Two things dawn on me today: 1) I have nothing crafty to post, and 2) I have never introduced you to Mitchell Barbara Manatee. Mitch is our 6 year old basset hound. He enjoys sleeping, smelling bad, and short walks toward whomever has food.
Okay, if you aren’t melting at that little face, I feel like that raises some red flags about you. Never mind that he was probably hiding under the buffet because he had peed on the carpet YET AGAIN, that’s a cute freakin’ puppy face.
Basset hound ears are the best. No competition. Long, floppy and velvety. Plus, you can tie them in knots or use them as puppy blindfolds.
Sometimes Mitch is very smart. This is how Mitch would tell us he was hungry when he was little. Now that he’s huge, he just bangs his metal bowl against the kitchen wall.
He has trained us well.
Sometimes Mitch isn’t so smart. Like when he burrowed into a leg of my pajama pants… and got stuck.
Mitchell post-bath. This is how I feel most mornings before coffee.
This is what happens when you catch a basset hound mid-shake. Picasso would be proud.
Before we had kids, Mitchie was the baby and we dressed him in cute little doggie clothes. Sweaters, rain slickers, and this impressively cute bomber jacket.
He’s feeling the need. The need… for speed.
Too bad he’s a basset hound.
Sometimes Mitch tries kill me with mind bullets for dressing him up like Goose.
But then I make him wear birthday hats.
Sorry, buddy. I will always be the one with opposable thumbs, so I will always win.