Friday, July 24, 2009
My Floofy Boy
Luke has a million nicknames already. Among my favorite are Floofy, Floofus, Schmoofy, Schmoof, Weasel, and ... well... I could go on forever, to be honest. I'm sure it's terribly confusing for him because it is rare that we actually call him Luke or Lucas.
I haven't really told you much about him since the great escape of 2009--so let me give you an update. He enjoys squeaking his lobster, octopus, and merdog. He has absolutely no clue what to do with a ball--and will just watch it roll past his feet if it is tossed in his direction. He is constantly under my feet--which I find endearing and not at all annoying. I swear. And boy does that pup love him some peanut butter, cuddles, and, who can forget... naps. (He gets that from me.)
Despite the fact that his entire family tree is on record dating back to the 1800s, I suspect Luke shares his ancestry with cats (he grooms himself and rubs himself against our legs... or thighs... he's tall). His long nose also hints at anteater lineage. And also, I'm pretty sure his mom was a deer.
For the most part he is one of the best behaved dogs I have ever seen. He does has his moments of mischief, though. Like when he scavenges for washcloths from the hamper (turns out that mutilated washcloths make pretty nifty hats, see below), goes through my closet and emerges with the single most expensive dry clean only item within said closet, and is a little too interested in our meals. (So far we have no dinner casualties. But there has been lots of sniffing. Lots. Of. Sniffing.)
Luke is such a mommy and daddy's boy. His tail wags so hard when we come home that I think one day he's going to buzz away like a helicopter. Of course, Andrew and I are as equally happy to see him after a long day's work. We spend our evenings lavishing him with kisses, chin rubs, and praise. (WHO IS THE NICEST DOGGIE IN THE WHOLE WORLD? YOU ARE! YOUUUUUU ARREEEEEE! AREN'T YOU!? YES YOU ARE!)
Also, I need to tell you something very important. Greyhounds do this thing when they are very happy. This very weird looking thing. It's called "cockroaching." I could try to explain it... but I think it would be much more effective if I could just show you. Ready?
Yep. That's about as good as it gets in the life of a greyhound. Now someone rub my belly.