We had fall photos taken today. Of the three dogs, I think you'll agree that I'm the most photogenic. Also of the three, Duchess hates the camera in her face more the Lexie and I.
BTW: You can now follow me on Twitter @ShuffDog.
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Students pen story about dog
Sounds like Cheryl met some cool kids on her visit to Oak Hill Elementary School today. And smart, too. Here’s a few photos of them and a story they wrote about a great subject: Me. 
Baxter, a 10-year-old golden retriever, goes on a walk in the afternoon to the park because he wanted to get more energy. Baxter walked without his leash. While on his walk, Baxter met his sisters and played with them. After his walk Baxter decided to take a nap.
Visiting the Bulldogs
My person Cheryl is speaking on my behalf today to 72 first graders at Oak Hill Elementary School (go Bulldogs!) I would love to be there myself, but could not clear my appointment calendar to squeeze in the visit. I did, however, prepare a Power Point presentation for Cheryl to share with the kidos. I wish her well. Between you and me, she’s a much better writer than she is a public speaker. Can’t wait to get a report back from her on how it went. I did send along my camera, so hopefully I’ll have photos to post later.
Monday, September 5, 2011
Happy early birthday Alison
The people had Alison's 16th birthday party up at Nana and Pawpaw's this weekend. It was a bonfire/marshmallow/weenie roast/swimming/camping party. I told them they were crazy for mixing water, fire and teenagers. Maybe I was just a bit bitter that Lexie and I were left off the guest list. The excuse was there's a mama bear and 2 cubs loose up near Table Rock and they might eat us. Good point. Despite our absence, all seemed to go well, except for the people being dog tired after it was all over and poor Duchess almost getting hypothermia. Wes, Cheryl, Alison, 2 of her friends and Duchess stayed overnight in a tent. Though the people packed two SUV loads worth of stuff for the party and camping trip, they forgot Duchess’ sleeping bag. Back to Alison – she officially turns 16 on Friday and since we didn’t get eaten by a bear we will be around to wish her a happy birthday on the actually day. Don't worry about changing your driving patterns on Friday because she got her permit late and can't get her license until April 1. That’s no April fools!
Friday, August 12, 2011
Zipping through the trees
Except for the scales that the V.E.T. lifts me up on when I go for my annual wellness check-up, I have never been very far off the ground. It’s safe to say, though, that I’m a scardy cat when it comes to heights. Apparently Cheryl is not. This past week during her first day of Leadership Burke, she got to fly through the trees at Catawba Meadows Park. It was one of the activities listed under “team building” on the first day’s agenda. The video is of the longest zip starting from only about 50 feet off the ground.
Ruff. Ruff.
A few years ago after Lexie overheard a conversation the people were having, she came to me and said, “Guess what I heard? We are getting a new ruff.”
I questioned her, “A new ruff. What does that mean? Is something wrong with my ruff? Are they replacing it with a new one? Are we getting another dog that goes ‘ruff’?”
She said, “I don’t know, that’s just what I heard.”
One year went by. Two years went by. Almost three years went by, and no one got a new ruff, and we didn’t hear anything else about a new ruff. I actually had almost forgotten about it.
Then at 6:22 a.m. Thursday morning a convoy of work trucks and worker men converged on our front lawn, backed a dump truck up to the side of the house, extended ladders into the early morning sky and hopped up on the house with hammers.
Ruff. Ruff. Ruff, said Lexie.
Ruff. Ruff. Ruff. Ruff, said Duchess.
Ruff. Ruff. Ruff. Ruff, Ruff, said me.
Meanwhile, the people, seemingly oblivious to men on top of our house, stayed in the bed.
“Hello,” I cried under Wes and Cheryl’s bedroom window. “Get out here quick.”
Finally 30 minutes later, we heard Wes rustling around in the kitchen and then a sleepy-eyed Cheryl emerged from inside the house.
“What’s going on, Bax?” she asked.
“You didn’t hear the pitter patter of strange men on the house?” I asked back.
“Everything’s OK, guys, we are just getting a new roof today,” she said.
“A new ruff?” Lexie asked.
“No, a new roof,” Cheryl said.
The light bulb came on in my head faster then it came on in Lexie’s.
“So, did a conversation about a new roof first come up about two and a half years ago?” I asked.
“Something like that,” Cheryl said, “We’ve been putting it off for a few years now and are finally getting around to it.”
She went on to explain that for our safety we needed to be confined to the sunroom while the roofers were working and that if they happened to leave one of the gates open, we were not allowed to run out.
“They are supposed to clean up when they are done,” Cheryl said, “but please don’t eat any shingle pieces they may leave behind.”
While Lexie will put anything in her mouth, I vowed not to get any shingles. It might mess up my ruff.
I questioned her, “A new ruff. What does that mean? Is something wrong with my ruff? Are they replacing it with a new one? Are we getting another dog that goes ‘ruff’?”
She said, “I don’t know, that’s just what I heard.”
One year went by. Two years went by. Almost three years went by, and no one got a new ruff, and we didn’t hear anything else about a new ruff. I actually had almost forgotten about it.
Then at 6:22 a.m. Thursday morning a convoy of work trucks and worker men converged on our front lawn, backed a dump truck up to the side of the house, extended ladders into the early morning sky and hopped up on the house with hammers.
Ruff. Ruff. Ruff, said Lexie.
Ruff. Ruff. Ruff. Ruff, said Duchess.
Ruff. Ruff. Ruff. Ruff, Ruff, said me.
Meanwhile, the people, seemingly oblivious to men on top of our house, stayed in the bed.
“Hello,” I cried under Wes and Cheryl’s bedroom window. “Get out here quick.”
Finally 30 minutes later, we heard Wes rustling around in the kitchen and then a sleepy-eyed Cheryl emerged from inside the house.
“What’s going on, Bax?” she asked.
“You didn’t hear the pitter patter of strange men on the house?” I asked back.
“Everything’s OK, guys, we are just getting a new roof today,” she said.
“A new ruff?” Lexie asked.
“No, a new roof,” Cheryl said.
The light bulb came on in my head faster then it came on in Lexie’s.
“So, did a conversation about a new roof first come up about two and a half years ago?” I asked.
“Something like that,” Cheryl said, “We’ve been putting it off for a few years now and are finally getting around to it.”
She went on to explain that for our safety we needed to be confined to the sunroom while the roofers were working and that if they happened to leave one of the gates open, we were not allowed to run out.
“They are supposed to clean up when they are done,” Cheryl said, “but please don’t eat any shingle pieces they may leave behind.”
While Lexie will put anything in her mouth, I vowed not to get any shingles. It might mess up my ruff.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Perfect little angels
We knew someone important was coming for a visit when the housework commenced.
The carpets got shampooed. The ceilings got dusted. The clutter got gone. And even our sunroom got a sweepen and scrub down.
“Maybe it’s the Pope,” Lexie wondered.
“Maybe it’s the Queen,” Duchess wondered.
“Maybe it’s Cesar Millan finally coming to use his mojo on our dysfunctional pet family,” I wondered.
Turns out all three of us were wrong. But it was still some VIPs.
Cheryl hosted her prayer group from church at our house.
“My guess was the closest,” Lexie bragged.
The prayer people started arriving shortly before 7 Tuesday night.
Wes and Duchess were banished to the back bedroom with strict “NO BARK” instructions from Cheryl.
Lexie and I were allowed to hang out in our room as long as we were “Sweet little angels.” Translation: Don’t bark. Don’t jump on the door. And for heaven’s sake don’t sniff anything you shouldn’t sniff.
The only thing left to do was take a nap, which we did.
After the praying was over the people moved into the dining room to eat, which good Baptists do. As Cheryl served blueberry dump cake (we helped pick the blueberries from our backyard bushes) and lemonade, we continued to be sweet little angels -- it really was too hot to do anything else.
Besides one little peep from Duchess and a pesky fly, that probably only Cheryl noticed, the prayer meeting went smoothly.
After it was over, Cheryl commended us for our behavior and allowed things to return to normal, as will be the case until the next VIP visit.
The carpets got shampooed. The ceilings got dusted. The clutter got gone. And even our sunroom got a sweepen and scrub down.
“Maybe it’s the Pope,” Lexie wondered.
“Maybe it’s the Queen,” Duchess wondered.
“Maybe it’s Cesar Millan finally coming to use his mojo on our dysfunctional pet family,” I wondered.
Turns out all three of us were wrong. But it was still some VIPs.
Cheryl hosted her prayer group from church at our house.
“My guess was the closest,” Lexie bragged.
The prayer people started arriving shortly before 7 Tuesday night.
Wes and Duchess were banished to the back bedroom with strict “NO BARK” instructions from Cheryl.
Lexie and I were allowed to hang out in our room as long as we were “Sweet little angels.” Translation: Don’t bark. Don’t jump on the door. And for heaven’s sake don’t sniff anything you shouldn’t sniff.
The only thing left to do was take a nap, which we did.
After the praying was over the people moved into the dining room to eat, which good Baptists do. As Cheryl served blueberry dump cake (we helped pick the blueberries from our backyard bushes) and lemonade, we continued to be sweet little angels -- it really was too hot to do anything else.
Besides one little peep from Duchess and a pesky fly, that probably only Cheryl noticed, the prayer meeting went smoothly.
After it was over, Cheryl commended us for our behavior and allowed things to return to normal, as will be the case until the next VIP visit.
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