The Seven-Year Itch (and Scratch).

Berkeley, GitM’s resident Sheltie-American, turned seven today. [3, 4, 5, 6.]
Happy Berkday, bud (and, sorry, but when the current bag runs out, you’re getting switched to the Old Man Food.)

A World of Addicts.

Love is a stranger in an open car…or is it just a much-needed dopamine fix? Somebody writes this story every Valentine’s Day. Still, I guess it’s something to keep in mind. (And sorry, Berk, you may be my Valentine again this year, but the same type of deconstruction applies to you. No hard feelings, bud.)

Sam Adams’ Bacon Lager.

Beer for dogs. Glad we finally got that one sorted out.

A World Without Lampshades.

Sheltie update: Berkeley (who thanks y’all out there for the well-wishes, by the way) is free of the Elizabethan collar that so marred last week, and his foot — while still occasionally bleeding after a long walk — is now definitively on the mend. And so, Berk is now back to his usual daily regime of spinning in circles and barking at miasmas of evil from his perch near the window. Welcome back, little fella.

My Dogs Wear My Collars, Sir.

As you can see, Berkeley has entered his Elizabethan period in order to recuperate from a foot injury (bloody toe, dislocated nail) suffered over the weekend. Fortunately, he should only have to wear the collar for a few days, while the antibiotics work their mojo.

In a Dog’s Age.

At a time of incipient civil war in Iraq, civil liberties under siege here at home, and corruption festering in the Capitol, CNN publishes a hard-hitting special report on that critical issue facing the republic, a pet’s modern life. I think Berkeley speaks for all Sheltie-Americans on this issue when he says, “Ruff.”