Anyone who has ever tried to pose dogs for photographs can sympathize with this post. First of all, dogs see absolutely no point in pictures. You can't smell them, you aren't supposed to eat them, they can't run out and bark with you when That Thing is hiding in the back yard. Time is much better spent walking, getting Treats, or getting scratched on that itchy place at the root of your tail. You know, the place that makes you twist your back around, lift your head, and drool.
Ahem. Anyway.
Here we are, posed with our Clifford toy that Sarah M. sent us. Bear looks more intelligent than he really is. He's the one sitting on the floor. Bear really isn't bright.... you don't see him with his own blog, do you? He can't even spell. Casper is laying down, which is pretty much his whole philosophy of Life. He's as wide as he is tall, and only carries it well because he's so fluffy. (well, and he's about twelve years old) I'm sitting there with my eyes closed, because I run around so much that if I rest for even a minute, I fall asleep. Just a few moments before this picture was taken, I was wrestling with Bear. Note the spitty, tangled mess of mane on that dog. Bedraggled is the word. Well, he's my brother and I love him, but no one accuses him of being overly fastidious.
We posed for Mommy, but our hearts weren't in it.
Yasha
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