Merrylog

Merry’s Dad and I are taking a little hard-earned time together, and the pug has gone for a visit with her Grandparents. This arrangement pleases all – the pug loves my parents to death, my parents dote on the furball, and hubby and I get some us-time without the pitter patter of furry feet. Still, we miss the little twerp something awful and can’t wait to see her on Tuesday! Have fun, little sausage, and we’ll see you soon!

(Love the expression in this. I caught her just at the end of a shakey-shake.)

We’ve had such a long run of snow around here – Toronto isn’t usually known for its snow, and I’ve easily gone nearly an entire winter able to wear shoes rather than boots. Not so this year, when the snow came early and has frequently stayed on the ground for weeks without a big melt in between. The pug, of course, is none too happy about this, since it means she has to find someplace frigid to do her business instead of the far preferable and infinitely more pleasant grass. I’m sorry, sweet cheeks. Your grass will come back soon, I hope!

Oh my, but the princess had a hard time adjusting to the snow. Every year it’s the same: she looks as though we’ve stolen her grass. I can’t say as I blame her – can you imagine having to plant delicate bits in the snow in order to go to the washroom? No thank you! :)