Those Poor Dogs

I realized this afternoon, in horror, I have yet to write the obligatory post telling fond tales about my dogs, Olive and Madeline. When I joined the blogging world in September I simply jumped in. My wonderfully talented husband took care of the technical details, advised me of some blogging dos and dont’s and then suggested I take a gander at other blogs to get a feel for blogging in general. I now believe I owe Michael an apology because I fully intended to put all of his generous advice in action, but I forgot about the last part. The pinch of guilt I feel for not yielding to Michael’s sensible instructions is nothing compared to the anxiety I’m feeling for neglecting my dogs.

It turns out everyone who is anyone with a blog writes about their dog (that rhyme is completely unintentional and unavoidable). For example, blogger Highlandscot debates on the distinct personality differences in his Border Collies in the post A Dog’s Life and Barbara from the Midwest actually refers to herself as a “sucker” in the post Heart Wrenching which includes a photo of her dog after a bath. I even discovered Dogloverboutique who posted It’s Raining and My Dogs Won’t Potty Outside wherein she freely asks for advice on the use of “designer dog raincoats” and the merits of allowing her five dogs to “potty” inside during inclement weather. Now I feel really horrible. Those poor dogs.

Olive and Madeline are happy dogs. They eat, they play and they sleep. They’re both scared of loud noises and neither one of them likes squirrels. The love carrots, riding in the car and hanging out in the backyard. Madeline likes toys while Olive prefers treats and they both enjoy going on walks. Olive and Madeline are dogs, my dogs, and I am happy to say I no longer feel neglectful at all.

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