter, she really is at her absolute happiest snuggled between a couple of guys. She loves women and kids, but she absolutely ADORES men (smart lady).

And miniature men may be even better. Here she is having a nice snuggle with our buddy Dexter, who has been a great friend and playmate to several of our foster dogs:

 

We think that Zee’s obvious comfort with and love for all different types of people is a big “adoptability factor” in her favor. Zee has never met a person she didn’t like, and has never found a lap that’s unsuitable for napping on.

Bouncing and Bumbling

We’ve written so much about Little Zee’s bouncing and bumbling ways — the very cute result of a neuro issue that has left her with slightly impaired balance and coordination — but until you have seen it, it’s really difficult to love.

Just a warning — we have bolstered our doors with extra locks to stave off all of the would-be dognappers who will be driving to our house as soon as they watch her charming ways:

no dogs on the sofa

. . . or so we thought.

After all, it’s a light colored sofa, and we do not suffer from a lack of dog-permissive furniture in our living room and den.

It’s not that our Little Zee sneaks up without permission. It’s that she’s so darn sweet and so good at finding the exact right spot to snuggle in, that you just can’t resist her pleading eyes.

One more dog rule, out the window.

Chix-a-Lot Friday: the Outdoorsman

Sir Chick wants everybody to know — he is getting really pumped for fall. Summer is cool and all, but he doesn’t like swimming nearly as much as his mama does, and it’s just so darn hot — especially when you have such a strong “sun-dar” that always leads you to the sunny spot, no matter how small it is, and no matter how hot it is outside.

Chick loves fall because he’s such an outdoorsman — you  might think he works at the Bass Pro Shop. He might work there, actually, if they allowed dogs and if he had opposable thumbs.

Fall is prime hiking and backpacking season in the Mid-Atlantic, and Chick loves him some hiking and backpacking. Sometimes when the weather is perfect, we head out past the Shenandoah Mountains — always crowded with DC tourists — and set foot into the wild hills of the George Washington National Forest.

Sometimes we go even when the weather is not perfect, but rather chilly or rainy — not too uncommon for the spring and fall in our area, but Chick never wants to miss an opportunity to do a two-night thru hike– nor does his mama, who loves little more than being outside in the great big world.

Back when we lived in Texas, we were pretty much guaranteed good weather when we went on excursions — it’s always warm and sunny in Central Texas.  Chick did some good camping and backpacking trips over New Years weekends, President’s Day weekends, and MLK weekends.

Chick’s measure of outdoorsy suitability is this: if there’s a tennis ball handy and you can roll around on your back having a mock battle with it until you fall tenderly asleep on the bare earth, it’s good enough for him.

Splish splash!

Last night was dog bath night at Casa Fosterfamily!  Dog bath night can go a lot of ways depending on who is being fostered — chasing a wet tiger-striped antelope of a Stevie Wonder around the living room after she manages to escape, needing four towels to mop the floor after pocket rocket Gonzo is through with his splashing antics,  or having to drag the bovine skeptic Lollie into the tub and keep her occupied with a heavy dose of peanut butter.

But last night, dog bath night was sweet and gentle, just like Little Zee — I carefully lured her into the bathroom with some liver treats — even though she was deeply suspicious as soon as she heard the water running — and she let me plop her right in the tub. She is such a good girl that she took the whole bath without so much as a complaint.

She was so resigned to the bath that she even sat down in the tub and stayed there while I soaped her up.

The closest she came to a protest was vigorously licking her face when I got it wet, as if to try to dry herself off and pretend the bath never happened:

We ended up with a clean, snuggly Zee, but her perfect cleanliness only lasted minutes — before we knew it, there she was, laying in classic Zee style, with her butt and tail on the dog bed, and the rest of her sprawled across the floor, dreaming of drier days.

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