I have been outrageously slacking on the updating of this site. My apology is sincere, but i have this thing I have to live; it's called LIFE. Big plans, making big moves, possibly a new and improved site in the making. For now, hold on and I will reveal the details as they manifest themselves!

here's a dropthatsock treat for your eyeballs...

"Charlie ejects some English mud from his mouth after scooping it up playing fetch."

daily photos of charlie in his fresh gear at www.lovecharlie.org.

from flickr.com

i'm exhausted now.

here he be-

please help us name him. we're stuck.

he came as willy, next name was joooch. we need it to be perfect, so we're asking for your help. so far we've come up with:

schwartz
booger
walter
dr. teeth
gomez
jorge
disgusting
hans
eighty
geek

i'll consider anything that's not too common. gimme some good ones, people.
use the comment link or the contact page to get at me!

"Well, i'm Nesta, i'm almost 3, and i'm pretty lazy. I don't like long walks in the park, but I do enjoy going to the park to see who I can beat up. When they call me the fat kid, I shove their noses in the dirt, or slobber in their water bowls. My favorite thing to do after taking massive dumps is run laps around the yard at 90mph. I also like to try and beat my two brothers up at the same time, and if Mom and Dad are around, them too....this never works out for me but I try anyway. I used to like humping humans. I did it every time I met someone new. Then one day this lady came to the house and changed everything. I'm not even allowed to answer the door anymore. GRRR"

"i had just beat up 10 dogs at the park."

lips

"i wanted to be harry potter..stupid darth vadar."

"luke, i am your father."

here's winston, looking all the part of a pig in front of a barrell of slop. i can almost feel the blubberiness of his lips in my hand.

one of winston's owners just died of cancer. his name was james mcauliffe and he was 24 years old.

you can read what his friends wrote about him here-( james' profile.)

and you can also read the profile set up by his girlfriend and also winston's momma, to help raise money toward his treatments.

Continue reading... "how this freaky site works..."

photo by margret

this miniature hyena is Zoe. here she is attacking Maia. for our enjoyment.

tee hee.

send me photos of your dog wearing your dentures. m@dropthatsock.com!

WHOAH. This is the kind of dog that'll grind through 2 sofas, a futon, 2 matching armchairs, systematically empty each of your childproof kitchen cabinets of toxic cleaning supplies, and then pee & poop on your white shag carpets. And when you come home everyday, you most definitely get the clobbering time bumrush of paws in your mouth, whether you like it or not.

sheesh.

beat this one, herbs. send all photographings to m@dropthatsock.com!

Nothing says over-the-top-americans-spend-76-billion-dollars-on-their-dogs-every-year like two pugs in insect costumes. I love this country for that reason primarily. Send me your ridiculous dog photography, ok? (m@dropthatsock.com)

The MANIA, the absolute urgency to get to this spherical object that is rocketing through space. This thing that some dogs would catapult backwards into the air for, and twist their bodies in unearthly ways, the thing that makes them shiver and patter their front feet in anticipation of having it thrown and subsequently caught in their mouth. Even if it's so dirty that its color resembles nothing of the original, out-of-the-package one. Nothing else matters, not a thousand dogs barking, not a stampede of wild buffalo, not even a visit from Grandma, Source Of A Thousand Cookies. Just throw the ball, Daddy. Throw it as far as you can. Use to the full the years of little league, junior high, varsity, and university baseball training and chuck that piece of rubber and fuzz so hard that your arm makes the sound of the wind when you're letting it go. Throw it into the hills, the prairies, the bushes, the high grass, the wood chips. Hell, throw it into the atlantic ocean. I don't care, just as long as I see that thing flying through molecules, ripping through the air. And make it bounce at the end so I can scatter around in desperation and get it into my already dusty mouth.

Go play with your dog, would you already? There's only so much staring out the window, waiting for a leaf to blow that a dog can do.