Firstly, Mr. Mop had a bath. I realize that to some, or many, this may not seem exciting. But it is. Because it was a fancy bath at the groomers. We went for a walk at Lighthouse Park the day before to get him all good and dirty for the big day. It is pretty big. He always has mixed emotions. Elation from being alone with me, happiness for the man who gives him a biscuit before entering the shop, fear when he realizes where he is being dragged, horror at my leaving him for three hours, joy at me coming to get him, and satisfaction in chewing the dried bull penis he gets as a treat.
Very big day.
He went in looking like a scraggle Mop and came out looking like Mr. Poufter
Secondly, Brooklyn was put on a diet. That's right. My little 9-lb yorkie is now 10 lbs. Which is like 20 pounds to us. I have always defended his 'softness', denying he is fat, but rather poufy. It took a good and honest friend for me to see the truth. When she said, 'wow, Brooklyn is really fat. Look at his pin head' - kind words coming from a big heart, I knew it was true. I got low-fat food, he is allowed no more treats (read this MOM), and extra running time for him. Poor little muppet, he stared at my ice cream today like it was eternal bliss. He stares at his vomit the same way though, so I'm not sure what it means.
Thirdly, both boys enjoyed an inappropriate hump fest at the dog park. Last night, the boys ran around with three griffin terriers (they are really cute - they sort of resemble ancient Chinese men). Mop really took a shining to the female, and after some courting, proceeded to mount her. Well, I kept pulling him off, but she really didn't seem to mind.
Then Brooklyn wanted part of the action and joined in. By humping her head. I broke them apart.
Not seconds later, Mop was at it again. As he was happily humping terrier one, terrier two mounted Mr. Mop. Who was mounted by Brooklyn. That's right: four dogs in what seemed like a humpalooza at the dog park. I was laughing so hard that I couldn't really catch them (as they were running and humping) so the act went on for far too long.
Terrier three ate mud. Good choice terrier three.
Needless to say, both of my boys had to leave the park at that point and fell into a deep and happy sleep.
And fourthly (see I told you exciting!), Mop and Brooklyn spent time at a new park this morning with a husky named Tundra. A virgo should not own a white dog. Mr. Mop was immediately covered in mud, from wrestling with Tundra. I kept chasing him yelling 'stay out of the mud! stay out of the mud!'. The other dog owner looked at me like I was nuts. Whatever. He would do the same thing if he saw my groomer's bill.
The part that was exciting about this walk was the eagle that flew over our heads, by only a few metres, and landed in its nest. Panic much? All I could think of was that scene from 'The Proposal'. In case you haven't seen it, a puppy gets carried away by an eagle (don't worry, Sandra Bullock saves it). I also thought of that news report I heard when they cleared some nests from Kits beach and found them full of dog collars.
So now not only was I telling my one dog to stay out of the mud, but I was chasing my little dog for fear he would be whisked away for eagle breakfast. He thought this was a game, so ran away barking his horrible Yorkie bark. Drawing attention to his yummy fat self. I told him that this was very serious and that he had to listen to me. He pooped.
But this gave me time to catch him and make noises at the eagle to deter him from his next meal.
Tundra's owner definitely got his money's worth this morning.
Anyways, we are home safe. Fat, fluffy and safe. So much excitement that they are both lying flat on their backs, four legs in the air, snoring happily together.