And You Call Yourself a Dog?

It’s a dark part of my past. Haven’t touched the Binky in years. Promise.

Amanda R., there’s a support group out there somewhere for Aslan!

Well Would You Look at That

A pig in a blanket.


Brock, you sent us this picture. I do not think it means what you think it means.

And Don’t You Forget It

Orville Poindexter…

…Toilet Plunger Sitting Champion of 1963.

And he’s been there ever since. (gently picks off cobweb)

Sender-Inners Kate and Jeff have the interesting back story here: “So it’s 6 am Friday morning, and we’re sleeping off the Thanksgiving dinner, when we awake to the doggie door flapping and a squeak. This is our occasional wake-up call, unfortunately. Our foster kitty, Rook, is of that just-older-than-a-kitten age, and learning to hunt. She likes to bring in her prey so she can play with it in the comfort of home. We don’t appreciate her gifts, so we always chase them down ourselves, catch them, and release them back outside—they’re usually unharmed, besides being scared.

I get up to find the mouse, and fairly quickly realize that Rook had brought it into the bathroom. This is good. Less places to hide in there. I shoo Rook out of the bathroom and close the door, then go get a tupperware dish to catch it in. When I get back into the bathroom, I look in all the obvious hiding places, but don’t
immediately see it – until I look near the commode. There sits the mouse, not cowering behind the toilet, but up on top of the plunger handle.

I’m glad I got photographic evidence, otherwise I wouldn’t believe it.

Chapter 23, in Which Our Heroes Find Themselves in Grave Peril

With our compass lost in the blizzard, young Wainwright and I gamely vowed to soldier on as best we could. Shouldering our packs, we inched our way down the treacherous cliffs while I attempted to get our bearings by watching the sun. This, however, proved fruitless, as the sun seemed to dart capriciously across the morning sky. Yet it was not the sun that shifted, but ourselves, and it was then I realized we had become marooned on the dreaded… Index Mountains.

Natalie C. alerted us to this story from Zooborns, about the efforts of Marwell Wildlife Park to prevent the extinction of the tiny Partula snail.

Kitten Got Your Tongue?

Sttthooppth thhat! [Say in dog voice]

Tthankss, Cristhtl G.

C.O. Art Watch

The Isobel Schnarfmongler Gallery is pleased to announce Big Dog Little Dog, the latest installation by avant-garde mixed-media artist Nicholas van Blayvin. “My goal,” says the artist, “is to celebrate the contrasts in nature — not just between large and small, but light and dark, ears up and ears down, the whole spectrum, really.”

Perla the Great Dane and Rooney the French Bulldog, from Saul A.

And Now, the Song Stylings of Lenny

Fave Frame™

The Pup Must Go Free!

Let him out.

He’s obviously been framed.

[…by Cute Overload, Miranda R.!]


Ooh, yeah! All right!
We’re jammin’
I wanna jam it wid you.
We’re jammin’, jammin’,
And I hope you like jammin’, too.

When it’s a great photo, you know it’s hand-picked for us by Marilyn T. over at National Geographic Your Shot. Photo by Stephanie More. Bob Marley Jammin’ lyrics via MetroLyrics.

I’m On the Night Train

Zzzzt! Zzzzt! [Say in ‘toot! toot! voice]

Brought to you by Ambien and Sender-Inner John D. See 25 Awkward Cat Sleeping Positions over at Buzzfeed.


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