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The place where the world comes together in honesty and mirth.
Windmills Tilted, Scared Cows Butchered, Lies Skewered on the Lance of Reality ... or something to that effect.


Wednesday, July 11, 2007

It's all about Mac Duff


Just got in from taking Alistair Mac Duff to the vet for his annual physical. He was his typical self when we started out - bouncing off everything and running like he could outrun greased lightning (and you know what, he most likely can, never seen an animal move like he does).

But after he suffered the humiliation of the nurse poking a rod up his arse for the fecal test and the Vet herself doing the ol'Rectal for his prostate exam he was the picture of mellow - sulking even.

Prior to the actual exam he was the meeter and greeter for all who came in the door and he 'french kissed' everyone who would let him - damned lover boy that he is.

This dog is our new child (well teenager now in dog years) and is spoiled so rotten he stinks even without his passing one of his infamous S.B.D's, (Silent But Deadly's), which he loves to do right in his mother's face. He jumps up in the Mrs., lap and crawls onto her left breast (it has to be the left one), and lays down to snuggle and just as he relaxes he turns his posterior up to her face and the next thing you know he is airborne. When lits on the floor he turns his head up to look at her as if to say "What did I do?". All the while cutting his eye over to me and I swear there is a smirk on his face and the look of devilment in his eyes.

Jack Russells are a trip and in case I get too blown away by his antics I have my two Black Labs outside, then again they are just as zany.
I'll tell some Seamus Mac Lesh and Angus Mac Dougall stories later.

Never been a Mariah Carey fan, but anyone who loves their Jack Russell can't be all bad. And the shot above reminds me of the Mrs., and Mac Duff in the swimming pool.

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