Merry (early) Christmas, my lovelies!!


I hate how expensive a good dog bed is.

Even more than that, I hate how boring they are.

It’s an easy $20 spent for a plainly colored square shaped bed and costs extra for a personal touch.

NO WAY! I say.

So I decided this year for Christmas I was going to see if I couldn’t make my own for my girls and guess what? I could.

I went to the fabric store and picked out fabrics that I thought best represented the personalities of my baby girls which were luckily on sale for 50% off (Woot!)

Using their crate bottom as a pattern I cut out my sizes and hand stitched ’em together.

Then conserving more money, I used some of the old towels and blankets (freshly washed) they’ve used as well as stuffing from their old beds I fluffed ’em up and stitched the final bits (which I hope explains why they got their beds waaaay early!! LOL!)

So soft they are, mama.

Voila. Dog beds for $6.50.

If you’re interested in size, Analaigh’s bed fits into a large crate and she weighs 70 pounds while Rose’s bed fits into her medium crate and she weighs 50 pounds.

Analaigh: Pretty FlowersRose: Silly Owls

Analaigh: Pretty Flowers
Rose: Silly Owls

So how IS Rose’s recovery going?


I get asked this question a lot.

It’s going good…

…and bad…

Let me explain.

When I brought her home she looked like this…

Pitiful, right? I thought so too.

It started out by just carting her around to the bathroom or to lounge in the sun because she gave me sad eyes.

Then she started pushing limits like climbing onto the couch, ever so slowly, ever so pitifully, without permission but with the saddest puppy dog eyes asking, “Are you going to kick me off, mama?” Of course not, darling.

She started climbing into bed, ever so slowly, ever so pitifully, without permission resting her head on my shoulder sighing, “Is this okay, mama?”. I guess it’s okay, baby, since you couldn’t go walking today with Analaigh and me.

She started nudging my hand while I was forcibly holding her still for a 10 minute icing session saying, “The least you can do is pet me, mama.” Of course, Rosiebear.

But then, the good news, she started putting weight back on that leg. She started walking herself up and down the stairs…whenever the hell she wanted instead of waiting for me.

Then she started jumping up on the bed any old time she felt like it instead of when she had permission.

She started jumping on the couch any old time she felt like it instead of when she was invited.

And after she got kicked off the bed she’d go out and jump on the couch hoping I wouldn’t notice. The little sneak.

She stopped making eye contact with me.

She stopped deferring to me.

She stopped listening to me.

She turned into a BRAT!

So – she’s getting better. (YAYAYAYAYAYAYAY!!!!) Each day she’s allowed a little bit of exercise time and she’s on a strict diet of deferral.

Next time (dear god, I hope there isn’t a next time), I will endeavor to remember that emoting is a human past-time.