Showing posts from November, 2015

Fix it Herself: The Mystery of the Cold Oven

My human thought she turned the oven on, but it didn't heat up.  She assumed she set the temperature but forgot to actually turn it on until it happened again. The internet recommended a new bake element, but it stayed cold.

After more troubleshooting and colorful language, a new control board was installed. The connections on the replacement part didn't match exactly, so they turned on the power while aiming an extinguisher. It worked and nothing caught on fire!

Lake Havasu or Bust!

Road trip! This time one of my moms sat in the backseat. Nacho and Bacchus slept with their heads on her lap.
Our Gpa generously settled us into his room because it has direct access to his HUGE backyard. 
We sniffed every stone, and barked at the German shepherd in the corner. 
Our humans like when we make a ruckus. They feel it endears us to the neighbors.

Break A Leg!

I hurtled enthusiastically toward the bed ... and my leg caught in the frame. I fell back, shrieking and biting the air (not my finest moment). My mom managed to release my trapped limb while avoiding my teeth, and snuggled me on the bed. Carefully, gently, she felt my joints and bones. Everything seemed intact but swollen. I let them ice me briefly, and then lost interest in licking a cube. 
I ran around without limping, and managed to get BOTH my legs stuck in the bed frame next. All the covers were stuffed in the narrow gap afterward. It was up to me to keep my humans warm!

The Suffering is [Not] Real

Rounding the corner, my dog buddy hot on my heels, I spronged onto the bed and noticed the puparazzi. My human was laying in wait to record my mighty leap and I fell into her trap. 
I evade the camera in many ways: wiggling, looking away, immediately stopping adorable activity ...
Clever people have invented hand-carried devices for documenting cuteness. I will foil you all!

Shameless Slinky

Like a slinky, I snooze in any position I end up in.
My uncomfortable-looking contortions and gassy nature have earned me the nickname Flatulent Pretzel. Come closer and I may cough- or hiccup-fart on you. Luckily I'm shameless.