Whippet Snippets

Whip It Good!

If Mirabel was a roller derby girl - and god knows she has enough bruisin' talent to be a force in the sport - her name would be "Thunder Bam" - that's according to the Derby Name Generator on the Whip It movie website. Personally, Girl prefers Mirabutch. Interestingly, Girl's moniker would be "Blazin' Trauma".

Coming out in October, Whip It stars Juno's Ellen Page as an beauty-queen-turned-aspiring-roller-derby-star. (Thanks to Brand New Woo for the tip!)

What would your roller derby name be?

True crime whippet

As regular readers of the Snippets know, Mirabel is not your girly girl. Some of her latest testaments to that fact:

• lifting her leg to mark a fence 
• grunting
• testing out the latest fragrances at the park, including her favorite, Carcass No. 5

But even as she racks up these accomplishments, Mirabel has got nothing on her sister Daphne. Beneath her sweet, feminine face and gentle disposition lies a very unlady-like demeanor and thirst to kill squirrels, rabbits, and now even raccoons. So much so that she's just released a new book regaling in her exploits.

Check out the cover:

Wordless Whippet Wednesday

Synchronized Whippeting from WhippetGood on Vimeo.

Waiting woes

Waiting for summer to finally arrive in the Hammer is a lot like waiting for the squirrel to come scurrying down the tree into the backyard. Not likely to happen anytime soon.

Weenie Whippets

Although it's been a miserable, soggy day here in the Hammer, Ribsy and Mirabel dream of one day holding their own bobbin'-for-weenies fun day. 

"I would totally Martin Mars it," exclaimed Mirabel. "Forget all that dainty dipping. Just scoop in like a pelican." 

"Why am I not surprised?" Ribsy sighed.

"Then," Mirabel paused momentarily for dramatic effect. "I would drink all the weenie-flavored water."

"You are SO disgusting."

"Hey, who was the one that rolled on a dead bird this afternoon?"

"It smelled really good."

"So would my breath after I'm done with the weenies and the weenie water."

Wordy Five-Year Restrospecty Whippet Wednesday

Guest blogger Girl writes:

Five years ago today, Ribsy came home to live with us.

On July 22, 2004, the squishiest puppy out of a litter of six tentatively reached his paw out to Boy's, allowing himself to be cradled into his arms for the car ride to his new home - away from his mom, grandpop, and three remaining brothers.

Why did we pick Ribsy? When we arrived into the breeder's backyard, the four male pups were beyond rambunctious. However, a few minutes later, Ribsy - then called Fonzie - called it quits and flopped onto the grass. "Great," Boy thought. "The lazy one. He'll be low maintenance."

Not quite. Sure he had his fair share of hellion moments. But doesn't every puppy deserve a break now and then? After all, coming home and seeing your underwear lovingly wedged into the couch by your mischevious puppy is a rather touching sight.

He's grown up to be a sweet, handsome whippet. Not bad for our first kid. I mean dog. Really, I do. Life wouldn't be the same without you, Surly Magoo.

Here's to many, many more years of snippets.

I leave you with some snapshots comparing then vs. now. What a consistent whippet he is.

Then:

Now:

Then:

Now:

Then:

Now:

Then:
 
Now:

Then:

Now:

Then:

Now:

Then:

Now:

An ear for style

Mirabel's ears turn inside out ALL THE TIME. So much so that Girl thinks she does this on purpose, kind of like a cool girl expressing her individuality.

Mirabel doesn't care that she's big and brash. In fact, she full out flaunts it like a fashion statement.

She even takes the time to check herself out. Looking good, Mirabel. Looking good.

Superserious

Ribsy got his Marc Johns book Serious Drawings a few weeks ago, and was delighted to find the surprise drawing inside the front cover, beside the first page.

It was a reincarnation of one of his best Post-It Note drawings! Woof.

Got an inkling for some ink of your own? You can order a signed copy complete with a unique drawing from Marc's shop.

Trickless whippets

Ribsy and Mirabel have a confession to make.

They don't know any tricks. They can't shake paws, they can't roll over, they can't play dead. They're reliant on their natural good looks and bulbous eyes to get them everything their chesty hearts desire, and hope that they'll never, ever have to resort to performing demeaning tricks in order to get what they want.

After all, who knows what could happen:

Wordless Whippet Wednesday