Two dog afternoon

It’s so cold today a kid can’t nap on the sofa without a pair dogs snuggling up to share the warmth:


And yes, the poor kid is wearing sweaters and a beret inside the house. It’s damn cold!

Posted by Betty Cracker on 12/28/10 at 03:34 PM • Permalink

Categories: Critters

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Aw, that’s so cute.  I can only see the arm of the kid!  And, don’t you have heaters in Florida?

Lobo remains buried under the covers long after I’ve gotten up and started my day, then when I settle down at the desk, he makes a beeline for my lap and doesn’t leave it willingly.

I think at some point this winter, Lobo and I will start to fuse together like the Black Swan’s toes.

The Boxer Ate My Baby!

How cold is it down there? A frigid 60? A bone chilling 50?


My sis and her little girl were here in Ohio the week before Christmas and returned to their home in Florida on Christmas Eve. My niece played in the snow here at every opportunity.

Little did she know she would go home and be frozen, too.


That’s one darn lucky kid.

LOL, you guys are about 10 degrees warmer than we are here and we consider this shirt sleeves weather in December.  ;-)

don’t you have heaters in Florida?

The people on the national fringes are weirdly proud of their climatic extremes.  I bet plenty of Floridians have the same reaction to the concept of heaters that the Mainers that I know have to the concept of air-conditioners.

LOL, see Mar’s comment above, for example.

Not proud, pragmatic.  And, I’m with Mar.  It’s thirty-three degrees here, and I was sweating in my coat.  I will say that I, myself, am absurdly fond of the game I play every winter—how low does the temp have to get before I drive with the windows shut and the heat on?  So far, I haven’t had to shut them yet, and it’s reached 1 degree.

All right, settle down, youse of the frozen North. That ‘s the sort of attitude that smacks of chirpy condescension such as is found on Discovery Channel once a week. Do you prefer the hearty Arctic cause you just like bein’ free as well?

Miss Cracker’s blood has no antifreeze, nor her walls any insulation.  Here in gloriously snowbound NYC, the furnace is pouring out heat and we’re snug behind our thermapanes, but in transition seasons when it’s 58 outside, the thermostats go haywire and interiors turn raw and dismal.

My sympathies to Miss C.; especially as the dogs seem to have left only an arm.

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