Robert Barrow

Unfortunately, Pekes aren’t goats and they aren’t sheep, so it didn’t take long for me to realize that, even though she liked to walk in and explore grassy areas, she wasn’t about to eat any of it.  My ambitious plans for throwing away the lawnmower were immediately foiled. 

I know it

When this photo was taken, the Pekingese was napping on a beach towel, and in case you’re intrigued by the words on the towel, they read “Come Fry With Me.”  I don’t believe that’s quite the title Sinatra sang, but obviously the sleeping Peke didn’t care about the words anyway.

Forget the words, just let me sleep

Little dogs discover so much more about the planet when held aloft in a comfortable position.  If provided with telescopes, the possibilities might be endless.

Cat? I

Sometimes, a friend stopped by and was allowed a hug by the Peke.  She always seemed to enjoy the attention — probably because the opportunity allowed her to see more of her world, being up so much higher than usual.

Who could possibly resist me?

So what can be said about the daily life of a Pekingese?  When you have little legs and very little influence amongst The World of Everything Bigger Than You, all you can do is make your presence known to everybody around you, and your major role aside from eating, drinking and pooping is to patrol your territory to make sure there are no missed opportunities to create mischief and mayhem.  This is hardly an easy job, for it takes calculation, cunning and impressing one and all with your inherent cuteness.  Coyote-ugly is no match for the seemingly innocent activities of an adorable Pekingese on the prowl. 

On Patrol

My Peke did pose, albeit sometimes reluctantly, for some nice photos as a pup. You can easily see the mischievous child in her eyes, and she lived up to the reputation thoroughly. I suspect that her energy and total domination of any human or animal environment in her way might be exceeded only by a cage full of ferrets.

Intent upon actually posting entries with real words here, I’ve instead fallen upon putting up pictures of my late Pekingese.  I guess that’s because I have two other blogs and by the time I get back here I’m speechless.  That should change in the future, but for now here’s another picture.  It’s been about a year now and I still miss her, and she needed a lot of care and medical attention all her life, as so many hybrids and genetic over-breeds and little dogs do.  She was also too smart for my own good and pretty much dictated my daily life as she trained me to bow to her every whim.  Next time, maybe a canary. . .or a sock puppet.

In the meantime, since there are apparently no words for this blog, there’s nothing like a nice dog picture to keep things under control. Yeah, she was cute — and she died last fall at almost 17 years of age. In human years that would be. . .oh, that would be very, very old.