This post is part of 🐶 Bleptember, a month-long celebration of our dog's inability to keep her tongue inside her mouth.
It’s the Sixteenth of Bleptember, and our derpy doggle’s back from a playdate with her best friend… although you wouldn’t know how close they are from this picture, in which she seems to be blowing a raspberry at him as she walks away!
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.
It’s the Fifteenth of Bleptember, and our young doggo has never looked so inelegant as when she lies on her back on the sofa with a dorky tongueful grin on her face.
This post is part of 🐶 Bleptember, a month-long celebration of our dog's inability to keep her tongue inside her mouth.
A lazy Sunday morning this Fourtheenth of Bleptember provides the perfect opportunity to dogpile onto a convenient nearby human… and gradually dampen their trouser leg with your blep.
This post is part of 🐶 Bleptember, a month-long celebration of our dog's inability to keep her tongue inside her mouth.
It’s the Thirteenth of Bleptember, and the bleppy young pupper is watching television. She enjoys the shows with dogs, of course, but also the ones with other animals whose silhouettes stand out against the background, like birds in flight. All Creatures Great and Small is a particular favourite.
Photo with thanks to the older child.
This post is part of 🐶 Bleptember, a month-long celebration of our dog's inability to keep her tongue inside her mouth.
It’s the Twelfth of Bleptember, and our little blepper has tucked herself away tidily, wrapped up in her snuggly warm jumper, to hide from the torrential rain that’s beating down across Oxfordshire. Oh, and her tongue’s sticking out, of course.
This post is part of 🐶 Bleptember, a month-long celebration of our dog's inability to keep her tongue inside her mouth.
When our doggo carries around her chew toy like this, I always think she looks a little like Winston Churchill with his cigar. If Churchill also wasn’t able to stop blepping, that is!
Happy Eleventh of Bleptember! (This one’s not going out on Mastodon, at least not immediately, because I’m having some Internet difficulties at home right now!)
This post is part of 🐶 Bleptember, a month-long celebration of our dog's inability to keep her tongue inside her mouth.
It’s the Tenth of Bleptember, and this doggo is desperately trying to stay awake in case the postman comes back or something else equally interesting happens, but I reckon she’s going to nod off any… second… now…
This post is part of 🐶 Bleptember, a month-long celebration of our dog's inability to keep her tongue inside her mouth.
Sometimes, you just need a Long Nap and a Big Blep.
Happy Ninth of Bleptember, Internet!
This post is part of 🐶 Bleptember, a month-long celebration of our dog's inability to keep her tongue inside her mouth.
Suddenly, there was the noise of somebody walking on our driveway. The doggo woke up and stood, alert, ready to defend the house from intruders. Unfortunately in her haste she forgot to put her tongue away.
Happy Eighth of Bleptember.
This post is part of 🐶 Bleptember, a month-long celebration of our dog's inability to keep her tongue inside her mouth.
It’s the Seventh of Bleptember, and our dorky doggo has decided that this is somehow a comfortable position in which to take a nap.
This checkin to GCBC09Z A Riverside Walk reflects a geocaching.com log entry. See more of Dan's cache logs.
FTF after a delightful walk and a surprisingly challenging hunt!
When I woke this morning and saw a new semi-local cache, about when I ought to be getting myself and the geopup up anyway, I was intrigued. Bed called me back for a Sunday morning lie-in, but eventually I escaped its clutches and the geohound and I set out on our adventure.
Parking in Bladon was a challenge but we were fortune enough to find a residential road with a few spots up towards St. Martin’s Church. After that, and working out how to open the gate to the Community Footpath, we were on our way.
Passing the world’s most pointless gate and a heron finding his breakfast (both pictured), the doggo and I enjoyed our riverside stroll in relative peace and quiet, excepting the occasional jogger or dog walker that would come the other way. Eventually we found the bridge, stopped to enjoy the view a little, and then began the hunt.
Even with the hint and a strong idea of what I was looking for, this was a challenging search. I’ll bet my kids would’ve found the cache much faster than my ~15-20 minute search, but eventually I caught a glimpse of it, worked my way to it, and retrieved the log. Seeing it still blank, I claimed my FTF, and then had a brief panic when I discovered that I could no longer see it’s hiding place! A brief re-search and I’d found it again, but for a while there I was kicking myself for taking the time to return to the wall of the bridge to write my log!
Returned as found. TFTC, and for the lovely walk!
This post is part of 🐶 Bleptember, a month-long celebration of our dog's inability to keep her tongue inside her mouth.
I am Doggle. See me Blep.
Happy Sixth of Bleptember from this sofa-loving pupper.
This post is part of 🐶 Bleptember, a month-long celebration of our dog's inability to keep her tongue inside her mouth.
It’s the Fifth of Bleptember, and our bleppy young lady is enjoying some reassurance that the team of tree surgeons working noisily on the other side of the road don’t pose any threat to her.
This post is part of 🐶 Bleptember, a month-long celebration of our dog's inability to keep her tongue inside her mouth.
It’s the Fourth of Bleptember, but I couldn’t help but share a photo from the Third, when our dog just couldn’t find space for her tongue and her ball in her mouth at the same time… but soon found a workaround.
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.
It’s the Third of Bleptember, and this routine-loving pupper is still confused by the fact that the elder child doesn’t come on the school-run morning walk any more, instead leaving early to catch the bus to her new school. Look at those big anxious eyes, poor thing!
