D is for Drexel

D is for Drexel!

No, no, not the University – the pit bull ‘puppy’ we just got from the pound!

Yep. That’s his name. (He told me himself, and I believe, even though he thinks he's a kitten in a dog's body, it's always wise not to argue with a pit bull.)

Drexel. Drex for short. D-Rex when he's feeling like a tough guy.

He certainly is a lover. And in just the few short days we’ve had him he’s learned: to sit, to lie down (most of the the time), to come when he’s called – unless he’s distracted by Fluffy the rabbit darting outside the fence on his way to raid the neighbor’s vegetable patch. Drexel can also walk on a leash and not pull, and do the same while I’m holding said leash and riding the bike. (Only had one minor mishap - pix to follow.) We’re also working on teaching him Chinese and to knit – but those will probably take a little more time.

Welcome, Drexel!

 One pooped pouch.

I'm ready for my close up, Mr. Demille . . .

And my massage . . .

Really? You want me to pratice my knitting . . . now? Dudes, I told you, I don't have opposable thumbs.

Where is that darn rabbit?

Partin' shot