Bloorp.

I BRING YOU LOVE.

Alternate title: R.I.P. Hemmy’s balls

Not that this would ever happen, but if someone were to ask me in an accusatory tone, “Why haven’t you posted anything for so long? Did you get a dog or something?!”

I could then very truthfully respond, “As a matter of fact, yes. Yes, I did get a dog.”

I present to you my three-month-old Westie puppy, Hemingway, a.k.a. Hemmy.

I’ve always, always wanted a dog and there are days when Hemmy is curled up in my lap, his fuzzy head drooped over my knee and I can’t believe this cute little guy is all mine.

I’ll try not to make all my posts about him. I don’t want to be That Person. But if Hemmy does end up being the subject of many future posts…can you blame me?

Under any other normal circumstance, I’d agree that the term “feisty turtle” is an odd pairing of words.

But I can’t agree. I’ve looked after my neighbour’s turtle Harold (Harold!) on three separate occasions now and I think that has earned me the prestigious title of Turtle-Sitter Who Can Assign Adjectives To Local Reptiles Under Her Temporary Care, along with Observer of Curious Turtle Behaviour.

One night after feeding Harold, I decided to sit and watch for a while. I’d never actually watched turtles for an extended period of time — unlike most of the general population, obviously.

For one thing: Harold yawned and let me tell you, you really haven’t lived until you’ve seen a turtle yawn.

Imagine a turtle having just been woken from his hibernation. He’s been dug out from his underground haven with fresh soil still spattered across his shell and he’s slowly turning his head side-to-side, as if trying to make sense of his surroundings in his sleepy haze.

Then picture him raising his front foot to his mouth and yawning.

But that wasn’t the end.

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If I was that elephant, I’d have a gigantic smile on my face too. (via reddit)