Don’t think that you’re safe just because Lolita is wearing le Cone-de-Shame. Fence watch continues.

Squirrelcurity threat level: RED.

To call Lollie’s waist “tiny” would be a vast understatement. The little lady is built like a cross between the incredible hulk, with his big rippling muscles on his shoulders, chest, and legs, and good ol Barbie, with her girlish charm and freakishly small waist.

Lolita's estranged parents?

At first, we thought her tiny waist was simply a result of obvious malnutrition from her unknown past. But after almost four weeks in our home eating high-quality food and plenty of peanut butter to supplement, her painfully visible ribs are retreating beneath her skin a little but her waist remains Barbiesque. Her post-spay bandage really accentuates the effect, but don’t think it’s an optical illusion: the bandage is not wrapped so tightly as to contort her waist into a small shape. That’s what it really looks like.

Have any of you cared for an under-nourished foster or rescue? How long did it take you to nurse it back to full weight?

Lolita’s world seems full of booby traps lately. What she doesn’t seem to realize is that her e-collar is to blame for her woes. Here is a photo diary of our afternoon outing yesterday:

booby trap 1: the door.

triumph!!

booby trap 2: the trees.

booby trap 3: the furniture.

booby trap 4: the railing.

booby trap 5: the stairs.

We picked a drowsy and cuddly Lolita up from the vet this morning, following her spay surgery yesterday. She looks so miserable.

woe is me.

woe, woe, woe.

Everything went well from the doctor’s perspective, but from Lola’s perspective, this all sucks. She has an embarassing bandage around her little waist, and the conehead is so confusing. She keeps thinking she is irreconcilably stuck on things:

stuck. damn.

stuck again. damn.

For the next few days, it’s going to be very short outings and a lot of sleeping and cuddling for Miss Lollie Wonderdog. Sounds pretty good to me.

Last night was Dog Bath Night at Casa Fosterfamily. Dog Bath Parties are not a rigidly scheduled occurence. Rather, they happen when one of the critters rolls around in something particularly foul, has a series of very muddy walks, or, well, just gets that very doggy smell. Last night’s party falls mostly in the third category. As it turns out, two wonderdogs get smelly faster than just one wonderdog on its own.

For Dog Bath Night, we put on our scrubbiest clothes, throw a bunch of towels down on the bathroom floor, and lure the dogs in with some particularly delicious treats. I don’t know if this is a pit bull thing or if all dogs are like this, but Lolita and Chick are both very wary of bath parties. They pout, they tremble, they tuck their tail so far between their legs that it almost hits them in the face. It’s sad and adorable at once. But mostly just adorable. Here’s the proof in pictures:

is there a rope ladder around here anywhere?

check out my acrobatic tongue

After the hour-long ordeal, we had two very pouty, very clean, and very damp little wonderdogs. I snuggled them each up in a blanket and fed them a chewy snack to celebrate.