A boy and his hydra

Never far apart, even when asleep.

Someone didn't want me to go to work

Does he not look pitiful?

The face he makes when I sing

Teefs for Eric

A picture for Uncle Eric, stuck in Washington for work.

I am concerned his eyes look a bit like those of the Demon Sheep from the political ads.

Firsts

Tiny licked my face for the first time today.

This used to be my coffee table

This ottoman used to hold a tray where I kept remotes and the like. Tiny has scooted the tray over with his little butt and it now serves as one of his many watching posts. Clear line of sight into the kitchen where, heavens knows, anything could happen. Best to be ready.

Sleeping

On me. Because, why not, really?

Underbite

A rare moment at rest. Reverse vampire underbite.

Arch nemesis: the hydra

I had to make a stop on the way home last night at the local pet store to get Tiny some of his fancy organic dog food. In addition to fancy organic dog foods, they also sell a lot of great toys. They actually had two different hydras for sale, one much larger for actual dogs and then this little guy, for, well, little guys.

I thought it was hilarious -- a mythological beast. I wasn't sure if Tiny would take to it or not, however much it amused me. But I needn't have worried. Every time I take a step towards it (or look at it for too long), he growls and charges to protect it. Hence the blurry camera shot. But I think you can see its three heads and dorsal fin.

Tumble-furs

There are dozens of these blowing around the downstairs portion of my house. Airy balls of Tiny's buff-colored fur, carried along by the balmy currents of the forced heat. They literally drift past my field of vision as I try to read or watch TV. I do my best to keep after them with the Dustbuster, but it's no use. At best I beat them back for a while.

And he's not even really shedding yet. Come spring, I'll have to try to find some way to get a static charge on him so that he can act as a Swiffer, attracting back to himself some measure of the tumble-furs he generates.

A few of his favorite things

Slimed

My glasses look like this nearly all the time. Tiny's face is so smushed that he basically has no sinuses, so there is a lot of snorting that goes on. And one of his favorite times to snort is right after he's looked at himself in the reflection from my glasses.

Tiny smells like corn chips

Fritos, specifically.

And this is a nap

Bear in mind he's 10 pounds soaking wet and yet generates these noises. He has snored louder than this before, but the iPhone wasn't handy.

I need to look for the world's smallest CPAP machine.

Little guy

This is classic Tiny -- right in your face, just too close to really be able to focus on well (or take a decent picture of), with a goofy/intense look on his little face.

Say hello to my little friend

This was the very first toy I bought Tiny, grabbed desperately at the pet store after the hour-long drive back from Antioch. I didn't know him at all yet.

The shelter had set us off with a Ziploc bag of food, a leash and his vaccination records. So at my local pet store, I wandered the aisles, Tiny in tow, and hucked stuff into a basket. Treats. Very small balls for him to potentially fetch (Did he fetch? No idea). A better leash. Bowls. A crate (thank heavens). And -- this.

It might be a mouse. Maybe. There are ears and a tail of sorts. And it makes not one but two different squeaks. I know this because it makes those squeaks for literally hours at a stretch. Because it is Tiny's favorite toy. FAVORITE. I can ask him, "Where's your little friend?" and he will sort of desperately search around until he's found it. And then hide it from me. While making it squeak.

Those squeaks are going to be what I hear in my head when they take me off to the home.

Looking for... well, who really knows what he's looking for

We have been hit over the last few days by the first real rain of the season, after no rainfall since Thanksgiving. While I know Tiny has seen rain before in his four years, he hasn't at my house or while it was falling in my yard. Excuse me -- his house, his yard.

It was still dry when this picture was taken, but even he could tell something was brewing. Shortly thereafter, it began to rain pretty hard. So he, of course, barked at it. For 45 minutes.