Arrroooo! It's the Weekend!

Lots of sleeping, eating, some car rides. Saturday will be spent by my owners side at a salon in West Hollywood while pretty ladies pet my belly.  Cool deal.

Bros Be Bro'n

 

Photo Courtesy of Canine Cabana, Los Angeles, CA

  

So, it appears there's another Baxter in my universe. Meet my friend Baxter - the other Basset Hound. We run around daycare together a few days a week. On paper, we are absolutely identical. Basset Hounds? Check. Four years old? Check. Ginger red? Check A large button-like spot on the top of our heads? Check.  But when you see us in person - you can tell the difference. I'm the one of the right. My whole back is covered in red fur, whereas my buddy over on the left has more white.  I've been told I have an old soul, where my twin over is more rambunctious - with a soul of a young lad.  We run around all day, trying to gain the love of our friend Habibi - a pretty blond mix breed who drives the dogs crazy. We're on the top of her list of favorites.

I Was Told This Would Be Fun

What's you're problem? What are you looking at? Haven't you ever seen a Basset Hound before? You've got your Goldens, your Corgis and Bulldogs. Your Chihuahua's, your Yorkies, your Pittbulls, your mutts and your mixes. But you've never seen a Basset Hound with ears so long they drag on the ground? I step on them sometimes. Think that's funny? Yeah...it's funny. It doesn't hurt. I just keep on walking.

My name is Baxter. I was adopted by this lady who's writing on my behalf. She hates this sort of thing. Seen so many of these silly dog blogs where the owner tries to give a dog a voice, tell you how he's feeling, who he loves (his food), what he longs for (his friend Habibi) and what he desires (the sofa).  She hates that stuff. But she's doing it anyway because, as I've been told, I'm a kind of a big deal in our little pocket of Los Angeles. Nobody sees a ginger hound like me wobbling around. Children shout out "Look oat that doggie!" constantly.  People in sidewalk cafes get up to pet me. Cars driving by will stop and park, just for the occupants to run over and hug me. "I just needed to see the little guy. He's so cute!" I've heard.."Look at his big paws!"  "Look at those ears, Mommy!" "Hot Dog! It's a hot dog!" This is wrong. Dachshunds are hot dogs. Not me.

I've been met with "You never see Basset Hounds around here."  Or older people will say "There used to be this show...back in the 50's, about a Basset Hound who talked...named Cleo."  I've let children hug me. I love it when that happens. They are low to the ground like I am, and they have this sweet energy that I love. I even let them touch my tail. Old ladies will come over and talk about the Hound they had as a child. Maybe that's a great great great great great great uncle of mine. So, I let them go on.  

I've been told that I'm beautiful.  Yeah, I know. Photos of my floppy, sad eyed visage come out to perfection. I should be in movies, but until then, I'll just live on blogspot - where my owner will write blog posts inspired by photos of me, because a photo of me can launch a thousand ideas. So I've been told.