Well, obviously the weather has warmed up around here.? How can I tell without going outside?? By? taking a gander at the view of the bathing beauties from my? sliding glass door (By the way, please forgive the fuzziness of the photo.? For some reason, it looks like our doors have been utilized as someone’s personal? snot rag? and scratching post.? ? Nothing like a? little hound dog slime? to add flavor to our pictures.)

Okay, so at least Fergie deigned to open her eyes and look at the camera, but honestly, Skye appears to be dead.? What is it about a sunny day and warm? concrete that turns even the feistiest hounds into lazy loungers?

And take a look at this photo.? It was actually taken about an hour after the first one, and in that time Fergie had begrudgingly gotten up for a drink and a quick bird chase before her next lounging session.?

What I want to know is, how in the heck did she manage to assume the exact same position she was in prior to getting up?? Seriously, can you tell the difference between this photo and the first one?? It’s like somebody made one of those chalk outlines to mark her? spot (except those are just for dead people).?

Actually, I’m thinking she must have super special top secret hound dog powers, including some kind of? sunbathing? radar.? Oh? yeah, and? the not-so-special (or secret, for that matter) ability to destroy massive amounts of? household items in a single bound.

What I want to know is—when is she planning on tanning the other side?

? So, I look outside our sliding glass door this afternoon, and I realize I was right about why we have a gi-normous barren wasteland where our grass used to be.? Although, I have to admit, when I was thinking “broken sprinkler”, this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.?

The Ferganator strikes again.

Exhibit A:? ? Oh, how sweet, the two sisters are playing together.? Wait a minute–what’s that they’ve got?

Exhibit B:? Fergie, that’d better not be what I think it is!

Exhibit C:? Son of a bitch! (or, to be more precise, daughter of a bitch)? I’m no expert, but I’m pretty sure that object dangling from your mouth isn’t an approved hound-dog chewie.

Exhibit D:? Wow, Home Depot doesn’t make sprinklers the way they used to.? Anyone need a slightly well-used one?

? So, I guess getting that layout in House Beautiful is out of the question?

Musical beds.? Sounds kind of kinky, right?? It brings to mind orgies, swingers, or some kind of new-fangled frat party theme.? At the very least, you might think of being serenaded by an acoustic guitar while snoozing.

Yeah, well,? we had a little musical bed action going on here last night, and I can guarantee you, nothing quite that exciting was happening.? Not by a longshot.? Oh, everything started off? okay.? ? ? Hubby and I got in bed, turned off the lights, and had ourselves all tucked in nice and cozy by 10:15 pm.? Nothing unusual about that.? Except that while I stayed there all night, hubby abandoned ship sometime before midnight.? Apparently, he’s been having insomnia issues lately.? So he ended up sleeping on a pallet he’s made in the loft.

So far, no huge deal, right?? But then, I go downstairs this morning for seriously? no more than? a minute.? When I come back up, ready? to crawl? under my nice warm covers? again, who do I find?? Impostors, hogging my bed:

Why isn’t anyone staying in their own bed?

Now, it’s no biggie? if Skye and Connor? help themselves to our? bed once in awhile.? However, I do object to the fact that they look annoyed by me coming back to claim my rightful spot.?

Notice who’s absent from this photo.? Yep–the Ferganator.? She sleeps in her locked kennel virtually every night.? Why?? Because I don’t really fancy being smothered by a hound dog blanket in the middle of the night, thank you very much.? As with all things, Fergie pushes cuddling to the extreme.

And of course, Peanut doesn’ t get to sleep on the bed because, for some reason, it’s hard to fall asleep with fetid old rottie breath growling in your ear.

Hmmm….maybe that’s why hubby chose the pallet—smart man.

This reminds me of one of those “Where’s Waldo?” games—-can you find the hound dog in this picture?

? Really, I’m thrilled to see she’s enjoying the dump truck sand box so much, although I’m pretty sure that’s not what the manufacturer’s intended.? At least I don’t remember reading “and also good for use as a hound-dog tanning bed” anywhere in the brochure.

The good news is the top of the box was on.? Otherwise, she just plops on down in the sand itself.? I don’t know about you, but one sandy child is about all my vacuuming skills can? manage right now.?

What I wanna know is—when is this big hound loaf gonna start earning her keep around here?

I came across this photo of my son and Fergie and just had to post it.? I guess? it gives a whole ‘nuther meaning to the term “hot dog”.? ? And I thought Ridgebacks weren’t supposed to like the water—I knew? my little liver-nosed monster? was defective.

Now,? the part? I really can’t figure out—-does Fergie think she’s a person, or does my son think he’s a Ridgeback?

My dog is broken.? ? Or defective.? Either that, or she’s a Mastiff in disguise.

Why do I say this?? Because as far as I know, Ridgebacks are not supposed to spill enough water when they take a drink to cause the Titanic to sink.? Seriously, I’m afraid one day she’s going to flood my kitchen, at the very least.

None of our eight other Ridgebacks have ever done this (And before you ask—no, they don’t all live at my house, although I realize that’s hard to believe, given the? mess).? ? In fact, most of them are downright dignified imbibers, taking dainty tea sips from the bowl.? At the most, they spill a drop here or there.? I mean, we’re talking Ridgebacks—if they get their paws wet, they might melt.

So why, oh why, do I have? the? defective one? that forces? me to wade through small ponds of water day after day, soaking my socks with spillage and doggy drool?

Exhibit A:? ? Fergie, taking a drink.

Exhibit B:? The aftermath.

The question now is—-do I refill the bowl, or do I just let her drink off the floor?

….she’s not.

Take a peek.? Here, she’s (pretending to be) such a good little hound, just idly lounging on the bed with her buddy, Skye.?

But if you look closer, you’ll see she’s? on Santa’s? naughty list.? Again.

Apparently, my comforter is just another stuffed dog toy to her,? but on a grander scale.

Anyone? need a slightly used liver-nosed Ridgeback?? (joking—she’s a keeper, even if she is? the naughtiest hound on the block)

The Ferganator strikes again.?

I haven’t been keeping score, but I think it’s something in the range of Fergie 50, husband 0.? By this point, don’t you think hubby would know not to leave assorted cardboard? boxes laying around in the backyard?? Apparently not.? Or maybe it’s a another new look he’s fostering—I’ve dubbed this one “shabby unchic”, or for the more succinct reader, “trashy” works just fine.

? Exhibit A:? Caught in the act!? (Yes, that’s Skye in the bottom corner, saying, “This is so beneath me.? I only eat books, you know.”)

Exhibit B:? Our patio after Fergie was finished decorating.

Exhibit C:? Hey, look, she’s tired.? Apparently, destroying a backyard is? exhausting work.? ? (Auntie Dawn, aren’t you glad Fergie approves of the Christmas gift you bought Connor?)

Hmm…come to think of it, the patio looks a little like the inside of my purse.? I wonder if I could use any of those cardboard pieces later?