This was slated to be torn down after the Panama-Pacific Exposition of 1915, but some ridiculously rich lady stepped in and paid for it to be preserved. That’s the kind of thing you can do when you’re ridiculously rich.
Sure is pretty.
And yes, that’s a … balloon.
So it’s not Black Caturday, since there’s no such thing. I therefore hereby declare this Black and White Caturday, so I can post these two cuties.
Cats in store windows do a lot of sleeping. It’s always nice to walk by when they’re awake and playing, even if it is a bit lazily.
I was taking pictures, making no sound, not knocking on the window or anything, and this one just looked up at me, for all the world as if to make sure I was watching.
Kitten dilemma: I want to play, but I don’t want to get up. Things continued along those lines for quite a while.
A black dog for Black Friday. Does that mean we need to have a black cat for Black Caturday tomorrow? Stay tuned and find out!
That right eye has just a little spot of brown. I think that is the percentage of Walter that is NOT goof.
How could I resist petting him?
Walter preeeeetty clearly wasn’t going to give up until he’d managed to climb into mom’s lap.
Happy Thanksgiving, and welcome to San Francisco’s holiday season, the highlight of which is the Macy’s window display. Today I bring you some adorability therefrom.
There were two windows with pups. These were the ones who were awake.
You have to get there early in the day, before the noseprints become all-encompassing.
I ran into this pup today! (In the rain.) He’s only 10 months old, and his mom hasn’t even named him yet, since she’s only had him a week and is trying to get a feel for his personality. So I agreed to post him and ask for suggestions. Please click through to the blog and make suggestions in the comments!
Mom likes French names. I suggested Napoleon, but the more I think about it the more I think he looks like a Robespierre. He’s even got the right hair color! And he is certainly his very own one-dog reign of terrier. Plus you can call him ‘Pierre’ or ‘Robby’ for short.
(Oh I walked through the city with a Tibetan spaniel mix with no name, it felt good to be out in the rain…)
He barely slowed down enough to capture on camera. Here he’s being distracted by another dog, across the street.
Here’s him being not nearly as distracted by me.
Not really sure about this guy, except that he’s Big McLargehuge. The only reason I know his name is that I can kind of read it off the dog tag. It could be Larson too, though.
That particular location (just outside a cheese shop, diagonally across from a butcher’s shop) tends to breed pleading looks.
Rusty is six, and is… ambiguous. To say the least. Rusty is probably part German shepherd, and might be part hound. His dad calls him a ‘German hound’, anyway.
The first time I ran into him, Rusty had just gotten back from the beach.
I think this may be the first picture of… this sort… that I’ve ever published.
And here’s when I ran into him again a couple hours later. All dry and suave again.
I was talking with someone the other day and I mentioned that I was thinking of retiring in a really big luxury RV, and driving it around and seeing North America, and then when I got tired of that, getting it shipped to Europe. And she thought that was a fine idea, but asked, “Why such a big one?” And I said, “Well, it has to have plenty of room for the dog and the cat, doesn’t it?” And she said, “Were you planning on taking any humans with you?” And I thought for a minute and then said “Maybe that too.”
It would, of course have to have built-in cat furniture.
The trick would be making sure the cat didn’t escape. And that nobody suffered from car sickness.
The nights are getting longer, the days are getting shorter, and there doesn’t seem to be an immediate end in sight. Sometimes you just have to flop down and refuse to get up until someone starts petting you.
Anyone in the market for a Lab mix, only slightly deflated?
Two Murphys (Murphies? Murpheys? Murphi?) in a row? Yeah, I know! But I had to post this Murph today, because it’s his fifteenth birthday, and I can’t miss that when the dog in question is the former mayor of Chestnut Street (now retired to a more rural life). How exactly is that? Well, he used to live right near Chestnut Street, and when he did, he pretty much ran the place. All the shopkeepers knew him, all the restaurant owners knew what he liked. He even had — and still has! — his own bar stool at Izzy’s Steak and Chops. Each of the bar stools is ‘reserved’ with a name plate for some august personage who visits the place, and one of them is his. There were a couple news stories about him, which I’ve seen in shop windows in that area, although I can’t immediately find them to link to them online.
Despite his age, and despite two ACL surgeries, one in each hind leg, and despite arthritis, Murphy is still quite active. His dad attributes this to ‘CBD’, which I assumed was ‘Canine B-something D-something’ but apparently has something to do with medical marijuana, and hey, if it works, I’m all for it. And it does indeed work, because all the pictures I got of him except this one came out all blurry.
“Happy birthday dear Muuuuur-pheeeeeeee…” (And hooray for Lab/pit hybrid vigor!)
