Attention span of a goldfish.

It's a widely accepted fact that Southern B and I have the cutest dogs in the world. I've always been very thankful that Henry's a boy and Abby's a girl, so we wouldn't have to compete between who has the cutest boy/girl in the world. They're the cutest gender duo, and that works well for their mama's egos.

But, as in real life, the cuter you are, the more high maintenance you tend to be... at least with Abby. That pup wants all of my attention, all the time. Part of it may be that she's just a year old and still has lots of energy to burn, but I tend to believe that she has taken after me, and will never grow out of it. Girlfriend just wants love and attention, and can I fault her for that?

Abby's also very easily distracted, which has it's pros and cons. Pro? She will always drop whatever she has if she sees a plush toy with a squeaker. Con? She will NOT do her business outside if she sees a child.

ANY child. And while it was cute for a while, my mornings are getting increasingly more difficult as more and more children are walking to school in the nice weather.

Part of the issue is that Abby's dog park is literally right in front of an elementary school (good planning Town, I bet there's never been a single issue with children stepping in something right before they go into a crowded, non-airconditioned room in the spring). I'll frantically rush doing my makeup to try to get her there before 8:00, which appears to be the time most kids run into class, but sometimes it just can't be done. And those mornings are the worst.

At first she won't notice them, and start sniffing around for the best possible place to do whatever it is she's planning to do. Sometimes, she'll even be halfway through finishing up when all the sudden, she'll spot one. A small boy, skipping jauntily, perhaps with a ball under his arm.

BAM. She'll start running towards him, full speed, leash and collar around her neck forgotten. I'll try to catch up, but I'm never fast enough, and she'll end up flying in the air and thrown about as she reaches the end of her leash, and I reach the end of my proverbial rope. The child will laugh, and continue moving towards class, and Abby will desperately try to follow him into the building.

I'll wait a few more seconds in vain, but once she's seen that first kid, she's not going to do anything. So, I'll drag her back to my apartment and spend the rest of the day praying she doesn't decide to finish what she started in my new shoes.

But she looks like this:

So I keep trying to get her out for a morning walk, and hope that school will be canceled tomorrow.

Meet Henry.

Meet Henry.
Henry is a puggle. Half beagle/half pug.
When I got Henry, his estimated maximum weight was 15lbs. At his biggest he would be 15 pounds.
For the Hen dog, 15 pounds came and went.
He is now a respectable 35 pounds.
Many people refer to Henry in his lounging position as a "Loaf." With his paws tucked under his ample chin(s), he resembles a streamlined loaf of thick bakery bread.
When he visits his grandmother and grandfather in Tennessee, he shakes the house when he is on the top floor. He thunders across the wood floors, and can push the French doors open to take a dip in the pool.
Henry is, is the kindest way, a very husky dog. This isn't to say he is lazy. Mais non. D bought him an amazing dog pack so he can carry his own water, food, and supplies and hikes and camping trips. He loves going on runs with me in the afternoons, chasing tennis balls, and playing with his hedgehog. I am simply worried about his self-esteem. And his 17 chins.
The picture is of Henry in his favorite buffalo check sweater.