I freaking love October. LOVE it. It’s getting brisk in the mornings and evenings and when I’m out in the briskness, it smells like the ocean and chimney smoke and fall. I don’t totally know how to describe it, but the autumn edge in the air smells like, well, for lack of a better descriptor, like autumn.
The trees are turning and Grimby is starting to wear sweaters. He is a very well-dressed dog and he looks great in cable knit. I know what you’re thinking: “Come on, Bay: Who doesn’t look great in cable knit?” But seriously, people. Look:
Now, before you accuse Adam and I of being “those” people—you know, those people who dress their dogs up—you should know that Grimby gets cold. Boston Terriers are notoriously poor at moderating their body heat (they don’t have an undercoat). Grimby has taken to shivering like no dog’s business. If I don’t have the heat on high in the car, with all the vents pointing at him, he pretty much looks like the most pathetic thing ever.
Also, watching him in the rain is hilarious. We’ve had some rain (read: insane quantities of water pouring from the heavens. I’m impressed, Mother Nature—I kept thinking you didn’t have it in you to keep going. Clearly, you did. Way to show the doubters.). Grimby hates getting wet and won’t put all his feet down at the same time, so he stands there, shivering like he’s got hypothermia and lifting his back feet up one at a time, like a kid who needs to pee (and he does need to pee, so it’s twice as funny). I wonder if the fact that I think my dog’s discomfort is amusing makes me a bad person…
I just lost twelve minutes gazing at photos of Grimby from puppyhood until now, while finding those two pictures above. He is SO cute. I don’t care what anyone says. He’s the cutest best dog in the entire world. Even despite the fact that he is physically not able to relieve himself without peeing all over his front legs (every day, every pee). Hey, we all need something to keep up humble, don’t we?
Also, I’m in Seattle for training weekend 10. I bought some pumpkin beer last night and pumpkin pie yogourt. After all, I like pumpkin-spiced ANYTHING. Except, it turns out, pumpkin pie yogourt. It is NOT good. I was shocked. Adam wasn’t, but didn’t tell me when I bought it that it was going to be gross. Not that I would’ve listened, really, if I’m being honest (and apparently I am).
So here I am, with three thingies of gross-flavoured yogourt. It’s a conundrum.
I just reread this post. It’s very random. I think I need more sleep than I got last night… Read yesterday’s post if you’re looking for something more coherent.
