He's still quite a handful. He likes to harass the dogs. He loves to lick Brisbie. And Brisbie? She's not a fan. She growls to warn him off, but he still tries to sneak in and lick her. He seems to be partial to her ears.
People think he is sweet because he is fluffy and squishy, but there is a wild raccoon inside of him. It makes me think of the Black Keys lyric 'The look on the cake, it ain't always the taste. My ex-girl, she had such a beautiful face,' from the song Next Girl. If I could get him to wear a collar it would read 'Watch your fingers.'
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Brisbie and Tatum's birthdays are in August.
They got old peanut butter jars of blissful happiness.
They got old peanut butter jars of blissful happiness.
Tatum, a rescue from Nevada County Animal Shelter, is 9 this year. She survived a cancerous tumor on her paw last year and got quickly back to her status as FIRST! one to the ball.
Happiness is apparently a branch around your neck and a tennis ball in your mouth. Panzer followed her around keeping the world safe from the dangers of branch ends.
Brisbie, now 7, and her resident handler, Kayla. She gets Brisbie to perform acts I would never have guessed possible.
All eyes on the ball.
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