This is Mattie Cake's dog, Bolt. Maybe I should say it's Mattie's Cake's husband's dog. Remember Daddy Long Legs? The Has-To-Stop-Eating-His-Seven-Oreos-Before-Bedtime-to-Drop-a-Few-Pounds freak? Yeah, him. He's really a perfectly nice guy. I just don't like that he only has to cut out seven Oreos before bedtime to drop weight. Yes, I'm jealous. I covet his freakish metabolism. But then he's six foot a hundred, so he probably needs 18,000 calories a day just to exist.
Anyway, this post isn't about Daddy Long Legs, it's about his dog. His dog that came to stay with us for a few days while he and Mattie Cake went away for a romantic jaunt.
Bolt is a Boxer and he's still a puppy. Of course you might have guessed that by his freakishly large feet. He has a little growing to do yet, and I think he's going to be rather large.
Bolt is a love muffin. Don't be creeped out by that statement or anything, I'm just saying that I love this dog and I want him back. He went home last night and I'm feeling a little melancholy. We bonded while he was here.
Of course I snapped a few pictures of him during his stay, and I'd like to share them with you so that you might come to appreciate his doggity sweetness as much as I.
First of all, when kids and animals come for a sleepover at Aunt Jill's house, we play dress-up as a little break the ice activity. It's just one of those ridiculous little teacher things. I hate it too, but it works. It's hard to feel awkward and shy in a lei.
As you can see, the girls love Bolt as much as I do. They did a lot of playing together. It was all run, run, run, tackle, slobber, run, run, run, pounce, growl, all week long.
Look at the scary expression on Stinkerbell. I think they were about to run over the poor dog in this picture. There's nothing to worry about though, Bolt is way faster than this dinky little Hummer.
Basically, he just ran circles around them while they giggled uncontrollably.
King of the SUV!
Uh oh. Looks like they ran over some dog poop.
This is one of the few negatives about Bolt. He poops three times a day, minimum. He's a pooping machine.
After all that playing, a kid gets tired. Bolt slept with the girls every night and it was the cutest thing. He's a major bed hog and he snores like an old man with emphysema.
I love his lips. If you're thinking that you might like to kiss them, I implore you, don't. He likes to lick his goodies.
Dogs don't generally care about such things as class and decorum.
One day Bolt went back to bed with the girls and slept until 10:30. What a bunch of slackers.
Look, it's Princess Leah.
Bolt munched on the herbs on my porch. He doesn't seem very apologetic, does he?
"But I didn't do it maliciously. I was only trying to freshen my breathe so that you might kiss me."
That's the Renaissance Woman's hand holding a doggie treat. We had to use a little trickery to get him to look at us for his portraits. He's pretty fixated on that doggie treat, isn't he?
I hope Bolt comes back to visit me. He's such a sweetie and, sadly, he behaves better than my kids. He doesn't whine either.
I tried to get him to join the Red Hat Society, but he wasn't feelin' the hat. They wouldn't let him join anyway. He has the wrinkles, but those feet give him away.