November | 2016 | BulgingButtons

November 30, 2016
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Doggy Dreams

What do they dream about?

My Lila is asleep at my feet, and every now and then she lets out a long sigh.

Earlier she was making the most adorable sound, one that she only makes when she’s asleep. It’s not a cry or a whine or a woof, but sort of a hybrid of all three of those sounds. Clearly she’s thinking about SOMETHING when she’s doing that, but I’m not sure if it’s something good or bad.

Do dogs have nightmares? Are they afraid in their sleep? Do they see monsters and boogie men and lions and tigers and bears? Do they hear fireworks and thunder? Are they afraid of being abandoned?

Do they dream of hunting? Chasing down a rabbit or a squirrel? Do they dream about running on the beach and splashing in the surf? Or riding in the car with the window down and the wind flopping their ears? Do they dream of curling up on the couch next to their person at the end of the day?

I wish I knew what she dreams of. I hope it’s all good things. I never want that dog to feel fear or loneliness. She’s much too good of a companion for that.

November 29, 2016
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Runaway Roxy

I had the great pleasure of meeting an adorable older gal named Roxy recently. Roxy is a lovely steel grey miniature poodle with a sprinkling of white fur around her mouth, giving her a distinguished look.

The divine Miss Roxy came from our next door neighbors’ yard while we were all out festooning our properties with Christmas lights. I knew she wasn’t their dog, but they had company so I though she belonged to one of their guests. Well, Roxy kept on moving through our yard sniffing this and that and generally ignoring everyone.

A Roxy look-alike

By the time we determined that she didn’t belong to any of us, she was on her way to the next yard. She wasn’t rushing, exactly, but she wasn’t holding still either. We grabbed some of Lila’s treats and tried to coax her, but she was having none of that.

I didn’t want to run up to her, because I was afraid she would bolt, and then she might end up in the street and who knows what could become of her. She had a collar and tag, so we knew she was someone’s pet. At last I caught up to her and was able to scoop her up.

Lucky for me, she was friendly, but I was taking a chance. I was a little leery about getting to her tag, a dog bite is nothing to trifle with, but she allowed me to check it out so I called the number on her tag. No answer. I called the second number, also no answer.

We put her on the leash, where she walked like she owned the block. I figured the best thing to do was start walking back in the direction from where she came. Maybe she would lead me to her home. It was only at that point that I wondered what I would do with her if we didn’t find her home. Gulp.

It turned out that I didn’t need to worry. As soon as we got to the next block, the folks working on the lights on the corner house greeted her with enthusiasm. Between all the in and out while working on the house, they had lost track of little Roxy, and Roxy decided to take herself on an adventure.

I’m glad Roxy’s story had a happy ending. It all goes to prove that my sweetheart is right, given the chance, most dogs will head for the hills, even if they don’t know where the hills are.

November 28, 2016
by BulgingButtons 11 Comments

Bra Update

So a word to the wise, when you buy a bra spend a little time getting to know it. Walk around in it. Pick things up in it. Sit down in it. See how you like it.

Maybe, just maybe, it feels pretty good for the first thirty or so minutes, but after that, not so good. Maybe, just maybe, you should keep the tags ON your new purchase and plan to spend a weekend morning in said device before fully committing.

I’m just saying, three minutes in the fitting room is probably not enough time to make a decision that can affect your well being as much as wearing a bra that hurts. There, I said it, it hurts!

Why? Because I sat down. Yes, my crime was sitting. I’m fat, dammit, and when fat people sit stuff gets all squished around and in my case that means that the underwire got forced into my ribs. Ow, ow, ow.

So yes, the bra makes the boobs look pretty darn good for 50, but it’s going to hang out in my closet most of the time. Special occasions, though, look out. Who needs all those ribs, anyway?