I love this photo – it embodies everything you see in a truly good French Bulldog mommy, namely endless and unceasing worry.
This is Bun’s perpetual expression if the pups wander too far away. It’s tiring being a new mommy, no matter what species you are.
New puppy photos here, if you’re not sick of them yet.. ha!
I love my satellite radio. I have to love it, because the alternative, out here in the redneck backwoods middle o’ no place where I live, is rather limited.
When it comes to radio, I can choose from:
a) classic rock, which is code for ‘crap from the seventies that people who drive Camaros listen to’
b) country, which is code for ‘crap that people who drive pick up trucks listen to’
c) CBC radio, which is code for ‘like NPR, but without the Car Guys or a budget’
So, I listen to XM Satellite, mourning the lack of anything approaching Canadian content (hello, Americans! I’d like to apologize, on behalf of my entire country, for the proliferation of Nickelback on your radio stations. In my defense, I voted to have Chad dumped on an ice flow with an angry polar bear and a plastic spork for self defense, but I was out voted). I flip around, finding some Feist here, a little Social Distortion there, and my new personal favorite artist, “Matisyahu“, who is definitely among the top ten Orthodox Jewish Reggae singers in the world.
Sean has different musical tastes than I do. I don’t like to disparage the man, but let me just say one thing – Journey. He really, really likes Journey. He also really, really likes Dave Mathews, enough to have put Dave Mathews on ‘artist alert’, which means that any time any satellite station plays a Dave Mathews song, the radio ‘beeps’ and displays the song title and station it’s playing on.
I’ve learned something in the past few weeks – at any time of the day or the night, someone, someplace on Sirius or XM is playing a Dave Mathews song. It’s usually ‘Crash Into Me’, but not always. Sometimes, it’s a live jam band version of one the very talented Mr. Mathews’ songs. Sometimes, it’s acoustic. Whatever it is, somewhere right now, it’s being played. Which is fun, in that it means that every two seconds my satellite radio unit will beep, eager to ensure I don’t miss the chance to wash myself in Dave’s very special, middle of the road goodness.
Thankfully, I found the manual and managed to remove Dave from the favorite artist playlist, because I was about to toss the unit out the window. Let’s see how Sean enjoys being beeped at every time a Nickelback song plays.
More Bunny pups photos down below – and they’re all organized into one big collection, right here on Flickr.
Well, so much for my plans this weekend to grind up and freeze a great big bucket of green lamb tripe. Lamb tripe, by the way, is a really fancy way of saying “Stinky, unprocessed lamb stomach”, and “green” is code for “complete with partially digested stomach contents”. And yes, it smells just about the way it sounds – possibly worse.
Sean, who I fondly refer to as ‘garbage guts’ for his cast iron stomach and willingness to eat almost anything, gagged and retched when I cheerfully told him that the big, reeking bucket of guts was more or less just what he’d eaten when he taste tested Sailor’s canned green tripe. The real retching happened when I asked him if he’d be tasting this batch, too. I think that can be taken as a ‘no’.
At any rate, we never did get the lamb stomachs ground up, because Bunny decided to surprise us by going into labor three days early.
In spite of my panic attacks about her early labor, she managed to deliver five adorable babies, and after an initial twelve hours of telling me “those things aren’t mine – you look after them’, she’s back in the swing of being a supermom. She’s such a good girl – keeps her babies tucked underneath her, almost entirely hidden away, and cleans them at the first sign of squeaking.
I had assumed Bunny and Luther might produce brindles, possibly a brindle pied. What I wasn’t expecting was this little beauty –
French Bulldog colors – who the heck knows. You can’t even begin to guess, at least not most of the time. You just have to sit back and wait for them to get here.
Here’s the rest of the photos, down below. All of the images will be in one great big collection, which you’ll find here.
Oh, and this litter’s names? Neil Gaiman book titles.
A) because I love Neil Gaiman
B) because I love the name ‘Coraline’
C) because I just got my copy of “The Graveyard Book“, and it’s so good I’m already checking his site for news of sequels.
My poor Bunny looks like she’s set to explode. Like Delilah, she’s at the “I just can’t get comfortable” phase of her pregnancy, which involves lots of sad little “uuuuh” noises when you hold her.
She’s also slightly off her food, which for Bunny is akin to sacriledge, as the girl never met a meal she said ‘no’ to.
Chin up, Bunny – less than two weeks to go.
Poor Delilah is as big as house, and not very happy about it. She looks like she swallowed a watermelon, and considering she’s already a hefty girl, and that she has almost 2 1/2 weeks to go still, this is only going to get more painful to watch. She has a heart breaking routine – heave a sigh, stare at her stomach, stare at me with a look that says “This is all YOUR fault, and I’m not letting you forget it”, and then heave another sigh of resentment.
She is so never going to forgive me for this…