When we last left the boys one or both of them had managed to clamber up onto my desk where they discovered and consumed several Lisinoprils and a handful of doggy antibiotics. Obviously these were gateway drugs because yesterday one or both of them managed to clamber up onto some metal bins, launch him/themself onto a bookcase and pull down one of mrs tboggs travel bags where, what to their wondering eyes should appear, but a package of Nyquil capsules which, I hasten to point out, contain Acetaminophen which is highly toxic to dogs. They managed to squeeze out two capsules from the blister-pack and, as the “gangstas” say, popped a few caps, only not in someone’s ass. Fortunately the taste must have been horrible (and this to animals that eat cat poop…think about that next time you have take the nighttime, sniffling, sneezing, coughing, aching, fever sweet oblivion medication ) and most of the liquid was on the floor and still in the blister pack.
At this point I don’t know if they are becoming stoners, in which case I should rename them Cheech & Chong. Or they’re suicidal, in which case I’ll rename them Sylvia & Plath.
I shudder to think what will happen when they find the meth lab in the nursery.
Here they are still alive and breathing. For now.
(Wembley photo credit: L&T Casey)





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Ummmmm, bassets.
Fenway looks like he’s in the early days of rehab.
Wembley looks determined and ultra regal, as usual.
It’s amazing how active these two are when you’re not home. Time for a nanny cam?
Clearly, they were influenced by the glamorous way Hollywood portrays drug use, like in “Valley of the Dolls” or “Requiem for a Dream”.
So, is the Lovely & Talented & College-Educated one embarking (?) on a career in canine photography? That’s a good start up there, that is.
Oh lord, Ah wish Ah’d never been stoned….what is Fenway rolling? And Wembley looks whacked most of the time.
I guess I should have pointed out that Wembley is destroying the cardboard roll from some wrapping paper.
I’d say more The Fabulous Furry Freak Brothers, in this case.
Rimshot!
Thanks TBogg and L&T Casey, for the lovely photos.
Glad you clarified what that is hanging from Wembley’s jaws – I assumed it was a toilet paper roll. Since I have cats, that is my animals’ target.
Hope the Put-upon and Downtrodden Fbogg has recovered from his caretaker duties.
You’d best put aside some cash for future stomach-pumping, I guess.
what is it with cardboard rolls and dogs? They can’t seem to stay away from them. especially the toilet paper ones. by the way, if you happen to own a sheepdog, the wastebaskets in the house must have lids. all of them. LOL
In fairness to the “guys,” shouldn’t that be “Sylvi O” and “Plath?”
Handicap a manly male basset hound (aka Fenway and Wembley) with a female name and who knows what disasters might ensue?
I wouldn’t have suspected bassets of being clamberers. But one of the horrors of addiction is the way it can make us abandon our essential natures.
Ahhh…of all the mornings to hit the Bogg and see the buddies… sure needed a shot dog this morning. Thanks.
BettyCracker-
I never had a basset but had one with a similar build. As for climbing, you haven’t seen anything until you see one of these waling meatloafs climb a chain link fence with his back against saplings. Going sideways to find bigger ones as he gets higher up too!
Sooooooooooooooooooooo beauty-ful! I swear it’s like Jennifer Jones re-incarnated….
Or, possibly, Robert Mitchum….
This post is nasty, divisive, intemperate and Moore Award-worthy.
You’re giving people the idea that they shouldn’t break into things and steal and ingest substances that will kill them. You are hastening the end of the Republic.
I’d go with Rush & Limbaugh. If so, I’d soon expect them to pack up the doggy Viagra and head down Tijuana way for some young pup love.
…from the Smithies Complaints Tumblr:
“Complaint #29
No one ever gets my “Sylvia Plath Poetry Reading and Bake-Off” joke.”
Joke=Sylvia was a Smith alum &&.
(my own fab gal is a student and would kill me if she knew I’d posted. heh.)
I was handing an ibuprofen pill to my noble spouse as we were in bed with our Yorkie who was a 3 lb puppy at the time, and he went for my hand and ate it before I could do anything.
He didn’t even get sick, after we spend an anxious day wondering what would happen to him.
Note to medical community: Ibuprofen and human hands non-toxic to Yorkies if eaten together. Possible buffering effect, but unknown which is which.
Fenway’s nails look nice.
OT -
Battochio, the Vagabond Scholar, has picked up the tradition started by the late and much-missed Al Weisel – known in blogworld as Jon Swift – of collecting the ending year’s best blog posts, submitted by the bloggers themselves, and including a lot of small bloggers that otherwise don’t get much traffic.
A bit on Al Weisel/Jon Swift and this tradition, from Battachio’s post:
Oops, it’s Batocchio (one ‘t’ and two ‘c’s).
They were such promising young bassets. Then, they got into the drugs, and another tale of lives lost had sprung. Alas.
They are too freaking cute.
I used to make emergency pipes out of toilet paper rolls…just sayin’.
Since they seem to have a taste for pills and undies you better watch out that they don’t slip roofies into your mouth when you are snoring at night.
Aside from the Acetaminophen, Wembley could probably use a nightly dose of Nyquil so there are no more 4:02 am poopies.
Ah come on…you found Fenway on the roof already…what more do you need to know? He wanted to get HIGH!! He’s been whispering (slobbering, woofing) in Wembley’s ear ever since…”Hey kid, you know what I used to do when I was your age??..heh, heh, heh..just listen to me kid, I’ve got toilet paper rolls, I’ve got PILLS for God’s sake, and cheap!!!” Face it, Fenway is a pusher.
He went for my hand and gulped it out of my palm.
Happy now?
If you own beagles, that lid must be made of reinforced titanium bank vault door and triple locked with electronic-only access.
Seriously, I have yet to figure out how to keep my hounds out of the trash, short of not owning any (trash or beagles, pick either or).
Not beagles, but portuguese water dogs.
First we got a trash can with a cover. They learned to take (rip) the cover off.
Then we put the trash in a closet with french doors. They learned to kick the doors open.
We put a latch on the doors. They learned to use their muzzles to lift the latch.
We then put on a latch that locked. They ripped the french doors off their hinges.
Now the trash sits on a specially built shelf five feet off the ground. So far, so good.
I love all these dog tales–makes me happy I have 3 cats. Although I still find the boys to be charming–says somethin’ about my taste.