Dog-Cat Nap

Being adorable is hard work.

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Not your human's food truck

My sister, the intrepid reporter, has a new expose out on the newest addition to the food truck phenomena: mobile treats for pets.

Go check it out and tell her how awesome she is.  Also, Jellyby would like an ice-cream sandwich.

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Ollie

This is Ollie.  He's 10 weeks old, and his parent's unwisely let me have a photo session with him, which consisted of me spending two hours scheming over how to smuggle him out of their house.

Alas, I did not succeed in kidnapping him . . . yet.

Happy Wednesday!

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Love the Daily Swatch

Thanks to Laura Bennett's hilarious Project Runway blog, I discovered the Daily Swatch.  That's where Mood employees costume Swatch, the store mascot, with bits of trim and photograph him for my amusement.

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Jellyby would never put up with this humiliation, which is really too bad, because I really think she'd look rather fetching with a straw hat:

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Oh well.  Thanks Swatch.  And thank you Mood.  You guys are cray cray, and I love it.

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Happy Friday

Hope you have somewhere to go.  But if not, dress up anyway.

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Stop and Stair

Woof.  I'm Jellyby.  You can call me Jelly for short.  My people moved into a new house, which I really like because there are good smells in the backyard (woof! grass to pee on!) and two dachshunds next door who I like barking at (don't get your tails knotted up in a bunch, bitches, I'm bigger than you are).  And there are shiny wood floors, that I like slip sliding across when I chase my Wiggly Giggly ball around the house.

But that same shiny slippery wood stuff covers the stairs.  Which means that I keep dashing up the stairs, only to slip and slide right back down again.  This is embarrassing, and if you tell the dogs at the park, I'll deny it, but it's possible that I'm just a wee bit nervous about the stairs.  PTSD and all that.  

And when I can't get upstairs to my food bowl, it makes me sad.  And whiny.

Image source: Dash & Albert

My whining at the bottom of the stairs doesn't seem to make my people come to get me.  They just laugh at me from the top of the stairs.  Or yell at me to stop whining.  Which I don't understand, because I'm a dog and that's how I express my deep melancholy over the pit of despair that is my food-bowl-less life.  

You see my bro in that photo above?  He's got deep melancholy too.  I see it in his eyes.  It's probably because he thought his people were serving him those shoes in that tray, but when he tried gnawing on said shoes, they shoo'd him away.  Shoo'd away from shoes. Oh the indignities!

Image source: Dash & Albert

But today my people found these runners from Dash & Albert.  Woof.  And maybe the runner on the stairs will make them less slippery?  So I can get to my food bowl (yum, food bowl, woof!).

Image source: Dash & Albert

Only problem is that the humans who I own are not the sharpest tacks in the box.  I mean, they're not totally useless: they can throw a ball, they pick up my crap (literally and figuratively), and they manage to remember to put out the food on most days.  But not handy types, if you know what I mean.

Image source: Dash & Albert

So here's my plea: If you know how to install a runner on a staircase, would you tell them how?  Or if you are in Boston, and you know of someone who can install a runner and give a good tummy rub, would you let me know?  I will pay you back in tail wags and kisses.

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