an update on the dependents
First, a few pictures of Cal, for those who like that sort of thing:
How do you like that last photo, with the modest sheilding of the bits? Now he'll only by 98% mortified when I whip out that picture to show his prom date.
Secondly, I would like to give you all a little update on Cooper.
A couple of people have been asking for a while now how Cooper is doing. Since I haven't really talked about her for quite some time, perhaps it was logical to assume that like our plants, we forgot to water her and she was a shriveled up and crunchy in the corner somewhere. But no, Cooper is doing well. I just haven't mentioned her lately because she really hasn't been doing anything all that interesting. However, lately she seems to have entered the the difficult and trying period of canine adolescence. Basically, she's a surly teenager. Sure, she's up for a romp now and then, but mainly all she wants to do is eat junk food and hole up in her room, listening to Tori Amos and reading Sylvia Plath, all the while writing poetry in her diary about how misunderstood she is.
She and Cal get along OK, though. Cal, for what it's worth, LOVES the dog. He'll lunge for her whenever he sees her, reaching out to grab at her fur or her ears. Of course, Cal has a generalized obesession with hair and the pulling thereof, so the very idea of having someone in the house who is COMPLETELY COVERED WITH HAIR FROM HEAD TO TOE is, like, his fantasy. Well, maybe second only to being thrown into the discount wig bin at Macy's.
However, given Cal's love of yanking people bald, Cooper is understandably a little less effusive about Cal than he is towards her. She does seem to enjoy licking him, though if this is out of some form of affection or the fact that Cal is usually covered in a fine glaze of food, I may never know.
I know that Cooper has been somewhat displaced, and really, there's no way that I can fully make up for that without warranting a little unwanted attention from Child Protection Services, but she's doing well. She's a good dog. Even if she is writing Depeche Mode lyrics on the back of her notebook and figuring out how best to shoplift that jar of Manic Panic hair dye from the drugstore.
Currently reading: "The Acme Novelty Library #16." I swear, Chris Ware is a genius. A depressed genius wrapped in a stifling cocoon of existential ennui, but a genius nonetheless.