Category Archives: Doggies!

You Know How Much I Love a Muddy Backyard, Right?

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Mud. Muddy dog prints. The bane of my existence. Daisy is like a sponge, I tells ya. If there is one square inch of moisture in that backyard, she finds a way to make sure it gets on every hair on her body.  Especially the white parts so that she looks brown.  And my floor looks like a bucket of mud was thrown on it. And then tracked around. Which is why I need to get rid of the carpets, yo.

I am telling you, she does it on purpose. Shadow used to do it on purpose.  Daisy? Also does it on purpose. Bristol avoids it like the plague and acts like the wicked witch getting doused with water, “I AM MELLLLLTING!  MELLLLTING!  WHAT A WORLD! WHAT A WORLD!”

Exhibit A:


Daisy in the yard. Prolly not drawn to scale.

Notice how she goes though MOST OF THE PUDDLES when called inside.

Exhibit 2:

Bristol in the yard. Also not done to scale. I’m not an artist, I’m a wanna-be-writer.

Guess which dog IS NOT getting four baths today? That’s right!  The all black dog!  The one with short hair that’s easy to keep clean and bathe!  The long-haired dog that soaks up mud like a sponge?  FOUR BATHS.

Just sayin’.

PS – yes. Daisy’s tongue IS that long. And her tail is also freakishly long.

Evolution

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Once in a while I go back and read tons of posts from the last five (GULP. Almost six!) years I’ve been doing this shiz. Apparently I’ve regressed evolved as a writer. I used to write nearly exclusively about dogs, poo and my backyard. And autism. Sometimes. In that order. I realized I don’t write about dogs, poo and my backyard nearly as much these days.

The reason we should have gotten a King-sized bed for Christmas. And he's not even four feet tall yet.

Lately, poo hasn’t been that much of a problem. Except for the fact that while Bugaboo is potty trained (for pee) and in underwear all day, he puts a pull up on himself to poo. Soooo frustrating for Mommy.We’ll get it eventually. Especially since I know he know when he goes.  If he can poo on the potty as an incentive to go to the pool? He can do it.I just need to find a new incentive. Like a canister of salt to stim on, since it’s currently all over my living room and dining room carpet. And the basement carpet. And his bedroom. Salt, who knew it was so much fun?

Dogs? I haven’t talked much about ‘em. I know. The holidays made me sad a wee bit because Shad Roe the wonder dog loved the Christmas tree and as I put it up (and took it down) I was sad I wasn’t kicking her out-of-the-way while I walked around the tree. I mean, I didn’t REALLY kick her. I’d never actually kick a dog.  I mean…oh, never mind. So…dogs…

You think she's cute and cuddly but..she's got...POINTY TEETH!

Backyard? Snow is melting which means the dogs are bringing half the contents of the yard in on their paws. Super Happy Fun Time. Bristol is easy, since she is a lab mix and short-haired and dries in about thirty seconds. Crazy Daisy is a Border Collie, which means she has long, silky hair and she comes in the house COMPLETELY DRENCHED. Like, she’s half black and the white half is brown. And she, like her predecessor Shadow, just LERVES bathing!  YEAH! Certainly doesn’t try to jump out covered in soap and shake it off and have it dripping down the walls or anything!azy Daisy is currently running up and down the fence to yap at every car that goes by and Bristol and Daisy bring half the contents of the yard get tracked in on their paws.  Super happy fun time. Nope, not her! But I guess soapy water is better than the mud she shakes off on my family room floor. And curtains. And couch. Thank heavens for leather.

Guess I'll just sit here...and...zzzzz

And Autism? Well, since I live, eat and breathe it each and every day? I think you hear quite a bit about that. Today, for example, autism was FUN! Bugaboo had eleven days off in a row for Christmas break and is VERY HAPPY to go back to school. Or maybe he’s just happy to ride his bus for three hours a day, because he loves, loves, loves school buses. And lucky us! We live on the corner in town where EVERY SINGLE bus stops. And the past two mornings he was up at 5am, dressed and ready to go and waiting for the bus. At the front door. At 6am. And his bus comes at 7:25. And this morning? We had to sit outside from 7 until the bus arrived. AWESOMESAUCE.

Tactile Path! BEST PRESENT EVER.

Here I am, talking about the same shiz I talked about nearly six years ago. And yet folks keep coming back. Thank you for that. I must be doing something right. Either that or it’s like a bad train wreck and you can’t help but peek at the carnage as you drive by. Or it’s like the Titanic and you want to watch the ship sink since you know what happens at the end anyway. Or you just want a front row seat for my brand of crazy, ’cause it’s better than the movies. And cheaper, too! Just pull up a chair and bring your own bag of popcorn!

Yeah, I’ve evolved as a writer. *SNORT*

Choose Your Own Adventure

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Did you ever read those “choose your own adventure” books when you were a kid? The ones that had the multiple endings and you had to turn to, say, page 87 if you wanted Joey to play baseball or 103 if you wanted him to stay in Marching Band?  Sound familiar anyone? Anyone? Bueller?

Anyways, I’m going to give you a “choose your own adventure” post, with a twist. You get to choose what you want to hear about and skip the rest. I’m just trying to please every body. How’s that for service?

If you want to hear about Bugaboo’s awful, no-good, bad day, keeping reading right after this.

If you want to hear about my crappy back problems and how frustrated I am that I can’t lift weights or run, read about half way down.

If you want to hear about how hectic it is with six dogs in the house at Thanksgiving (and what we’ll do to guard the turkey) read at the bottom.

Ok, everyone…CHOOSE!

Bugaboo’s terrible, awful, no-good day: Bugaboo had a rotten ride to school on Monday. His little bus mate, who attends the same school, was apparently upset about something and she began screaming and throwing shoes and whatnot. Keep in mind that these guys are non-verbal and have tons of behavioral and neurological issues. Which meant that Bugaboo got upset because she was upset and for forty minutes of the ninety minute bus ride, Bugaboo sobbed and bit himself. Which means his arm is bruised, he broke the skin and it looks awful. AWFUL. And, worse yet, for the rest of the day he broke down in sobs. Even in the bathtub. We felt AWFUL for him.

Crappy Back problems: The disc issues have reared their ugly head again and I’m not quite healed from last month’s bout with them. In other words, PT is not working and it looks like I’ll have to go see a neurosurgeon. I really, really don’t want surgery but I cannot take care of my family if I’m in constant pain and don’t have full range of motion. It’s frustrating! Not to mention I cannot work out, lift weights or run. And I’m up thirty pounds at this point and I HATE it. I just don’t feel like me. /end rant

Six dogs on Thanksgiving: I wasn’t going to, but I decided to take on dog sitting for the holiday. From today until Saturday we’ll have six dogs total, two are mine. four of them like sleeping on the bed. Last night The Guy I Live With slept on the couch. Go figure. But hey, dogs mean money, money means we can buy things we need. Like iPads.  Yes, we need an iPad. I’ve decided that they’re pretty much amazing and I must secure one for Bugaboo. YOU SHOULD SEE THE APPS for the disabled. Absosmurfly amazing. Wait, I’m supposed to be talking about dogs.  Um…the turkey. Right. We plan on putting them outside while we eat. I learned my lesson from Shad Roe the Wonder Dog. It doesn’t matter if it’s a holiday or a large, expensive cut of meat. They’ll eat it anyway. Even if it is in a TIN CAN (she was part goat, I swear.

There! How was your adventure?

The next few days I’m going to be cooking and cleaning up a storm. Which leaves little time for writing. Which is ok, since I had to write all of my articles for other sites in two days because offices are closed for Turkey Day and whatnot. Which means my fingers are numb and my brain is fried and I’m praying I don’t suck.

That is all.

Social Skillz

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Fine, I’ll admit it. I don’t have the best social skills.  I talk to much. I dominate conversations. I forget to look people in the eye.  And when they talk to me?  I’m usually noticing everything else going on around me, staring at the ceiling, counting cracks in the floor.  It’s uncomfortable for me to look at people and when I do make eye contact I lock my stare on them so that I don’t get distracted. Which I’m sure gives people the Heebie-Jeebies.  Because nothing says Hebbie-Jeebies like a girl with steel-blue eyes staring through you like you ain’t standing there.

I’m pretty sure this is why I like dogs.  See, Dogs?  Don’t care if you don’t look at them.  They never cringe when they see you coming, they always accept you into their social groups. They could care less if you prattle on and on about mundane things like steaming your carpet weekly and padlocks on your gates and doors  (Yes, I steam at least weekly. No, I don’t know how those carpets are lasting.  Yes, we padlock the doors and gates.  One word:  BUGABOO).  Also?  Dogs love you no matter what. They don’t reject you. They are always happy to see you. THEY DON’T ROLL THEIR EYES AT YOU (I’m talking to you, Bug Boy).  And?  No arguments!  They do what they’re told! It’s glorious! See, this is why I’ve discovered something important. Brace yourselves, it’s heavy!  Ready?

I LIKE DOGS MORE THAN PEOPLE.

And I wonder where my kids get their stellar social skills. Hmmmm…

Anyways, I like dogs more than people. There! I said it!  And it turns out I can make a decent living from dogs.  I’ve also realized that not going to vet school after I was accepted was perhaps  the dumbest thing I could have done.  Or not.  I’m not one for regrets.  But if I knew everything would come full circle and I’d still be working with animals I might have tried a little harder to get that tuition money together.  Of course, I could be saying the same thing about any of my four majors (Dental hygiene, history, Special Ed, too).  The point is that it is funny I ended up working with animals anyways.  Go figure.  Which could teach you an important lesson in life, kids.  And that lesson is, don’t second guess yourself. Or maybe it’s another lesson:  If your parents can’t afford to send you to a prestigious, ivy-league veterinary school, go to a state teacher’s college and get a teaching degree instead because it’s cheaper and you’ll end up working with animals eventually anyways.  HOLLAH!

Last night I was curled up with five dogs.  It was quite a sight (and it’s good that I have a sectional, yo).  Don’t worry, one more comes today!  That makes six!  But two go home tomorrow. So that’s four dogs, for those of you not good at math.  Where was I? Oh yes, five dogs.  Last night.  Thankfully, they are mostly small. I had my parents’ dog, Cujo, curled under one arm, Ollie the Schnoodle under the other.  On the ottoman at my feet was Bristol, my baby.  Cocoa, this crazy Puggle I’m watching, was on the other side of Ollie. And at my feet?  Sandy, the Golden, our all-time favorite visitor.  The husband was sitting at the other end of the sectional pouting because no one would curl up with him. They’d come when called but kept sneaking over to curl up with me.  So he’s all, “Why won’t they curl up with me?” To which I replied, “He heard you call him fat and she knows you think she’s dumb. They can hear you, you know.”  And he’s all *EYEROLL* and I’m all *SMIRK* because I know I’m right.

See, the cool thing about dogs? I can curl up and cuddle and hug five dogs and nobody calls me a HO. If I curled up with two other female humans and three other male humans I’d either be at a SWINGERS EVENT or an ORGY.  And I’d be a HO.  But with dogs?  I’m just an “animal caretaker” but I still get cuddles and feel warm and snuggly and happy and stuff.

(Stop making those disgusting bestiality jokes right now, thanyouverymuch!  Gosh, can’t wait to see the Google searches on this post!)

Also?  It’s good they aren’t humans. Because the male dogs?  They are constantly humping. And I’m not talking about shunting trains (which is another definition of humping).  I mean they constantly, you know, get down to biznizz with the female dogs. And the females don’t exactly appreciate it. They have their own way of saying, “Not tonight, dear, I have a headache.”  And that way is grrrrrr…GRRRRRRRR!!!!  ARF!  And a quick nip and it’s over.  Could you imagine that happening in real life?  “Hey!  Hey baby!  I like you!  Your crotch smells good!  Let’s get it OOOOONNNNN!!!!!”  And then the male mounts the female and she turns around and is all, “OH NO, YOU DI’INT!”  And that occurs about every six minutes through the day.  So if it happened that way for humans it sure would be awfully interesting around these here parts. Uh huh.

So. Recap.  Dogs > people. For those of you who flunked math that means I like Dogs better because they air hump all day.

And The Week Just Keeps On Improving

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Because my life isn’t interesting enough…

As if it wasn’t bad enough that the other night pretty much sucked,  I re-injured that pesky herniated sacral disc last night and yesterday I had to say good bye to my loving companion of ten years, Shad Roe the Wonder Dog.

You can read about HERE.

Dang it. It sucked pretty much as badly as I thought it would. The good news?  No more pain for Shadow!  The bad news?  Copious amounts of heartache for us! WIN!

Our poor puppy Bristol just can’t function. Where Shadow had no problem be ing the only dog for ten years (with the occasional doggy visitor) Bristol NEEDS to have other doggies around.  It just happens that the day I had to take Shadow to cross that stupidly-named Rainbow bridge (I really, really, really can’t stand that concept) we were extra-dogless.  The good news?  I’m booked solid for the next few weeks so she’ll be busy. The bad news?  There will always be an empty spot where Shadow once was.

Sigh.

A Boy and His Dog

Crazy Dog Lady

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I’ve been called the Crazy Dog Lady (and I’ve been called worse, but those aren’t lady-like terms so I’m gonna refrain from using them. Except around my kids, because Mommy has a potty mouth). For about two years, I’ve been considering starting a dog blog to chronicle my wee obsession with canines and my tails of dog sitting. This will, of course, remove one of the three main topics of my blog (poo and my backyard being the other two).  Or I’ll just post on both.  Who knows.  But I finally sat down and created it this weekend.

Go visit me at Crazy Dog Lady and tell me that I’ve completely lost my mind. Eventually, it will include stories about all of the dogs that have graced my presence since starting this dog sitting stuff many years ago.  If anything, it will affirm what I’ve suspected for a while:  If I have time to post on two blogs I really should get a job.

Anyways, for now I’m still laid up.  After last week’s anaphylaxis I was LUCKY enough to develop pneumonia. I still haven’t heard about my x ray but I’m pretty sure I don’t have TB.  At least I think.  Who knows. I might.  Or I might just be melodramatic because I’m sickity sick sick sick and I’m missing out on stuff  I wanna do, like get my arse in shape because I’ve gained so much weight, go to IKEA to eat meatballs with my pal (which ain’t gonna help my arse) and go to birthday drag queen events and drink Mojitos.  Which ain’t gonna help my arse. Again.

At least it’s gonna be in the 50s all week.  The backyard?  Free of snow and mud. Which means cleaner floors.  That is, if I get up and actually clean ‘em.

What You Should Know Before Owning a Dog

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Puppies are irresistibly cute.  They are adorable, clumsy, clownish and sweet. They are also demonic little imps that grow up to be big dogs.  If you don’t train them (and they get bigger, untrained) you are totally in for it.  Consider this a fair warning: DOGS GET BIGGER. AND THEY GROW FASTER THAN CHILDREN.  Therefore, I have compiled a list of the pros and cons of dog ownership.  Prepare to be enlightened.

Cons:

Dogs pee. Puppies need to be housebroken. They pee (and poo) anywhere they want.  That means you have to take them outside about every half  hour when you first get them.  And for the next few weeks.  Possibly months.  Yes, overnight, too. And sometimes they have accidents.  And sometimes they have BIG ACCIDENTS.  And sometimes they are a wee bit passive aggressive and squat and pee right in front of house guests. Just sayin’.  My best advice?  Crate training. BEST. THING. EVER.

Dogs Chew. Puppies will chew on anything. ANYTHING.  Paper, carpets, kids’ toys, shoes, brick (?), BRAS AND UNDERWEAR, Christmas ornaments (in secret!  Took a week to find out!) and this:

$20 a string, irreplaceable Chili Pepper lights, pulled quietly off the tree.  Grrrr…

Dogs bark. They bark if someone rings the doorbell.  They bark at the mailman when he delivers the mail, they scare the bejeebus out of the UPS guy (to the point where he leaves packages at the bottom of my steps) and if you live on the corner?  They bark at every single human, canine and otherwise that comes within a one hundred foot radius of the yard. You know, because my dogs are vicious attack dogs. Uh huh.  And they are going to save us from those SQUIRRELS because SQUIRRELS take acorns! And they’ve got…FANGS!  And also?  OMGOMGOMG A LEAF FELL OF THE TREE! ALERT! ALERT!  Bark collars don’t work.  Squirting them with the hose doesn’t work, especially if they are labs and they’re all, “WOOO!  HOSE TIME!  YEAH!”

Dogs Dig. Some unnamed dogs(AHEM, BRISTOL!) dig gigantic holes in your golf course-like lawn. This annoys people that like golf course-like lawns. The good news is that the ground is pretty frozen at the moment, so she is only digging in the wood chips. And my herb garden. And the middle of the yard.  And under the air conditioning unit. And under the rhododendron.  And…

Dogs require grooming. As much as cats will clean themselves, dogs will make a half-arsed effort and then act all, “Whut?  I clean gud!  I clean pawz!  Earz are clean!” Especially right after they’ve rolled in, say, garbage.  And then they act mortally wounded when you drag them up to the tub to scrub off said offensive odor.  They shed (some unnamed dogs, AHEM, SHADOW! Have a double coat and shed twice a year) and need to be brushed often.  Dog hair gets in your food, on your clothes and in just about every nook and cranny of your home. Including in your computer. And your toothbrush.  They need their nails trimmed oh-so-carefully if they are afraid to walk on concrete (don’t ask).

Dogs need attention. Lots of it.  They need to be trained. They need exercise. They need to play.  You will spend hours upon hours throwing the same ball to the same spot of the yard and they will act like they’ve never seen it before in all their ten years.  They need to be scratched and petted and rubbed and kissed and hugged.   Bored dogs are destructive dogs, especially if they have mental conditions.  Trust me. Ahem.  Puppies need ten times the amount of attention an adult dog needs.  Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Dog food and medical care is expensive. You don’t want to skimp in this area.  Good food = healthier dogs = less trips to vet. Unless your dog is born with, say, adrenal disease, and you don’t find out for a few years.  But, for the love of all that’s good and holy, DO NOT FEED YOUR DOG OL’ ROY. It’s like bringing your baby up on potato chips.  Read about dog nutrition and contents and ingredients. While they don’t need (and should never have) a vegetarian diet, they do need adequate nutrition.  Check out dog insurance, preferably when they are a puppy. It may be worth it.

Dogs don’t live that long. Depending on the breed, the average life span for a dog is anywhere from seven to twelve years. Sure, some dogs live longer (and some do not) but it totally sucks when you are at the end of your dog’s life and you know it.

You may find you like dogs more than people. And turn into the crazy dog lady. But if that’s ok with you, file this one in the “pros” column.

Pros:

Dogs give unintentional love. You can have the craziest day ever and they’re all, “OMG!  I LOVE YOU!  IT’S SO NICE TO SEE YOU!  HI!  HI! OMG!  I LOVE YOU!” There’s nothing like it.  They even love you on your fat days and bad hair days.

Dogs are cheaper than kids. They don’t care about the latest toy, they don’t give a crud about what they are wearing and they don’t need shoes!  WIN! $50 of food a month and you are pretty much good to go.

Dogs sleep. A lot.  And dream and move their paws and whisper-bark and it’s hysterically funny to watch.  It’s super cute.  They do not, however, appreciate cameras in their faces when they are being that cute.

Dogs are eternally happy. They have seriously short memories and attention spans.  Even if I yell at my dogs, two minutes later they’re all, “MOMMY! HI! HI!”  They make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside.  It’s great for your ego.  They never tell you that you look fat, they like everything you wear and they always agree with you.

Dogs are great companions. This is perhaps the best part about dogs. I stay home all day. Sometimes, I get lonely.  Not with dogs!  You can talk to them, they DO NOT TALK BACK!  They clean up every crumb on the floor and always lick their plates clean, UNLIKE YOUR KIDS.  They also never, EVER leave their gigantic, freaking work boots in the middle of the floor for their wives to trip over in the middle of the night.  Dogs, it turns out, are easier to train than say,  CHILDREN and HUSBANDS.

You can spay/neuter dogs. Not only is it responsible pet ownership, but it’s a great thing to do so you don’t wake up one night and find placenta all over your house.  It’s also a good idea because when you get male and female dogs together they tend to hump.  Even if they are shooting blanks. Just sayin’. If your dog is particularly brain-damaged or weird, it’s ok!  They’ll never spread their genes!  If only everyone did this…the shelters would be less full, if you know what I mean.

So.  Get a dog. Here’s a few that need you: And you need them.