Who Am I?

There's a discussion on Facebook about my origins. It's stirred up quite an interest, so if anyone would like to leave a comment here, I'll be happy to relay it to my Facebook friends. Majority guesses are Newfoundland + Great Pyrenees.

I don't think I look like Beethoven at all.

Anyway, it's not absolutely essential that I know who I am or what my tendencies might be given my origin. As they say in Italian, "Ormai?" That means, at this point, does it really matter?

Best wishes, Juno (And, yes, my Italian's not so bad.)

Trouble Getting Around Today

Here we are, just yesterday, for our annual picture in front of the azalea. This is the first year without Shane, but we remember. We're here. We're not here. It's life.

I’m not having an easy time getting up. Ouch. That’s what I say to old age. Ouch again. However, the good part is that everyone’s testing my state of health by offering me biscuits. Of course, what am I going to do—refuse them?

So I take the biscuit, and everyone says, “Well, she still likes her food.”

Then they appear to be all relieved for an hour or so. Then they get worried because I haven’t moved from my spot, and they bring me another biscuit. Of course I take the biscuit. I’m not one to turn down something like that.

“Well, she still likes her food,” they say. And the seem happy about that.

Well, of course I like my food. Don't you?

I was able to walk in the park yesterday where I met three nice dogs and a nice man who said I was beautiful. What more could a dog want? Biscuits and compliments a happy dog make.

Best wishes to you all, Juno

Summer's Back

It must be summer, because the pool is out and Bailey came over to play. What a run-around day for Saki. It’s just as well since he’s packed on a few pounds over the winter. Not that that’s a bad thing, but he gets all tuckered out a little too soon. Not like me, but a little exercise doesn’t hurt.

No, really, Saki, you look great, and everyone loves you just the way you are. (Whew!)

Best wishes, Juno.

The Cat & Cool

The orange cat on the other side of the fence drives me and Saki crazy. She’s so la-de-da about rubbing up against the chain links, knowing perfectly well that we can’t do anything but bark and look dumb. And that’s just what we do—we bark and look dumb.

Sometimes, especially when Saki’s inside and I’m alone by the fence, the cat comes over and we stare at each other. I’m calmer about the whole thing when Saki’s not there to tempt me into barking. She’s very cautious about me, but I can tell she’s curious and maybe even wonders what it would be like to befriend me. After all, what can I do at my age? And I’ve never been given to violence or rowdiness.

She’s a pretty cat. Maybe she thinks I’m a pretty dog. I don’t know. But, she does love to tease us strutting the way she does, pretending she doesn’t notice us, looking like she’s the queen of cool.

My trick is to wander nonchalantly into the sunroom, climb up on the couch, and pass out. It perplexes Saki, but he doesn’t know cool the way I know cool. Not yet.

Best wishes, Juno