About the Tails
Once upon a time, Greg and I decided we were millionaires (we are what you might, perhaps, call the opposite) and that we should buy not ONE, but TWO of the most expensive and high-maintenance dogs in the world. Unfortunately for us, our wallets, and our sanity, they are also the best thing that ever happened to us. Which makes putting bonnets on their ginormous heads and leaving them on the stairs of a nunnery highly unlikely. Stick around this blog and you may either:
A) Become disturbed with my obsession with them
B) Become disturbed with YOUR obsession with them
C) All of the above.
I'm willing to bet on C. Learn more about this furry disasters below, as I'm sure you have nothing better to do then listen to me obsess over my dogs.
Oh, Finley. My precious angel. From day one this mush-ball has been cool as a cucumber. Unfortunately, he likely has the IQ of a cucumber. And that's giving him credit. Don't get me wrong - I love my pups and wouldn't trade them for the world - but we have decided it is 98% certain that Finley's brain resets every five minutes. He will just get a blank look on his face (see every single picture above) and we just know, we've lost him again. Besides his ongoing amnesia, Mr. Pig (as we like to call him) enjoys joining me on my trips to the restroom, licking his brother's peesh then licking Greg's face, and eating wicker baskets (preferably the expensive kind). He loathes exercise in any form, the vacuum cleaner, and being separated from his brother. In fact, if his brother is in another room he will bang his head against the door, repeatedly, until he is allowed in the room as well. No wonder he has no brain cells. He is also a momma's boy and I'm not sure whether to take that as a compliment or an insult, since he likely considers me a stranger. I'll take it as a compliment.
Oh, Dutch. The cause of so many swear words. The cause of 50% of Greg's gray hairs (I'll take credit for the other 50%, thank you very much). The cause of many ruined carpets and expensive vet bills. The breeder wasn't joking when she said that Dutch was "hell bent on election" at just 4 weeks old. It was the heart-warming story she told us about him, scarfing his food down in under 20 seconds flat then proceeding to barf all over his brothers and sisters, that should have warned us. He's the kind of idiot frat boy you love to hate. You know the kind - the dude that pisses all over your couch and you're ready to kick him out of your house but then he's all apologetic and funny and before you know it you're tickling his belly. No? Okay, just me then. Anyway, frat boy he is. He loves beer (he will fight you to get a sip of yours), he loves his bros, and he's a charmer to the ladies. Oh, and his loyalty to Greg is sickening. Daddy's boy through and through (see below). Not that I'm jealous, or anything. OKAYIAMLOVEMETOO!