Wellesley Strong!

Thought you heard sirens on Washington St. Sat. a.m.?
No, that was just me, singing away.

I showed up to add a little life to the Wellesley Strong photo shoot on Saturday morning. It was a gorgeous day, and I bayed up a storm just to keep things interesting.

I foresee a new career: making sure everyone's smiling at whatever event causes one to hire a photog. Preferably an outdoor event--earplugs might interfere with guests' fashion statements.

Thanks to Elaine Marten for organizing this opportunity to show our community support for our marathon runners! Thanks to Maura Wayman for laughing at my antics, not being startled off her ladder, and for her great photographs!

Make sure you're out on the course tomorrow, cheering on the runners in the rain! Unfortunately, I have an important sleeping engagement and will miss the race.

Grand opening at the Wellesley RDF

Just after Opening Day (not that Opening Day, silly, this is Swellesley) I showed up to browse the castoffs at the world-famous Take It or Leave It, where Mom has scooped up many a pricey object--last year's prize being a $500 leather satchel in primo condition.

We took a carload o'stuff, also in perfectly good shape, and then I sniffed around.

Lots of good smells, but otherwise I found little to interest me except for a couple of dog related items: a Scooby-Doo chia pet and a toy dachshund, who didn't look like he'd be all that fun to play with.

Thanks to the volunteer Friends of Recycling, everything was organized and shipshape.

Like the good citizen I am,
I left the chia pet for someone else to enjoy.

Day in the life: crashed a party, scared the Easter Bunny

Like my sister, who would choose only one egg of each color
and leave the rest to her friends, I shared this egg with a new pal, Drew.

On my way to have the usual at Petco Unleashed in Wellesley—the usual being a mouthful of free treats generously available at the counter—I noticed tons of small children, some toting Easter baskets, heading inside.

Too many were streaming in to have mistaken it for a birthday party at GlowGolf next door, but a bevy of small children doesn't intimidate me, so I trotted on in.

The Easter Bunny has a good startle reflex.

Petco's kind staffers bustled about, dropping plastic eggs in strategic locations. My ears perked up: my predecessor, Sparky, loved cracking those eggs to find the dog treats hidden inside. Maybe I could practice my skills.

But no. This egg hunt was for children only, I was told. So I left the eggs alone and pointed a cute little guy, Drew, toward the ones hidden in the tennis ball bin.

No one, however, restricted me from visiting the Easter Bunny. I was excited. I have a bunny brother at home, and the idea of meeting The Big Bun made my heart race.

I have to say, I was a bit disappointed. Though I was extremely well-behaved and patiently waited my turn (unlike a boorish black lab who shoved his way through the crowd and then snapped at me), E.B. seemed to find me, a dog in a dog store, rather unexpected. Not only did he have no treats for me, he seemed a bit—afraid? Afraid of being upstaged, perhaps.

I could have gone mano a mano with him, because he seemed ready, or insisted on being in all of the photos with the children, but instead did the gentlemanly thing: gave E.B. some space, and moved on.