Aging ain't for sissies. Neither is chronic pain.

Posts tagged ‘Whippets’

Willow Bean

Adjustment to life with a puppy continues. Willow is very sweet and far too smart for my own good. Just when I think I’ve got all my bases covered, she uncovers another base.

Flurry is not impressed with our new bundle of energy. Flurry isn’t impressed by much to begin with so I’m not surprised really. Willow seems to think Flurry is some kind of whippet anomaly due to her rather harsh opinion of Willow. it?

What…is that thing?

Perry isn’t sure what the hell this is all about. We had a good gig going here, he owned all the toys and life was quiet. I hang my head in shame when he looks at me like this.

We had it made.  What were you thinking??

We had it made. What were you thinking??

I have a habit (good or bad, depending on how you look at it) of nicknaming my dogs. In this case it’s Willow Bean. With a poorly executed British accent repeated frequently throughout the day. (Don’t judge.)

We got Willow a toy that was intended to make her think. It’s a fuzzy toy eagle that has a tummy stuffed with squeaky balls. It was her job to figure how to get the balls out of the eagle. It took all of about 10 seconds so now I have to spend part of each day shoving balls back inside the eagle so she can prove once again how much smarter she is than me. The other day she took a ball and hid it in my marigolds. I caught myself in the back yard hollering, “Willow! Willow Bean, where are your balls? What did you do with your balls?” (I said don’t judge.)


Willow loves Fred. She talks to him. She gets all girly girl around him…coy you might say. She’s a player, that one is.


Life with dogs…never a dull moment. Thank goodness. 🙂


How The Finnch Stole Kibble

How The Finnch Stole Kibble
  (by Terri Onorato – based on a true story of our whippet Finn)

Every dog

In the household

Liked kibble a lot…

But the Finnch,

A real chow hound

Liked it more than a lot!


The Finnch loved his kibble.  He would eat it all day!

Don’t dare ask why; no one can quite say.

It could be he thought he might never fill up.

Or perhaps it could be he’s a growing young pup.

But I think the most likely reason of all

May have been that his tummy was two sizes too small.



Whatever the reason, his strong will or his age

He wouldn’t give in, and he begged and he begged.

Staring up from his place on the bare kitchen floor

At his mama who stood guard by the old pantry door,

He spun and he jumped and he twirled and he whined.

But his mama held fast and said, “It’s not dinner time!”


The greyhounds were quiet and willing to wait

For they knew that at mealtime they’d get a full plate.

But Finnch wasn’t patient, his belly rumbled and roared

And he suddenly recalled where extra kibble was stored.

The spare room his destination, he took off like a shot

And pushed opened the door ma had forgotten to lock.


The treasure before him was a royal dog feast

Forty pounds of the kibble, all his to eat!

He’d certainly hit pay dirt; of this he was sure,

He ripped and he tugged till the bag finally tore.

Out poured the kibble, piling up to his knees

He munched and he chewed, never stopping to breathe.


He was so busy feasting and enjoying his prize

He didn’t hear mama till she was right by his side.

He munched all the faster and grabbed what he could

Till his ma picked him up and surprised him real good!

She didn’t get angry or say he was bad

She laughed and she hugged him and said, “You’re a brat!”


And what happened then?

Well the greyhounds they say

That the Finnch’s tummy

Grew three sizes that day.

And the minute his bloated round belly felt full,

He waddled outside, he had business to do!

He sighed with contentment as he lay down to nap

His dreams filled with kibble still left in the bag.



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