PW Weekend: Charlie the basset hound will not pose

Charlie, oh Charlie. I was so excited to meet him on my weekend trip the the Pioneer Woman’s ranch. I’ve been reading about his capers on Ree’s website for over a year now, so in my book Charlie has an all-out celebrity status. When Christy, one of the other lovely guests, came running up and said “Jenna, Charlie is outside right now!” I went into a hysterical fit and made a mad dash to get my camera.

Why my camera was in my room and not around my neck, I cannot explain.

As I ran down the hallway to the room I shared with my Mom, my socks piped up “Hey, guess what you forgot? We have no traction on these smooth wooden floors!” As my purple and red argyle footwear betrayed me and I klafumped onto the floor, I thought Charlie, you’d better make it worth my while.

Limping outside to the tune of a large bruise quickly entering its yellowish brownish development stage, I found Charlie.

He was lolling about in the sun as Ree’s youngest daughter played with his soft, floppy ears.

The sun was pretty bright and there were harsh shadows (not so good for photography), so I told myself I’ll just come back a little later. Plus, maybe by then Charlie will gather his strength and actually move about. Sure enough, a little while later I spotted Charlie through the window and seized the photographic opportunity.

He was sitting on the edge of the hill, looking noble.

As he heard my limping self get closer, he turned and gave me one long, mournful look.

Goodbye forever, he said, and promptly took off.

A roll of fat slomped from side to side as he ran.

But Charlie! I just sustained a severe bodily injury for your sake! Come back and pose for me!

However, Charlie would hear naught.

Come back tomorrow to hear the outcome. Did I injure Charlie in a tit for tat all-out ranch-style animal on human fight? Did he simply disappear out of my life forevermore? Or did we make ammends and become BFF’s?

In the meantime, here are the kitties again. They were so much more compliant when I descended on them with my camera. I think I’ll call them Nelson and Winthrop.

To be continued . . .

17 thoughts on “PW Weekend: Charlie the basset hound will not pose

  1. Circe

    Taking pictures of dogs is hard. I have a million pictures of Cadie, but every time she sees me with my camera, she gives me the most injured look, then promptly stands up and walks away in a huff, and she won’t come anywhere near me until I put it away and give her a treat.

    All of this is to say that you took great pictures of Charlie, I really like the picture of him glaring at you from over his shoulder. Bassets are so adorably moody and mouthy, you captured that perfectly.

  2. Weighting For 50

    I am so lovin’ the pictures of Ree’s ranch and your visit there. AWWW…Charlie!!! And those kittens? SOOOO cute. Love the shot of them in your shadow!
    Thanks so much for sharing the shots and stories.

  3. Carol Ann Hoel

    Charlie was worth it, I think. Well, how bad is the bruise? I guess it’s not for me to say whether Charlie was worth it. Anyway, I am enjoying the photos you were able to get. Awesome. The kitties made a good photo, too. What a great background! Blessings to you…

    1. Jenna

      The bruise was actually pretty painful for a couple days–now it’s a nice faded mustard color. I would say Charlie was definitely worth it.
      Blessings to you too Carol Ann!

  4. Veronica

    I really think basset hounds are ugly as sin but Charlie holds a special place in my heart and somehow he has become adorable to me. I loved that pic of him on his back! Such a cute post.

  5. Amy @ Serve At Once

    I just want to know why it’s so easy to give cats such ridiculous names.

    One time, I was in Oxford, Mississippi, paying homage to Faulkner at his grave. As I was making my pilgrimage toward his holy shrine of awesome (where some hilarious soul had placed a libation of Jack Daniels), I saw the greatest name I have ever seen on a headstone.


    To this day, I shall find a cat that resembles the long-haired orange tabby cat used for the “Wilford Brimley” cat. And his name shall be…Muckenfuss.


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