Made in Richmond

Once Zapp has stopped bouncing off of every surface of the house, we usually find her here, curled up on my side of the bed. This time the remote happened to be in her spot, so it just *looks* like she’s relaxing and enjoying her stories.

This one is for my mother-in-law with whom I currently in the mountains enjoying a long weekend. But still…

Sometimes I think she thinks that our dogs (especially Zapp) never stop moving. Here’s proof! And really, after the first five minutes of absolute insanity that takes places as they say hello to you, this is all they do with the rest of their day.

She will stay completely still during a cuddling session like this, for fear that any movement will mean it’s time for the snugs to end.

Please note that as this was happening, Shooter was curled up in a tiny ball on the foot of the bed, probably grumbling about gas prices or something.

The smooshableness. It is undeniable.

Here’s our girl waiting patiently to go outside. I like to pause and absorb these rare moments of stillness from her because it happens oh. so. rarely.

So here’s a picture:

I promise I will be less useless next week.

So, as you know, we’re getting the house ready to go on the market. After almost a year of consistently working on the house, and about 6 weeks of constantly working on the house (thanks to a certain announcement), we’re almost done. Today and tomorrow are being spent cleaning and taking care of little odds and ends to make this house look presentable - you know, that habitable but “No, no people don’t live here! Picture your own couch here! And see this? Isn’t that a lovely, spacious yard?” look.

Consequently (and unfortunately), the dogs have had to spend much time in their crates during these processes, as they tend to get underfoot. As typical of his way, Shooter will only whimper for a bit and then resign to the fact that he’s not going anywhere, spending his time half-grunting at any unexpected noise outside.

And then there’s Zapp.

She does ok at first. Just a little chirping (sometimes we have a hard time telling if it’s her or the birds). But when she’s ready to come out, boy, she lets you know it. Not with barking. Not with whimpering. But with full-body thrashing and gnashing of teeth. I imagine that if she were a teenage girl (which in dog years, I guess she pretty much is) she would be sighing and angstily applying black eyeliner and nail polish. You know, to really stick it to us.

Now, Zapp and I leave you with a picture that would so go on her myspace page:

I’ve never cared what people name their dogs. I mean, it’s a dog. In fact, I find it hilarious when people give their dogs incredibly normal human names like Mike or John. All I cared about was if I had dogs and if they were cute and awesome. And, let’s be honest, I would very rarely use their real name, instead opting for a ridiculous nickname.

Ross is different. He had known he wanted to name his first dog Shooter long before we even thought about getting a dog. When we talked about getting a second dog, I made a suggestion.

“It’d be neat if we got a really big dog and named it Bear.”

“No. We’re naming it Zapp.”

“Why?”

“After Zapp Branigan.”

For those you who don’t know, Zapp Branigan is a character on Futurama. A character that doesn’t wear pants. But, being that it was a miracle that Ross was even hinting at the fact that he would be OK with a second dog, I wasn’t going to push it.

So we got another dog. A sweet girl dog. And named her Zapp. After a cartoon male. Who, again, doesn’t wear pants.

Here’s a picture so you can see why this is hilarious:

Another hilarious part about her name is that when she’s misbehaving or won’t come inside when you call her, you have to yell “Zapp! Zapp! Zapp!” over and over again and sound like a crazy idiot.

Incidentally, she does have nicknames. Things like Zapp-along, Zapparoni, Zapparoo, Zappy-girl, and ZappAttack are the most common.

Shooter just has one nickname, his full name really… Shooter Belle Catrow.

So, we have a new yard:

Gone are the holes created by our heroine, and here are lovely pieces of sod that will hopefully grow in soon - just in time for us to sell this joint.

You would think that a puppy would love this. Soft! Grass! Rolling around! Running! Not so much. Instead, Zapp spent about 20 minutes sniffing every square inch of the yard, either trying to figure out who had been there recently, or frantically searching for a spot she’d where she’d recently done her thing.

Eventually she found a comfortable spot and did her business. When I called her in, she did her normal flop into playing stance (you know the one - butt in the air, tail wagging, but dumb tongue hanging out her mouth), but was so taken aback by the change in texture of the ground underneath her, she scrambled up onto the porch and slunk inside.

But, I guess being afraid of the yard means she won’t dig it up. Because then I’d have to murder her, and who would you guys read about on Saturdays?

What are you up to, Zapp?

Oh, just blogging.