They call them the dog days of summer.
Hey. Did you know that means from about July third until approximately August eleventh? Or, twenty days either side of the conjunction of Sirius (the dog star) with the sun?
I googled it. Siriusly. So technically we are no longer in the dog days, as summer is definitely on the wane.
Except, in South Carolina, somebody forgot to tell the humidity.
At any rate, here at Casa de Weber it's been more like the dog daze anyway.
I told you about Rambo's shedding problem. What, you say, Javier does not shed?
Yes; the diminutive geriatric Chihuahua sheds. A singularly insignificant amount.
An amount so trifling that I daresay Javier has likely not shed as much in his entire life as Rambo does with one flick of his thick ropy tail.
Adding to the effectiveness of his already nearly-shed-free coat, Javier has elevated the sedentary canine lifestyle to near-epic levels.
When he does stir his stumps in recent weeks, it's mainly been to cadge food from Rambo's bowl.
Yeah. You read that right. Javier prefers Rambo's food over his own, and truth be told, Rambo has been known to sneak a snack from Javier's kibble stash too.
Truly funny when you consider that Javier could curl up and sleep in Rambo's bowl (my Pyrex, ad hoc style since Rambo's dishes did not accompany him to our house), while Rambo's snout will only just barely fit in Javier's dish.
Proving once again: The grass is always greener on the other side.
Since both pooches are baby-gated into a section of the kitchen most of the time when they're not lounging out by the pool, there has been ample opportunity for Javier to sample the big-dog vittles.
Toothless as he is, I've caught him nibbling the new-to-him kibble at least once a day. He ignores his own full bowl, saunters over to Rambo's, and noshes away.
(However he drinks only his own water. He won't touch Rambo's water dish. I've asked him why but he declines to respond.)
Does Rambo care? You may be wondering. The answer is, if he does, he keeps it well to himself. I already told you: Rambo is the sweetest dog ever.
But I was indignant on Rambo's behalf and annoyed with Javier for being so what's-mine-is-mine-what's-yours-is-mine when in my opinion he should be more hospitable to visiting dognitaries.
So I devised a clever solution: I put Rambo's food up on a stool. He loves it. Now, he barely has to duck his head in order to dine.
Meanwhile the closest Javier is getting to Rambo's 24-hour buffet is to walk underneath the stool. Which he doesn't do because he'd hit the wall. Just saying: It's over his head.
Done and done.
So now a coexistence which was already charmingly peaceful and amicable, is conducted and enjoyed in an atmosphere of newly-enhanced fairness.
Everybody's happy. Especially me. The dog controller.
That is all for now.
Happy Monday ~ Happy Week