release the hounds

Oh Brenin, you’ve dropped your tiny toy turtle and it looks like you’ve given yourself a modesty patch.

THERE’S NOT A BIG ENOUGH TURTLE IN THE WORLD.

We took Brenin round to meet Sheeba, Rob and Mary’s new Leonberger pup. Brenin was somewhat less than enthused, mainly because he had been neutered the day before.

Sheeba, stop chewing that towel and let me tell you about the time when I had bollocks.

Ah, my bollocks. They were wonderful. Such happy memories.

You see, Sheeba, you’re a girl. You don’t understand the sadness. Although I appreciate your concern.

OK, so I can look happy. That’s because I am in a paddling pool.

Memory… All alone in the moonlight… I can smile at the old days… I was beautiful then

I AM SHEEBA YOU WILL LOVE ME

Brenin turned one year old and Lyndsay threw a party for him and his littermates. And various assorted hangers-on.

It was wet. Very wet. Also rainy. But mostly wet.

I AM A WET PUPPY

ME TOO, I AM WET ALSO.
I AM ALSO VERY GOOD, GIVE ME A BISCUIT.

There were hats!

There was cake!

There… was not cake for very long.

Brenin may have got a morsel before Zumba came to clean up. She’s so helpful.

So we went to a dog show at Sunbury on Melbourne Cup day. It was raining.

I stole a puppy.

I pulled a muscle.

Brenin tried to chew on his sister Grace.

So she sat on him.

I don’t understand why she would sit on me. Clearly I am an angel.

You have no proof of the biting… oh, you do? Oh.

Quick, let’s go over here and take a family shot: Ramius, Grace and Brenin.

[photo by Georgia; wrangling by Graeme and Lyndsay]

See, there was this giant burglar man. And I stalked him and I chased him and I brought him down and then I eated him.

This is all that’s left.

Is that another burglar over there? They are DELICIOUS.

Brenin is half-Irish, on his father’s side. We left him for a few hours, with the run of the kitchen and (half-renovated) laundry, to find…

Please note this photo is not staged in any way.

Ah, ’tis a grand pertayto!

JEALOUS CAT IS JEALOUS

We dropped in to see Lyndsay and the girls, as did Kathy, John and Bertie; there was a lot of dog hair.

Don’t worry girls, I will greet the people at the gate MYSELF. Watch as I stretch out and show my noodle-like skinniness to the world.

You may think this is a paddling pool but really it is a highly advanced transmogrifier. Soon I will split into an identical copy of myself.

And now there are two! Science in action!

I am taking a rest. In the mud. It’s what I do. My carbon copy won’t be far away.

Told you. We BOTH like dirt.

Lyndsay took Brenin and Grace to visit Milton – all photos courtesy of Georgia. They are all so alike that I don’t know which two dogs Lyndsay took home… I presume they just played paper-scissors-rock and picked them at random.

Brenin, Grace and Milton. Or the other way around. They should be wearing those baby bracelets to tell them apart.

Brenin and Grace, hanging out with the little horses. Hey Georgia I’d be willing to do a swap for a little horse. They’re housetrained, right?

Brenin pretending to be show-ready.

While we were gallivanting around the USA and Canada, Brenin went to stay with Lyndsay. Clearly he had a terrible time, was shockingly mistreated and generally shunned. Somehow he didn’t get the message as he loves it there and didn’t want to leave.

Dead. I die.

Ashleigh and Liam visiting the prisoner. He was allowed some gruel as a special treat.

Quick, send me a cake with a file in it! I must escape this hellhole!

Brenin at fifteen weeks. Clearly there has been some rain, as the lawn has recovered somewhat. Brenin is mostly leaving the plants alone in favour of chewing on the plant stakes. As long as they are still alive, we don’t really mind that we now don’t know what sort of plants they are.

Note the shaved patch on his leg from the drip. We narrowly sprung him from the university vet hospital; they wanted to keep him.

Nom nom nom plant stake

I dub thee Sir Lucky To Be Alive.