Throaty

Daglass does this thing when he's sniffing. Because of the side teeth he's missing, the sides of his mouth puff in with every sniff; what should be a very quiet pastime sounds more like air-glugging. A bit like the sound you get when you pour a liquid from a small necked bottle or a teapot and the air rolls back in, but more of a pup-pup-pup, slowed-down horsey sigh than the liquid one, which I hate. It helps that he has a very deep growl. The sound of it is in there somewhere, rolling about in his throat. I've read, though Greyhounds are sighthounds, they also have a very good sense of smell.

Daglass threw himself down the stairs with great aspirations yesterday evening. It's a good job Richard was at the bottom to break his pace or he'd have collided with the wall. We've been trying to teach him to use them, as we had to with Fizz; he has less fear, and less stability in his front legs it would seem. Plus he's longer and a little bit taller, so the kinesthetics are different for him. He almost seems too big for them, but they're too steep for him to bound over, arc-like. Through the beginning of the second arc he'll collide, like I said, into the wall. So for now, I'm quite glad that he hasn't attempted to master 'up' without being two steps from the top yet. Fizz just did it, one day. We came home and she was up there, snoozing triumphantly. But not until she had it wired. I fear for this one's life, I really do.

After the drama (and lots of yelling in the loft from Rich, who was trying to set up his X-Box Live account; from what I can tell, Microsoft are awkward fuckers) the pair of them shared a bed last night, for a few hours at least. Distance spooning, with their heads hidden under the frame of my bed, before I was even in it. They settled down and made it doubly difficult for me to tidy up.

Observe.

Everybody happy? You bet your life we are.