Tuesday, April 15, 2008

On Lunden Pond

Sunday we decided to check out a set of trails up the road from us and head out for a little adventure. The boys had fishing poles they hadn't been able to try out yet, and Rob got a license and a new pole for his birthday. They were itching to fish, baby. We were happily surprised by the picturesque setting, and the ability to bring everyone on the adventure with us, including our new little pugsy. What a thrill for Max to catch his very first fish ever on his third cast! I cannot begin to describe the expression on that boy's face as he was reeling in his catch. Thrill, joy, manic excitement, surprise... his face wasn't really smiling exactly. It was a contorted, eye-bulging, grin. A tad on the scary side, but man was he EXCITED! Rob hustled over with congratulations and then a casual, "How'd you catch that, Max?". Rob wanted a fish too! A very big day for the Jordan boys, a memory seared into Max's mind. Oh, and Rob did catch his own fish the next day on Dean Pond, just so you don't feel so bad for him. He caught a 12 inch Rainbow Trout!

Sweet Doggy Insanity

Well, it's official, I must be insane. Meet Sammy, our newest family member! He is an adorable one-year-old pug we took in for someone who was moving. It has been exactly one week today and we are finally figuring out how we all can coexist peacefully. I wasn't so sure last Wednesday after a sleepless night of dog antics... but, by day two he was snoring blissfully (and quite audibly) at our feet. To my delight, he's surprisingly clean and tidy. No long hair to shed, no drooling, only the slight aroma of dog about him. We even gave him a bath Saturday! That is what my Saturday night has come to! No gallivanting around town, or out for a show. We give doggy baths here. Boo ya!
The boys seem to have fallen in love with him, although Miles has a distinct love/hate relationship with him. Sammy has cramped Miles' style of lounging about snacking. The dog will not rest if there is food being enjoyed and Miles needs to have his snack time reprogrammed to suit this new lifestyle. He wavers between squealing with delight and running across the house repeatedly with Sammy at his heals, to howling like a teenager that no dogs are allowed in his room. That is followed by a shuddering door slam. He's a fairly moody three year old.
Max has no complaints, and giggles with child-like adoration whenever Sammy's in the mood to play with him.
Rob and I are going with the flow. We are the walkers, the feeders, the tick-picker-offers, the referees. And at the end of the day, we are the couch snugglers, stealing sheepish smiles at one another over the fuzzy-headed friend we have taken in.