I'm Not Ready For My Close-Up

During my father-In-Law's birthday gathering this past Saturday, he decided that he wanted to have a group photo of all of us. "All of us" was to include the grandpups - my brother-in-law's two puppies.

Anne and Victoria are mutt-ish dogs. They're only about 5-6 months old, but are already 30 pounds or more. They are both cute, hyper, and constantly moving.

So, my father-in-law (in honor of his "retired" status, he will henceforth be referred to as TRR - Tanned, Rested, and Ready) sat down in a lawn chair. He insisted that I sit next to him. The rest of the family was gathered next to or behind us. He put a large handful of dog food in my hand and said, "Pick up Anne. She'll stay in your lap as long as you've got food." Then he did the same for Vicki.

Bro-in-law set up the camera, then took up his position. Anne was happily eating out of my hand. The light on the camera started to blink, meaning the picture was about to be taken. And Anne decided that she was no longer cozy and happy.

Anne said "Rawrf!" and rapidly expanded like a puffer fish. Her sudden spaz attack meant that I had dog paws in my ear, armpit, and crotch. Her face (with lovely dog-food breath) was pressed up against mine.

A brief struggle ensued. It ended with me in sad shape. I had dog drool dripping from at least four places, and half a handful of soggy dog food. Anne was running full-speed across the backyard, well out of sight.

*click* The picture was taken.

"Well," said TRR, "I guess we'll have to try that again."

Oh please. Can we?