The Brat

The brat is Rosie. Rosie also happens to be my best friend and the one I play with all day and all night, but that just means I can be more brutally honest about her. She's a labradoodle, but she got her food genes from the poodle. I'm never seen someone skip breakfast as often as she does. *shakes head*

Anyway, I call Rosie a brat because she's darn cute and she knows it and uses it to get away with so many different things. And she's loud. Not as loud as she was before the "demon collar" made its appearance. She used to just sit in the middle of the backyard and bark. Now, I've recently discovered the joy of barking at the front door when someone knocks or rings the bell, but just barking to bark doesn't sound like that much fun to me. She also use to steal my toys and take them to her hiding place. I now know where this hiding place is so she can't do it anymore.

But there are a few good things to Rosie. She's energetic like me so we get to play and play and play. She also gets dirtier than me so she's the one who gets hosed down more often. And she's afraid of heights so I never have to worry about her taking my spot on the couch or the bed. These are all good things.

Like I said, she's my best friend but sometimes she really is a brat!


Rosie, the little white labradoodle of the pack, with mud up to her elbows.

Love and Lab Kisses,
Hilly

The Queen on the Castle

No, not me. I still have a few years to go before I can even be considered the Queen of our little castle. Nope. I realized that I wasn't giving enough attention to my pack and thought I might introduce you to them both. As she is the leader of our small pack it's obvious that I should start with Arwen.

Arwen, the large Golden Retriever leader of our pack

Arwen will turn 10 in January. 10! That's pretty old (don't tell her I said that). Arwen is the Queen of the house. My 'grandparents' pretend that they run the show when really it's Arwen. They all dote on her. Gosh, she's got a nice set up. She once started limping a little after a walk and the humans dropped everything to take care of her. The limp wasn't even that bad. I wonder if I'll ever be in that position of power. 



Arwen sitting out by the tree in our backyard.



Anyway, I respect and love her. Momma always says that she's her four-legged sister so I guess that makes her my Aunt Arwen. She's taught me a lot of stuff like how to respect the older generation (they'll play when they feel like it and not before. I'm telling you puppies, don't even try) and how to bark at the door and get up on the sofa when the house is empty. She's a great mentor.  Though, everyone likes to joke that if she was ever a Guide Dog Puppy she would have been dropped the day she was born. I suppose that means I've got one up on her in that reguard.

Arwen is a happy camper.

My Momma and Arwen. Can't you see the family resemblance?

Arwen showing me what's what by taking the comfy couch and leaving me on the floor.

 Anyway, now you pretty much know Arwen. She may be grouchy at times but when she decides to play she gives me a run for my money.

Love and Lab Kisses,

Hilly