Christmas Pictures

Well, we had a great trip to Florida. I'd better get rid of this blog before Michael is old enough to read, because I don't want him to get too big for his britches, but he was very nearly a perfect kid on the two flights. And the airlines were wonderful. I'm usually expecting the luggage to get lost or the lines to be long or the seats to be over-filled, but everything went really well. We flew on American Airlines on the way down and when we got to the security line two security guards came over and one took the diaper bag, one took the stroller and they took Michael and I to the front of the line. We went with Northwest on the way home and Michael slept the entire trip. I believe it was his Christmas gift to me. And when we landed in Detroit, he went right back to sleep in the car after dinner and slept all the way home. What a kid.
The visit was great. We didn't have to wonder more than 1/2 second whether Michael was going to remember his Grandma and Grandpa. He sure was excited to see them and he's getting very good at giving hugs, so they were able to get stocked up on those until spring. And Grandma got Michael all caught up on fish kisses. It's weird the things kids remember. Michael enjoyed being outdoors again--I think he's got cabin fever up here in Michigan. He spent most of his time out on the porch building block towers with Grandpa or helping to count the stones in the drive way. That's a pretty big project, but that kid can focus. And we had a cookout at the beach on Christmas. I know some people dream of a white Christmas, but I dream of a white sand beach. It was beautiful. Michael didn't know what to think about the water, but he loved the sand. He's a kook. Here's some pictures:

"I sure like my Grandpa!"

Do you see my fun rocket? And all these stones!


Christmas pajamas

I'm not afraid of the waves. I don't think...



"Momma, maybe we should move, my feet are sinking"

"I might put all this sand in my hair..."

"It took Grandma a long time to get the sand out"

"Momma, I don't think we're ready to say goodbye--you go ahead and go."

A Little Help Here, Please

Jamie is going to write about her trip to Florida (only the favorite kid got to go with her) but first I have something to say. I'm a cat and it's not easy to train people, but Jamie has brought things to an all new level of incompetence. I mean, all she has to do is keep my food bowl full, the litter box empty and stay out of my way. That doesn't seem like too much to ask. But there she was yesterday completely stepping on my toes--and then acted like I was the problem. I can see I'm going to have to time-line the facts for you so you can judge for yourself:
I am a hunter. It's what I was born to do. I don't think Jamie was born to do that, so her opinion is not always helpful. So I tend to ignore her. I have lately been reading signs that say the mice aren't necessarily all gone. They get careless at night because they think when I'm curled up under blankets I can't sense them. So I've heard some scratching in the walls and some skittering in the cupboards. And I'm on high alert. Yesterday I was ready to make my move. I was inching my way carefully along the counter with an unsuspecting mouse right in my sights, oh so slowly making my way closer to the wily creature when along comes bumbling Jamie--she took one look at the target and screamed. That's right. Screamed. Which started a frenzy of activity. The dogs started running full speed around the house trying to climb the walls, the kid started crying, (either because his mom screamed or because she grabbed him and perched precariously on a chair) and the mouse, of course, ran away. Good grief. Since I'm a wise hunter, I knew it would be a while before I could re-set my trap, so I decided to take a nap. And all I wanted before my nap was a little snack. But Jamie seemed to think that would spoil my appetite for mouse so she refused to feed me. And kept pointing out that the mouse was trying to sneak back onto the counter--I tried to tell her I knew all that and to have patience, but she wouldn't listen. Then she picked me up and put me on the counter when the mouse was right there--I tried to pretend I didn't see it (how can you play cat and mouse when the mouse knows you know it's there?) and then she said the dogs could do a better job catching mice than I could. Excuse me? Those are fighting words, missy. Well, through persistence I managed to convince her to feed me my snack. And then dinner. And then a bedtime snack. And while everybody was sleeping I did my job. I wasn't hungry though, so I left the mouse right in the middle of the bathroom. See, sometimes I don't mind if she screams.

We Love Snow!

We love the snow. Because we're dogs and we're trackers and it sure is easier in the snow. You can smell the track so much better, or maybe I mean you can see the tracks better. I guess it's easier to see the bunnies--I mean rabbits against the snow from farther away and Pepper was just reminding me yesterday that we're on constant vigil for the deer and now we can see them all the way across the hay field. Jackie says she could see a deer in the middle of a full grown corn field but since there's no corn around us I guess we can't put that to the test. And boy, oh boy, are those things important. I wouldn't let anything get in the way of keeping my eye out for anything that tries to invade our territory. I am completely focused. Well, sure I stick my head under the snow every once in a while, but have you ever tried that? It's a huge challenge to see if you can burrow all the way down to solid ground. And I like how it sounds. It mutes the constant barking of Jackie and Pepper. C'mon guys--give it a rest. If mommy wanted to know every time a cat crossed the road she'd put in an alarm system. And of course if Mommy is outside then I have to take time out of my work to play with her. Every morning she scoops big piles of snow off her car and I try to catch it all. I catch most of it on my head, but hearing mommy laugh makes it worth it. And on the rare occasion that she comes outside without Michael I feel it's my duty to continue her wrestling lessons. We've really been neglecting that for the last year--apparently I'm not supposed to knock Michael down when I'm playing with Mommy and I've found it's easier to just wait until he takes his naps. I've also found that the more snow we have on the ground, the more mommy's laugh resembles a screech. And maybe a cuss word. OK, OK, OK, so maybe I'm not the most diligent guard dog. If you promise not to tell Jackie and Pepper, I'll tell you my real favorite thing about snow. Snow angels. I make them all the time but when the other dogs catch me I have to tell them I thought I was rolling in rabbit pellets. I guess that's what good dogs are supposed to do...

I dream of...a King Size Bed!

I'd like to describe our nightly routine and then I want some commiseration on what I have to put up with. First of all, Michael is fine. He goes to bed in his own bed without any theatrics. Just says night, night to the dogs and the cat and then kisses his baby, Elmo, his doggie, me and Pooh goodnight (usually me and Pooh get two kisses) and then listens to his music as he drifts off into dreamland. Easy. The animals are a whole other story. They are needy. Mainly they need to be closer to me than any of the other animals. If they can get a head or a foot or any other body part on me, all the better. And this is when I'm sitting on the couch watching TV. I only have two sides and there are three dogs so you'd think that would be insurmountable, but Pepper crawls up behind me on the couch and lays there with a paw or a butt hanging down resting on my head. The cat likes being close just as much as anybody else, but because she's a cat she needs to act like she doesn't care. So she crawls under my blanket and chews on my foot for a couple minutes before she curls up half on/half off my feet. There I sit, Jorgie's head pinning my arm down, Jackie's feet digging into my ribs, Pepper's butt on my shoulder and Jessie trapping me in place, not by her weight on my feet, but by her complete assurance that I am content being her pillow. As cozy as all this sounds, I've been finding myself going to bed earlier and earlier--I have to try to catch them all off guard so I can be the first one upstairs. At the very least, I try not to be the last one upstairs because if I am, I can kiss a good night's sleep goodbye. I have to be tricky because while the dogs can scoot right into the bed, I have to turn off all the lights, unplug the Christmas tree lights, turn down the heat, feed the cat and check on Michael before I can turn in. I have never beaten Pepper, but I can trick the other two dogs. Sometimes I leave a light on so they don't recognize my routine and a couple times I've put the sleep timer on the TV so that they would think I just got up to go to the bathroom. So usually I walk into my room and Pepper is on my pillow. I shove him over a little and he re-settles himself and snuggles into my back. Next Jackie comes upstairs and she gets on the bed by my feet and snuggles right into them. Now Jorgie might seem like a stupid dog, but she's never one to waste her energy, so if she sees that the best spots are already taken she just curls up right next to my bed and goes to sleep. The cat usually makes an appearance about then to bat at my face for a while, but eventually she goes into the spare room where she gets a bed all to herself. Nice and peaceful. That's what usually happens. If anybody gets out of order, though, we're toast. I've gotten upstairs a couple times to see the cat planted squarely in the middle of the bed. At that point, I'm the only one brave enough to join her and we spend the rest of the night listening to the frustrated whines of the dogs on the floor. If Pepper has already claimed his spot and Jorgie beats Jackie to the place by my feet that's the most difficult to resolve. Because Jackie does not give up easily. She usually tries to trick Jorgie first by talking about how she thinks she's going to go down and eat all the food in the house or drink the rest of the water but if that doesn't work (and sometimes it does--Jorgie really loves water) then she just climbs on up and assumes that we'll make room. Which we always do, but since none of the dogs can be directly next to each other we have some tense moments. Pepper usually ends up by my stomach, Jackie curled up by my back and Jorgie moves to the front of my legs because she doesn't want to get poked in the ribs by Jackie's toenails. I, in the mean time, could rival a pretzel when it comes to arm/leg placement. But we're all together and I guess that's important, too.

In the way?

I don't get it. I mean, I'm an easy going dog. I know I'm the favorite. I'm a lap dog for crying out loud. But all of a sudden I'm in the way? I know this because I heard mommy yell "would you get out of my way you big, fat, lazy dog!" I don't know how to put a positive spin on something like that. Apparently I'm not allowed to sit or stand where I want in my own house. I believe it started when we got home from work last night. Mommy works the farthest away--she has to drive. Then Michael works across the street at Aunt Sharon's--mommy picks him up on her way home--and then Jackie, Pepper and I work outside. More specifically we work in the north west corner of our yard where we can best keep an eye out for intruders coming or going from Aunt Sharon's house (just because Michael is at work doesn't mean he doesn't need us to keep an eye on him). The cat gets to work inside. Talk about lazy--I don't even think she gets all the mice herself--she has an assistant. I believe it's called a mouse trap. So to get back to yesterday. We walked in the house and apparently the first thing that everybody but me noticed was that the light fixture cover thing was on the floor. Now, I'm a big dog and my feet are very far away from my eyes and I can't be responsible for everything I step on. So yes, I did kick that around a little bit. Three times. And then because I wasn't sure if I had greeted mommy properly when I jumped on her at the car I gave her a couple of kisses. I tried to report in on how the day had gone--there was some unusual activity going on across the road--but I guess she wanted to get dinner ready before we talked so fine, maybe I dogged (ha ha--dogged) her steps a little bit more than necessary. Whatever. And she's added a new twist to the day. It's not enough that Michael is allowed on the couch now and tries to climb all over me when I'm taking a nap but now he has to be involved in dinner time. Mommy is trying to teach him to do chores. So I have to pretend to be patient and point and say "oh how cute" when the little guy is carrying cups of food over to dump in the dog bowls. And if he spills it? I have to sit there and patiently wait while he picks it all up even though it would be much quicker if I helped. So I figure maybe mommy wants me to learn chores, too. I noticed that she was feeding Michael and I decided to lend her a hand (she would say that I just want to steal Michael's cheerios but my motives were purely helpful) and I guess we don't have our routine worked out exactly right yet because mommy tripped over me a couple of times (and this is where the yelling comes into the story...) and then all of a sudden I was being banned from the kitchen. I think we know who needs to work on her patience.

I hope she waits

This is my Aunt Katie. I really like her. I'm going to marry her when I grow up, so I hope she waits for me. She likes me a lot, so she probably will. We had a really fun weekend. I got to see her Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday. She's really good at playing games. When we were in the car I kept throwing her my shoes and she knew just how to pick them up and put them back on. We played ball for a while and with all the other toys at Aunt Sharon's house. I guess she's going to come see me in a couple of weeks again. (apparently I'm irresistible)

Picture Day

I just wanted to put in some pictures so everybody can keep up on what's going on in Michigan.

See what we woke up to one day last week!

Michael walks around as often as possible in Momma's shoes

His bed is pretty full at night--Pooh, his doggie, his baby and Elmo

Look how tall he's getting!


Do you know the muffin man?

That's all for today! Love, Michael

Mornings

It's hard having a mother that's not a morning person. She just squeezes every extra moment of sleep out of the day. And what is the purpose of a snooze button, really? Isn't it just a way to legitimize procrastination? Talk about wishy-washy. "I'm going to get up at 6, no--6:09, no--6:18, no--6:27, no--6:36." I mean, set your alarm for 6:36 then. How difficult is that concept? And if I happen to be sleeping between mom and the alarm clock it can be a very painful morning. First a blast of country music in my ear then WHAP! And arm slaps down across me to reach the snooze button. AND REPEAT EVERY 9 MINUTES!!!!! I've been working on a solution. Now, I don't like to get in trouble, so I had to be pretty tricky with the solution and make Jorgie think it was her idea. Just in case there's trouble later. So about 5:15 I crack one eye open and say to Jorgie and Pepper, "hmmm.... I drank too much water right before bed last night." Then a couple minutes later I say, "I can't remember--did mom leave supper sitting out on the table last night?" Then for my coup de grace I glance out the window and say, "That couldn't be a rabbit running across the yard, could it?" Long before 6:00 I have Jorgie so wound up she has her legs crossed, drool running down her chin and her ears at high alert. So of course she wakes mom up and says "please let me go outside, please, please, please!" It's usually the crossed legs that gets mom out of bed, but sure enough downstairs we go and I have avoided a morning of the snooze button. After we're done outside we like to go back in at intervals because we know that's how mom likes to wake up in the morning (she's usually sleeping on the couch waiting for us). Jorgie goes in first, about 9 minutes later Pepper goes back and then I scratch on the door after another 9 minutes but usually go back out to scare away the last rabbit and come back for real 9 minutes later. Then we all go back up to bed until Michael wakes us up.
But I told you that so I could explain how I was the one that got in trouble this morning. Everything went according to plan up until I came back in. Mom opened the door for me with a "grumble, mumble, get in here, grumble..." and I headed upstairs. When I got the good spot on the bed I should have noticed something was up (Pepper always gets there first). But instead I just cuddled in to the pillow and started to drift off to sleep. But then I noticed I was alone. I looked everywhere and didn't find anybody except Michael who was unhelpfully still asleep. And it was dark. I can't walk down the stairs in the dark! (in my defense, they are very steep narrow stairs). So I stood at the top of the stairs and tried to think of a plan. I remembered that mom always gets up right away when Michael asks her to, so I decided it was a better idea for him to ask her to turn the light on than for me to ask. I started with subtle. I said, "Michael, don't you notice you have a very wet, uncomfortable diaper on?" Then I started talking about how he'd get some delicious milk as soon as he woke up. I asked him if he was sure he wasn't afraid of the dark. Then I cried a little and maybe yelled a bit. All of a sudden I heard a shout coming up the stairs "Grumble, Mumble, JACKIE SHUT UP AND GET DOWN HERE, Mumble, Grumble!" I had forgotten about the monitor. Apparently everybody had gone back to sleep on the couch right next to the monitor so mom heard it all. As did Michael who was now asking to get up. And there was no way I could blame it on Jorgie. I think Mom may have even figured out the early mornings have been my fault, too. My status as the easiest pet may have taken a hit today...

Intruders

Pepper said he has a report (?) for everybody. I don't know what he's talking about, but here it goes...
I have an announcement. We have spotted some intruders. Don't worry, I have it under control, but I wanted to get the word out. It's been an on-going problem, but this morning at O-6 hundred hours is was escalated it to "all hands on deck" status. Uncle Jerry and Tom came over and set up to keep watch out back and that was when we realized this must be a serious situation. To be honest, it's a matter of pride for Jackie, Jorgie and I and we're trying to handle it ourselves. We'll consider it a personal victory if those guys don't even see the deer. Did I mention what the problem was? We've had this troop of deer (Aunt Jamie said I should say herd, but I pointed out that a military term was more appropriate) that has been using the back part of the property for some kind of smuggling operation. I believe they're trying to remove all of Michael's apples. Of course I told Uncle Jerry that it would be easier to protect them if he'd leave them up by the tree but he keeps taking them out to a compost pile right in the path of the deer! And if I can just air another grievance--I really think we had this under control already. We see the deer, we bark. Problem solved. Uncle Jerry is obviously over-reacting. He brought his gun. I mean, c'mon. If we do our job, he won't have one of these pesky critters within a mile of that crazy little shed he and Tom are sitting in. He's kind of taking the fun out of the job. In the past I'd wait for Jackie and Jorgie to relax and then I'd bark up a storm just to see if I could get them both barking at nothing at all. It works like a charm with Jorgie, but Jackie usually looks before she starts barking. But it's good training--it keep us on our toes plus it has good entertainment value. Now what do we have? Apparently we're supposed to work from dawn til dusk with no breaks. My voice is hoarse, Jackie is getting a kink in her neck and Jorgie keeps tripping over her own feet (well, she does that all the time). Aunt Jamie keeps saying something about putting us in the pen because of "opening day", but that will just make our job harder because we wouldn't be able to see where the deer usually cross so we'd just have to bark constantly instead of just when we see a deer. I wonder if opening day has something to do with opening a treat since we did such a good job today--that would make this all worth it. Yummm.... a pig's ear sounds great. OK, back to work for me. I'll keep you posted.
Love, Pepper

If this is winter, I don't want it

So OK. I got to go outside to play on Saturday. But it's not all sunshine and roses, my friends. Oh no. First momma dressed me up in some sort of mummy outfit. I couldn't move. I had to waddle! I'm not kidding. And those dogs? I was like a sitting duck. I was carrying an apple to show momma (Uncle Jerry had to hand it to me because I couldn't actually bend over to get it) and Jorgie came out of nowhere and swatted me with her tail as she went by. I threw my hands up to protect my face because she usually pivots and sweeps back in for a "kiss" but I lost hold of my apple and then Jackie scooped it up and ran off for a mid afternoon snack. Apparently they "double teamed" me. And I blame it all on the snow suit. Jackie usually doesn't get to eat my apple until I forget she doesn't do fetch and throw it for her.
We had such a nice weekend. I helped mommy unload some of the laundry baskets. We keep them to climb into, but sometimes they get filled with clothes, so I just made some neat piles around the floor--didn't even have to be asked. I also helped make bread. Mommy said it made the fun last longer when I was there. Well, she said it took longer, and I assume that's what she meant. We moved some furniture. I was a lot of help. I showed her where I wanted my dresser by standing in the exact right spot. I could tell from her face that she appreciated it, but I don't know why she didn't set it right down--I was pretty clear on where it should go. I think she likes to look tough because her face got all red like mine does when I show people how strong I am.
The best part of the weekend was moving the couch. Grandma had a great idea to put some cushions on the floor and it's great. I can jump off the couch now. Sometimes I land on mommy but that's only when I can sneak up on her. I'm trying to be good company for the dogs since our cousins are gone and I think they like all the extra hugs. Every time I hug Jackie she gives a little yelp of happiness. Pepper must not know that I'm about to hug him because usually right when the great idea hits me he's moving up out of my reach. Jorgie runs right over to tell mommy when I hug her--probably to tell her how special it was. And they give me a lot of attention in return. It's almost embarrassing how much they hang on my every word during dinner. They really like my stories, I guess. Well, I'd better go now. Got some playing to do.
Love, Michael

Oh, my back

So sometimes I get a back ache. A muscle spasm, or my back is "out" or whatever actually happens, I don't know. But I know it gets my complete attention. It's usually in my neck but this time it's right smack in the middle of my back. I don't know why, but man, oh man do I know when. For anybody that's ever had your back do that horribly annoying tweak right in the middle of what is usually normal, safe activity you know what I mean. You're bending or reaching or turning or lifting or simply looking over your shoulder and all of a sudden you come to a dead stop and you would give a week's pay to be able to go back 30 seconds and not do whatever it is that you just did. (That's actually a good way to guage the pain. If you say to yourself "I'd give a week's pay" that's not nearly as bad as if you offer up "my life's savings" or even the always handy "million dollars"--you don't just bounce back from that kind of pain...)
So there I was, pushing some boxes across the floor that need to go upstairs and wham! it hit me. I stayed still for a moment hoping it was a mistake and my back was really fine. Then I tried to trade my paycheck to rewind my life. Then I stayed still for a moment longer hoping I didn't ever have to move again. Eventually I hobbled over to the couch and after about 5 minutes decided I was done for the day and headed upstairs to bed. Now here's the tricky part. Finding a comfortable way to lay down. The problem is, when you find a position that doesn't hurt it's like finding a little piece of heaven and you want to stay there forever. But usually your back is the only thing that is comfortable at that point. I had slowly lowered myself to sit on the edge of the bed, one foot was on the floor, one foot stuck out at about a 45 degree angle trying to stabalize my weight, one hand reaching back in an effort to ease myself down and one hand holding onto Jorgie for dear life using her as an anchor to slow my descent and I must have hunched one shoulder just right because all of a sudden, Ahhhhh...there was no pain. I enjoyed it for several moments and then started to realize I wasn't going to maintain that for very long. My elbow started to tremble, one leg was shaking, the other started cramping up and Jorgie was licking the sweat dripping off my brow before I finally gave in and collapsed in a huddle of resurfaced back pain.
This morning I tried to talk Michael into getting out of his crib by himself, walking downstairs and making his own bottle, but he just looked at me with those big, trusting eyes telling me he knew I'd suffer 1000 times worse pain before I'd ever let him fall down the stairs. So we just took it one step at a time. Balance. Take a step. Repeat. All the way down the narrow, steep, rail-less stairs. And success (despite the "help" from the cat).
Driving to work was probably the last straw. When I had to make a conscious decision about whether I was willing to look both ways at the train tracks I knew I should be home in bed. My mental conversation went something like this, "Well, it hurts to turn and look. But being hit by a train would hurt a lot more. But what are the odds of a train coming right now of all times? I'm not sure I'm willing to take that bet..."

Focus

The cat speaks:
So I have one job around the house and I do it to the very best of my ability. I don't take breaks, I don't take vacation days, I don't take sick days. I'm here, focused, doing the work tirelessly. My job is to remind Jamie "put food in the bowl." That's all I do. "Please put food in the bowl." And I might add, I do it at extreme risk to my own health and safety. I'd like you to picture Jamie laying in her bed surrounded by 3 vicious mongrels all just waiting to sink their teeth into my sensitive hide. I have to slowly, carefully, creep through the enemy camp and sneak up as close as possible to Jamie's face. I don't dare make a peep--it's too dangerous--so I stare at her waiting for her to tune in to my mission "put food in the bowl." I could end up staring all night so sometimes to hurry things along I tickle her nose with my paw and then lean in so when she wakes up we are eyeball to eyeball and nose to nose. Then she completely blows it and makes a high screeching sound which alerts the dogs and then it's off to the races while I'm yelling all the way down the stairs "PUT...FOOD...IN...THE...BOWL!!!" Luckily I'm way more agile than those beasts, so I make it to safety every time. Sometimes she barely opens her eyes and then tries to distract me from my purpose my scooting over and making room under the covers. I have to admit I've been reeled in a couple of times but before you think I'm not focused enough let me point out that usually there's already food in the bowl--I'm really just looking for her to top it off for me. The other very dangerous time I do my job is when Jamie first wakes up. She barely opens her eyes when she comes downstairs and almost always walks right past the food bowl. How hard is it to remember to put food in the bowl? So I remind her. I get really close to her feet, I weave, I jab, I go left, I go right, I'm between the feet, I'm on the feet, I'm all over the place. All just to get her attention enough to say "put food in the bowl." And clean the litter box. (good grief)

Jorgie's beef

Jorgie seems all worked up about something. I'll just let her say her piece by herself:
So yeah. I have a problem. A ball has been dropped. There was a ball, and it was dropped. How hard would it have been to make a plan for the canine members of the household when the vast majority of the people just up and left for Africa? They made a plan for the kid. He gets to go play with Aunt Sharon every day. Do you know what we're doing? We're outside. Everyday. From 8 to 5, outside. And is it ever cold! We're not just lounging around in the sun sipping margaritas over here. Nope, we're huddled together trying to conserve body heat. I can't believe some family member didn't volunteer to come over and babysit us. We could go hang out with Michael. Uncle Jerry wouldn't even notice we were there. It's worth thinking about. And another thing. The food. Didn't anybody think about the fact that they were taking the 6 best dog feeders out of the house? Michael tries to make up for it, but do you know what he handed me the other day from his highchair? A gold fish. That's right. A single little, tiny, baby goldfish. And that's going to fill me up, how? Oh, don't get me wrong--mommy just came home with another bag of that dog food, but let me tell you this. Just because they write "chicken and rice" on the bag, doesn't make it a casserole. No sirree. It's not a casserole. And to counter balance the dry, tasteless dog food I have a gold fish. We need some changes here. Back in the good old days I could pick up a peanut butter and jelly sandwich right off the table. And I know my cousins would make them especially for me. Sometimes I could get a whole piece of pizza. Not anymore. Man, I miss those kids.

Hello Everybody!

Well, I decided to start a blog so that I can keep the people updated that want to keep track of what is going on back here at the home front. I'm hoping I can make it worth checking. There's plenty of subject matter--the residents of my household take turns being the star in their own mini-story just to give me something to write about. I need to start with introductions. I'll list them in the order of their arrival in the family so they don't feel like I'm playing favorites (I'm sure if they were here they'd point out that there's only one picture posted so far and if that's not indicative of a favorite I don't know what is, but that's not a discussion for right now).
I'm Jamie. The mom. The head of the house. The boss. They don't all know this, but it's true none the less.
Jorgie: She is a Landseer Newfoundland. Isn't she great? What can you say about a 100+ lb dog that likes to sit on your lap? She makes me smile just by laying that big old head on my leg asking for a small token of affection (I say small token, but don't forget it's a big head so it's all relative). She still acts like a puppy but she's close to 4. Anyway, I've been observing the pecking order and I think she's top dog right now.
Jackie: She's also a 100+ lb dog (a lab, St Bernard mix). She's getting picked on more and I think that's because she's the old lady in the group (well, besides me--even if you take dog years into consideration, I'm still the oldest). She really only bothers to push the issue when it involves dog food. Then it's anybodies game. She can be pretty obstinate and has selective hearing. I can't count the number of nights I've yelled and yelled for her to come inside only to find her sitting around the corner of the house staring off into the distance feigning surprise when she sees me stomping out into the cold to track her down. But when it comes to watch dogs, she's the one I'd put my money on every time. Especially is somebody is trying to steal her dog dish.
Jessie: She's the cat. She pretty much keeps us all in line. The dogs love her because she buries little treats for them in her cat litter and I love her because she lets me live in her house. She lets some mice live with us, too but I've given up trying to fight that battle. We settled on a compromise of sorts. I put out mouse traps and feed her lots of cat food. It sounds like I'm the only one that compromises, but she's assured me that isn't true.
Pepper: He's my sister's dog from Brazil that we were lucky enough to get to keep when they headed to Africa. He's an English Cocker Spaniel so he's a lot smaller than the other two, but since he knows exactly how much of a lead he needs to be the first one in bed he gets along pretty well. He somehow reads body language better, so he knows (sometimes before I do) when I'm about to head to bed. So he gets the best spot which is right on my pillow. Also, when he's playing with the big, tough dogs he just has to make a few quick turns and he's left his slower cousins in the dust. He seems to keep himself out of trouble that way.
Michael: Let's face it. He's why we're writing this blog. There are some very special people that want to keep track of how he's doing. So this is going to be mostly about him. Michael is my son. He's just over a year and right now he's adjusting to a house made up mostly of furry inhabitants. For the first part of his life he had his aunt and uncle and cousins living with us so he had gotten pretty fond of being part of a big family. Grandma and Grandpa usually live right next door, but they had to go far, far down south to get away from this cold weather, so he's had to be happy just talking on the phone with them lately. He gets to meet his other aunt and uncle and cousins next summer so that gives us all something to look forward to.
Well, that's enough to get us started. Now I just have to get the word out that I actually finally did it. I'm a blogger.