cool photos and, as I'm typing this, young M is watching a completely trashy show on train and plane wrecks that I would never, ever watch myself but I'm finding quite entertaining from a distance.
It's very lucky that springer spaniels are miraculously self cleaning dogs, I must say. I had to actually say to Django, "Dude, don't dig a hole in a mud puddle, man. It's a losing battle." (Later, I would say without even a hint of irony, "Like, down!" to Theo and it would occur to me that perhaps the stoner dog speak was getting a bit out of hand.) You can imagine what a partly white dog looks like after he's been digging a hole in an already deep mud puddle - it is not pretty. But today as always, inevitably and fortunately in some magic feat of perfect dream spaniel hair, he's totally clean about two hours later. I don't know how he does it but I wish they would cross breed his genes with those of my den carpet.
Tonight, we're having lamb chops for dinner. I do not like lamb but I'm making the sacrifice for Ask Metafilter. If you don't feel like clicking on that link, it's a question asking why dogs freak out when people cook lamb. Apparently, some do. Huh. Who knew? I'm fascinated and can't wait to see whether Django & Theo, who to the best of my knowledge have never smelled lamb in any shape or form from gamboling among the spring pastures to roasting away in an oven, react at all. I told my mother about this, though, and she said that while none of her dogs had ever reacted to it, I used to get sick and cry from the smell whenever she made rack of lamb. That is probably why I have such a strong aversion to it - and yeah, proves once and for all that I am, in fact, a dog. Well, hell, it is the internet.