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

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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.

Rainy Days and Rope Toys


I can hear the pitter pat of rain drops before I’m even out of bed. “Great!” I say to myself, “soon enough mama is going to get up, put on her shoes, put on my leash, and take me out in this!” It hardly seems fair that she gets to go potty in a special room and I get to go potty out in the rain.
What I really want to know is…what the heck are we going to do with the REST of the day??

Hmmm, mama? Hmmmm??

oOo!! Looks like we’re making rope toys for me an’ Analaigh to play with. We LOVE rope toys. Mama must have a millionty dollars because whenever we use up one BAM another takes it’s place!!

(No, Rose, not a millionty dollars…it’s FREE!! Love, Mama)

Here is how we make them…

1) Lay out an old tee-shirt. The larger, the better

2) Cut off sleeves.

3) Cut shirt in 4 parts. I cut up the sides along the seam all the way to the collar and up the center (and back) to the collar.

4) Gather collar and hold in place for braiding. (By using the collar at one end, the rope is longer because only 1 knot is needed to end it)

5) Take left-most strand and moving over, under, over braid to end.

6) Secure end with a knot.

7) Send to Quality Control for inspection

8) Voila!

Tug responsibly!!!

A Post-Op from Rosiebear


Dear World,
I’ve got a super major question. W. T. Eff. happened? One day, mama’s all fun-like and taking me out to roll around in the dirt because like it’s totally fun to roll around in the dirt.
And plus also, I look adorable when I turn my whites browns so that I can match my big sister.
But the next day, mama takes me one this ubs early carride which is totally fine and all ‘cept I knew something fishy was going on. She left my big sister at home. She NEVER does that. Never, never. For realz. We always go everywhere together. Or mama leaves us behind but she only does that whenever she does boring things. I know because she’d never do fun things with out me an’ Analaigh. Yeah, so ubs early carride. Had the windows down and the wind whipped through my ears it was great…uhm, right up until my mama handed me over to some person I didn’t know and then she left me. LEFT ME! Like forever, or overnight, whichever is longer. And while she was GONE and I was ALONE someone pricked me with pins, stuffed me with drowsers, and then CUT OPEN MY LEG! Oh and also, while I was asleep someone shaved my butt. Mama was gone, my leg was cut open, and my butt was naked. So seriously…W. T. Eff!
Don’t you worry, though. When mama FINALLY came back to pick me up (after a millionty hours in that place) I made sure to give pittiefulness as MUCH as possible.
I didn’t let Analaigh off the hook either. What kind of “big sister” is she? She spent a millionty hours with mama while IIIII was getting my butt shaved off.
I’m feeling better mostly and mama keeps taking me back to that place where they shaved my butt (but I don’t let her leave me there, no way Jose!) and they took the metals out of my leg. Yeah, they put metals in my leg and made me wear a lampshade on my head. Naked butt and a lampshade. UGH!!! Anyhow, the metals are out and I don’t hurt as much but I like to make mama remember who is boss and I found that this face works the best…
hehehehehe

BALLSBALLSBALLSBALLS!!!


I love living with my Bug especially since he got that straw in his tummy. It helps him slurp slurp slurp his food without even having to do anything. I wonder if I could get my mama to get me a straw like that because I love to eats and I love to sleeps and if I could eats and sleeps at the same time then I could prolly have more time for swimming and swimming is like totes my favoritest thing ever. But I dry-grass…speaking of dry-grassing, mama says she dry-grasses all the time but I ain’t never seen her dry grass, not once…Oooh…Analaigh says it’s “dye-grass” but I def don’t dye the grass, it’s not allowed. There are strict grass rules at our house.
Dry-grassing done properly…
But I’m dry-grassing again…
Any-ole-how…I looooove living with my Bug ’cause now that his belly is full he laughs like all the time ‘cept for when he’s sad or somethin’ and he’s got the bestest laugh ever. So, yeah, now that he’s so happy all the time he also comes and plays with me and Analaigh: in the basement, in the livingroom, in the backyard, we go on walks together…life is pretty much the best ever…(Bug is the perfectest height so I can give him as many kisses as I want and he never says “No Rose, no tongue” in fact he laughs when I give him kisses).
Bug and I have one super awesome thing in common: we love to show off our tongues we love wet kisses we can make mama do anything with sad eyes we love balls!!! We love playing with them. Balls are good for chasing an’ throwin’ and bouncin’ and pouncin’ an’ eatin’ an’ rollin’. Bug is a super champ at findin’ ’em. He can find ’em anywhere even that dinky and dirty one hidden under our steps out back.
Prolly the most delicious in the universe but neither mama will let us get it.
Bug has balls for playing. Analaigh has balls for playing. I gots balls for playing. I’m allowed to play with Analaigh’s balls and Analaigh is allow to play with my balls but we aren’t allowed to play with Bug’s balls ’cause mama is all “Drop it” and Bug’s mama is all “Leave it” and well…the balls all look the same. It is gonna take me and Analaigh some time to know the difference.
One of Bug’s delicious I-have-no-idea-what-that-tastes-like balls.
That is not a bat, it’s Analaigh playing with *our* delicious balls.

People Balls

Pibble Balls

See how confusin’ it is? Especially when mama tries to test me by putting a Bug-ball near me.

If A Rose Were A Duck


It’s summertime!!!! And not a moment too soon! Mama has forbidden long walks so the last couple o weeks has been boooooorrrring!! What happened was mama took me too see my doctor. He’s a super nice guy ‘cept he’s a “No, Rose, no tongue” guy ’cause mama got to him and poisoned him against puppy kisses. So Doctor Maxwell gave me some pricks and made me take a naptime and when I woke up he told my mama I had torn crucia’lig’ments and I was going to need surgeries. Mama won’t tell me what that means zaclty but now she says “Not today” when I go get my leash. It is so totally boring.
Welp, this weekend mama took me and Analaigh out to pees and she musta been bored, too, ’cause we did a little exploring where we saw some trees an’ stuff. We walked and sniffed and splashed through some puddles and when we came out on the other side…
BAM!!!

There was a creek!
Soon as we saw it, me and Analaigh, we knew it was summertime!!!

The creek is just about the most funnest thing ever. Mama throws the sticks that normally she’s all “Drop it“ing about and I get to swim and go get ’em. Which totes dudn’t make no sense ’cause it’s all “Rose go get the stick” if I’m swimming but say I want a snack while lounging in the yard and suddenly it’s all “No, Rose, drop it.” But anywhoo Mama says I can swim alls I want after I get my surgeries and that makes us lucky ducks to find the creek so close. I don’t know why it makes me a duck and I’m not sure it does neither ’cause my poop doesn’t smell anywhere as yummy as a duck poop does. ‘Course if it makes me a duck then maybe next time I see ’em they’ll know I’m one of ’em and they won’t fly off so fast. Whenever I see ’em now, I have to run super fast to where they are swimming to try to say hi but it’s like as soon as they see me coming they take off flying. I gotta be a little quicker next time maybe…to let ’em know, an’ all, that I’m a duck, too. Mama says.