Gone to the Dawgs

It was Wednesday, and by now you may know that means America's Next Top Model.

I don't want the baby to be TOO smart, after all.

Greta stopped by on her way home to Wisconsin, which was a nice surprise, and Christine and I sucked her in to the show. Somehow, she managed to leave before the elimination, so she's a stronger woman than I am. She brought her little dog, Lupe, who is part Chihuahua and part Pomeranian, and she's freaking adorable and tiny. After they left, and toward the end of the show, Christine and I were speculating on the bottom two and who would go home (we guessed Katarzyna and Whitney, and that Kat would go home, and we were right. Not that this is rocket science), when we all noticed something out of the corner of our eyes. Something on the porch. In one, we all froze and turned our heads to the west.

There, on the porch, were the largest dogs I have seen in a long time. It looked as if we had been invaded by wolves. Two Malamutes were pouncing all over, looking in the storm door, panting and smiling. Even though they looked friendly, their size was daunting. We all remained still and silent while we watched the spectacle. We saw no humans, and when the dogs left the porch, Pete and I went outside to investigate.

They were exploring the front garden, and when I asked them what they were up to, they stopped, perked up, and raced back up the sidewalk and onto the porch, very excited. They were jumpy, so Pete made me go inside to protect Squirmy, and they really wanted to come inside with me. It took Christine and I together to keep the front dog from entering. I am not sure how he did it, but Pete got them into the back yard and closed the gate.
One of them had a tag on their collar, and we called and left a message. It was baffling to me, not how they could have escaped (I imagined them just knocking down whatever was in their way, or jumping over the house), but how two things that large could be missed.

It turns out that the owners were in the process of moving and were staying with friends a couple of blocks away. She came by in a few minutes and picked up the dogs who we learned were named "Daisy" and "Scooby."
"Huskies," she said "are the smarter ones. Malamutes are kind of the stoners of the sled dogs."

Huskies are not that smart, either.

I cannot imagine having two dogs that big. It would be unthinkable in a house our size. The house would be dismantled in days. A smoking pile of rubble with two happy dogs, panting and stinking up the place (they were RANK).

I am thinking that we will eventually have one dog that will be somewhere on the Dog Spectrum between 5 pound Lupe and 150 pound Daisy. Closer to Lupe than to Daisy. I think I will stick with a herding dog and not a working dog. They are both really active, but I like the herders better.

Oh, and Christine brought over another knitty thing for Squirmy:
At this point, Squirmy was not very interested. I held it up to The Belly, and got nothin'. Ungrateful.

Max, however, obviously has some love for it, because it was on the floor this morning after having obviously been molested sometime during the night. It had better get used to it.