We actually sat down and had dinner at the kitchen table tonight, and guess who was right there begging for handouts?

We don’t give scraps out like free logo pens at a convention. Ollie had to wait until we were finished eating and then we caved and put some chicken in his bowl. That doesn’t mean he didn’t whine and stomp his paw while we ate, but Mike did try to feed Ollie his carrots.

No, Ollie didn’t run off and become a futures broker, I’ve just been too busy loving my puppy to take a new photo. A cute new cupcake hoodie convinced me to dig on my camera and get back to updating Ollieday every day, not just every week.

Don’t worry. Ollie didn’t go blonde. That’s my new friend, Milo (pronounced Me-Low).

Milo is my boss’ daughter’s dog, but since she is away at college, Milo is staying at home and got to spend the day at work. He is so unbelievably cute he looks like a wind-up toy. He could fill a whole room of theater seating with people wanting to watch him pounce across the room.

I hope Milo’s office visit becomes a regular event!

I get the distinct feeling that Oliver is getting sick of me taking his picture. I’m like a leaky Hansgrohe faucet, always bothering him by snap snap snapping pictures, but how could I not when he got a new t-shirt yesterday!

He looks absolutely stunning in camouflage and (so far) the shirt accurately describes his personality.

I wouldn’t go so far as to say that you need a magnifier to find him, but that lump under the fuzzy electric blanket is Ollie.

Ollie tends to go missing whenever there are unfolded blankets on the couch or bed, and especially when the electric blanket has been left out. 9 times out of 10, he’s tucked underneath taking a cozy nap.

I visited my other favorite dachshund today, Mister Floyd.

I spotted some dog t-shirts in the Dollar Spot at Target, and I had to buy him the camouflage “Tough Guy” t-shirt because Floyd is a super-sized mini-wiener dog. He’s a mini-wiener dog on legal steroids. Okay, maybe just extra meaty bones, but Floyd is a big guy.

We’re working on being able to take Ollie’s bones and toys from him without pulling back a bloody stump, but we still get a fierced bark from him when we try to grab some of his favorite toys, like the red Kong. At least we know his lungs are strong and he doesn’t have mesothelioma.

I swear that Ollie was fake sleeping. I heard him running around, so I yelled that it was time to go outside, and he collapsed in a heap in the sun, reclined against the ottoman, pretending not to hear me.

If there is a clown school for dogs, Ollie should enroll. Tuition Wise he would be set, because I guarantee they would give him a full scholarship for some of the antics he pulls.

Apartment living is not for us. I have to carry Ollie up and down the front stairs because they are the open back kind and it spooks him, he goes ballistic at least once an hour because a neighbor slams a door or a car horn beeps, and a lack of a functioning dryer makes it hard to do laundry when there is an “accident”. Luckily, when the time comes and mortgage lenders take one look at our little wiener dog, we’ll be living in a McMansion!

Even though we have a winter storm watch, it’s not a winter wonderland outside just yet. It is windy and colder than cold, so I started the fireplace, and within two minutes, Ollie had made himself comfy.