After a long and lazy hiatus, Weinerdog Bliss has returned to the World Wide InterWebs, with more silliness and Luv.

Was Molly here last time? I don’t remember. Probably I could go check but eh…I’ll put some stuff up about her.

Molly is our calico cat. She’s a pushy broad who thinks she owns the place. She also gets along famously with the Weinerdogs, especially Lacy, who tries to eat Molly on a regular basis, but Molly is unintimidated, and that flummoxes Lacy, so they wind up snorgling, just so:

Molly recently had a litter of kittens,

who we are attempting to acclimate to the dogs, so they can go to homes with dogs and not be freaked out. It’s working well.

Our other cat is Phleud (sometimes pronouced “Floyd” and sometimes “Phluud” rhymes with dude and sometimes pronounced “you dumbass cat!”) Phleud has papers and a long heritage going back to Thailand, and yet for all his fine illustrious ancestry he’s a goofy thang, and likes to hang with the weinerdogs.

The weinerdogs, here you see Lacy and Daisy using Rosy as a pillow, oppressing her most egregiously. It is a sign of Weinerdog Privilege, because Daisy and Lacy are propersized , where Rosy is but a mini, and not a very pretty one at that. It happens often, it’s the Weinerdog Sorority DeltaOmegaGamma, East Georgia Chapter.

We have a term in the Toot household, called “gnarbling”. It is what the bogs (and cats, occasionally) Do Best. The term is so called because it’s a descriptive of the sounds made when weinerdogs do this:

And this is just a sweet picture of Lacy last summer, snacking on the zinnias.

Rosie…

she likes…

to sleep…

on…

her back.

Daisy is the biggest of our dogs. She’s sweet, shy, goofy, and affectionate. Her nose has a mind of it’s own, finding it’s way into your pocket or up the leg of your pants.

She loves to stand on the arm of the chair and wait for the schoolbus to bring the boys home.

Daisy is rawther nearsighted, and squints whenver she’s looking at you. She has also been known to run into things like glass or screen doors.

Recently, she got mixed up in the dog bed, and spent the morning running around wearng it like some sort of SuperDog Hero cape. Or Little Plaid Riding Hood. She looked like a turtle with a shell…or something. It was funny.

I am sad to report that Schmoo is no more. Sometime last night she found something and choked on it. I didn’t find her until this morning, when I went looking.

We’re all sad, as she was just One Of The Dogs.

See Schmoo control the alignment of the planets.

Dude.

Who wants a mai-tai? *me…*

Is it warm in here?

oo..swingy thing on a dogs butt..

I haf yoo naeow…yoo air alll undair my contrrrrol!

Lily went to the Spa yesterday, for some drug-enhanced body-waxing experience. While she was there they took out her internal girly bits, so she wouldn’t make babies with the pit bull that keeps coming around. Anyway, she’s doing fine, a bit sore, perhaps,and definitely a little annoyed by the Brazilian.

#4 aspires to be a poet. Several days ago he wrote a poem about our weinerdog, Daisy.

DAISY

Daisy is Smart.

Daisy is cute.

Daisy is quite. (quiet)

Daisy just lays there.

I like Daisy.

The End.

Daisy has a thing for toads. You’d think, with enough experience, she’d give them up. No.

She spies a toad.

She noodles it into an accessible position.

She gives it a lick, then a nibble, and another lick.

Lacy investigates.

It’s hard to tell, but she has a foam mustache. Toads make her look as though she’s brushed her teeth and forgot to rinse.

Daisy is our Hound. Dachshunds are hounds anyway, but Daisy is the Uber-Hound. She is sweet, gentle, and unassuming. She has big, moist eyes that can levitate tasty nibbles right off the plate. She’s modest, as dogs go, prefering to poop behind the wall instead of on the patio like her lazy and entitled sisters.
She sleeps alot, on her daisy bed, prefacing her many naps with loud, drawn out yaaawwwwwnnsss *smack*smack*.

This is a series of photos I took over a period of several days. No commentary, I think they speak for themselves.