WunderMutt

One of my loyal readers (OK, she's my sister, but that counts!) requested a photo of WunderMutt.

I call her WunderMutt because we totally hit the puppy jackpot when we got her. She's a Humane Society/ASPCA doggie and it's hard to know if rescued (or otherwise re-homed) doggies are going to merge into family life. Some do. Some have been so screwed up they end up going through home after home, never finding a family. We were lucky that her only troublesome quirk that has lasted is a minor case of separation anxiety.

The kids loved her immediately, but what has really won the hearts of the alphas in the house is how endlessly patient she is with the (sometimes obnoxious) love she gets from the kids. Like this:


Yup. She's just chillin' in the fairy wings.


Making these munchkins so happy.

I try to watch out for WunderMutt, but she has been ridden like a pony, tripped over, stepped on, dressed up, given haircuts and otherwise suffered every indignity possible for an over-loved pup.

And she gives nothing but love and loyalty in return. Dogs are cool.

And Now For Something Completely Different...

G-Rex ran to me. "Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!" she called breathlessly.

"What's wrong?" I asked, dropping the laundry I had been sorting into the washer.

"Mommy! Ursa has white stuff all over her head!"

"White stuff? What is it?"

"I don't know! Will she be OK?"

"Could it be spit-up?" I suggested.

Her eyebrows furrowed as she looked up at me skeptically. "Um. I don't think so."

Together we made our way to the living room, calling the WunderMutt... who saw us coming, tucked her tail between her legs and scampered into her kennel with a plaintive whine. After a little coaxing she made her way out of her sanctuary. Sure enough, there was a thick white substance all over the top of her head.

I looked over at the baby gym thingy where GERD-Girl squealed in delight and waved her arms at me. Her chin bore a lumpy layer of baby puke which spread down the front of her jammies.

And over the expanse of the baby gym.

And onto the proximal surface of the coffee table.

Miraculously, there was no vomit on the carpet in front of the baby gym.



Where the poor dog had been resting.