Credit Where It's Due

Just want to give a great big fat "thank-you" to John and Jan Clark for hiking over to my house in the middle of a snow storm last January -just to take pictures of me! The "photo shoot" was for my literary debut in Dog Fancy (see attached File on the sidebar). What was funny is all the trouble John and Jan went to trying to get just the right angle and lighting for each photo ( John, a professional freelance photographer realized immediately that I photograph best from below, so he was lying stretched out on his side looking up at me with his camera the whole time.) And you should have seen Jan, waiving the treats wildly above my head, all the while trying to stay out of the picture. One time, I swear, she was sprawled flat out on her stomach, treat clutched in her hand, trying to get me to sit and look down at the same time. For crying out loud, all she had to do was tell me!
Anyway, the photo credits on this blog so far, including that big one at the top, go to John Clark, friend and neighbor.
(I'm wondering if John should photo-shop my nose-I think it looks too big-don't you?)

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Nuance

Can someone out there tell me how I'm supposed to know the difference between one of my (many) stuffed toys and oh, say, a black cashmere glove? They're all soft and furry, and believe me, they all taste the same. So how was I supposed to "know" that when Parental Unit dropped one of these so called gloves (mistakenly she claims) in my pile of toys laying on the floor, that I shouldn't run upstairs with it, stash it in my hiding place under the bed, and later chew it to shreds?
And... how was I supposed to know that Parental Unit had (I'm embarrassed to admit this) stalked these gloves for months at Saks Fifth Avenue, waited till they went on sale, then set her alarm to get up early on the day after Christmas to buy these gloves at 30% off their already marked down price?
Look who's calling who crazy? She wandered around for weeks muttering to herself that they were the only "elbow length" gloves she'd ever owned. Who does she think she is, Cinderella, that she need gloves up to her elbows? Something tells me she won't be going to a ball with a prince anytime soon. Hey, speaking of a ball...

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