A very happy birthday to Berkeley, who turns three today. Since that’s 21 in dog years, I expect all kinds of shenanigans in the apartment this evening while I’m out tutoring.
Tag: Berkeley
There is no bone.
Hmmm…let’s see how Zen this dog is once we get some bacon in the room, or for that matter, when Berkeley starts yelping at him for absolutely no reason in particular. Then I’ll be impressed. (Sent via High Industrial.)
Your tauntaun will freeze before you reach the first marker…
It is very, very cold.
Music soothes the savage Berk.
No, according to these guys, it really does. There’s no question Berkeley‘s a lot more docile with “The Breaking of the Fellowship” on or somesuch. And when “Where’s Your Head at?” is blaring, he knows it’s time to jump up and down and run around in circles. (Via Follow Me Here.)
Dog Confessional.
Don’t sleep on the Berk.
A new study finds dogs have higher language and math skills than you’d think.
What’s that, boy? Timmy got soaked in a rainstorm?
So Berk and I went to the dog park as usual this sweltering morning and, not five minutes after we get there, he starts whimpering and pawing at the gate – something I’ve never seen him do before. So we leave, and he basically drags me home at a full clip the whole ten minutes. Just as we get to the doorstep, the sky splits open and a wicked thunderstorm emerges right on top of us. Vast sheets of rain and thunder so nearby I’m expecting a power outage any minute. It’s nice sometimes to have a PreCog dog.