A very happy sixth birthday to Berkeley, who spent the evening celebrating with my brother (lap pictured) and sister-in-law, in town this weekend for Comic-Con. Happy b-day, l’il fella.
Six Years on Four Legs.
Category: Berkeley
26.9 Inches.
Now this is a blizzard. I gotta say, the novelty’s already worn off (particularly since, as per the norm, the snow salt is already playing hell with Berk‘s paws.)
Dog Days.
Nuts.
“What’s this whole world comin’ to? Things just ain’t the same…any time the hunter gets captured by the game.” Great. Now Berk‘s gonna have nightmares…I blame Veruca Salt.
My little green friend.
“You must feel the Force around you, here; between you, me, the treat, the squirrel, everywhere!…yes, even between the land and the frisbee.” Ok, I know this is wrong on a lot of levels, and I’ve even gone on record (4/9) as being opposed to dressing up animals like Star Wars characters in the past. (Caped crusaders, tho’, are another matter.) Nevertheless, my sister‘s boyfriend Ethan saw this particular outfit and thought it screamed Berkeley, and, well, he does look ready to lay a Jedi-by-way-of-Wookie smackdown, doesn’t he? At any rate, happy halloween out there, y’all, and be safe.
Update: In barely related news, Yoda channels Honey Daniels.
Casting Collie.
What’s that, girl? Peter O’Toole got wasted and fell down a well? Lassie returns to the big screen with O’Toole and Peter Dinklage in tow. I wouldn’t normally post this, except it means that even more people are going to shout “Lassie!” at Berk on the street every day.
Dog Force Five.
The Wookie and the Droid.
For the last time, Berkeley, this is not the droid you’re looking for. As any of you who’ve met me in person know, I love the little guy, but sheltie hair is the bane of my existence — it’s invariably all over my carpet, clothes, possessions, etc. (If I ever tried to commit a serious crime, the CSI guys would be at my doorstep in 24-48 hours, carrying Ziploc bags full of the stuff.) Whatsmore, Berk’s archnemesis (other than possibly the Door Buzzer) is the Vacuum Cleaner. Whenever I had it out (which was often, due to the endless shedding), he’d go absolutely ballistic, barking up a storm you can hear in the lobby five floors down.
So, given that my old vacuum had died yet again (which has twice cost me $100 to fix), and that I had to go to Toshi Station to pick up some power converters anyway, I procured my first Roomba droid early this afternoon. Alas, it doesn’t speak Bocce, but I must admit, it does a pretty solid job of haphazardly sweeping every corner of my nook-and-cranny-filled apartment. Plus, it’s a droid. How cool is that?
As for Berk’s reaction, the jury is still out. On one hand, he doesn’t recognize the (quieter) Roomba unit as a member of the Vacuum clan, so mercifully there’s no more barking. But, he definitely doesn’t seem to like it tooling around his territory either, and spent most of its first cycle trying to flip it. Ah well, baby steps. I’m sure I’ll have ’em playing holographic chess in no time…Roomba, let the Berkeley win.
The Berk Knight.
Gratuitious dog-blogging: Somewhere amid the blur of final papers, blue books, christmas schmoozing, prospectus revising, and freelance projects that have filled up the past week or so, my visiting brother finally managed to get Berkeley to sit still in the Batman costume I bought him a few years ago long enough for me to take a picture. Please, nobody call the ASPCA.
Boy, Dog, and Boy’s Dog.
Yesterday’s anniversary made it occur to me that it’s been ages since we’ve had any gratuitous Berkeley pics around here. So, without further ado, here’s me trying to get Berk to pose next to the Boy and Dog Tom Otterness sculpture gracing my street corner (along with Fallen Dreamer) until this weekend. As you can see, there were more interesting goings-on elsewhere…
