Tag: Harriet

Whatcha doin’?

Harriet woke me up at the crack of dawn, and now I’m dragging my ass while she’s blissfully napping away in my bed.

I have no idea what she’s looking at, or why she’s sitting like that. She’s a dork. I think she’d belch and stick her hand inside the waistband of her pants–a la Al Bundy–if she could.

The front porch at my mom’s house is like a green cave.

Harriet slept while I sat at the porch table, taking pictures of seashells.

The porch is also the smoking lounge.

She sleeps like that all the time. Shameless jezebel.

Harriet topped off her birthday with a nap. On top of her favorite bone. Maybe she was worried that the cats would steal it?

With a giant raspberry.

Harriet is 13 years old today. Not long after I got her, I met an elderly couple with a 14 year old Boxer. I was in awe, because they aren’t supposed to live that long. Harriet is giving it a good try, though. She’s lumpy and leaky, but she’s relatively healthy and pretty happy with life.

Harriet frequently sprawls on the couch with her head hanging off the edge and lips a-floppin’. It doesn’t look comfortable, but it must be.