Gone to the dogs

As I was clicking through our December pics today that I conned the husband into downloading onto one of the computers for me, I realized that my in-laws are the real geniuses in our family because they're the only ones withOUT any dogs.  


Here is the ruler of our roost right now, the furry family member that dictates when I have to make a lap around the 'hood twice a day and how many times I have to haul myself out to the backyard for doggy potty breaks.  And why I rush home from whatever errand I'm running because I feel guilty about Ollie having to spend more than an hour or so in his crate.  Who could resist that cute little mug... even when it's munching on yet another piece of landscaping bark that I have to pry out of his mouth for the umpteenth time this week.  I think Ollie just likes to hear me squeal and chase him around the backyard, trying to save us a trip to the vet to remove any of the crap he tries to get lodged in his gullet.

My sister and her family have two dogs... in addition to four cats.  The schnauzer is named Rocky and the corgi is Amigo.  They're quite the pair and remind me of that nursery rhyme - Jack Sprat (Rocky) could eat no fat, his wife (Amigo) could eat no lean...  Amigo's stomach doesn't drag the ground - yet.  I'm thinking he sneaks more than his fair share of cat food when no one is looking.

My husband's brother and his family are up to 4 dogs with the addition of the latest family member, Roscoe the English bulldog.  Lullabelle is the bloodhound, Bronte is the Great Dane and Eli (in the separate pic) is a Shih Tzu.  It's a good thing their house sits on a couple acres so they don't have to do the two-step around big piles of dog poo every time they walk out the back door.

And then there's my mother and her pair of pugs, Max and Ruby.  They are so sweet and so terribly spoiled.  Really - they think they're human, her canine lap babies that love nothing better than to stay stuck up under her being petted and living the good life.  

My husband's parents are the only close family members that can just up and leave on a trip without first making reservations at a kennel or finding someone to come over and feed the beasts while they're gone.  They can walk right outta the house without first locating one of those sticky roller thingies to get all the animal hair off their clothes.  And they're at the mercy of no one else's feeding and potty schedule except their own.  I'm just wondering if Ollie will qualify as some sort of quasi grandchild so that we can guilt them into keeping him once we get back to Texas and want to go on the occasional road trip or long weekend.