Nihil novum sub sole est

After two weeks of wet, squalling weather that would have given Noah and his fabled ark a serious run for his money--the sun came out today! Such excitement!

Today being Another Glorious Day Off From Work, Ibrahim and I ran around town with Piper in tow and had a lot of fun (no doubt at the pooch's expense) purchasing gratuitous pret-a-porter for the dog (sorry, haven't mastered blogosphere HTMLing enough to figure out the fine art of adding snotty French circumflexes, etc, to foreign words), as evidenced by the photographic proof herein.

I know, I know. I've succumbed to anthropomorphizing the dog and buying him jogwear. I mean, since when do dogs jog?! And even if they did, since when do they need tracksuits with reflective stripes and pockets (for what? their keys and wallets?). We actually looked for a "real" raincoat for a slightly more waterproof and therefore practical outfit, like this one, but we only found an extra small.

We also chanced upon some extremely undignified Halloween costuming for the canine set. Check out the fashion faux paws foisted on these pooches. My favorite though, was this poor guy.

Oh Rachel, weep for thy children, for they are wearing pimp daddy dog costumes. Purple pimp daddy costumes as that.

(Don't worry, we didn't torture the dog with haute couture all day long; we actually took him to Yankeeland's idea of a public park, i.e. a crappy hill boasting at its summit a few badly weathered wooden picnic tables all bearing the earnest if none-too-original handiwork proclaiming such wildly inventive epithets as, "F--- yo momma!"). Yeah, baby.