No time for the text right now, but the pictures say a lot . ..
Grandma’s backyard – the place for imagination, exploration, balls, mitts, chats, cousins, chasing, tag, tree climbing, popsicles and, tonight anyway, puppies.
Here we have, l to r:
Monroe, Tag, Sport, Lily, Allie, Crissy, and Bertie
Here’s a link to their KSL Classifieds ad with all the juicy info about these adorable creatures that have wriggled, and bumbled and charmed their furry little selves right into our hearts with their stubby, chubby little legs and fat, clumsy bottoms. Not to mention their startling blue eyes and eagerness to see you . . . how easy it is to forget their puppy piles and stinky breath when one thinks about not having them around anymore.
Meg’s puppies are 5 weeks old today. She has been a great mother, but is quite finished. Now it is our turn. But it is a happy sort of chore.
This is Lilly. She is going to a home in Nevada in 3 weeks. I’ll miss them more than I thought, I think.
We are growing great puppies and boys and . . . dandelions.
There’s a boy under there somewhere.
Mark and Kyle get the finer points from the vet as how to administer medicine to 7 pups.
Armfuls of cuteness. We were going to have a puppy photo shoot, but it suddenly turned windy and cold.
This morning Polly and Little Joe got new shoes in preparation for many summer Rocky Mountain rides.
I think Jay was glad to be on the front end of shoeing this time.
Most people don’t see the bottom of a horse’s hoof. I think they’re fascinating. Jasen Fowles was our farrier. Watching him made me think about Uncle Donald a lot. Does anybody remember that his business card had “business is always picking up” on it?
Jason wraps his tool handles in ‘vet tape’. When he asked his little girl to go get some for him she brought pink.
Little Joe’s first shoes. Black hooves are naturally harder than white, and his have never been split or chipped up. But this summer we’ll be riding him a lot harder than other summers and it will be nice not to worry about rocky rides.
Perfect fit. That smudge of blood on Little Joe’s hoof is Jason’s. He shrugged it off as a hazard of his trade. Man, look at those hands. Those are Man Hands.
All done. Time to ride.