McLovin Gets None & Welcome to Jellieville

Poor Elliott. All is not well in the world of McLovin’, for one of Elliott’s harem of wimmin folk is in season, and yet we are standing between him and the sweet, sweet loving he craves.

We have explained to Elliott that motherhood, alas, is not on Journey’s agenda of ‘to do’ activities.

Eat a lot? Check.

Snore loudly? Check.

Paw repeatedly at your leg until you pet her? Double check.

Motherhood? Sorry, no check.

Elliott refuses to listen to reason, and instead is pining, pining, pining for his true love. He paws at doors. He whines from other rooms. He patrols the fence line, shrieking of his undying devotion to the entire, uncaring world. All to no avail – Journey had a short 24 hours where she showed a slight spark of interest in his wooing, but that time has now passed, and any attempts at inappropriate behaviour on Elliott’s part are met with a whirling, snarling, deeply unhappy reception from Journey.

Let’s just hope he gets back on his food soon, or he’ll be so far off his game this weekend that there’s little point of showing him. Life as resident stud dog has its hardships, as Elliott would be the first to tell you.

Meanwhile, over on the west coast Jellie Bean McCute continues her reign as cutest little doggie diva San Diego has ever seen.

As her besotted new Mommy Dara herself says “I have never been so in love in my life”.

Yes, that’s always the first step on the path to a lifetime of total and utter French Bulldog enslavement – entrap them with the cuteness.

Ms. Jellie Bean has her very own Flickr page, which you’ll find here, and just to add to the unbearable adorability of it all, she also has her own Cafe Press Store!

Go on over and check it out – a percent of all profits go to French Bulldog rescue!

Here at home, Heart has been assiduously wooing Sean into becoming one of her minions. She already knew she had me under her thumb, so it was time to move on to Daddy. In these photos, she’d just woken up from napping in the curve of his neck, and was making unbearably adorable blinky faces at us. Honestly, is there anything more irresistible than a sleepy Frenchie puppy?

All the photos are over on Flickr.

ps: If anything happens to me over the next few months, you’ll know who to blame.

Is your cat plotting to kill you?

Hat tip to Fuzzy Logic for the warning.

Elliott Gets Some! (points, that is)

Elliott did admirably well this weekend, even when he was (rather ineptly) handled by me. While we didn’t take points on Saturday, we did meet some lovely new people, including a couple with an adorable, animated little brindle bitch they’d imported from Europe. She showed like a dream and was pretty as a picture, and it’s a wonder Elliott could manage to function at all, he was so besotted with her.

Sunday both Elliott and I had our minds more firmly on the game, and even with me on the end of his leash, Elliott handled with aplomb and style. He impressed the judge as well as me, and took Best of Winners and Best of Opposite. So, we’re now on our way to his Canadian Championship – 3 1/2 years after he finished his American one! As Barb informed me, this weekend was literally the very first time he’d been back in the ring in three and half years, and since I barely practiced more than 20 minutes with him leading up to the weekend, I’m pleased he did as well as he did. Next weekend we’re in Brampton, then on hiatus til after Christmas.

By the way, congratulations to Ch Petit Cherie Nevertheless, the Frenchie specials bitch, who took a group third on Sunday.

Dexter also did well this weekend in Michigan. He didn’t take any points, but he placed in his class and was happy to be in the ring. Barb is thinking of taking him down to Florida for the so called ‘Sunshine’ circuit, which should be fun.

Let’s hope my big little guy finishes up fast, so he can come back home for lap time and snuggles.

Showing Elliott was fun – it’s been years off from the circuit for me as well as for him, and I’d forgotten how much I enjoy the buzz and excitement of the ring. I love seeing other Frenchies, and talking with other owners, and the bigger shows like Caledon always have far too many tempting booths full of fun stuff to max your credit cards out on.

Now the only problem is that there aren’t any more shows within a reasonable driving distance until March! Maybe I should head to Florida with Barb…

Of course, there’s always March to look forward to – when Butters, Rumble and Heart will ALL be old enough to show! Hey, I wonder if I can harass talk Jennifer into putting Rumble into conformation?

All of the Caledon show photos are over on Flickr, by the way. Tomorrow we’ll catch up with Ms. Jellie Bean Parfait and see how life as a pampered West Coast Princess is treating her.

Shows, Snow and Carbs

Yes, I still feel like crap — I will not go into details, on the grounds that it’s simply too disgustingly vulgar to go into. Suffice to say? Ewww. As Susan said (I’m paraphrasing) “Sinuses — what is the point?”. Evolution should have consigned them and other superfluous items like the spleen to the junk heap of biological advancement.

Sean is contentedly tinkering with his new lover, XM Satellite Radio. I fully expect this obsession to keep him occupied until spring finally rolls around. Not that I mind – living up here in the middle of nowhere, my radio programming choices have been limited to Christian Radio, Country and Western, and some kind of weird mid 70’s hair rock/dance pop hybrid station (the kind with really, really, really cheerful DJs).

The dogs and I, meanwhile, have been contenting ourselves with calorie loading and making the best of the ten million pounds of purportedly ‘beautiful’ snow that’s carpeting everything I can see.

I’ve been struck with an urge to cook Caribbean and Soul Food – probably not good timing, since my sinuses being under the weather means my sense of seasoning isn’t quite up to snuff. At the best of times, I like a lot more spice on my food than Sean does. Right now, my tolerance for spice is off the charts, mostly because I’m one of those people who season to taste, and I can’t currently taste much of anything.

I cooked Smothered Pork Chops the other night, and added so much white pepper that Sean almost fainted after the first bite. I’m thinking I’d better skip the Scotch Bonnet Pepper in the Jamaican Oxtail I’m making tomorrow. I serve my Oxtail with fried plantain, coconut rice and some cooked purple yams. Warm, filling food for snowy days. Maybe I’ll do some Steak and Kidney pies for next week, although I’ve also been considering Chicken and Dumplings. Two blessedly heat free options, which will please my rather wimpy palated boyfriend…

Heart has discovered snow, and she likes it. She spends as much time outside as we’ll let her – we literally have to go outside and grab her, shivering and snowy, or she’d never come back in the house. She looks awfully cute out there, snowplowing up the drifts with her nose and racing full tilt across the backyard.

Delilah is her partner in crime – the two of them hang out together outside, sniffing snowbanks, eating pieces of ice, and digging for tasty bits of greenery buried under the snowdrifts.

I’d like to say she misses her brothers and sisters, but honestly? After the first few days of confusion (“Didn’t there used to be more of us in here?”), she’s recovered quite nicely and is revelling in being the center of attention.

Dexter is doing well in Michigan. He’s preparing for his new career as a show dog, and gearing up for his ring debut next weekend. Barb and Sue have been fine tuning his urge to eat anything and everything waved in front of his face, in the hopes of turning my ravenous brat into a smoothly oiled showing machine.

Good luck with that, ladies!

If you’re in the MI area, and planning on attending the shows in Lansing, please drop by and cheer him on. Over here in Ontario, I’m getting ready to enter Elliott into some Ontario area shows. If you’ll be at any of those, please look us up in the catalogue and drop on by to say hello after we’re done showing!

Heart and Dexie’s photos are over on Flickr, or down below.

Delilah has a Twin and Nell is on Strike

We spent the day at the Hanover Fall Fair on Sunday. The usual fall agricultural fair stuff – 4H kids with their dairy cattle, prize winning chickens, heavy horse pulls, miniature horses and the steer competition.

It was during the steer competition that we met our new favorite cow steer –  a rather aggravated looking black Angus with the most recalcitrant, stubborn expression on his face. While the other cattle were lining up nicely, feet perfectly placed and still as statues, this cow non coew steer was pissed off about the whole ordeal. He stomped from side to side, refused to put his feet where they belonged, and was muttering under his breath that it was ‘all pointless’.

The thing is, he just looked exactly like Delilah — well, OK, not exactly. I mean, Delilah is a twenty two pound French Bulldog, not a two ton steer, but it’s all in the eyes. He had has her same black, deep, shoe button eyes, and her precise expression of mutinous, stubborn will power. If they both had a saying tattooed on their sides, it would be “Don’t wanna“.

Don't Wanna Be a Show Dog

I picture Delilah behaving in the exact same way if we were ever stupid enough to try to stick her in the show ring. Plus, we’re not allowed to use those hook thingies to poke our dogs into place — although with some dogs, we should be (she said ominously, shooting a dirty look at the small black dog sleeping on her feet).

Penelope, who resembles nothing more than a brindle basketball on four legs these days, is on a mid pregnancy hunger strike. She is not making this whole impending motherhood thing easy, that’s for sure. Currently, she will only eat her food if I:

a) poach and shred a chicken breast onto her raw food
b) artfully arrange the chicken so that it wraps around the raw food, camouflaging it
c) I then poke the little balls of chicken camo raw food into her waiting mouth, like a stupid floor sitting mommy bird feeding her evil little offspring

The other dogs, of course, gape at this entire procedure with their mouths hanging open. Sailor has started to let out shrieks of outrage, which, if translated into person-speak, would no doubt sound like “Are you freakin’ kidding me? You’re hand feeding her? Me, I got a hunk of raw chicken to eat, and I liked it. Tell princess I’m going to come and smack some sense into her thick little skull.”

Penelope just rolls her eyes, yawns, and tells me to get my pedicure kit and do her toe nails in a prettier shade of pink. It’s rough being the center of the universe.

Here’s Elliott, after I told him that his paramour was refusing to eat poached chicken breast –

Immediately after wards, he rolled off the couch in shock, bonking his head on the floor. Luckily, he’s a boy Frenchie, which means his head is full of rocks, so the only damage was a dent in my floor.

Of course, Paris, who is Penelope’s mortal enemy, kindly offered to finish off any food Penelope didn’t want, and even some she did. She’s always helpful like that.

Check it out…

Elliott got his driver’s licence!

Elliot his McLovin licence

It’s actually a screen cap from the 30 Second Bunny Theater version of ‘Superbad‘ that I added his cartoon image to.

Maybe I’ll get it laminated for him.