Oh, my Rennie. Given the year (decade?) we’ve had (and we’re not even a quarter of the way through yet!), you have to live forever. Or at least to the ripe old age of twenty-three. Anything else might very well kill me. No pressure or anything. :P
On that note, I know that today is kind of blah, but I promise that we’ll celebrate your birthday-slash-adoption-day-a-versary in true We Rate Dogs style next week. Your uncle Mike is coming to visit, and there will be loads of walks, belly rubs aplenty, and, dog willing, maybe even a trip to the drive-in (or two or three). We will cram so much fun into so few days that you may never want to chase a Ball again. Just kidding! Knock on wood! The day that happens will be a sad one indeed.
On that note: I love you! But I have calls to make, books to sort, and maybe even a few people to yell at. We shall see how the day progresses. Just know that I’m doing it all for you. You and Mags and Finnick, you’re the reason for my being. The things I’m trying to claw my way back for. You three are my everything.
Love you, forever and always,
– Mom
Thirteen Little Rennie Things
She is the baby piglet to Kaylee’s mama sow.
Sadly, Ralphie is the only dog short enough for her to mount, and he is entirely too old and too blind for this shit.
Fun story: Rennie overwhelmingly prefers found balls to store-bought ones, probably since they come with strange and exotic smells built right in. I often find tennis balls at the park, since it’s home to a (very cracked) tennis court. One time I found a whole pile of them, just sitting in the grass. I stuffed my jacket pockets with ’em and, when I got home, pulled them out of my pocket one at a time – slowly and with great dramatic effect – and threw them to her. Her eyes got real wide and at one point I thought her head might actually explode. She pounced on them – one, two, three, four-five-six! – running from one to another and back again. It was like her birthday and x-mas all rolled up into one.
Seriously, I can’t even tell you how happy that made me. Sappy but true.
Our local park boasts a few water spigots, helpfully placed at strategic points around the property. (Mostly near the baseball diamonds and pavilions.) While all are ringed with gravel (boo!), there’s one special fountain in the back whose base has been carved into a bowl – either intentionally, by some enterprising dog person, or from years of erosion, who knows? Either way, it makes a nice little pool to capture the water so the dogs can take a sip.
On especially hot days, Rennie makes a beeline for this particular field. After I’ve filled the crevice with water – her dancing impatiently around the stream the whole time – she likes to stretch out over the hole to cool off. Her pokey piggy belly fits perfectly into the curve of the ground. Words cannot express how much I love it. Some days I walk her just a little extra hard so she’ll want to go for a dip. The muddy fur? So worth it.
I’ve yet to get decent video of this event, so as an added bonus, I’ve thrown in a picture of her emerging from her Mud Hole and shaking off. Definitely one of my top ten favorite Rennie action shots.
The first few weeks after we started her exercise regimen, she was terrified: she swam at top speed, balls to the wall, eyes wide open in unadulterated fear. Then she became used to the chore, and started falling asleep with boredom. Some days I have to threaten to dunk her to jar her awake. Such a slacker.
– just like Kaylee’s!
Sadly, I do not think I have any pictures of this little thing exactly, so instead, here are some more photos of O-Ren and her many (many many many) toys.
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