Do you know what today is?
It’s our Tavishversary!
Hard to believe it’s already been three years with this adorably funny little dude.
I took Tavish to the vet last month. While we were there, he got a nail trim. The vet tech asked me if he runs around a lot of corners, because his nails had worn in a slanted fashion.
I recently took him in for another nail trim, after which I was informed that the nails on one side of his body were also noticeably longer than on the other.
Apparently, my dog spends a lot of time revving himself up and sliding around corners like some sort of Hanna-Barbera cartoon come to life. I still can’t quite figure out why this has made him lopsided, however. We don’t have any one way signs in our house, so he’s free to take corners from any and all directions, after all.
Oh, and I’d be remiss if I didn’t leave this here, given recent events:
Tavish joined our family almost three years ago. In that time, I’ve never had to actually give him a bath… until last week.
Generally, Tavish goes to the groomer and just requires some freshening up between appointments. I’ve always been pretty content with this arrangement, especially because the little dude is scared of water. I had no desire to be the one inflicting aquatic torture on him.
Sadly, our streak has been broken. Last Monday, he managed to find something to roll in, which resulted in his first journey to the guest bathtub (a location that Bella visited many times in the past).
That brings us to Thursday morning…
If a picture is worth a thousand words, I think I just wrote a (relatively short) novel. I’m obviously living my best life before 6 AM, y’all.
Have no fear – this story has a happy ending. The offending stinky stuff has been removed. It was larger than Tavish, and its source remains unclear. I guess this means we’re leaving the door open for a sequel.
(I decided this week that it’s time to get back into the blogging groove. Seriously. I know I’ve said this before… but this time, I’m going to try to ease in by setting a manageable goal for myself. I’m going to start with at least one new post per week. Here’s hoping it works… we shall see!)
My maiden name is pretty common. So common, in fact, that I’ve often received emails (both personal and professional) for other ladies with the same name. I try to handle these graciously – telling the sender that they have the wrong person and suggesting they check that email address again.
Of late, I’ve been receiving email for two different people – one college student and one woman with children. (The latter illustrated by the various websites the woman’s child seems to sign up for.)
The most recent installment in this saga is a doozy. I received an email from who I assume to be the dad of the college student. I learned the following things: (1) he is writing her papers for her (there was an attachment as proof); (2) he informed her that “paper #3 you will have to write because your class has a mandatory attendance to the MLK convocation and paper #3 is on that”; and (3) he will provide her with highlighted journal articles that he has read when she comes home next time.
I mean… what does one do with an email like that? Even better, the attached paper was a “think paper” for an education class, in which the “author” claims that she will be able to help shape students to become better model citizens. She/he also notes that she will always take a stand for teaching right from wrong. Um…
Parenting: you’re doing it wrong.
Who could argue with that?
I hope you’ve been good* this year. Tavish Claus has been watching.
Tavish Claus is Coming to Town
You shouldn’t go out. You better not lie.
You better stay home. I’m telling you why.
Tavish Claus is coming to town.
He’s going to kiss. He’ll be licking you twice.
He’s gonna ask if his dinner you’ll dice.
Tavish Claus is coming to town.
He sees you when you’re eating.
He knows when you’ve got cake.
If you’re smart, you’ll share your food,
Or a giant mess he’ll make.
You shouldn’t hold out. His patience you’ll try.
He will refuse to go out, until he’s eaten your fries.
Tavish Claus is coming to town.
*In this context, being “good” means giving your dog lots of food. All the food. So much food. (Tavish Claus thinks with his stomach, obviously… I’m the one who has to think about his waistline. I totally get how Mrs. Claus must feel.)
I spent a significant portion of my day cleaning the house. Tavish “supervised.” If only I could convince him to watch this video and apply its lessons to his daily life:
A girl can dream…
I mean, technically I want to snuggle all the dogs. (Bring them all to me. Bring them!) So, these six are really just the tip of the iceberg. Continue reading
Listen… I’m going to hit you with some real talk.
I’m busy watching the Emmys, so I’m just going to leave this here and call it a night:
Lately, I’ve been working out at home. (I purchased the Insanity workout, which has so far been true to its name.) Tavish seems to think that this is very interesting. He follows me to the basement and hangs out nearby, waiting for his moment to strike.
You see, Tavish thinks that when I’m stretching or on the floor is the perfect time for me to multitask and pet him. I’m going to try to get it on camera at some point, but until then, please enjoy this substitute video of someone else’s dogs making the most of workout time. (These two are bolder than Tavish. He waits patiently for the optimal time to make his move, and he’s never shown an interest in biting my ponytail.)
Those dogs seem like good sports. Tavish would never consent to being lifted in the air like that. He is not the biggest fan of being Sky Tavish (our name for it), unless it’s a necessary evil to elevator him onto the bed.
Do you work out at home? Does your dog try to join you?
Tavish, in his illustrious career, has sent one email. However, he made it count.
The hubs was working from home. He was on the couch with his laptop. Demanding attention, Tavish marched over to the laptop and walked on the keyboard. He replied to an email with one character – a single, perfect question mark.
Needless to say, the recipient of the “?” email was a tad confused, and then the hubs had to explain that Tavish sent it, not him. I guess this is the modern equivalent of the dog eating your homework? (Listen, don’t be mad at me. My dog sent that email.)
Do your dogs walk on the keyboard when you’re trying to type?