Someone out there bought her pup a rhinestone T-shirt today.
It got me thinking about the two pink tees my little pup has, as well as the "special occasion" collars we have for both dogs, ready just in case the pope ever came to visit. (That'd be John Paul II, I was a big fan, as much as a godless heathen can be, at least. This new guy, not so much.)
So I spent a half hour chasing the pap around, then forcing her limbs into shirtsleeves at odd angles. I had really, really hoped to have these photographs finished before The Hub came home, cause, you know, when you've yet to shower, vaccuum, brush dogs, or weed garden, it is bad form to be dressing up puppies and posing them so as to best show off their duds.
No dice. However, he was suitably tickled by my verve, I suppose, cause he grabbed the dog's hiney and held her still.
This is our version of Monkey Torture.
I splurged on actual doggie clothing in San Diego, when I discovered that Lucky Dog was mere blocks away from the Gaslamp Hilton. My credit card smoked for days, and not just after sex.
Big Fuzzy makes a great dog statue. Sometimes I want to put a little sign in her mouth that says "Abandon all hope, ye who enter here," and sit her down on the front porch.
Here's The Hub with the assist. The second outfit is always harder to get on than the first. Little Fuzz also has a collar for the debutaunte ball, but she's so furry now that the rhinestones are merely glimmer.