The labradude labrabides!
Ran into this labradoodle, whose name I sadly neglected to record, at the North Beach Festival. I missed the Blessing of the Animals this year, but at least I didn’t miss the coolest labradoodle in the city.
His dad didn’t put those on for my benefit. And they were just normal sunglasses, not strapped on or anything.
In fact, I saw him with those on for at least five minutes. He really seemed to like them.
There are Greater Swiss mountain dogs, and then there’s Hans. Hans is 145 pounds (that’s 66 kilograms in Switzerland) of pure happiness. I ran into him in a combination Irish pub and Indian restaurant in North Beach, where he was sprawled next to the door and greeting everyone who walked in with a tremendous grin and an expectant look. As you might imagine, he got all the petting his heart could have desired.
I honestly thought he was mixed with Great Dane or something. He’s huge!
When he sits around the bar, he sits *all the way* around the bar.
Jax wasn’t feeling it. I’m not sure what it was, and I’m not sure what he was feeling, but he definitely wasn’t feeling it. No excuses, either: he’s only 6! Still practically a puppy.
(Incidentally: a Great Pyrenees Anatolian shepherd mix? And apparently a rescue, and not an intentional cross? How does something like that even happen? What are the chances that a Great Pyrenees and an Anatolian shepherd would just happen to run across one another?)
Edit: Oh man, I can’t believe I didn’t even look. It turns out we’ve seen Jax before!
I would give a lot to be able to relax that much, even just for one night a week.
He opened his eyes and looked at me, but didn’t seem at all inclined to expend any effort at actually greeting me. Hmf.
A few weekends ago, I had the pleasure of dogsitting a gorgeous white shepherd (more or less a white German shepherd, but apparently they’re their own breed now). She’s an older dog, and her kidneys, though still working fine, aren’t what they once were. So I ended up having to stay with her until 10 PM, and then get up and get back to her by 6 AM. Which wouldn’t be so bad, except the busses between where she lives and where I live don’t start up until well after 6.
Actually, I lie, because it wasn’t ‘so bad’ anyway. It’s gorgeous getting up at 5 once in a while, especially on a weekend when nobody else is about. It was a lovely 40-minute walk to her house through the deserted streets, and I was treated to a dozen gorgeous views, only one of which I thought to take a picture of. This is one of San Francisco’s famous stairways: looking south on Lyon Street from Broadway. There would be a nice view of the bay and probably the Golden Gate as well, if it weren’t for the fog.
Yes, I was going down them… but I had to get up the other side of the hill first.
I haven’t been seeing much of Autumn lately: she’s pretty much working full time on her Pup Scouts job during the day, and spending her nights dogsitting, both for direct clients and through DogVacay. I managed to ambush her last weekend and drag her off for dinner not far from the place she was currently dog-sitting. After dinner, she said, “Oh, I have to show you something,” and led me down a couple of streets and around a corner and there was this little adorable tableau.
If I ever get pets I am going to make up a window like this that they can sleep in. So cute!
That is… a cardboard-box-lined hammock. I cannot imagine a more cat-attractive sleeping arrangement.
It reassures me that cats still have furrier ears than I do.
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.