Tag Archives: dogs

I think I speak for all dogs..

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Dogs of the world? Unite and bite your owners… at least the ones who invented and sell this nonsense.

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And if you think that’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve seen today, hang on. It gets worse.

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While the chihuahua dog umbrella might seem cute, let’s visualize the Great Dane sized version and move on.

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I didn’t click on this oddity so I can’t relay any details. I get enough weirdo advertisements as it is, exploring canine penile wraps would take me down a dark tunnel I’d just as soon not visit.

🤣

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That is not a happy face.

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If ever a pet product was given the wrong name, this has got to be it.

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Do these dogs look happy to you?

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I’m going with no.

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The swaddling effect may calm them but if you think that’s a joyful portrait, I fear for the well being of your significant other.

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This cat is neither happy nor sleeping peacefully in his human enforced hoodie cocoon.

He is quietly and methodically planning your painful demise.

Beware.

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I love my town

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My neighbors are the helpful sort and with the whiplash weather we’ve been having lately, everyone’s been posting ice charts.

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Mainers love to test the ice, but knowing your limits is important.

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Very lucky indeed. He’s a gorgeous fellow.

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A tarp wrapped plywood circle in the woods. But look, it has a porch! What a deal.

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The owner lives two doors down and says Junior here goes wherever the belly rubs lead him.

❤️

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Ball tax… and other nonsense.

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Yes, it’s true.

The Maine state government has finally gotten around to taxing your dog’s balls.

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Beware “fully equipped” friends.

You could be next.

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I had to do a double take on this one. Although holiday poop gift ideas wouldn’t be an odd addition to my news feed at this point… that’s actually actually a shrimp poop removing tool.

And who doesn’t want to find one of those in their stocking Christmas morning?

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2020 is my husband.

While I carry a washable cloth mask in my purse, he uses those blue paper things and I find them hanging everywhere. Rear view mirror, stick shift, hat rack, door knobs etc.

Sanitary it’s not.

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Give New Yorkers an inch….

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Yours truly was born in New Jersey and my late father was Vice President of a Wall Street firm. We spent a lot of time in the city…. and I never ceased to be amazed at the resiliency of New Yorkers.

They adapt and barrel through life with a determination to be admired.

Case in point? The new law stating only dogs who fit in a bag will be allowed on the subway.

New Yorkers heard….

And in true Big Apple fashion, adapted.

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What I love most about these pictures? Even the dogs are New Yorkers.

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Best. Use. Of. L.L. Bean bag. Ever.

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And while all of those dog in bag shots are wonderful?

I think this last one wins the prize.

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🤣

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I love my town.

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We live on a river, hence my blog name.

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Apparently Maggie lives on the river as well.

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There was an outdoor wedding last weekend. If only I’d known they were taking requests.

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We have once weekly trash pick up at our house, $2.50 a bag…. But everything else has to go to the recycle barn. Decades ago when it was realized people were throwing out perfectly useable items, an idea was born.

While I don’t shop at the “Gift Store”, my husband has been known to come home with more than he went with.

😬

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This is our neighbor across the road. His fields are looking pretty spiffy…. And oh! That fresh ginger.

❤️

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I love my town.

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You never know what’s going to turn up on my little town’s Facebook page. It could be relevant community news….

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Or not.

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Our UPS guy totally rocks. He leaves dog biscuits for all the canine residents whether they’re barking at him or not.

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See? You can’t even give that stuff away.

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If there are synchronized dancing peppers wearing sombreros? I’m totally going next week.

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Worst. Dog. Toy. Ever.

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In fairness to my dog loving readers who must cringe at the plethora of cat posts on my page … here’s one for you.

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Wondering what your next birthday or Christmas gift to Fido should be?

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Mr. Poops. Because you can never go wrong with a morose black turd.

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No need to thank me. The thought of Mr. Poop happily squeaking his way through your house is all the gratitude I need.

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