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

From the Pugs to the Pits . . .

So we went from the Pugs to the Pits . . . Pit bull that is. 

(But don't tell him he's a pit bull - he has no idea. He thinks he is a cross between a kitten and a toy lap dog whose mission in life is to give as many kisses and snuggles as possible.)

We're not quite sure how it happened. We weren't looking for a pit . . . we got him from a shelter in Butte - 80 miles away . . . just kind of happened up there (PS Butte is really cool - poo poo to all those people who say it is the armpit of Montana with its huge open pit mine - it has AMAZING history, old buildings, mansions, museums and a population that is as diverse as NYC - thanks to all the immigrants who settled it during the mining boom there) 

- but so, anyway, we just happened up there after a hike - after I had sprained my ankle running down the trail to 'save time' (ha!) The Captain (Mr. Honeybunny) had to end up carrying me down piggy back most of the way (one woman we passed on the trail called out to me - "Marry that man! Immediately, if you haven't already!") (I of course flashed her my ring.)

So after an Aleve given to me by some other kind soul on the trail and a drive to Butte, I limped into the shelter with the Captain and we fell in love . . . with a nine month old pit bull.

Lava Lake and Always Always Land

The ‘real’ Tinkerbelle lives in Never-Neverland.

The Montana Tinkerbelle lives in 

Always-Alwaysland – i.e., Montana – where it is always beautiful and always amazing and anything could happen.

Take for example: Lava Lake

 

The trail head is just 20 mins. from our house.

And 3 miles up the trail we found an amazing swimming hole!

Ya’ll must come visit us in Always-Alwaysland and we’ll take you swimmin’! That’s a promise.

Tink

The Montana Tinkerbelle and Bear Spray

Yes, an unlikely combination . . . I know.

We went on our first real hike in the wily wilderness of Montana the other week. And we were armed. The Captain had his mountain man knife (converted from an old pirate saber he had lying around) and I got to handle the bear spray.

Luckily, we ran into nary a bear.

However I did slip on a moss covered rock and fell kerspalt on my hiney in the spring run off engorged stream . . .

We saw the most beautiful waterfalls, but alas, I was so focused on keeping away from bears I forgot to bring my camera. I'm sure we'll go there again and I'll get some shots of them another time.

Tink

Day of the Pug

Yes, yes, yes. What is the first thing you do when you move to Montana, a.k.a. Grizzly Country? (Besides go to a gun safety class and get your Concealed Weapons License?)

You get some dogs! Right?

So of course we started looking. Right away. Searching high and low. And naturally, we went for something ferocious that would be sure to keep us protected . . . well from TEDDY BEARS anyway!

Yep, we adopted an adorable pair of pugs. Daisy and Rosie - both rescued puppy mill moms. Really sweet girls. 

However there is a sad twist to this happy story. And a good lesson learned. When newly married and living with in laws - especially mother and father-in-laws. One should always make sure to clear the fact that when one says they are looking to get A dog, then if they happen to maybe get TWO dogs, it will still be OK with mother and father-in-law . . . you probably get the picture.

Yes. After one day, the ladies had to be returned to their very loving, overly spoiling foster mother, and ten canine siblings. However, they got a pretty good deal out of the adventure . . . a ride in the car, walks down the lovely Sourdough Trail, and a huge breakfast of bacon, eggs and toast.

I am sure the lovely Daisy and Rosie (whom I wanted to rename Fern and Flower) will find that forever home sometime soon. Or maybe they'll just be lucky enough to remain with their fairy-god-mother-foster mom.

Yeah, for Pugs!

Fluffy - Our First Pet

Yes, Ladies and Gentlemen - this is Fluffy - 

our first pet. 

Of course he is a wild, outside rabbit, but we pay little attention to that. Despite his name and the soft fur that inspired it, he is not too terribly cuddly - as I suppose is to be expected having had the misfortune of growing up feral.

However, he is still the ideal pet - hardly have to keep track of him, don't have to feed him on account that he is constantly raiding the neighbor's vegetable gardens - and if he accidently gets eaten by the local bob cat - we won't even know the difference - for there are several Fluffys in the district, I'm guessing, and we'll just mistake them for him.

Ah, life in Bozeman is sweet!

Tink