Don’t be fooled by the enormous golden retriever, Abby, here. She’s not just a sleepy older pooch on the, erm, husky side.

She’s like a trapdoor spider, waiting for two year-olds to lick. I believe her tongue was big enough to get all the spaghetti sauce off Ben’s face in one go. You see, there’s a reason we do this after dinner.

This pup, on the other paw, truly was sedentary.

Lastly, Cocoa was a sweet older beagle that we’ve seen a few times, but never has been captured, until now. I like this pic.

An Iggles fan, even in the off season.

All pictures courtesy of Julia, click ‘em to embiggen.

Bo, who we caught along with yesterday’s Sonny, is either trying out to be the next Nipper, or wants to know when Julia is going to take the #&*! picture already.

But, you see, its the ambiguity behind her portrayal that sets her apart from other dogs.

Or, she’s just a dog.

I say this — and here’s the relevance to the puppy hunt — the evening “nice walk,” a tradition begun when Julia was about two, used to be a chance for Dad and daughter to hang out a bit after dinner and before bath. Taking puppy pictures sprung from that. Of course, now Benny is of “nice walk” age, and it has really affected how we go about our hunts for the puppies of Jenkintown.

Whereas before, we could just meander at Julia’s pace, things have to be a little more destination-oriented, as Benny and Julia both have different opinions on what constitutes the best course of meandering. These conflicts of opinion often turn into squabbles, which turn into tears in short order. The camera has been a cause for concern.

I mean, look at that kid, he really wants that camera.

Again, having a destination in mind helps. Last night, we made an excursion the playground by way of CVS, which is on the other side of the borough. We needed mouse traps. We caught one mouse in a glue trap, which I hate. I’m no softie, but there’s something particularly cruel about glue traps, no matter how easily they fit below the oven. We have a catch-and-release trap (which I’m going to give one more chance to tonight) but I felt we needed the ol’ tried-and-true on standby just in case.

But I digress, we’re here for the puppies. This one is Sonny. (Click the picture to make it slightly bigger.)

Sonny is a Bichon/Shih tzu mix, which is nearly impossible to say without sounding drunk. Try it. You’ll slur like Foster Brooks.

I think Sonny lives on the corner up from our house, maybe. It was tough getting details while wrangling Benny and giving Julia camera advice.

All pictures courtesy of Julia.

Next time: Bo, perhaps friend of Sonny. I don’t know. It was a confused meeting.

They want to lick your face more than anything in the world. Your face is like candy to them.

Still, Maggie managed to hold still for a good 30 seconds, which I believe broke they all-time yellow lab “sit” record once held by Prince Bob of Des Moines, Iowa who, upon later examination may have been part basset or was, quite possibly, dead.

Nice shot Julia.

We were headed out the door, lollypops dangling from our lips, as Jake and his family passed. I felt bad not offering them a treat, so I told them to wait, ran back inside Stinkbug Manor, through the kitchen and out the side door in case Benny (who gets into the picture, as you can see) decided to bolt down the shared drive for the neighbors pond.

They fished their wish from the bag of Dum Dums — one chose butterscotch, on purpose! — and posed Jake for the shot.

(No, this isn’t some sort of extreme facepainting, I pawed out the girl’s face, just in case her mother isn’t as reckless as I am in plastering my kids’ gobs all over the Internet.)

Jake (seated on the driveway in the picture to the right) is some sort of pit bull mix thingamabob. I don’t know for sure if I bothered to ask. I was just grateful to get the shot…and to dispose of some of these godforesaken butterscotch Dum Dums.

Seriously, man, every the kids reach into the big bag of Dum Dums (Dum Dums: a sack of stupidity!) that the missus bought for no defensible reason, they pull out some flavor like Butterscotch or Banana Rumpus or, worse, a mystery flavor, which is usually Butterscotch. Now, I don’t mind the occasional butterscotch hard candy, as I’m old, but few kids enjoy candy that actively rejects the concept of “sweet.” Still, I let the kids pick their own. I’m their father, so they should get used to disappointment. Here’s a freebie for Spangler Candy, a new tagline: “There’s a heaping dose of reality in every handful!”

Then again, I enjoy the stick. I don’t know about you, but lollypops with plastic sticks just aren’t the same. You get Dum Dums for the candy, but you stay for the lingering oral fixation and the fine gnawing sensation you can only get from tightly-wrapped paper.

Photo courtesy of Julia Rose Lester.

Look, the more tag, as if enough hasn’t been said already!

And lollipop, as Spangler says, or lollypop? I prefer using the Y, as I always felt bad for the Sometimes vowel. One day A, E, I, O and U will get wise.

Why did we wait so long into spring to start it up again? Julia’s first camera, a pink “Insignia” brand 5 megapixel thingy, broke. I’m fairly certain her mother dropped it.

However, Julia’s Grammy, supplier of the original camera, underwrote the purchase of a new camera (I picked it up on Woot!), a sleek, turquoise(ish) 10 megapixel number from Kodak. Our five year-old has a nicer camera than the family. It has more settings than I know what to do with, but it takes pictures quickly, which is a good thing when folks your mission is to interrupt people during their evening’s perambulations.

We spent Monday night scouring the Jenkintownside looking for dogs to little luck until we found Roxie (below, click to embiggen) and her family marching up Walnut Street. (We should just wait until they pass our house, that’s usually when we see them, but what’s the fun in that?) Benny was with us, which adds a bit of a wrinkle to the process, since I have to help Julia get the camera set while keeping Ben out of traffic or away from the dog.

I have no real notes on Roxie other than she’s a mutt and that she has a black tongue. But she’s our inaugural dog, snapped with the new camera, so we can’t complain. It took a few tries, but eventually Julia remembered to hold the button until the click and to keep her finger and camerastrap away from the lens. Nice job, sweetie.

We had better luck Wednesday, when we found two dogs right outside our house.

More to come.

All pictures courtesy of Julia R. Lester.

The same walk to the town square as the last two entries yielded Kimba, named after Kimba the White Lion. Also known as the the cartoon Disney ripped off to create the Lion King, which happens to be one of Julia’s favorite Disney movies, of course. This site is somewhat exhaustive in its comparisons.

Kimba was a big girl and, after Julia (and Benny) got up the courage to pet her, we had a nice long discussion about copyright infringement and the difference between an homage and a rip-off.

No matter how many times it was explained, it went over my head entirely.

Anyway, here’s Kimba the Golden Retriever:

Please note that Kimba is not actually on fire or somehow effervescent, except in terms of charm and puppylike sweetness. That is: nice dog, but not outgassing…at the moment, at least. Apparently, Julia had been fiddling with settings, as is her right as an artist.

From right to left: Bella (sans head), Greta and Karch (judging your soul).

“You know, Karch, like the volleyball player,” the owner said. Um, sure. Let’s go with that.

(Yes, a town exactly one square mile in area has two fire companies because, as it turns out, Catholic houses burn too)

We took a few pictures, but I really don’t have the time to post them all at once, so here is a new friend (with a cameo by Julia’s thumb) that we met at the town square. His name is Rocket

Rocket was named rocket because he, as a puppy, ate a rocket. A toy rocket, mind you, not an Estes model or anything.

That’s a charming naming convention that, if applied universally, would have disastrous consequences. Puppies named Coffee Grounds, Used Condom and Own Shit would flood the borough.

Thankfully, our citizens have some sense of restraint and don’t use those names in public.

His owner seemed a little taken aback by the sudden onslaught of a four year-old paparazzo, but that’s price you pay for an extended idle conversation in front of my home.

And, lest you think Julia only takes pictures of puppies, here is one of her frequent still life experiments:

From left to right, that’s her beloved pull toy Chris, the rabbit-skinned fake cat (thanks Ruth!) and her brother Benjamin’s pull toy, which Julia helpfully named Old Chris. (You see, he’s a dog and her Chris is just a puppy…)

But let’s get on with it…

While I was getting on my shoes in preparation for last night’s Nice Walk, Julia, Ben and Aly ran out to meet these two pups, pictured below. Aly isn’t quite experienced in the ways of puppy-hunting, so she didn’t remember to jot down the dogs’ names. Aly being Aly, however, she soon learned the names of the owners, their baby and where the husband went to school (our alma mater, UDel). Lost in all the Blue Hen talk and mental groping for possible mutual friends, she forgot the names of the pooches. We’ll call them both Molly and be done with it.

After the two Mollies stopped by, we had another visitor, our old friend Tank (first entry) along with his friend Batman (on the right) just in from Oklahoma.

We couldn’t spend the whole night on the front lawn getting bitten, so we walked up to Jenkintown’s gazebo, trying to avoid going into Jenkintown Java for coffee and/or ice cream.

On the way up Greenwood we caught a rather large cricket and met Milo (doberman mix) and Lola (beagle mix). Here are their asses:

After the gazebo, we decided to head back down the hill along West toward the playground for a little pre-bedtime sliding and swinging. On the way we ran into this motley crew of canines:

From left to right, Pip the Papillon, Babydog*, Greydog* and Gator.

The nice lady walking them stopped to let Julia and Ben poke at them before pictures. The dogs aren’t all from the same home, but a collection of pets from some the walker’s older neighbors and relatives. How nice. They all seemed to get along.

After peeling the now-cranky children off the playground equipment, we met Aggie. I swear we met her before, but I can’t to find an old post with her in it. I may be mistaking her for Bailey, the Dog Who Lost Weight (last entry). This is the view of Aggie from atop my shoulders:

Aggie’s owner was reasonably impressed with Julia’s project and recommended we check out Wetstinkydog.com, home of Cyrus the Phodographer.

While she’s no dog, we are all impressed with Julia.

Flickr photostream for all of these images.

*actual names

UPDATE:

Bonus Sid! We encountered Sid last Saturday while the kids and I were on the march to a garage sale. Julia used my camera, so I didn’t get a chance to retrieve the image until now. He’s some sort of Australian pooch, but clearly not a ravenous dingo, as the baby seemed safe and content.