Oliver

I've introduced you to my Little Girls, now let me present My Big Guy.  He is 110 lbs of wiggly, romping, house destroying joy.  One of his favorite things to do is scratch his back on the underside of the dining room table.  The first time he did this I thought we were having an earthquake. 

Here we are at one of our favorite places out in the desert.  Oliver is wondering why I am not out of the truck yet, when I am going to get out of the truck, and how soon after I get out of the truck he can flop against my leg and almost knock me over.  

I am wondering how I will explain to him that I can't get out of the truck with him leaning on the door.  

The difficulty with photographing Oliver in anything but sleep is that he has this predilection for staying as close as doggily possible to me at all times.  Especially if he thinks I am paying attention to him.  Often he steps on me and I need to count to ten and remind myself I adore him so I don't yell at him for putting 110lbs of doggy love on my toes.  So I have lots of photographs of his face.  And lots of photographs of him sleeping.  Not a lot else. 

So in lieu of another close up of Oliver's face... 

Allow me to introduce his favorite toy.  This is Ducky, or what is left of Ducky.  When Ducky joined us he was a beautiful, fluffy, "this-is-what-Easter-should-look-like" duck with not one but FOUR squeakers hidden inside him.  

The reason I have not thrown this sad thing out yet is because Oliver loves him! He carries Ducky's remnants around.  He brings them to me when he's happy.  He falls asleep with Ducky-remnants.

The down side... Soon after we got Ducky (Ket and Lilly eviscerated him, that's another story) Oliver ate the top half of Ducky and kindly threw Ducky-torso up right inside the front door so when I came home that day I stepped in Ducky-horror.  

I have decided that as much as Oliver loves his stuffed animal carcasses I cannot handle it.  Besides, it can't be good for his health to eat stuffed animals remnants.  And it most certainly is not good for my health to come home and step in stuffed-animal-yuck.  

So for the good of all he's going to have to switch to loving rag bones.