Let it snow!

It's April 20th, and I live in the greater Seattle area. It's snowing, quite heavily, and starting to stick. I don't recall ever seeing snow this late in the year - of course our puppy wants out badly. She adores snow and hail - I had to pry her in earlier after it had slushed for a little bit; she wanted to stay out indefinitely snuffling around this wondrous wet mushy stuff, torn between sniffing and licking. She doesn't have her full adult coat by a long stretch yet, however; in particular her foot feathers are only partly grown in, so it's not good for her to stay too long in the slush/snow/ice. She's certainly not willing to admit it, though.

All Hail Zoe

It's April 18, and it's snowing - heavily. It hailed earlier - and the kids let the puppy out before I realized it. She thought it was great - ran around the yard, tail waving behind her, ears streaming along, though she did come running in as fast as I've ever seen her move after a while. This shot is on the deck; the hail you see all fell in a five-eight minute span at most, and was already lightening back up by the time I fetched the camera.

Meet Zoe

This is our seven, almost eight month old Cavalier. (See two posts below for further commentary.) She's settling in - as evidenced by the destruction, over the course of two hours, of a gamecube controller, an army man, part of the Millenium Falcon, a sock, and countless pieces of paper, as well as one yogurt lid that escaped my notice on the floor. She loves to play fetch now, but not on the linoleum in the kitchen (can't blame her.) Her first vet visit with us is this coming Monday. She'll probably enjoy the attention this time out - not so much on the visit after that, wherein she'll be spayed. (Sorry, Zoe - your puppies would be absolutely adorable, but I'm not sure I'm ready to deal with the mind-numbing amount of work involved in raising them.) The first shot is of her with her ball, and I think she was posing - the second is just there so that you can see some of her markings.

Guitars, beaches, and very sweet notes

Pictures of my kidlets are long overdue. Here, in no particular order, are the following photos: Collin playing his new guitar after Christmas; Collin asleep with a note that he'd written on his doodle pad for me (I was out at a rehearsal, and was all misty-eyed when I found this upon returning home); Collin and Willow at the beach/playground visiting Grandma Kathi and Grandpa Mike.

memory cards and puppies

Wow - amazing how easy it is to put something off. Suddenly four months have passed, with nary a post. A good part of that is because I cannot find the cable I use to download pictures from my camera. I've acquired a card reader that should take care of that, but it's a bit of a pain to use. Seeing as the primary purpose of this blog is to share pictures with my family, at least half of the time elapsed is due to being unable to upload pictures. The other half is my innate distractibility.

Our latest news: We have a puppy. Her name is Zoe, so far, and she's a seven month old Cavalier King Charles Spaniel. Sounds fancy, doesn't it? We adore her - most importantly, my son, the dog hater, chose her and loves her. Now, I have to confess, I've always mocked folks who waxed enthusiastic about their toy dog. Toy dog? The first word precludes the second! A dog should be a DOG!, not a toy, or an escaped inmate from Barbie-land. I'm a retriever sort of woman - my current favorite is the flat-coated retriever, beautiful dog - and a major fan of any dog that has a sleek sort of beauty and grace of motion. Spaniels have a lot going for them, but what I consider elegance and grace are not major spaniel attributes. (I will now duck in case of mortar fire from the local spaniel clubs. It's ok, guys - my beloved childhood companion was three quarters spaniel, and while she was not a Mensa candidate, I loved her. Still miss her.) In addition, the Cavalier has slightly buggy eyes. You know what I mean - chihuahuas have the same thing going, and it's what I like least about them. They do have a muzzle, thank god - it's short, but there, unlike the King Charles spaniel. (Those little guys share the same unfortunate characteristic that people bred into persian cats - a genetic SMACK! into a plate glass window at full speed. Unlike Wiley Coyote, they don't get to just shake it off.) The "Cavalier" in front of the rest of the breed name is an important difference.

I am now forced to swallow any number of quips I've made in the past. Not only do I now own a dog that is judged in the 'toy' category - though she's awfully big compared to most toy breeds, seventeen pounds already - a purebred, to boot, but she's already completely won me over. I went to put her in her crate this morning, and couldn't do it. She'd already been stuck for an hour and a half while I dropped my son off at school and went grocery shopping. Before I quite knew what I was doing, I found myself on the phone with my dad, and shortly thereafter, Empress Zoe was being chauffered over to my father's, there to hang out for a couple of hours where she could romp with someone and be loved as was proper, perhaps play with my parents' Sheltie, while I went to teach a lesson.

I am now going to ignore my chores, and my book, and go romp with her in the backyard. She hasn't had enough attention this afternoon.

I am so whipped. Music, studies, marriage, cats, mortgages, children; my head has been held high until now, when I find myself wrapped around the paws of this ridiculously sweet puppy. Did I mention that I bought her a stuffed animal this morning?