Daily Dose of Cute

[Please note that Dudley and Zelda bare their teeth at each other in this video. They're just playing, but if seeing dogs bare their teeth is triggering or otherwise problematic for you, you should skip this video.]


Dudley and Zelda lie on the floor facing each other, their paws crossed, squeaking a plush snake toy between them. They stop and look at me. "Get it," I tell them. "Get it, puppies!" They sniff at it, sniff each other, look back at me. "Where's the snake? Where is it?" I ask. They look at me. "Where's the snake?" They look at me. "Dudley, get it. Get it!" I whisper. "Zelly Belly, get that snake!" I reach down for it. "What is this?" I hold it up and they take it back for more squeaking. Zelly throws me a quick "Thanks, Two-Legs!" look. Squeak squeak squeak.

Suddenly Zelda hops backwards and sits up with her back against the settee. (This is her cue for: "It's time for the Bitey Game!") "Oh my goodness!" I exclaim to Dudley. "What was that?!" He looks at me. "Oh my goodness!" He squeaks the snake while Zelly waits patiently, then finally catches on. He stands up and sniffs the camera, then goes and offers his neck to Zelda. They snort and huff and play-bite each other. Zelda bats him with her paw. He play-bites her leg. She punches him. "You tell him, Zelly," I tell her. "You tell him."

Dudley sits down beside her, then lowers himself so now Zelly is the taller one. More biteyness. Zelly punches him with both front paws, then falls over. I laugh. Bitey bitey bitey. Iain makes a noise in the loft; the dogs stop and look up, a pair of ridiculous cuteness. Fin.

Daily Dose of Cute

"Love me, Two-Legs."
Zelda may well be the snuggliest, cuddliest, petmepetmepetme dog of all time. She loves getting attention from anyone and everyone; when someone walks in the door, she immediately has to run to the toybox to get a squeaky toy and squeak it with uncontrollable excitement.

And I'm pretty sure she begs to go out in the rain just so she can come back in and get dried off with a fluffy towel.

Daily Dose of Cute

Doggehs!


The Dudley Model is 75 pounds and made from: One nosehead, one giraffe neck, a tangle of awkward legs, snowflakes, cinnamon, and goofiness.



The Zelda Model is 40 pounds and made from: A recycled teddy bear, snuggles, squid ink, and Doritos.

Daily Dose of Cute

Zelda has been with us just over four months now, and she's doing really well. She's so settled in as part of our family, I can't believe it's only been four months.

As she's gotten more comfortable, it's become clear she's more anxious than I originally thought. That might seem counter-intuitive, but she's not as shut down as she was when we first brought her home from the pound, and allowing herself to express her emotions has revealed her insecurity, too. She wants constant reassurance that she's doing the right thing and is safe and valued, and I'm forever navigating that thin line of validating her place in our family without encouraging anxiety.

She's much more independent now, and many of her other anxieties are falling away. We can touch her paws, and hold and stroke them, although we're still not quite able to trim her nails yet. She's great in the bath. She's increasingly playful with us, even though Dudley is still her favorite playpal. And I think he always will be, which is just fine with us.

Her new favorite game with me is to follow me into the kitchen, prompting me to turn around and chase her out with a finger pointed to the door. She scurries out, then comes in halfway; I chase her out again. She pokes her head in, grinning. I run out after her: "I'm going to get you, Bad Dog!" She flops on the carpet, belly up, tail wagging, and awaits her ticklish fate.


Zelly Belly, at home.

Daily Dose of Cute

Zelly Belly.

Daily Dose of Cute

"Hi!"

Daily Dose of Cute

Lord Dudlington takes his breakfast on the settee.
Dudley—who, as previously documented, is One of Those Dogs who constantly has to be taken to the vet for something, whether it's eyeball drama or butt hullabaloo—was limping pitiably this weekend after hurting his front left paw while zooming around the backyard. Now, Dudz routinely tears his paws to pieces, because he is not only a beastie capable of running 45mph but also a total glaik, so we're used to cleaning cuts and removing thorns and not getting totally alarmed every time he has a little limp. But this was a serious limp, and we feared a broken or dislocated toe (to which greys are prone), so it was off to the vet. Again.

Luckily for Dudz (and us), it was not a broken toe; it's merely the equivalent of a sprained ankle. So he's been prescribed an anti-inflammatory and bed rest.


Zelda keeps watch on the floor in front of the settee: "I got this."
Trying to keep Dudz and Zelly from playing together is the hardest part, although I shan't complain about having two playful dogs who love each other.

At the animal clinic, the vet noticed that Dudley had some bruising on his belly and the inside of his back legs, easily noticeable since those areas are pink and hairless. "Um, that's where our other dog bumps him with her head when she runs underneath him," I told the vet. "It's, like, the best game ever." The vet and the vet tech laughed. Of course it is.

Yesterday, after we got home, I was watching Animal Cops: Phoenix and a mixed-breed dog that clearly had greyhound in him whimpered onscreen. Zel almost never reacts to anything on the television, but that greyhoundy whimper sent her tearing up the stairs to the loft where Dudley was resting, to make sure he was okay.


"Let me know if you need anything, buddy." BFFs.

Daily Dose of Cute

Video Description: Zelda the black-and-tan mutt chases Dudley the white-and-red greyhound around the back of the garden. When he gets too far ahead of her, he slows down to let her catch up, but never actually catch him. They stop, and I tell her, "Zelda, get him! Go get him!" She runs after him some more. Repeat.

* * *

As I mentioned, we recently had to have our back garden fenced in, as the two-years-and-counting increasingly FUBARed construction project on our street is set to leave us without sidewalks in every direction for possibly six months. So, since we live in a place that doesn't give a fuck about basic amenities, but do ourselves give a fuck about providing our dogs with regular exercise, we had to spring for a fence.

(To give you some idea of how absurdly mismanaged and chronically stupid this project is, they are spending today tearing out the street in front of our house. Great idea, because who needs access to their driveways on a holiday weekend? I'm sure no one was planning on having people over for Thanksgiving.)

Anyway! Although it was highly irritating to be obliged by local incompetence to put ourselves in debt, the dogs are convinced we've gifted them with their own private dog park, and their joyfulness makes me happy.

Dudley has also been inspired to invent a new game which I call Bump. Basically, the game consists of Dudley bumping me, lol. I stand in the middle of the yard, and he walks over and flops against the back of my legs as hard as he can, and then I say, "BUMP!" and he curls around me then flops against the front of my legs, then the sides, and around and around, looking up at me and grinning like a fool while I say, "BUMP! BUMP!" and pet him and give him kisses.

He is 70 pounds, and this game will definitely put me on the ground someday. But probably not before Zelda's new game of "RUN AT TWO-LEGS AT TOP SPEED THEN LAUNCH MYSELF THROUGH THE AIR AT HER WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" does.

Daily Dose of Cute

"Hello, Two-Legs. Will you not pet my head as I desire?"

Daily Dose of Cute

Doggies at Battlestations:


Zelda: "I will be RIGHT HERE if you need me. RIGHT HERE. I am not moving as long as you feel less than perfect. Just whatever you need, you let me know. I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to be RIGHT HERE."


Dudley: "Yeah, me too, totally. I'm going to be right he—zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz."

This was pretty much the dog-scene at Shakes Manor for the past week. It's funny how each of the animals had their own way of being supportive: Olivia, who is normally sticking her ass in my face demanding attention anytime she's within two feet of me, has been hovering close, just keeping an eye on me. Sophie magically appears every time I get a particularly strong wave of nausea, as if figuratively offering to hold my hair. Matilda shows up to sit on me whenever I get chilled—and the jockeying for position in which she and Zelly typically engage has been set aside. For now, ahem. *raised eyebrow*

In an extremely fortunate bit of timing, the fence we had put in the backyard (rendered an expensive necessity by the ongoing construction which will soon leave us with no sidewalks at all, not even crappy ones, for as long as six months) was completed just days before I got ill, so instead of having to walk the dogs, I was able to let them out into the newly-fenced garden. They love it like whoa, basically believing they've now got their own private dog park, and they jet out the back door like two shots when it's time to go out.

But when I was feeling rubbishy, they ambled out slowly and stood beside me, looking up at me. "Go on, go pee," I told them. Zelda squatted where she stood, and peed in a pile of leaves, never taking her eyes off of me. "Go on!" I laughed, waving them into the yard. They stood next to me. Dudley peed against the edge of the stone patio. "Go play!" I said. If dogs could shake their heads, they would have. Nuh-uh, Two-Legs. We ain't going anywhere.

I turned to go back inside, figuring if I left them, they'd play. I closed the screen door behind me, and turned to shut the storm door. There they sat, on the other side of the screen door, patiently waiting to be let back in. "Go on, I'm fine!" I assured them.

Dudley whined. Zelda nudged the door with her nose. I opened it and let them in.

Daily Dose of Cute

"I am a little piggy nose, and I want to go for a walk!"

Daily Dose of Cute

There has CLEARLY already been a heaping helping of cute already today, care of Deeks and Jack. But who couldn't use more cute? (I could!)

Dudley and Zelda are always Very Concerned About the Goings-On when Iain and/or I do anything outside around the house. They take up spying positions wherever they can find them, but the best place ever is obviously at the front door.




"We have Some Concerns about what may or may not be going on out there."

Dudley: "All this standing and looking has really wiped me out."
When the front door window is not available, the window over the couch will suffice, although it's totally not as good.


"This vantage point stinks. Let's get Two-Legs to open the front door."

Daily Dose of Cute

Oh the humanity.
(That is, for the record, a stuffing-less plushy toy raccoon draped across Zelda's head. I was trying to engage her in a game of tug-o-war with it, but she prefers to play tug-o-war with Dudley and play RUN AROUND IN CIRCLES!!! with me, so I put it on her head.)

Daily Dose of Cute

Dudley: Twooooooooo-Leeeeeeeeegs! Make her mooooooooove! I wanna lay dowwwwwwwwwn!

Zelda: Blerp blorp. Treats. Blerp blorp. Toys. Blerp blorp. Treats.

Dudley: Oh my GOD. This is the worst thing to happen in the history of America!

Zelda: Blerp blorp!

Daily Dose of Cute

Zelda.


Dorito Ears!

Daily Dose of Cute

This video does not even do justice to how hilariously pathetic Dudley was being the other night, but I tried to capture and convey the desperate angst as best as I could.

Agony Antler: Dudley has an antler tragedy, but, luckily, I am able to save the day with my human problem-solving skills and opposable thumbery.

Text Onscreen: I bought the dogs a pair of naturally shed elk antlers to chew on… [picture of two sections of elk antler] It was a HIGH VALUE TREAT, so Dudley immediately grabbed his and ran down the hall with it to the office, where he takes all HIGH VALUE TREATS. [retrospective video of Dudley taking a pig's ear from me and running down the hall with it] But, pretty soon, there was an evident problem… [video of Zelda chewing contentedly on her antler; I pan to the left, and Dudley is lying pitiably on the floor with no antler. I say, "Dudley, where's yours? Where's your antler? Where did you put it?" He looks miserable. "Are you pathetic?" I ask.] Yes. Very pathetic. [video of Dudley lying with his face right next to Zelda, staring at her while she chews contentedly on her antler, which she has not immediately lost like a glaikit] I went to the office to look for it. I looked all over and couldn't find it. I looked in the guest room, the bathroom, the loft…no sign of it. Dudley continued to look pathetic. [video of Dudley looking pathetic beside Zelda] I finally thought to look under the bookshelf that's right next to Dudley's bed in the office. And there it was. [picture of the antler placed to show that's there's just exactly enough room for it to slide under the bookshelf] I returned Dudley's antler to him, and the world was a just and joyful place once again. [video of Zelda and Dudley lying on their beds in the office, chewing happily on their antlers; video of Dudley resting on his bed, holding onto his antler with one paw] The End. [picture of Dudz and Zelly together on one bed labeled "Two Dogs!"]

He literally must have run into the office with it, dropped it, and watched it skid under the bookshelf instantly, lol. He is SUCH a hapless goofball.

Daily Dose of Cute

Zelda
Looking at older pictures now, I notice how her face has changed since we adopted her in July: She's filled out, care of a diligent regimen of treats, no more gaunt cheeks (or jutting backbone), and, as she's settled in, her face has relaxed. Her ears move around more, and her jaw is no longer clenched with anxiety. That she feels part of our family now is literally written on her face.