To those who think I'm a Grinch (mother, this means you), behold my office Christmas tree.
Ever work conscientious, he attempts to inspect everything on the tree.
The tree itself needs to be sampled -- sure it does!
My mother is getting a perverse pleasure from Dax's antics. Apparently, it's payback time.
And has he been on a roll. This week, he found the foulest bucket load of fresh opossum feces in our backyard. He ran back to me and smeared me with it. We both showered, I showered twice to get the stench out from under my fingernails, he showered again after throwing up all the crap and lounging in it.
Later that night, he ate half a chew toy: fake fur, stitching and all in the gullet.
Two days of vomiting and our vet suggests one last home remedy before the expensive clinic visit. Late night run to the grocery store, I'm in there 5 minutes...
Monsieur Dax permanently retires my custom radio. What's worse is that the buttons are missing.
He gifts them back to me later with a hint of the chew toy.
Does my mother sympathize with me? Nooo, she sides with the 6 month old Tasmanian Devil. She tells me why my teddy bears all had big coat buttons for eyes: original small eyes would get ripped off and swallowed. I even gouged out the eyes in a porcelain doll with my teeth. A baby Hannibal Lecter. I should be grateful she didn't have me committed. I'll save her reminiscing of my amputee Barbie Dolls another time.
The good news is that Dax is on the mend.
He makes up for so many indiscretions by sheer cuteness.
Behold one of the horse stall decorations, before Dax surgically removed the pompom.
Titan dares him to mess with his stocking.
I'm fortunate Dax hasn't snagged the Charlie Brown Christmas trees in the planter outside the barn. Could it be my boy is maturing?
Behold, Dax on the bed, not in the tree or tangled in the lights. My Christmas miracle.
We spend Friday night glamping in the barn.
The horses had come in after lunch soaked to bone and freezing cold. So, after being towel dried, I keep them up in their stalls until the rain passes and turns to snow overnight!
YES! YES! We get a smidge compared to what the rest of Alabama is given. Yet, I'm euphoric.
A sight for sore eyes at dawn: our hallowed grounds, The Boonies, under a veil of snow.
Pete seems to be having nightmarish flashbacks to our ski trip to Montana last year.
Garrett takes a moment to be blonde. "Duh, which way did he go, George?"
Dax gets his first meeting with snow.
Pete tries to be sneaky and cut across the field, instead of trotting the perimeter. Nice try, Pudge-O. One more lap around the field for you!
My PJ's are so a propos.
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!
