clickmom

mowed

Someone asked Josh what kind of dog the food thieving devil is and he answered "Well, they say she is a retriever, but to me she is a more of a taker." Out of the mouths of babes!

As a retriever the devil has beautiful long feathery magnetic to all things dirty fur on her tail, legs and underbelly. Unfortunately for the devil her fur to filth magnetism fades as she crosses the threshold into our house, which is still technically located on filth infused construction site. It is for this reason ( and also because I am getting so very tired of sweeping up her dusty dirt piles all day long) that I am considering finding a groomer and disguising our retriever as a lab.

primordial

That sound you heard, that voice? The tortured cry that sounded out loud enough for all of the garden state to hear Sunday morning? That was me. It started out simply enough. Evan and I set out to walk the devil. And we went on a street we had never walked before. And we saw a path off the street. And I took the devil off of the leash, not only for her pleasure but for to assist in the never ending battle to keep my leash holding hand's shoulder grounded safely within it's socket. And as Evan and I ventured deeper into this previously unchartered by my territory, it got wetter and wetter.
And honestly more into the woods meant more beautiful. I asked Evan if he could imagine when our entire neighborhood looked like that photo. And dinosaurs roamed the landscape. And four legged devils decided to stop, drop and roll in the primordial ooze. Oh yes she did. Several times. And then a few more. Despite my ground shaking (<- voice ->) soul shredding piercing wail of protest. And then she would drop down and rub around on some deer shit to dry off.

Guess how ineffective dog claws are in attempt to stop your 78 pound stinking self from being dragged across a tile floor and into a stall shower. Yup. They are worthless. Now the devil has the frizzies. And honestly, my conditioner turns out to be a wee bit fruity smelling, (who knew?) but at least the kids assure me that it smells better on my head than on her fur.

cat devil burglar

When I lived in Manhattan with the husband (pre-kids) we had this adorable (code for really small, mouse infested with low ceilings) garden apartment. Our garden neighbor had an uncharacteristically vicious pug (No, seriously, this pug would chew your pinky toe off in a heart beat! Folks were afraid to wear sandals in the hallway!) who went all psycho through a crack in our fence every (freaking minute of every freaking day) time our dog was in our back yard. Someone once mentioned that tylenol was toxic to dogs so the running shared fantasy in our house was tossing tylenol laced steaks to the pug next door in order to get a good night's sleep. Oh stop, we didn't do it!

So, back to the present, on that fateful day when the chiro told me that the vials indicated cancer of THE SPOT he also tested out some of the supplements he hawks to us believers as a side gig. He declared one such over priced immune boosting supplement would help me in this battle and I figured I was good for a bottle. You know, I figured I'd take a bottle for the cause (which I suspect is a vehicular upgrade for the chiro, but you know, I adore his magic hands, so whatever) Now these excellent supplements that are somehow every allergen free yet are also food based which means that in retrospect it was stupid for me to leave the bottle (cap on and all but still) of supplementation out on the kitchen table where a four legged devil could potentially jump up and thieve them away in the night. Which is exactly what happened, except it happened in the day, but the night has so much more drama to it, no?

So, sometime after the crime occurred I am in the front entry of my home and I spy a chewed up medicine looking bottle on the floor and for a second I'm thinking that maybe, oh maybe, someone with four legs got a big old bottle of tylenol, and she's been pissing me off lately and my first thought was not to do anything, but then my big old conscience set in and I pried the chewed up bottle apart to see what it contained back when no one had chewed the label off of it yet only find 4 of the really expensive chiro cancer fighting vitamins left in the bottom of the bottle. I almost gave the devil a tylenol enhanced steak right there on the spot, but instead (also because I didn't have a steak handy) I just glared at her a lot (and maybe once I tried to get her with the twisted up towel, locker room style, but Evan thought I was aiming at him and made a big to do over it so I stopped) and the devil knows what that stare down means coming from the one who dispenses sustenance so she wisely kept her distance.

I figured the devil wasn't going to die or anything so I did nothing about the vitamins. Then I crated her up for the night and went upstairs to hopefully have a decent night's sleep since the husband is at a conference and I have the whole bed to my blissful non snoring, non bed hogging, non blanket grabbing self. Oh joy! But you know what happens when clickmom fantasizes about a good night's sleep right? I ignored her caged cries when she started whining at midnight and I ignored her again around 4, but when she heard me tip toeing to the bathroom at 6 I knew her cries were serious. I came down stairs and let her out. She dashed to the backyard and proceeded to squat and squat and squat in the first available (and squat) open patch of (squat) green for a good (squat) 15 minutes. And if you happened to hear someone yelling between 6:01 and 6:15 this morning it may or may not have been me shouting "And I hope it burns too! Bwah ha ha ha!"

Don't worry about the devil's feelings she paid us back all morning with farts that made our eyes water from 3 rooms away.

foxy

The devil dog has been barking non stop for abot, oh 40 minutes now. I called, screamed and yelled and may have even uttered few death threarts at her. Finally I went out to see what could possibly be freaking her out so much and there is FOX running back and forth between my two rear neighbors yards. A FOX! Oy vey.

today

Mom is okay. Though there was quite a bit of confusion regarding how okay she was. It seems that the doctor's nurse took one look at mom's jaundice and assumed she would be admitted, so there were all sorts of calls to mom from the hospital telling her her room was ready, and from the visiting nurse trying to find out what room she was in. But, in the end the doctor sent mom home (or I should say back to my house) with instructions to eat more and sleep all she wanted. Sounds nice right? What I wouldn't give for a medical professional to look me right in the eye and tell me what I need to do is eat more and sleep the day away!

I did bring Matt to the podiatrist who thankfully only clipped the triangular corner of his ingrown toenail and not half the nail as I had feared cause that is what they did to the husband a million years ago when we were young. Matt's big toe resembles a toe once again and not the blow fish he was kicking around there for a couple of weeks.

I realize what shitty dog owners we are and have devil dog on suicide alert, since when we are in utopia she gets to follow us around all day and is a joy to be with and here we pretty much ignore her and wonder why she is always pestering us. She doesn't know she is getting to go back up there later today and boy will she be happy when we call her into the car.

I shaved Evan's head this morning and plan on applying the henna tattoo to his scalp shortly. I better get the nicest mother int he world award, that's all I am saying. He wants a dragon and I am going to attempt to copy the dragon of his choice off of the internet. What did we ever do before internet?

Unfortunately there will be spotty posting from utopia, but we'll be more vigilant about finding someone's wifi to borrow, since I'm not sure Matt will be able to make it through with out at least some internet. He's being somewhat teenaged about it, that's all I am going to say about that.

And since I am finding it difficult to generate the funny during these stressful times. WARNING: I am going to throw in a little bit of TMI just for giggles: I had steamed fresh beets for dinner and just made the most awesome purple poop ever.

time

So, remember when devil dog had that infection in her girlie bits? Well, the husband took her to the vet where she got a steroid shot, a prescription for antibiotics and a jar of medicated pads for wiping her girlie bits with two times a day. OMG the pads. You know who had to drop to her knees every day and get to third base with the dog, right? Cause the husband wasn't ever going to do that. Ever. He walked in handed me the jar of medicated who-ha pads and have me the look that meant "Don't even try". And then I had all kinds of sympathy for devil dog, owning my own personal girlie bits and all. So, the other day I was getting to the end of the antibiotics and still had plenty of pads left. Her privates are looking fine to me and I wondered how long I was required to be getting intimate with the devil for. As I walked across the room pad in hand the devil dog looked up saw the pad dropped to the floor and rolled over and spread her legs for me. I took one look at the position and the longing expression in her chocolate brown eyes and said "She's done".

in or out

In my life as a stay-at-home-mother I wear many hats. I love the chef's hat. I am proud to occasionally wear the nurse hat. Every day I don the jaunty cap of a chauffer. And then there are the hats that I wear for a moment or two now and then. Sometimes I wear the school volunteer hat, the crossing guard hat, the police man hat, the judge's gown (hey- the judges need hats!) and so many others. The one hat that I have to wear (and in all fairness make my kids wear as well) is door man to the Devil Dog hat. SInce Devil Dog loves being outside and loves being inside equally as much she spends a great deal of time undecided between the two venues and she likes to go back and forth making sure she isn't missing out on anything. This is all fine and dandy in the 2 or three weeks a year when we can confidently throw the doors open with out fear of heat stroke, frostbite or west nile virus, during this time Devil Dog can satisfy her needs by lying half in and half out, but during the other 50 weeks a year someone has to get off their butt off the couch and actually let the Devil in or out. We are all getting a wee bit tired of that hat.

So, I took the plunge. I actually contacted the internet dog door selling place I have been stalking for months and ordered a doggie door. I am comfortable that Devil Dog will, in no time at all, get the hang of the dog door. I know she uses one when she goes to the dog sitter. I have only a small hesitation or two. The first is that Devil Dog might decide to stand half in and half out while preventing the doggie door flap from re-closing and allowing all the frigid air we are supposed to soon be experiencing (after all they say it is actually winter) here in the -up until tonight- balmy Northeast into the house. The other and more serious concern is the frequency and potency of skunk odor I have been noticing around here since last May. Yes, folks, I do suspect that a skunk has taken up residency in my next door neighbor's never used and heavily treed back yard. Have you ever noticed that when you get a whiff a skunk from far away you think to yourself "Hmmm ... smells like skunk" but when the little fuzzy critter has blasted it's butt juice anywhere within a mile radius of where you are standing the thought immediately following scent identification goes more like "(GAG)Holy Shit, (dry heave) there's a @#$%^&* skunk (wretch) around here!! CLOSE THE WINDOWS! CLOSE THE WINDOWS!" I have said that about once a month since last May. Let me tell you people, if Flower gets into my house, I am never going to shut up about it. Honestly though, it makes me look forward to getting a doggie door. It's like a whole new adventure just opening up in front of us.

Two posts in one - both of which include the word DOG

1. In the DOG HOUSE

It was a hectic and busy weekend. It was nice to get my house back, and also, the peace and relative quiet. At least the amount of three boys quiet that I call quiet. I have long since forgotten what actual reality quiet is. Sunday morning, my first morning of relative solitude, the husband enters the shower, just as I am finishing up with a nice back scalding, burn the holiday off moment of attempted relaxation. He sits down on the little bench and timidly says that he mentioned me during a discussion with my parents. This is bad, I feel my heart begin to race and stare silently at the husband while secretly beginning to catalog every house hold implement we own that can be used to kill. He then proceeds to tell me that he informed my parents that I had gambling issues because of some family vacations to Las Vegas my family took when I was about 9. I begin to scream. What man who wants to live tells his in laws something like this? Issues?!?! I have issues?!?! You know where I want to shove my issues?!?! Especially when I do NOT have "gambling issues"? I just have no interest in it. Naturally, I yelled at the husband, I stomped my feet, I threw my arms around, (they may have gently brushed up against him) I fled the bathroom and called the parents and left a less than calm message on their answering machine, completely disrespecting the husband and letting them know that under no circumstance should they listen to anything that my clueless betrothed manufactured in his emotionally incompetent brain.

Then I brought Matt to Boops' to hang out with her kid, and vented to Boops and her boyfriend who talked me out of cutting the husband's brake wires before sending him on a down hill errand. They explained to me that this may have been some kind of bizarre attempt at defending me to my parents. The hilarity of the husband defending me by creating new reasons for my parents to believe I am the psycho they already think I am broke the tension of the situation and enabled me to turn off the steam that had been coming out of my ears and come home ignoring the knife drawer. No steam, but still pissed.

2. DOG STENCH

In the meantime, I had let the Devil Dog come with me when I dropped off Matt. She runs with Boops' dog, and being fairly confident that Devil Dog wouldn't run away or anything (but knowing that if she did run away I would certainly be able to cope with the lack of guilt and would most likely pretend not to know her if who ever found her managed to hunt me down in some kind of futile attempt in making me take her back) I let the devil hang out outside while I moaned and bitched away inside. When the devil dog finally did come in, Boops and her boyfriend said she smelled, you must know that I find a smelly dog to be terribly embarrassing, so I said that she always smelled weird when she came back from the dog sitter (see just blame the dog sitter!) and that she had been there while grandma was at my house over the holidays. Then I got close to devil dog, and OMG it was the stench of rotting animal corpse, known well to this dog loving ex-city dweller with a blatant disregard for authority as well as leash laws. I reluctantly brought the devil home, her fragrance was overwhelming. First thing this morning I brought her (technically I dragged her) in to be groomed, which was interesting, since the last time she was groomed was up in utopia, and if I have any issues in my life, it might just be with groomers.

I threw away the devil's regular collar, since there was a death toll smear of putrid on it, and I had already washed her irreplaceable (at least not instantly replaceable) electric fence collar with two different kind of soaps to combat the deeply embedded scent of death. For the record, all natural lavender hand soap does nothing to abate the stench of cadaver. Matt was helpful though, thinking that me washing an electronic collar might just be something to see. I saw him grinning at he prospect of fried mother. He even laughed a little under his breath.

I have taken before and after photos, (new camera to replace old faithful) if I could figure out how to download them, you would see the devil really needed the grooming, her ear hair was very early 80's David Lee Roth and her toe bushes were down right Cro-Magnon dog, not the overpriced 21st century high strung pure bred that she purports to be.

3. back to the DOG HOUSE

When my mother finally got hold of me I found out that the husband told her I had ABANDONMENT ISSUES because she had left me and little sister in day care during the world's most boring Vegas vacation ever when I was 9 years old.

All in the name of showing support for your spouse.

secret life of Devil Dog

105 years ago when the first family built a cabin on this island they came to it by boat. It was after all, an island, and the two options to get onto it were by boat or go for a swim. I suppose in the winter one could have walked or skated across the ice. This remained true until about 55 years ago when the then resident, under the cloak of darkness one night, built a gravel causeway from the closest main road to the nearest end of the island. The question arose over the weekend whether or not what we call our island is actually an island or whether it is a peninsula, since technically it is attached on end to the mainland by a sort of isthmus.

When we journey down the causeway towards the road, one side our causeway adjoins the side of our very nice neighbor, Rosebud's, property. I have tried to convince the Devil Dog that there is an electric fence at the end of our driveway off of the island, just as there is at home in the Garden State, in hopes of dashing any ideas that the Devil Dog may have of exploring the neighborhood. I stop each time I am about to take her for a walk and tell her the same command I use at home which indicates it is safe for her to cross the electrified barrier. I think I have Devil Dog fooled. Rosebud, the neighbor at the end of the causeway, but technically not on the other side of the street or across the pretend line of electric fence I have tried to convince the Devil Dog that exists, is a dog lover and happened to lose her 13 year old spaniel this past spring. One day we stopped to chat and she told me that Devil Dog often comes down the causeway to her house in the mornings. If she is not already outside Devil Dog will stand beneath her balcony and bark until she comes out and tosses a stick for her. They play for a while and then Rosebud walks the Devil Dog back down the causeway. I had no idea. What a bad dog-mommy I am. Rosebud asked me not to keep Devil Dog away from her, as she likes being near a dog, and is still greatly missing her own dog. Now I look at the Devil Dog and think to myself, "I have your number you little attention whore."

The other day we took Devil Dog on the boat. We came back around 5 and I noticed that Devil Dog had a swim, and I thought to close her out of the house, lest she hop onto the couch, or worse, an unprotected bed, while still dripping wet. Two hours later I was preparing to serve dinner to both my kids and a couple of neighbor kids when it occurred to me that I had not seen the Devil Dog in 2 hours. The Devil Dog is always under my feet when I am in the kitchen, so I was concerned. I called her and she did not respond. I tried not to panic, served up dinner and told the kids I was going to walk around the property looking for Devil Dog. In the mean time , the other kids mother appeared, heard the story and hopped back into her van, sure that Devil Dog had taken off down the road. I thought this might have been a possibility since she had been in the car earlier when we drove past some local dogs wandering around and she whined to play with them. I thought maybe she did decide to check out the competition.

Rosebud heard me calling for Devil Dog, and immediately ran down here to help me look too. I thought that maybe Devil Dog had a paw stuck in between two rocks, had been attacked by the fox we saw here one night, or maybe even a sasquatch, (we are in the woods people!) maybe she had fallen off a rocky part of the island and didn't know enough to swim around to get back on. With a flashlight I searched the water for signs of her. She was nowhere. I listened to hear if maybe she was whimpering when I called out for her, but nothing. I began to panic, my heart was racing. I circled the house twice, calling and calling and getting more worried by the second. I imagined her hit by a car, ripped to shreds, floating in the lake, and then I saw my truck sitting there and remembered that I told one of the kids to get something out of it after we had gotten off of the boat. I walked over, opened the door and sure enough, Devil Dog bounded out, perfectly fine and refreshed after a two hour back seat nap.

computers, training and the devil dog

Matt got a new lap top and I am jealous. It isn't old and creaky like mine, and he all the latest software on his. I have to update. He hasn't pryed the caps lock button off of his, so that is pretty much the only negative. He also has a shiny screen and I am lusting after that. Now I can do things like strikethrough which for some reason doesn't show up on mine. Also, I can't underline, use italics, or even type in bold. So if you see me doing any of these things you'll know who wasn't playing fantasy games on the computer tonight.

I had a rough day here. The babysitter that I hired so that I could go to the gym isn't paying enough attention to the kids. He loves wakeboarding and every day he gets the kids on the boat picks up his friends in our boat and makes the kids watch while he wakeboards. I told him he could use the boat before or after he sits and that he needs to focus on the kids for the time that I am hiring him for, but he doesn't seem to get it. Tomorrow I am going to have to get tough with him because I need the kids to be happpy with him so that I can exercise guilt free. Also, I GO FOOD SHOPPING WHEN HE IS HERE AND THE KIDS DO NOT WANT TO (I hit the damned caps lock button- this is why I no longer have one on my lap top) as I was writing, the kids do not want to go food shopping. I am sure of that. I will speak to the sitter (who I totally need to post about because OMG he is the cutest thing ever. Even cuter than Chef Cutie and Lake Boy rolled into one-seriously) I am thinking that if I can't get through to him directly I will go through his Mom, because I NEED HIM. (hee hee I went bold!)

Speaking of needing him for training, what I really need to do is get on the ball with the triathlon training. I set out for a walk/run this AM and realized that it had been a month since I had done a serious walk. I was a little awkward at first, and I think it was because I am using all these previously unused muscles in the pilates class I am taking here. There is much inner and outer thigh work occuring that doesn't happen otherwise. I am really enjoying the pilates class here, unfortunately pilates will not get me across the finish line in September so I have to focus on the swim/bike/run-walk part of what I will be required to do.

Also speaking of the triathlon, I am a bit worried. I spent the whole winter at the stinking Y figuring out how to swim freestyle (why isn't it called crawl anymore?) By the time June rolled around I could swim freestyle forever at the Y. The problem here is that I am not swimming at the Y where I can see the comforting stripe on the bottom of the relatively waveless pool. I am in a lake where I can kind of see the weedy/rocky bottom, but that doesn't help me know if I am going in the right direction also there are little boat wakes to contend with and these things freak me out. I have been getting a little panic attack and having to swim breast or side with my head out of the water. All winter I swam and swam ans swam, and thought "Oh yeah, go me, I am going to swim crawl baby......" snort. I must have gotten a little cocky.

Today I walked for 45 minutes. I could have gone longer but the dog was actually slowing me down. I think it has been too humid for her. Either that or she is sick. I might just make a vet appt. for her and have them do a couple of blood tests. She isn't her usual underfoot incredibly annoying self. She has been enjoyable. It has me worried. Now I have to start getting two kinds of exercise in a day. I should have swam later in te day today. Tomorrow I am hoping to walk and swim and then do a nice long bike ride on Saturday. I found a long straight almost flat stretch of road that should be good to simulate the tri course. I'd like to build up to 20 miles per ride instead of 15. I really like the riding.

waiting for King Chuck

treat treat treat

When we took Devil Dog to the local dog training school, the philosophy was clear. Give the dog a treat, treat, treat every time they do what you ask them to do. Later on we were suposed to be able to wean the dogs off of the treat, treat, treat. Sometimes, after a long and difficult evening with the Devil Dog I have a little PTSD and can actually swear I hear the instructor saying "Good Dog, treat, treat, treat." in her animated goo goo baby dog voice. shudder. I pretty knew from the get go that this approach wasn't going to work for Devil Dog. Pretty much she was only going to do something if she wanted to do it and there would be no fooling her with a treat, treat, treat. Eventually the night before dog school became steak night in this house because if I brought a bag of chopped up steak and cheese to dog training school I had a slim chance of making the Devil Dog perform. I hated dog school.

Fast forward a year and a half and sure enough Devil Dog, who has the whole family wrapped around her dew claws, still expects a treat, treat, treat for doing all the routine things in life that we were supposed to be able to wean her off the treats for doing. Every night when we crate her we toss a treat in as we happily chirp "Crate time" because if we just say "Crate time" and have no treat action she will approach the crate, sniff the air for treat residue and give us the look which says "Not a chance I am going in there without my treat you big treat dispensers". So, we toss.

One of Devil Dogs other endearing traits is her unwillingness to enter the house without being bribed with a treat. When she didn't automatically come when we called her in from the yard, a well meaning friend with a well behaved dog suggested we say "Devil Dog want a treat?" and that way she would come. It worked like magic. Now the Devil Dog is old enough to ask, beg, scratch, and bark to go in or out by herself, and when she decides she wants to come back into the house she will bark or scratch and then stand at the open door until we offer up the treat, even though we haven't called her in and coming in is her own idea. Eventually she'll just relax into a sit or a lie and calmly wait us out. When she has the munchies she likes to go in and out a lot. It gets kind of old after a while so sometimes I leave the door open and try to ignore her for as long as possible. This would be fine if we lived in a temperate bug free climate, but we don't. Sometimes the icy air flowing over my naked toes is all I can take before I go berserk. Soon, we'll be trying to defend ourselves from all the mosquitoes. This is what the Devil Dog looks like as she settles down and waits for her treat treat treat.

thinking of teaching a not very old dog a new trick

In the movie 8 Below, which we saw with the kids yesterday, the best dog on the dog sled was named Maya. The dog sledder guy called her "Maya, my best girl." Maya was awesome. I was thinking that since I HATE Devil Dog's actual name (chosen by the kids and not by me, who wanted to name her the totally awesome name which is Cheese) that maybe we could change her name to a way cooler name, such as Maya. I realize that it would never turn Devil Dog into a well trained awesome sled dog who could lead a team of other lesser dogs through the Antarctic while saving the scientist guy's life not once but two times or even a dog who could teach a bunch of domesticated sled dogs to hunt seagulls in order to survive in the wild, but maybe if I didn't cringe inside every time I said Devil Dog's real name I could like her just a little bit more and Maya is after all the name of the best girl.

Evan tried out the name Maya tonight. Devil Dog gave him a curious look when he called her by saying "C'mere Maya!" then she went running when he called "Maya! Want a treat?" But come to think of it, she responds like that when we call her by her actual name too.

I always thought she was a bit ballsy

Take that Chuck

living with the enemy

Sometimes I wonder how smart the devil dog really is. I think she maybe smarter than I give her credit for. I have been watching her lately and I am starting to wonder if maybe she has got me all figured out. I think she may just have me wrapped around her little dew claw. I also think she acts way more intentionally than I ever realized before.

She seems to have much purpose in some of the things she does. She does the whole bone burying thing, and I have no idea where she puts them, obviously she is a good hider. I suspect she is digging holes along the perimeter of the fence or in the clumps of decorative grass. Sometimes, weeks after the initial burial she brings her prize (all dirt covered) back into the house so I know she remembers where she puts them. As a matter of fact, the speed with she recovers her treasures convinces me that she wakes from her nap, decides it is time for a retrieval mission, does a silent count down and tries to break her previous speed record. I know how speedy she is because I am her personal door slave.

Devil dog also has a penchant for stuffed animals. It isn't unusual to see her slinking around the house with a beanie baby in her mouth. The thing is though, that when she does it - she does it with such purpose. She looks like a spy on some sort of covert mission. She has perfected the sideways eye glance, and the "You must have me confused with some other dog." look.

Devil dog also likes to bring stuffed animals out side. Then she carefull arranges them on one part of the back lawn. She always leaves their little stuffes carcasses in the same place. One day I am going to examine them from the bedroom window. I am afraid they spell out HELP or maybe SOS. I wouldn't be surprised. Either that or she is setting up some sort of pagan ritual offering to the gods of weather. I think she may be asking for snow. She seems to like snow.

The forecast here in the Garden State is for snow tonight, and lots of it. When I arrived home after errands today I picked up the assorted animals and toys from the lawn, wondering if I was somehow foiling the master plan by doing so, and tossed them into a big tub. Then I went inside and let Devil dog out of her crate. Instead of her usual enthuiastic/desperate greeting, which means making me pet her until my finger tips go numb, she immediatley ran to the door and demanded to be let out. She ran to the stuffed animal sacrificial arena, scanned the area turned back towards me, and a gave me a look, which in any laguage, including dog said "You Bitch!" I am scared people.

whine whine go away...

Somethng happens to me when I hear the sound of whining. I believe it can accurately be compared to road rage. The first year of my teaching, I had a beautiful little girl named Vanessa in my class. Vanessa did not talk, she whined. I knew this would be problematic from the first minute of the first day, so on the second day I made a poster with a big "No Whining" message. You know, the red circle and slash thing. I told the class that I would not respond to whines. When Vanessa whined to me I would pretend not hear, the other kids would remind her that I couldn't hear whining and it took Vanessa maybe a week and a half to stop whining permanently. I love children. They are so smart. My own kids do not whine. They were never permitted to develop the habit. They speak, and they do it very nicely. I love my own children. They are so smart.

However, the devil dog is one mother @#$%^&* grand mal whiner and I swear I am going to cut her voice box out if she doesn't stop right now. How people, HOW do I get it through to this beast that I am seriously going to go right off the deep end if she doesn't cut it out??? Just now I heard her whining to come inside so I opened the door, and she came in and stood in front of me and whined. I pet her, saw that there is indeed food and water in her bowls, and yet, she continued to whine. She strolled over to the couch, whining, checked out the situation, whining, jumped up and settled in, all the while whining!! She stopped whining when she noddded off. But you know she would still be doing it if she could!

Did you see the scene in Fun with Dick and Jane when the dog gets a jolt of electricity from a shock collar when he barks? Oh, yes, you know what I am thinking......

If I only had a brain

walking with fluffernutter

My friend P has suggested that I write about her on my blog. She reads this and would like to see herself mentioned more. We should probably get drunk together, that has more possibility for blog fodder than our weekend dog walks which tend to be pretty straight forward. I have known P for a while, but we really got to know each other well when we got puppies within weeks of each other. We would visit each other with the puppies, hoping that the two pups would play long enough to burn off a chunk of that adorable puppy enthusiasm. And yes, I just typed that through clenched teeth.

What P and both had in common from the start was an inability to bond with our respective dogs. We both wanted to. We both had high expectations of the dog becoming an esteemed family member to gather around for holiday photos. We both imagined a strong brave canine steadfastly guarding our beloved children, barking at danger and becoming so indispensable that we would no longer be able to function with out them.

You know about me and the devil dog, no love lost there. P has a standard poodle. She was under the impression they were one of the smarter breeds. When her breeder told her about her dogs unbridled enthusiasm P thought "How cute!" She foolishly thought "How cute!" when the breeder mentioned the dags uncanny ability to poo all over the entire the yard in tiny little droplets. Hahahaha. Then Fluff came home.

P and I and our dogs attended a LAME-O dog training class together in hopes of developing that human canine relationship, but really afterwards the only thing I got out of it was a really funny imitation of the -you really need to hang with people more- dog trainer. No bonding occurred during the obedience class.

P's dog is a hilarious sight to see leaping like a gazelle down the street, (OK, I think he is funny. P doesn't) especially when he is freshly shaved and all flailing legs. On our walks, the devil dog normally forges ahead with a steely shoulder dislocating iron will. P's dog, Fluff only wants to frolic and leap and play. When P uses the extendable leash we can all end up hog tied before the end of the block. We curse a lot on those walks. Walking with the two dogs is difficult to say the least, but we have discovered a new trick. We take the dogs to a big field and unleash them. As we humans walk in circles around the field the frolicking dogs orbit around us. We get a walk, and the dogs end up purely exhausted. The reality is that P and I want to walk and the dogs are a convenient excuse to dump the kids with the husbands on a weekend morning. There is no canine bonding on the walk.

Last weekend, P and I were on our new and improved field circling walk and we were discussing Fluff. For a year he suffered with devasting ear infections. P tried everything, medicines, special diets (as in kangaroo meat- you know a leaping dog on a kangaroo meat diet is just too good for me to let slide) and then finally in desperation agreed to allow the vet to remove Fluff's infected ear canal. Now Fluff is deaf on that one side, and as if he isn't a big enough dork already he can no longer tell what direction sounds are coming from. When he hears something he freezes with his legs spread apart, and then starts looking right-left-right-left to try to figure out where the sound came from. I think it is pee in your pants funny. P wishes she had gotten a more macho dog.

I think Fluff still needs a diet change due to the excessive poopage that he did not outgrow, and was on the verge of becoming a pest with the reccommendation for a new food when P suggested that maybe Fluff was just plain old brain damaged. It happens all the time, P said. She had heard that dogs with ear infections could shake SO vigorously that .......

Self Inflicted Canine Bondage

devil dog gets a hair cut

Ever since we have been here on the (still unnamed) island the devil dog has been having one big bad hair day. She never got matted before, but she here she was all matted up. She had dread locks all over her butt, legs, behind her ears, even two huge ones on either side of girlie part. I was concerned that they would join together and prevent her from walking.

A neighbor suggested she may be matted up due to pine sap getting in her hair, so a bath was clearly in order. This morning the husband phoned a local groomer we had seen while driving around and made an appointment for her for this afternoon. I brought devil dog to the "salon", not knowing what to expect, and boy was it, ummm, interesting.

There were two women at the groomers. I was greeted by the bather, herein known as "Poodle." Poodle wasn't sure who I was, but she brought out the actual groomer, herein known as "Toothless", and Toothless was expecting us. Toothless asked me to bring the devil dog into the grooming room while she finished up the schnauzer she was working on, I must admit I suspected she may be a drinker when Poodle pointed out that the schnauzer's mouth was lopsided and Toothless clipped off half an inch from the longer side.

I didn't say a word when after caging up the schnauzer Toothless went to the bathroom for a long long time. I just stood in the grooming room with my polite little smile on my face. Poodle, upon Toothless return, remarked "Geez, I thought ya fell in." I didn't say anything, but I did consider grabbing devil dog and making a run for it. Devil dog is a classy girl, I didn't know if Poodle and Toothless could be sensitive to her kind of prestigious upbringing. But I choked. Toothless put devil dog on the table. Toothless whipped out the clipper and went at her. I half mumbled-half whimpered a request, "Please don't make her look like a lab..." but Toothless proved to be merciless with the clippers. She buzzed and buzzed until there were no more dreadlocks, or hair on her butt, or hair on her ears, and a few scattered sparse areas to boot.

You know how black haired dogs have this bluish white skin? Well, the devil dog now has this bluish white wishbone shaped thing going on from the rear. It's uh, well, not lady like.

Toothless also savagely attacked the devil dogs ears, but she didn't do them symmetrically. (Remember, we think she drinks) Now I am not sure what to do. Do I wait until they grow back? Do I grab some broken glass and hack at the other ear until they are evened out?

After the clipper attack devil dog had a bath, and Poodle gave her a very nice, long bath. It was almost like a sudsy swedish massage, during which Poodle pillow talked her up the whole time. "What a nice smooth girl you are. Oh, you are good, good, good. Oh, you are so silky." It was starting to creep me out. Just when I was about to yell "Break it up, break it up you two!" Poodle announced that the devil dog was ready to be "blowed". I assumed she would whip out a blow dryer, but she whipped out some sort of reverse shop-vac and actually tried to blow the water off of her with a gale force wind. Mist sprayed everywhere, and I couldn't be heard over the 8 decible shop-vac, so I just watched, trying not to look all stupified like I was. When Poodle declared devil dog finished with the blow she asked if I wanted to put her in the cage with the portable room heater and the oscillating fan to finish drying, but I said it was OK and that she could go home moist. I assumed that Toothless would do the nice little groomer things like clip devil dogs nails and the bushy hair tufts that grow up between her toes so I asked her to, and she put devil dog back on the table and in a not nice voice told me it would have been easier to do when she was dry. I didn't ask why she hadn't done it before, what do I know about grooming?

I leashed up devil dog and high tailed it out of there. Next time, I am doing it myself with the hose.

Can Sunny be rehabilitated?

Since the boot camp trainer did nothing to address Sunny’s nipping problem we hired a trainer to come to our house and help us work it out. I purposely left Sunny outside when the new trainer was due to arrive and happily for me, and true to form, Sunny went for her ankles a few times until the trainer managed to give her a little pop on the chin with her heel. The trainer had already made it to the door by then, but she thought she had caught the dog by surprise, and that she had made an impression. We talked about the boot camp, and this trainer suspected that the other trainer had not trained Sunny with the “love” he claimed to train her with, perhaps the choke collar she came home with was the give away, perhaps it was Sunny’s complete obedience to him in only 12 days, or perhaps it was the fact that the boot camp trainer used to train german shepherd police dogs. I am feeling kind of stupid for signing up for the whole deal.

According to the new trainer, our family has been very effectively trained by Sunny. New Trainer realized this even though I was too embarrassed to admit how many times we jump up from the couch to let her in and out each day. Now the family has to start retraining her to become a pack member instead of the leader of the pack. This retraining involves Sunny dragging a leash around behind her at all times, so that we can grab it to correct her when necessary.

We aren’t supposed to allow her to run around outside unaccompanied by a human, so we have been spending lots of time, just standing in the front yard doing one of a few things, trying to play fetch with a dog who prefers keep away, saying “go bathroom”, and watching Sunny watch the neighbors house in hopes of her pal Robbie the dog coming out to play.

When she nips at us we are going to spray Binaca in her mouth every time until she realizes that all humans are minty and apparently dogs do not like mint. I know Sunny doesn’t because we tried this with her when she was little, and got many a good laugh watching her writhe on the carpet after each refreshing blast. Unfortunately she got too fast, and we got tired of misting the air, and our pants, and incorrectly assumed the problem would end with teething. So, as of today, I am armed and unafraid. My heels can see the light at the end of the nipping tunnel, and hopefully the shock of mint will stay with her permanently.

Yesterday I read an article in a great magazine called Bark. In it the author shares his discovery that his dog imitates human behavior, and today while Matt, Josh, and I were playing Candy Land on the floor, Sunny came over and tried to lie down with her paws on the board. I swear she wanted in. I am going to have a Sally Field moment now “She likes me! She really likes me!!”