Frankie (“Frankie the Frenchie!”) is 13 weeks old in this picture.
Sorry for the rather sparse post today, and the lack yesterday. I’ve had a rough couple of days sleep-wise, and badly need to catch up.
Baby’s first harness! They were buying it big, but Frankie is wiggly enough that that may not be a good idea… I’m pretty sure she can just wiggle out of that.
Confession time: I love all the dogs of San Francisco, but I do have some favorites. Max (4 years old, and border collie/Australian shepherd is an educated guess) is one of them. I could give you a dozen reasons — happy disposition, big smile, ridiculous airplane ears, gorgeous coloration, NOSE FRECKLES! — but the fact is, Max and I totally hit it off the first time we met. I saw him, and he looked over at me and wasn’t quite sure what to make of me. So I leaned down and jumped around and tried to get him to chase me and generally acted like a lunatic (or a dog who wanted to play) and his eyes just lit up.
And now I run into him every few days in the park I jog through on my way to work. And every time he sees me coming he runs over, leans against my leg, and makes the most ridiculous happy whining and whimpering sounds and wags his tail and wiggles his body and just generally acts like he can’t contain his happiness. His mom says he doesn’t do that for any of the other dog park regulars, just me.
If there’s a better way to start the day, I sure haven’t found it.
Max is a very well-mannered dog. Despite how excited he gets, he’s never once tried to jump up on me.
Look at that grin. It makes me smile just looking at him.
And then there’s his soulful expression. Every time I see it I think, “Hey, I could call in sick today and just play with Max…”
Looks like we have one more day of bonus ‘Monterey vacation’ content left. And it’s great, as long as you like watching trees grow!
I know nothing about trees. But that’s a pretty dead tree. And also a pretty, dead tree.
And I’d be willing to bet that this is alive, although I’m not sure it’s a tree.
Leal is a gorgeous floofy twelve-year old Australian shepherd who looks and acts about three. May we all be so young for so long!
Incidentally, his name is, at least according to his human, a Teutonic word meaning ‘one who brings joy’. I choose to believe this, because it fits him so well.
That’s the fluffiest chest I’ve seen since the last San Francisco Pride Parade!
And he’s a leaner, too.
Another bonus post from my vacations of yesteryear: some pictures of adorable basking harbor seals from Monterey Bay. I can’t believe I didn’t post these silly sea-dogs before. I have no excuses. Mea culpa. Mea maxima culpa.
That face! (This is a young one, they get darker as they get older.)
I had a really really long lens. They could see me, but I was just a little moving dot over on the shore.
Not sure about age or breed, except that he’s totally adorable and is still a puppy. Might be a boxer mix? Ran into him at the SPCA, less than a day before he was adopted.
He sat down and stared deliberately at me and looked pathetic and itched. Like, “Look, I’ll even show you RIGHT where to scratch me…”
Yes, there were two of them. So much cute, all in one place.
Our first through-the-window nose shot!
Patterns in the sand have always had a fascination for me, and I’ve taken hundreds of pictures of them. The first picture I ever developed — black and white, real film, real darkroom, real developer stains on my fingers — was a photo of ripples in silver-and-black sand, when I was twelve years old. It was gorgeous, and unfortunately lost in one of my many moves, sometime in my teenage years. I’ve been trying to take another one as nice since then, with rather incosnsitent results.
These in particular all came from a couple of trips I made to the Monterey/Carmel/Big Sur area. They might be worth clicking on: there’s a lot of detail there that you can’t see from the smaller images.
It just depends on the sand and the lighting how marked wave-marks can get.
There are rather a lot of different colors of sand around Monterey.
The patterns are often quite light, hard to see.
Sometimes the seaweed makes interesting patterns too.
Looks like a tropical beach, doesn’t it? Until you realize those trees are only a few inches tall…
In addition to today’s normal caturday supplement, I was going through my old pictures and found a bunch of pictures I took down in Monterey back in 2013 that I’ve been meaning to post and didn’t, so I’m doing a bonus post or two. Today: birds.
Incidentally, at least the latter two may be worth clicking on, since (in my opinion, anyway) they’re even prettier with more detail.
Taken at dusk. I bet there’s someone out there who could identify this based on just the beak, but it sure isn’t me.
Brown Pelican. I find bird wings endlessly fascinating.
Those beaks are really something too.
A little outing for a little grey kitty.
I think the leash was a precaution. They brought a crate, so I doubt they take him out walking.
Miller isn’t old! And Miller isn’t English. Also, Miller has never met any sheep. But, to be fair, Miller is in fact a dog, and one out of four isn’t bad. On a physics test. For a dog.
PS: I think Miller is friends with Bumper, as is nearly every Old English sheepdog that I have run into in San Francisco.
Someone got a buzz cut. I love shaggy Old English pups, but they’re a lot easier to keep neat when they’re cut like this.
He was very happy to show off his trick.
Our second dog in a week or so that likes having his paw held.