A night of entertainment, movies and popcorn. Without the entertainment and movies.

Tell me doogs, when a night at the movies with popcorn is suggested, WHO NEEDS THE MOVIES?

Yes I'm up for a howlin' night in...

...I'll stand for any type of candy bar...

....just waitin' for the credits to roll...

...now...pleeeeeeeeeease...

...delish.

Five gold stars for that entertainment.

NEXT!

Chow for now dooogs.

For five months I've been missin' you...

I'm so ashamed, I can hardly look at you, dooogs.



I'm hardly barkin' at the ma either.



Oh my dooog, five months?

Honestly, it's been way tooo long without your sniffs and howls, and I haven't been to your smelly blogplaces in agesssss either.



Can you ever forgive me?



Will you ever come and chew the fat again with me?



Of course I'll understand if you never want to sniff my butt again.



Perfect Tosca said she'd bite her foot if I didn't post soon.

I should really bite mine for being so slack, although it wasn't my fault, If. You. Know. What. I. Mean.


No doubt the ma will insist on including a list of pathetic excuses in a later dogpost. 'The dog ate my homework.' 'I was busy.' 'I had to listen to some flowers growing.' 'Let's take on some barkin' challenges and do them all at once, shall we?''I clean forgot.' 'Blog, what blog?' 'Oh look, is that fish really looking at me?' .


I hope you still have all your paws, lovely Tosca.

Thank you all for not forgetting me completely. Thank you for stopping by and leaving tasty comments.

What's the highest compliment I can pay you, to let you know how I feel about you?



Mmmmmm, I know.



You are all like marrow bones to me:

delicious, lickable, desirable, wondrously smelly, pantingly scrumptious, everydooog's dream....

....and oh so good for me!

The day I nearly ran away from home...to be with my pawgal Opy

So there I was on Friday evening last, mindin' my own bizziness, waitin' for the dinner, and the ma comes out and says:

"Great news, Tin Tin, we're going to get to meet Greg! You know, Opy and Charlie's SHD."

Whaaaaat?!

One of the two DWB doog-gurus?

Coming here to our shed?

I almost forgot about food, I was so excited.

Maybe I'd be able to catch a whiff of Opyroma off him.

Maybe a bit of her fur would be on him and I could sniff it off, sleep with it on my bed, and dream doooggy dreams.

Or maybe...

...he'd have a big enough car, and the ma wouldn't notice, and I could sneak into the back, and drive off with him, and then help Greg and Brooke and Opy and Charlie to move to their new human kennel.

So, after about 45 minutes, the Gregster rang the doorbell.

Woohooo.

We had a blast, him 'n' me.

He played tug with me.

He ruffled my coat.

He cuddled me.

He paid me ATTENTION.

I made sure to bring over to him my orange coz that Opy and Charlie sent me.



I could tell he loved me.

I loved him and gave him big sloppy Tin Tin kisses.



He was one of those humans that, you know, UNDERSTANDS dooogs.



(That's me above doing my best Gruffpuppy look.

Good, innit?

Opy, are you impressed?)

Anyway, Greg must understand weird humans too 'cos he and the ma and da had a good ole chat.

Then he had to go.

Moment of truth...should I stay or should I go?



What do you think I did, dooogs?

Why, it was dinner time. I couldn't possibly leave.

And, well, the ma might have missed me.

So Opy, please forgive me for not being a stowaway in your SHD's truck.

But I came sooooo close....

I'm lookin' forward to playin' with Greg again. And to meeting Brooke. But of course it's Opy and Charlie I want to hang out with.

One day.

Le sigh.

Hippo burpday to meeeeee. Wheeeee.

Hey doogs.

It's my burpday today, wooohoooo.

And remember that biscuit recipe that the ma got, oh, I don't know, decades ago?

I barked about it here.



Well anyway.

What does she do?

She goes and makes me some biscuits. Finally.



Oh. My. Dog. I am happy to confirm that they are dribblesomely delicious.



Oh, and I'm nine. Years old.

Going on nine months behaviourally, apparently.

Hee hee hee.

Now gimme those biscuits. Pleeeeeeeease ma.



Lookin' forward to barkin' and howlin' at y'all in the chat room sometime later.

Spot the dog...

...somewhere in here.

Can you see me?

Call me the grand master of disguise.



Keepin' a low profile...



...and keepin' snug...



...but this is where I've been...



Just doin' a bit of chewin' and keepin' the dogarazzis at bay.

Winter solstice: survived thanks to a $7 designer coat.

I'm so sorry I've been a very bad doog pal of late. Can you all forgive me? (well, my slack ma, actually). I'm looking forward to sniffing around your smelly blogplaces real soon.

Now, on to the news.

It's been really cold here in Adelaide these last few weeks, almost as cold as we experienced when we lived in Canberra.

The ma was feeling rather sorry for me sleeping outside at night. I shivered and shook (at appropriate moments. I was actually rather comfy. But you doogs understand it's important to milk the sympathy line for all it is worth.)

So what did she do? Did she buy me a kennel? Nope. Did she allow me to sleep inside (the easiest, most sensible and PREFERABLE option by far)? Nope.

She bought me a coat. A COAT, for Dog's sake.

Me. Tin Tin. Who NEVER wears clothes. Ever.

(Except that one time Jay sent me a bandana, and I posed. And looked handsome.)

Okay, here we go:

See my wagging tail there? The treats made me do it.

My Yoda impression:


"A new coat, I have."


The coat fastens under my (much trimmer) tummy and around my chest.

I hope all you bee-itches out there have noticed how it strains over my dogly chest.

I actually got used to it very quickly. It's lined with real synthetic sheepskin, and although I'm loath to admit it, it has kept me really warm and toasty these last couple of weeks.

Oh, and those things hanging off my collar? My registration tags. The ma thought she'd leave them on like some kind of decoration or something.

So now I'm walking around with relics of my past status hanging off me.

Whatever.

Tin Tin the tree termite terminator. So how did you spend your Sunday?

A tree that looks like a tuning fork is in our back yard. Trouble is, the tree is almost dead.



The da hooked a chain around it.

And guess who pulled it down?



Before you guess, here's what it looked like. Those termites were havin' themselves a big feed.



Blowin' on the paws, gettin' ready for the pull...



...is this helping?



I feel kinda like how Ao4 or my other Sibe pals must feel when they're pullin' sleds and other stuff.



Tin Tin termite terminator at your service.

Now where's the treat ma?

PS ok so I didn't yank the tree down. The stupid humans thought it would be funny to make it look like I did.

Ha blinkin' ha.

I'll be baaaaaaack.

PPS Bye bye sweet FuFu. And hell-oooo hell-oooo Girl Girl.

Dog interrupted

So the ma thought it would be a good idea to take me for a walk on Sunday.

To the beach.

Two problems with that.

1. It was pouring rain. It was windy. And it was cold.

2. It was in the middle of the DWB Whine and Shes ummm, Cheese pawty.

Actually make that three. Problems, that is.

3. I had a marrow bone to finish.

Here’s the unfinished paw-work.

Big sigh.

Pick a time when I'm socially AND mandibly engaged, throw in some crap weather, then decide to bring me for a walk. How'll I ever train her?

Anyway, it was great to chat to all you bloggydogs and beee-itches at the weekend. What a barkin’ success the pawty was!

To those I didn’t bark at ‘cos of time zone differences or why-ever else, I'm sooo sorry I missed you.

To those with whom I did share a bark and wag, thanks for the lovely experience.

And a particularly big bark out to Opy and Charlie’s humans for hosting, and to Sunshade’s human for co-ordinating.

As soon as the ma has gone through the pawty pix, I might post one. If they're fit for doggy consumption, that is.

Coz I love you

I’ve missed you doogs, thank you all so much for continuing to drop by my smelly blogplace to check up on me. I’ll be doin’ the rounds shortly to chez vous all…

The ma is busy. So who isn’t? How come your humans don’t neglect your deliciously smelly blogplaces like my ma does?

Le sigh. Hard to find good people these days.

Anyway. Onto one of my fave topics: food.

So a couple of weeks ago, the mailma(n) arrived.

With a box. With my name on it.



My ma’s name was on it too, but the stuff was all for ME.

It wasn't my burpday.

It wasn't Christmas either.

Then I thought maybe the ma was trying to get into my good books by paying me some attention.

But there was a certain exciting, delicious, dribbly, delectable, mouth-watering doggy scent from this box that howled E D I B L E.

Sure enough, opening it up revealed…a treasure trove of treats for MEEEEEEEE.

All from my pals Charlie and Opy (sigh…). With a love note. Which I’m treasuring.



To all you Opy-lovers out there: BIG RASPBERRY. (Ummm, a polite one, of course.)

Anyway, back to the box. Not just a bunch of LOVE HEART biscuits from my gal-pal Opy, but a devilishly orange coz.



Here's the stash:



Yaaaaay. Finally the coz arrives Down Under.



Thank you so much, Opy-gal and Chuxie.



The treats are going down a, ummmmm, treat.

The coz sleeps with me each evening.



Don’t get me wrong, I’m a tough chewin’ doooog.



But I have my soft spots.



(Oh, and black ones too.)