Category Archives: super furry animals

Making Up for a Really Serious Previous Post with Dog Photos

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While I was home in Ohio for Thanksgiving, I went to my aunt’s house to make pumpkin rolls with my cousin, Bethany. For the longest time, I thought her mother had invented pumpkin rolls. And by “for the longest time”, I mean “up until last year, when I went to her house to learn to make them for the first time and was horrified to see her bring out a COOKBOOK with a RECIPE for them”. There’s an art to making these things (wet towels, powdered sugar, rolling them up using the cookbook itself) that no cookbook could ever explain, though, so I’m still half-illusioned.

Anyway, my cousin is a vet down in Virginia and ended up rescuing a dog from certain death and giving her what I assume is a loving-to-the-point-of-smothering home. Her name, Honey, belongs to strippers and other unloved women, but I somehow love her despite that and think she’s super-photographable. So now I’m going to subject you to a hundred pictures of her doing basically the same thing over and over just to be able to try out my new Elembee-designed watermark. Which she appears to be looking at in half the pictures. Which I’m sure you know delights me to no end.

And my favourite one:

Dog Lady

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(I’m still stuck at home. Can you believe I got a two-week vacation out of a hurricane that didn’t affect me at all? I do feel guilt about this, if that makes you feel better about me. But anyway.)

Earlier this week, Kamran and I were waiting for the elevator in his building when I turned and saw a tan French bulldog standing all adorably bow-legged behind me with his owners. I started snorting and drooling all over him, asking his name (Hercules) and telling his owners that Kamran’s allergic to pets and exclaiming over getting to pet my favourite dog breed for the first time in my life and marveling over how soft and sweet he was. The people seemed totally taken aback, and poor Kamran just stood silently in the corner of the elevator while I made a fool of myself for many floors.

I felt totally embarrassed afterward (although, seriously, French bulldog), but when we got back into his apartment, I realized that I was wearing the OSU vet school t-shirt my cousin Bethany gave me. So I’m sure I just appeared to be a passionate vet and not a crazy old dog lady.


Winning Your Love with Puppy Pictures

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Since Kamran spends all day sending me photos from the Aww subsection of Reddit, I decided to take some of my own puppy pictures while we were out walking this weekend.

Bulldogs (especially French bulldogs) are my absolute favourites, so we followed this waddling little fella for a few blocks before he stopped for a rest and I had a chance to ask him to pose. I swear his owners said he was named Rudy, but when I repeated that, they said, “No, Fruity.” But Kamran says they actually said Ruby. So maybe he is a she. I’m calling him or her a combination of all three names: Fruby.

Baby Bulldog

We met Kodak outside of our grocery store on the way home, and though he looks adorable, Kodak was viciously barking at my camera like crazy, so I didn’t get a chance to talk to his owners much. He’s a Japanese dog, right? Maybe a Japanese Spitz?

Spitz, Japanese Dog

Now go Like my Ettible Photography Facebook Page for many, many more!

j/k, there aren’t any more. I’m sorry I tricked you. But please go Like it anyway, thx.

No “Game of Thrones” Spoilers Contained Within

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On Saturday morning, I took a cue from Han + Diana and invited Kamran and our friends Nik and Marco to The Dutch for herbed cocktails, fried chicken, and pie so tall you could use it for a baby’s highchair:

lemon meringue pie at The Dutch, NYC

Marko is the thoughtful brother, and Nik is the outrageous brother, and together, they’re a very good time. We spent most of the meal signing each other up for the Draw Something app on our various Apple products, and then I tried Kamran’s tripe and almost threw up in my mouth because it’s cow stomach lining, but then I stopped myself because it’s delicious. And it should be, because it’s made by the same chef who owns Locanda Verde with Robert De Niro. I tell you that so you’ll be dazzled by my brushes with celebrity.

Afterward, I went back to my own apartment and spent the next ten hours marathoning the entire first season of “Game of Thrones” with my friend/roommate/landlord/co-worker, Jack, and my friend Kim, whom I will always refer to as “Kim of Good Hair, Kim Luck”, even though her website has been defunct for almost a year now. As soon as I arrived, Jack handed me a save-the-date postcard for Beth‘s wedding, and Kim acted as if it’s weird that I actually want to attend the nuptials of a person I only know from the Internet, even though there was a time when I only knew Kim from the Internet, and now we’re NYCBFFs.

Game of Thrones Direwolf Collage

We ate direwolf cupcakes with grey sprinkles, looked at The Khaleesi’s boobs, and picked and re-picked our favourite characters from 6 p.m. to 4 a.m. and then had a sleepover for all of five hours before I had to get to Kamran’s and Kim had to get to the gym or something ridiculous, and then neither of us watched the premiere of season two. So don’t spoil it for us. A-holes.

And This is Why All Dogs Should Be Kept in Strollers

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Kamran and I had failed to reserve a bigfancydinner for Saturday night, so we were doing a very romantic load of laundry at 10 p.m. in the basement of his apartment building. We stepped onto an elevator that already had two women and a little dog on it, and I smiled at both of the humans, and neither of them smiled back, but it’s sometimes hard to make your mouth muscles work in the two seconds you have between the time you notice someone smiling at you and that person looking away, so I didn’t hold it against them. They made some mundane talk behind us while Kamran and I chuckled over the fact that his laundry bag was splitting down the side seam so badly it was a wonder the thing could hold any clothes at all. (I tell you this little detail because it shows that I’m able to talk and laugh with at least one person in the world while I’m not busy abusing animals.)

I could see out of the corner of my eye that the dog was rarin’ to get out of the elevator, but Kamran and I were nearest to the door, so I let him step out first and then followed him, a little bit pleased at myself for making the dog wait. I feel the same way whenever I get into the bus in front of an overeager child who’s trying to go out of turn. I just need the excitement taken down a notch, you know?

But as soon as I stepped out of the elevator, the dog let out this horrendous howl/yelp/yip noise that hurt my ears, and I thought it was upset at me for cutting it off, so I turned around and just stared that thing down. I’m a little bit proud of how cold I can be sometimes, and I put every bit of cruelty I have into that glare. I wanted to show that little mangy rat who the alpha dog was. And it barked at me! It was kind of thrilling. I really felt like I’d threatened the thing and that it had felt it.

The elevators in Kamran’s building are rigged so that you take one set down to the lobby and another set down to the lower floors, so I stepped across to the other bank, where Kamran was already waiting. The owner of the dog told the other lady, “She stepped on his foot.”

I said from the other elevator, “No, I didn’t.”

She said, almost apologizing for me, “It was accidental.”

I leaned out the elevator door and said, “NO. I didn’t.”

And our elevator doors closed, and we rode to the laundry room in silence. While we unloaded the bag into the washers, my blood was still boiling, but I had this sudden, overwhelming feeling of guilt. I was only wearing flip-flops, so I’d think I’d feel a dog paw under my foot, but what if I hadn’t? What if I really had accidentally stepped on that dog, scrawny and yippy as it was? On one hand, Kamran’s building is overrun with dogs who get treated better than people and are allowed to sniff and lick whomever they want on the elevators at will, and it was the owner’s job to keep her dog back until the path was cleared, but on the other hand, I handled the situation so badly.

It would’ve been so easy just to say, “I really don’t think I stepped on the dog, but please accept my apologies just in case.” And the woman might have thought I was clumsy or reckless, but at least she wouldn’t have thought me a total DOG-HATING BITCH.