Quick post today, since I have to run out the door early tomorrow to catch a plane. Saw this fine fellow through the window of a barber’s shop.
I’d totally go to a barber shop where I could get a French bulldog to sit on my feet while I’m getting my hair cut. If I had any hair left.
I think I probably heard what this guy is when I was out at WildCare but I don’t remember, and I have no real idea. I think his beak is too short for him to be a pelican.
Edit: Tommaso says ‘cormorant’, which makes sense. I’ve just never seen one sitting like this before.
The sprinkling of white on the head and back is kind of interesting.
Black and white (okay, okay, and grey) kitties, red and white stripes. Anyone else reminded of The Cat in the Hat?
Shortly after this picture, the one up top leapt down on the other one. Was totally adorable. And because of the lighting, totally blurry.
One white sock!
Sorry, I’ve been remiss this week: I missed two days, which I don’t usually do. Both days I didn’t get home until well after midnight, once for a movie and once for my company Christmas party. I should really plan ahead a little more, have a post queued up just in case. Maybe in the new year.
For today, though, I’d like to introduce Blossom, the 8-month-old puplet. Not sure what she’s mixed with… it’ll probably be a lot easier to tell once she’s grown up.
Blossom is a very direct sort of dog.
She’s also at that gawky adorable adolescent stage.
Three seconds before an attempted smooch.
Makita (1 year old) was happier to see my brother and me than his owner was, but he did let me get in a couple of shots. And, despite the fact that it was really dark outside, one of them came out. Behold, the glorious Makita!
That’s a lot of happy fluff right there.
A rescued greyhound. The longer they race, in my experience, the more skittish they tend to be. Colin (now 6) didn’t race long at all, he washed out early on, and he loves everybody. (Colin was adopted from Golden State Greyhound Adoption, although he apparently originally came from Florida.)
Since I took these pictures two weeks ago, I’ve run into Colin four more times. Hadn’t seen him before, even though he’s apparently lived here for a while. Funny how that works.
Gorgeous collar.
Soulful look. Also skinny look. Greyhounds always look like they could do with a good meal or six.
These guys have amazing yellow eyes, but this one was all sleepy, and I am not mean enough to go around waking up owls. (Another picture I took at WildCare.)
I came within inches of running over one of these things on the Pacific Coast Highway once.
Marmie = marmalade tiger tabby cat. This one was a pretty little kitten in the Macy’s window, naturally.
Cats sleep funny. From this angle it doesn’t look so weird, but…
…from this angle it’s just bizarre.
I have to say, Pomeranians are really growing on me, at least in the category of small dogs. They are a very happy breed, rivaling pugs and the other squooshy-faced breeds without all the associated health problems. (They are, in fact, the breed I’ve run into the most at advanced ages… one that was 16 and a cancer surviver and still running about happily, and another couple in the 13 to 15 range.) They’re also more friendly than most breeds of that size. And you must admit, they are super-cute.
Fizgig? Is that you?
Even if you’re not a small-dog person, I challenge you not to find something heartwarming in that delighted (if slightly manic) expression.
Woot! Five years of adorable puppydogs! I don’t promise to be here for another five, but I’m not bored of dogs yet, so I’ll be posting for a while, I think. (It’s actually been a couple days since the anniversary of the start of regular posting, but who’s counting, right?)
And here’s the other half of the set: Coco the 4-month-old black-mouth cur pup. I am assured that she and Jessie haven’t met. Well, maybe they’ll get lucky. I wonder if there’s a black-mouth play-date meetup group or something.
That’s a cute face. You could get away with a lot with a face like that.
That’s my brother’s hand. He was visiting and we were wandering around San Francisco when we ran into Coco, and he graciously didn’t object to my dog-picture-taking obsession.
Coco was a visitor to the city, from somewhere relatively close by, if I recall correctly.
That, on the other hand, is my hand. Coco was not satisfied with a mere one admirer.
Just a hint of concerned-forehead-wrinklage.