Cat and Dog Theater

As you all know, my super power is choosing pets from the Internet.* Meet Emma’s new little (little!) brother Puck (his name was Puff, but we hate that, and it’s enough of a sound-alike to not confuse him**).

For those who don’t like videos that feature an interlude of the cameraman’s jacket, here’s a photo:

C has more pictures and another video*** (also featuring Hemingway the Book-Hiding-Behind Cat).

*Not that I do it often; bizarrely, last Monday, I felt the tug to look, then kept looking again at this picture of this weird little dog, then kept discussing with C whether he thought Emma would like having another dog around. So … it was meant to be.

**His name was going to be Falcor, because it was the only thing we could agree on–but he actually knew Puff, so we caved. Sorta.

**Yes, yes, we’ll get a real video camera at some point.

We’re out at my parents’ place, where the bones are oversized for their ginormous Golden Retriever. Emma makes due:

Taken with our old digital camera…

Or attempting to… I know they’re glad I’m home, but I need room to type.

Sometimes a cat needs a bicycle.

Scott and Justine’s luggage makes Emma CRAZY with the yawn.

My husband’s freakish freak lunch of my leftover Annie’s mac and cheese with the freakish addition of mustard, pita chips, and James Baldwin. That ain’t right.

I lay down now and watch bad television.

The Melissas brought over their dog Bodhi Sunday and to say that Emma and he hit it off is a bit of an understatement. This frame is blurred due to motion, on the part of the dogs and the shooter:

Anyway, I love Emma’s facial expression.

Having a dog that leaps up to catch and, yes, sometimes eats bugs? Not so much gross as funny.

Here’s little Miss Emma, who’s nursing another little infection–we think the last round of anti-b’s just never did their total job:

(Yeah, it was too dark and I doctored it, but isn’t she such a ham?)

And here’s Hemingway eating the lucky bamboo on C’s desk:

Project sent (& now the ritual crossing of the fingers, glass of wine, and sleep, sleep, sleep).

p.s. Lest you assume otherwise, the E.T. pencil holder is mine, all mine.

Recently groomed even, Emma avoids the heat. Yes, she thinks she’s a person. (This is a test of my ability to get photos from camera to MacBook to Typepad.)