Girl, Rottweiler, Comparison

The first three pictures are what I like to call "The Evolution of Moses Sleeping on Red Couch"

 Mo at four months

Mo at Six Months

Mo at Seven Months

The Next Set of Four is what I call "The Evolution of Mo Sleeping on My Bed" I like this set best as it describes the human male journey from child to teenager...

 Mo at Two months

 Mo at four months

 Mo at six months

 Mo at six months ten seconds later...

This next collection is the most varied of the four collections... I call it "Mo sleeping on the floor".

 Mo at four months

 Mo at six months

The final Collection of pictures is "Baby Moses!"

Sorry it wasn't a story today, but I hope you enjoyed the pictures of Moses! 

Girl, Rottweiler, Bath

Bath's are peaceful. But today I learned something, and I would like to share it with you as a math equation.
Moses + Bathroom + Me in bath = bruises and wet dog.

Looks Yummy! I try?

The bathroom in the house I live in is orange, not a burnt orange, no that color that is somewhere between neon and tangerine. It was obviously decorated with multipatterned dragonflies in lime and hot pink. The ugly white tile screams up at one while that person glances with loathing down at the dirt. There is two sinks and across from them is the bathtub. The bathtub is absurdly large for a basement bathroom, more of something seen in larger houses. It has jets and could easily fit a man of six feet.
Our story begins.
Getting home from the coffee shop means three things to my wonderful female self: One is a bath. Two is sleep, Three is food. Now as obviously I do not eat in my sleep in means most often I forgo number three. Parking my Volkswagen Beetle is a snap and getting Moses out of the car always seems to slow me down on the way to the delicious hot water that will ease my feet and make me feel human again. I drag Moses to the gate as he begs to go see the next door neighbors dogs, open the gate, let him off leash, and watch as he mopes for a mere forty five seconds.
Entering the house through the backdoor it's a straight shot down the stairs from the door, turning right twice I enter the bathroom.
Stripping takes no time at all, I have perfected what I like to call "Turn on water with foot while taking off shirt maneuver" Bath's are that wonderful.
Moses enters the bathroom with me and lays down on that ever increasing pile of laundry (less big now I have a roommate).
I have never tested my bathwater like I test my shower water, so I launch myself into the bathtub and hop out with a burnt foot. Obviously the water needs to cool some.
Moses laughs.
I growl at him.

I see you water! Water splashed! 

We turn back into our respective species and I wait for the water to get to the correct temperature. When it does I grin and step back into the most wonderful creation in all the world (besides Word programs).
As I sit down, the black master of stealth, manages to peak his head over the bathtub and stare at me.
What are you doing? Is it fun?
"Moses, dont you dare!" I need to stop thinking that dogs and humans can understand one another.
Moses gives me a patronizing look and he bounces. I cringe and close my eyes imagining my stomach being hit by 80 lbs of Rottweiler. The hit does not come. Whip whip whip SLLUUURRRPPP. I look up to see Moses with his paws dangling over the edge of the tub his face in the water. Normally he licks it from the faucet but today he felt like experimenting.
I glare, wasting the precious eye movement on a puppy yet again. I sigh and move my feet. I watch Moses suddenly hyper focus.
"What's wrong?" I move again
Moses' head follows my movment.
Experimentally, I whoosh my foot across the top of the water.
Moses swings his head back and forth noticing (I assume) what he believes is a drowning foot.
Everything happens instantly.

My phone on the sink vibrates, I pull my foot back, and Moses launches himself into the bathtub.
I cough and stare at the puppy, trying to pull my foot out of the water.
His nose is completly submerged and he is trying to get his head down far enough to eat my foot.
"What are you doing?"
Moses continues to face plant for my foot.
I sigh, bath's are not as peaceful as I remember.

Girl, Rottweiler, and Hygiene

Get up? No. 

 I slowly rose from bed glaring at the alarm that had gone off. I didn't work at the coffee shop today. So why was my alarm going off at-

"OOOUUUFFFA"

I cringed as the bringer of mornings landed on top of my stomach. Then following his normal proceedings, began to lick at my face. 

"Get off!" 

My futile pushing ended up with girl falling off one side of the bed and puppy falling off the other. The devious deadly puppy plan had succeeded. His tail wagged as he hit the floor, i thought you never ever were ever going to get up.

After being the care giver to a rottweiler puppy for a few months, my need to glare disappeared with the fact that it would be entirely wasted on two large chocolate eyes. I opted for a sigh instead, "Yeah. I'm up. Time to bathe." 

I walked blindly out of the bedroom, followed by the clip clip clip of little paws and tripped by the prancing bearer of said paws. 

"Mo! Stop it, I need to walk."

Obviously to no avail. 

I finally made it the few yards to the bathroom, watching grimly as the puppy went right over to the pile of worn, not worn, and partially worn clothing; strategically discarded but clearly an inviting dog nest. I grumbled  about how "his majesty" did not have to clean up said dirty clothing as I threw my pajamas. (I am under the firm belief that pile grows without my knowing.) He avoided the flying pajamas and then found them the warmest place to curl up. 

Best sleep spot ever!

I turned the shower on toward the left, knowing that I should test the temperature before I stepped in to the flaming hell of Mount Doom. I held my hand under the water for a few seconds testing it. I was correct, it did  heat up to Mordor levels. I was amused as I turned it back a few centimeters to the right. Perfect shower temperature accomplished. I stepped in,  relief swelled as the hot, but not burning water ran down my back. 

"This is the life." I was content. 

I turned around to get my face wet, and felt fur hit the back of my legs as if launched from a pupapult (the puppy version of a catapult). I barely held my balance, falling in such a small shower would have been impressive but not comfortable. My eyes landed on the little painted eyebrows of the water-puppy, who was lapping the drain in the shower. 

"MO!" I squeaked, my ability to say his name inhibited by the shower function so it came out more like "Bllmmo!" 

He looked up at me, gave the puppy version of  "Oh whoopsy" and ran back to the laundry. 

"I still saw you!" 

No reply.

"Its not like you can hide it." 

Still no reply. 

I obviously had to stop having conversations with the dog. I grabbed the towel and came out to lecture him. He again gave me the look, I didn't do anything. I was thirsty. I got water. I didn't come flying at you from nowhere.

I grumbled as I moved around the laundry pile, how dogs shouldn't feel the need to take showers because it was trouble for their owners.