This post is part of 🐶 Bleptember, a month-long celebration of our dog's inability to keep her tongue inside her mouth.
“Is is walkies time yet? How about now? Now? What about now?” Her blep partially-engaged, our doggo buzzes with excited anticipation as I put on my shoes.
This post is part of 🐶 Bleptember, a month-long celebration of our dog's inability to keep her tongue inside her mouth.
More mlem than blep, but I ❤️ this picture of our happy pupper mid-playtime too much not to share it with you this Seventeenth of Bleptember.
Photo courtesy Lisa from Muddy Paws.
This post is part of 🐶 Bleptember, a month-long celebration of our dog's inability to keep her tongue inside her mouth.
Usually our dog ignores the television, but when a horse appeared it was interesting enough that she sat up to take notice.
Not interesting enough for her to put away her half-asleep blep, though.
This post is part of 🐶 Bleptember, a month-long celebration of our dog's inability to keep her tongue inside her mouth.
“What’chu lookin’ at?” our doggo appears to ask, this Fifteenth of Bleptember.
This post is part of 🐶 Bleptember, a month-long celebration of our dog's inability to keep her tongue inside her mouth.
If the most significant thing you achieve this Fourteenth of Bleptember is that you find a good spot to lie in a sunbeam… that’s still a win.
This post is part of 🐶 Bleptember, a month-long celebration of our dog's inability to keep her tongue inside her mouth.
Does there exist a more contented moment for this bleppy doggo than getting to lounge on the sofa with her favourite humans?
This post is part of 🐶 Bleptember, a month-long celebration of our dog's inability to keep her tongue inside her mouth.
Some days… you’re just so dog-tired you can’t even find the energy to pull your head into your basket with the rest of you.
This Twelfth of Bleptember’s a bit like that for me, too. I feel you, dog.
This post is part of 🐶 Bleptember, a month-long celebration of our dog's inability to keep her tongue inside her mouth.
Such poise! Such grace! While out for a run around with her doggy pals this Eleventh of Bleptember, our dog takes every opportunity to show off her elegance and style and definitely not just look like a derpy little wazzock.
Photo courtesy Lisa from Muddy Paws.
According to news media: today, a billionaire is being taken into space, where the crew will open the rocket door and put him outside.
This seems like a great start, and I hope that the remaining 1,780+ billionaires left here on earth will be following suit soon.
Why don’t I like pickled onion crisps?
I like pickled onions. And I imagine that the flavourings used in pickled onion crisps are basically the onion flavouring from cheese & onion and the vinegar flavouring from salt & vinegar, both of which are varieties I like.
This post is part of 🐶 Bleptember, a month-long celebration of our dog's inability to keep her tongue inside her mouth.
How is it the Tenth of Bleptember already? This young lady has so-far put off her morning nap and is instead intently watching me to see what I do next with my workday. Maybe it’ll involve dog treats! (Spoiler: it probably won’t. But you never know…)
This post is part of 🐶 Bleptember, a month-long celebration of our dog's inability to keep her tongue inside her mouth.
Happy Ninth of Bleptember! Today’s picture of our bleppy pupper comes from the rug near the front door. It’s certainly not as comfortable as her basket or bed, but it affords an excellent view of the comings-and-goings of the house. She flops down here, like a pancake, when she wants to be able to audit who’s in and who’s out at any given time (her dorky tongue hanging out all the while).
This post is part of 🐶 Bleptember, a month-long celebration of our dog's inability to keep her tongue inside her mouth.
Rainy Sundays like this Eighth of Bleptember are for bleppy cuddles on the sofa, not for running around outside.
This post is part of 🐶 Bleptember, a month-long celebration of our dog's inability to keep her tongue inside her mouth.
There’s a squirrel over there and it Can’t. Be. Trusted. Demmy tries to explain her logic regarding the little furry tree-dwellers on a morning walk this Seventh of Bleptember.
This evening, I’m reduced to re-alcoholising my alcohol-free beer. Unfortunately the cleanest-tasting vodka I have is “only” 40% ABV, so by adding enough of it to bring the beer back to its correct ABV… I’m technically watering-down the beer.
This might be the strangest cocktail I’ve ever made.