Brenin met up with Kuma the Saint Bernard for his beach visit today… it was far too hot for Kuma, who wanted only to wallow in the water, but he hadn’t counted on a little puppy interested in his every move. Brenin has no problems swimming – whenever Kuma walked into deeper water, Brenin just swam after him. One tired little dog that night!
O HAI
Cooling down with Kuma
I’m swimming! Look at me!
Playing chase with Kuma
I am a tired dog.
Brenin is thriving, unlike the back lawn. We remain in severe drought here in Melbourne, and can’t water the lawn at any time. It doesn’t seem to bother Brenin, who is happy to collapse onto grass, plants, flowers or tomato plants with impunity. We have watched him grazing the cherry tomatoes – Trent has to be quick or else we get none ourselves!
There’s a drought, you say? I thought you were just landscaping to match my lovely coat colour.
I will just stand in the water bowl, like all the dogs before me.
Fitting his head and both front feet in the waterbowl at the same time.
I bought a new portrait lens for the camera. When Brenin is still enough (a very rare event) it takes some great photos! Note I am not attributing any skill of my own… it’s all in the lens. And perhaps something to do with the puppy.
I has a stick.
I has a viking.
Australia Day long weekend means walks on the beach at low tide! Brenin gets carried down past the low tide mark: this is much nicer to do on the way down, when he’s dry, rather than on the way back, when he’s wet and sandy and squirmy. He has absolutely no fear of water and simply swims when he walks out of his depth. Could this be another water Leonberger? All signs point to yes…
Wait for meeee…
All tired out already – must be those stumpy legs.
I’m talking about the PUPPY.
He looks much bigger next to me. Why is that?
Enjoying a late afternoon paddle.
A few photos of Brenin at 8 weeks old, when we brought him home. He walked straight into the house and was very interested in the cats. The cats were, strangely enough, not nearly as interested in him.
Will the cats let me play with their toys?
Watering the front garden with Trent
Sitting under the tap catching the last drips
Sometimes we used to take the dogs up logging tracks and let them run around in the snow.
Then we pelted them with snowballs. Nobody ever said we were nice.
What, like you never crumble snowballs into your dog’s mouth?
And yes, it is cold. Trent is just a mutant.
Highly trained tracker dogs.
Basso rests in the cold snow. One of the perks of a built-in fur coat.
What’s that you say? What is this “cold” of which you speak?
You’re all idiots. The truck is lovely and dry. I am the smartest of all.
Are we there yet? Are we there yet?
What’s that over there? Is that the truck? I have to go.
You are all jealous of my cat hat. It has big yellow eyes.
Basso is so consumed with envy he can’t even look at me.
Trent is eyeing up Basso to see if there is enough fur coat there for everyone.
Further up the mountain, where no dogs are allowed, there is copious amounts of snow. As well as children in mohawk hats.
