Gatsby’s happy place

A fresh load of laundry straight out of the dryer might be Gatsby’s favorite thing in the whole entire world.

That, or stealing napkins from people’s laps at the dinner table.

And actually, I can kind of see the appeal. (Of the laundry – not the napkin stealing.)

It’s warm, soft, smells good. If I could fit in that basket, I’d probably be right there with him.

You know you’re a yuppie when…

You spent Friday night sitting on your Crate & Barrel couch with your husband on the near north side of Chicago in yoga pants drinking a glass of red wine while watching Portlandia and snuggling with your tiny lap dog who is wearing a gingham bow tie.

Other yuppie-ish activities planned for this weekend include attending a baby shower, meeting friends for brunch and walking our tiny dog in the park.

How are you spending your weekend? 🙂

Brace yourself

The Cutest Dog in the World just… got… CUTER!

I’ve been wanting to get my handsome little man a bow tie for a long time now. My sister gave me this one for my birthday (tomorrow marks 30 years of me being alive), and it’s pretty much the best thing ever.

Gatsby absolutely hates it but it’s not his birthday, now is it?


We took Gatsby for his yearly vet appointment yesterday. Turns out he’s a very healthy little guy with the exception of one thing: he’s fat.

Apparently the little porker has packed on an entire pound since this time last year. I’ve probably gained that much in the past day alone (I ate an offensive amount of spaghetti for dinner last night), but one pound is actually a lot when it counts for 1/6 of your body weight.

Clearly, Gatsby has really let himself go. Time to break out the doggy treadmill.

I plan on sitting him down tonight, giving him a pep talk and showing him this Super Bowl commercial for inspiration:

Does anyone else think that all the best Super Bowl commercials this year involved dogs? (Like this one!)

Sweater 1, Gatsby 0

Last night, we tried to take Gatsby for a walk after work, as is our daily ritual.

The temperature had dipped below 40 degrees, and Gatsby hadn’t been in weather that cold since last winter. So naturally, as good pet-owners, we forced him into put him in his sweater.

Gatsby hates his sweater. With the burning passion of a thousand suns. No, a million suns.

Getting the thing on him in the first place is no easy task. It requires catching him (usually by gently pulling him out from under a table by one or two legs, whatever is within reach), shoving (again, gently) his head through the hole and then somehow wrangling his paws (which at this point are writing in protest) through the “sleeves.”

Then he completely freezes up (see the first photo).

Yesterday, we succeeded in unfreezing him and actually got him out the door, which was an accomplishment in and of itself. But then after he did his business and walked approximately half a block, he was done. He sat his little butt on the cold concrete sidewalk (really, Gatsby? That was better than walking?) and refused to move.

Walk over.

He is a handsome little devil though, isn’t he?

Happy weekend

Today is Friday AND I have the day off!

So I’m lying on the couch with some pumpkin coffee and catching up on Rachel Zoe.

My favorite quote from the season finale episode:

“I gag for Rachel’s salami.” – Joey

In which, to “gag” is a good thing.

Let me use it in another context for you.

I gag for this little ball of cuteness on the couch next to me.

Seriously. I. die.

Ooh! Speaking of gagging (and not in the good way), last night I went to an industry Halloween party at Cutters and saw this guy:

You know, just lying around ON A BED OF NAILS. He actually had horrible nail marks all over his back.

Halloween is so weird.

Love it.

A tiny dog’s revenge

In what I think was an attempt at payback for waking him up to take this photo last night, Gatsby decided to assault us this morning.

As soon as the alarm went off, he sprung from underneath the covers and dive-bombed our faces, licking everything within reach of his (strangely long) tongue.

Then he barked incessantly at who-knows-what all morning, and cried when I yelled at him and threatened him with the spray bottle (water messes up his hair). And then he started barking again.

All I can say is that it’s a good thing he’s The Cutest Dog In the World.

Gatsby goes to the beach

If you read my last post, you know that I was in Michigan last weekend.

What I failed to mention was that we brought Gatsby along for his very first vacation ever. He was getting a little stressed out (read: barking incessantly) by the evil mailman throwing paper through the door on a daily basis and the people in the neighborhood who dare to stroll past our house his fortress. We thought he could use a little R&R.

Turns out the beach isn’t as relaxing as it would seem when you’re a small dog who gets nervous in unfamiliar environments, eats sand, and hyperventilates when he gets wet. For Gatsby, the beach was about as fun as getting his nails trimmed. Lucky for us, there was no biting or loss of bowel control involved.

Here’s what I imagine he was thinking during his sandy adventure:

“Woohoo! What up, BEACH!? The Great Gatsby has arrived! I WILL DOMINATE YOU. This sand feels weird on my feet.”

“Hey, seagull. How’s it going? That’s a nice perch you’ve got up there, seagull. Good thing you’re not on the beach, or I would PULVERIZE you. Say hello to your mother for  me.”

“Do doo dooo, walking on the beach… Wait. Umm…is that water right there? Hold the phone! HOLD THE F-ING PHONE!”

“Hello0000, McFly! I thought I’ve made it clear that I don’t DO water. Is this some kind of joke? This is a vacation? Someone go get my favorite blanket and a rawhide.  Eeee! I think my fragile paw just got a little wet! This shit is bananas. I’m OUT.”

“Oh no. Oh HELL no. Do NOT take me in that water! Do you hear me? Not one step futher! Don’t you drop me… Christ on a cracker, this mother f-ing lake is mother f-ing freezing! I hate you all!”

<Shout out to Mad Men for that awesome “Christ on a cracker” catch phrase. Gatsby is a big fan.>

“Screw you guys. Not funny. Now my fur is all messed up and I can’t feel my nether regions. I would bite you if I could only stop shaking. DO YOU SEE WHAT YOU HAVE REDUCED ME TO? This is completely unacceptable. I’m hiding your socks under the bed later. Don’t even try to stop me.”

“Uggh I’m wet! And sandy! Oh the humanity! I am RUINED. I have no choice but to resign myself to this foul fate. A hell most damp and unclean! Please – just go. I’m going to my happy place.”

“Huh. This sand doesn’t taste half bad.” <nom nom nom> “Really, it’s not bad at all. What’s that you say? Don’t eat it? OH YEAH??”

“Well take THIS, evil humans! I’m going to roll around and eat as much sand as I can and then poop it out and scatter it all over the house later! HA!”

“Revenge is mine, biatches! The Great Gatsby is victorious once again! Now will someone please go get my favorite blanket and a rawhide? How many times to I have to ask??”

“Oh, so now you’re going to make me sit here and pose for these ridiculous pictures? Screw you guys.”