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Norton the Snow Dog

My dog Norton <3s snow

Norton was rescued from a shelter; he's part Chow and part Great Pyrenees.

The Winter Adventure of a "Cushion-Dog"

On my first winter in this new land the family was finally gathered together again. How merry I was!

For the first time I tasted snow, sniffed the chilling wind, and ran free on motionless crops and mild streams. I wasn’t alone of course; my beloved seemed as pleased as I was with the surroundings. The beaming smile that I cherished the most, lately so scarce, blossomed in her peaceful countenance.

It suddenly broadened to a playful grin as she signaled a dash on the frosted grass. I needn’t a second stimulus; sprinting uphill I – what? Didn’t find the other side but a long fall onto itchy leaves and minute rounded rocks. The cold water below was another unexpected sensation, but the familiarity of the beloved’s worried cries calmed me down. I smiled up to appease her, and shouted back so she could appreciate that I wanted to rejoin her as soon as possible.

She is a smart human, my beloved, smarter than anyone else! At once she understood my need and studying the vines that had held me moments before, climbed down, urging the brown-black intruder to remain far from us, where it belonged.

The intruder is a most aggravating creature that entered our lives not long ago, indicating the firm intent of residing with us permanently. Not even my best efforts seemed enough to cast her away once she planted her malign seed in the second beloved’s heart. I only tolerate it for fear of displeasing beloveds first and second. They must pity the wrecked thing; that’s the only possible explanation!

Indeed, whereas she ensured that I was unharmed and the intruder had not followed, we exulted in our reunion and walked upstream for a short while, accompanied from above, sadly, by the anxious brownish.

An enlightened glance flashed in beloved’s honeyed-coloured eyes when she spotted a larger ivy vine, but I’m embarrassed to admit that her physical strength is not as grand as her mind, as she was unable to pull us up. I even daresay that the effort of reassuring the intruder might have played a decisive part in her rescuing efforts.

A few bruises, a ripped coat and another flash away, she was holding me again, lifting me up to salvation. But how could I abandon beloved? How could I leave her to her doom, and worse, to once again meet my abhorrent foe? No, I would not leave her. Besides, she had raised me so high that I didn’t feel as nearly safe as in her arms!

“You damned dog, go! Go that I’ll follow suit!”

I knew she was a tad upset with me, but I was firm in my purpose of not abandoning her to death. I’m certain she could read this in my eyes!

“You coward! I’ll be right there with you!” Her arms trembled with the exertion. “I can’t carry you up, don’t you understand?”

Oh, my beloved’s warm embrace is inestimable! I was presently adjusting myself to her chest’s shape when she put me down, clutching her own knees. She is so pretty when flushed, you should see it! But once again the intruder called out, diverting her attention from my grateful waving.

She then found a clear branch on the thorny vegetation to rest, as the twilight threatened to fall upon us. For a few moments her respiration accelerated when noticing the darkening sky, but did I mention how clever the beloved is? Deep breaths prevented desperation and another flash led us farther upstream, where she spotted a clearing and a lowering of the fringe right ahead.

At this point the water was too cold, so I found lodge on a small ravine. She called out, but my paws were much better placed (and warmer) on the sand than in the icy stream. I was once again lifted and carried safely to the dry margin, where the blackish intruder manically wagged us welcome.

*

Moira’s misfortunes may have been a grand adventure for her and Iris (the “intruder”, who is actually my mother’s lovely dog), but from where I stand it was not so. Only a hot shower and a dose of brandy could prevent an onset of the flu. These cushion dogs can be so troublesome…

Below you can take peek at her amusement, a season later, when revisiting the site.

Also, if you can read in Portuguese, here you'll find this same story from another perspective. (It’s worth the reading.)

Nort!

It's a doggie dog world

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博爱

Paris Hilton builds a custom designer 'Doggie Resort Villa' in her own backyard

You know, being a celebrity's dog must be fun. You get treated like a king or queen, mani pedis, house calls from the hair groomer to fluff and buff away a rough day frolicking by the pool or showing off your new threads to the paps at the Coffee Bean or Kitson.

Paris Hilton loves her dog collection including: Marilyn Monroe, Dolce, Harajuku Bitch, and Prince Baby Bear, etc. She's estimated to have 13-17 dogs, mostly chihuahuas, minus a missing Tinkerbell or two. (She gave away several last year when they became pregnant. (Ummm...someone tell her about this cool new procedure called neutering please.)



Yep, it's anything but a dog's life for Paris's pooches who reside in nothing less than custom made pet resort built near her pool. Recently she posted photos of their new "mini doggy mansion" - an exact replica of her own Hollywood Hills home, complete with a spacious yard, furniture, air-conditioning, crystal chandeliers, a sweeping staircase and a wardrobe for all of their designer duds.



For regular doggies who have never seen a 'Furcedes' or worn 'Pawda' or slept in a 'Chewy Vuitton' bed, they have no idea what they are missing. Check it out!