Posts Tagged ‘Corgi’

So my friend that I’ve had since I was 12 came to visit the other day.  We grew up together and got in to more trouble than either of us can seem to remember.  Well, he was visiting family not far away and he came to stay with us for a day.  He brought his 7 year old basenji/red heeler cross with him named Jetta.

We met at a park so that our dogs could meet on neutral territory, get to know each other, then walk as a pack.

Duchess is usually scared to death of other dogs and starts the nervous drooling thing, but after a brief introduction, she was pretty excited about having a new friend to play with.  Jake on the other hand acts like an idiot in public.  He goes into this hyperventilating spaz mode which is great at getting leashes tangled.

We came home and let the dogs out in the backyard to run and play together.  I just love how I happened to take this picture in the junkiest part of our backyard.

After playing outside in the heat, they were exhausted and came in to crash.  Jetta was delighted to see that we had a dog bed that met her exact specifications.

That night after the nap, Jetta came to life with vigor.  She kept getting all up in Duchess’ bidness as you can see.

And then it was time to play!  This is Duchess and Jetta doing their Godzilla vs. Mothra impression (notice the trucks below them… I imagine tiny little Japanese people screaming and running away).

Then Jetta started getting angry for some reason.  I think she’s a mogwai and isn’t supposed to be fed or watered after midnight or something.  Jake’s expression shows that he’s quite unamused by the curly-tailed dog with the chip on her shoulder.  Duchess is trying to show submission here to let Jetta know that she just wants to play.

But nope.  Jetta had made up her mind that, being a metroplex dog, she was way too good to play with these hillbillies that live in the sticks.

So the dogs went to their own areas and went to snoozing.  But the story doesn’t end there.  As we were wrapping up for the night, my friend said, “I need to get something out of my truck before you lock up.”  I said, “Okay sure” and started cleaning up and whatnot.

When he went out the front door, Jetta turned her skin inside out, transformed into a Tasmanian devil and went for the kill on poor little Oliver who was passed out cold.  I grabbed her harness to pull her off of him… and she ate my face.

I went to the ground with her so that I could pin her down and try to control those teeth that were flailing in all directions.  The Vampire Wife was laughing her head off and simply asked, “Are you okay?”  That’s when I looked up at her and she could see all the blood.  She quit laughing.

Although, the part I find absolutely hilarious is thinking about it from my friend’s standpoint when he walked in.  Dogs are passed out in such calm tranquility when he walks out the door.  He comes back in 45 seconds later to find me laying on top of his dog, clutching her in a death grip, with puncture wounds on my chin, with my face, shirt, jeans all covered in blood.

He just kinda stood there with his iPhone in his hand, completely stunned.  He just said, “….what…..happened?” with his eyebrows up as far as they can go. I still laugh every time I think about what it would be like to come back in the house to see that.

The kicker?  The next day I was the speaker for the Lions club here.  Oh well, at least telling the story of the facial wounds gave me an icebreaker to get the crowd loosened up.

So a tetanus shot later (those things hurt for days!) and a round of antibiotics, I’m all healed up.  Oh and bonus – I have a wicked cool Indiana Jones scar in the crease of my chin now!  I was all proud of it and showing the Vampire Wife and she said, “Indiana Jones has a scar on his chin?”  *sigh*

We were talking about my friend last night (he and I text through the Rangers games so that I can make fun of his favorite player and he can tell me how his guy is better than my guy blah blah blah) and the Vampire Wife said, “He should come visit more often… without Jetta.”

I agreed.

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I don’t really know why, but we’ve never taken Duchess down to the duck pond (which has geese as well as ducks).  We’ve walked by it a zillion times on walks, but have never actually taken her there to get up close and personal with those nasty little suckers.  They have it fenced off… presumably to protect the little hissing, bad attitude birds, but I think it’s really so they don’t come bite the noses off curious dogs and fingers off of rosy cheeked toddlers.

They really are despicable little things.  They run around honking and squawking and hissing like you’re there to wreak havoc on their little slice of heaven.  I mean come on, how dare us bring foodables for them to eat so that they don’t have to forage for it?  The audacity of us humans.

Come to think of it, now I remember why I haven’t taken Duchess there until now.

Anyway, the Vampire Wife had some old bread the other day she wanted to go give to the grouchy hobo geese, so we grabbed the dogs and headed out the door.  I don’t think you can hear it on the video, but there was one particularly nasty goose that was hissing at us as we were walking along.  Duchess was quite disturbed.  You can see her stopping and looking back at me periodically to make sure I was hearing the maximum rudeness of the stupid honker.

And here the dogs are wondering why The Boy is throwing away perfectly good foodables to such ungrateful hobo birds.

You might be wondering where the little one is during all this?  Oliver the Anti-Social is, of course, hiding under my legs wanting to go back home so he can go back to sitting under an end table and staring at the wall.  Weirdo.

After The Boy threw about three loaves of bread out in about 20 seconds (he was more fascinated with the fish in the pond and was trying to create a monster swarm of fish by throwing out a bunch at once) we were ready to come back home… but not until Duchess gave the hobo birds a dirty stare (I don’t know why there are no birds in this picture).

We’ll have to go back again soon so that I can take some pictures of the noisy little urchins (and the fish swarms… those are pretty freaky).  It’s starting to get pretty hot and we are the exact opposite of warm weather people, so don’t keep your paws crossed.

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If you’re my facebook friend, then you know that we were shocked a while back when we tried to buy some bones for the dogs at the local grocery store and they told us no.  Well, we were in another town to run some errands and stopped by their grocery store and guess what… they were more than happy to sell us a product in exchange for money.  How strange is that?

I asked the butcher if he had some large bones for my dogs.  He said, “Sure.” and disappeared for a while.  He came back holding something out of a caveman movie.  He asked if I wanted it whole, and I told him to cut it into thirds.  He packaged it up for us and off we went.

Duchess was most pleased with our offering.

We headed outside to get some sun and let the dogs gnaw on their new present for the rest of the day.

Only problem was that Duchess thought all three pieces belonged to her.  Here she is planning her attack on the anti social corgi.

So I had to split everyone up.  Good thing our backyard is pretty big.

I don’t think Jake moved from that spot for about four hours.  Duchess finally settled in and went to work.

Only problem was that around 5:00 the next morning, she started whining and whimpering and wouldn’t stop.  I finally got up and let her out and she bolted across the yard and proceeded to shoot a poop rainbow across the yard.  I’m surprised she didn’t wake up the whole neighborhood with her little concert.

Good thing I keep medicine on hand for occasions like this.  So… we learned a valuable lesson here:  If your local butcher refuses to sell you giant dinosaur bones for your dogs, you should listen to him.

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Anyone else heard of this book?  I’ve seen it recommended for dog lovers on various boards and discussions, but had never really checked it out.  So today I stopped by the library and picked it up and began to thumb through it.

It had a picture of a Golden on the cover which immediately drew me in since we own one.  I read the jacket on it and was intrigued by the story line, so I flipped to the back few pages.

You see, I’m a pretty slow reader and it takes me quite a while to get through a book.  If I’m going to make a commitment to reading the thing, I need to know how it ends.  Call me weird – it’s just how I am.

So there I was, standing in the middle of the library reading the ending to a book before I possibly check it out and I was only able to make it through about a half of a page before I had to put it down and gather myself for a bit.  I’m not going to go into details about the book (especially since I haven’t read it) but one of the words used on the dust jacket seems to wrap it up nicely – heartwrenching.

I opened the book again and tried to pick up where I left off, but just couldn’t do it.  I quickly closed the book and placed it back on the shelf – dropping it like it had the hibbity dibbities (I hope my friend Slusher reads that – that’s his word… he’ll be so proud).

I hopped back in the truck and sped across town like a man on fire to get home and love on the doggies – filled with that strong desire to squeeze the fur right off of them and get that lump out of my throat.

Oh how quickly things can change.

I came home and busted into their room to find that Oliver the Anti Social Corgi had pooped on the floor.  He wasn’t sick or anything… just decided he couldn’t hold it any longer it seems.  It’s a good thing I had just read a few pages out of that book – I think the author might have just saved the life of a weird, socially awkward little dog.

If I could make one request though out there to all the aspiring authors… how about a nice happy dog book?  One where the dog lives forever and ever and ever because when it gets to be five years old it keeps waking back up as a puppy.  Now that’s the kind of book I could really get behind.

I wouldn’t even have to read how it ends before I check it out.

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Nothing big going on today, except for a change in the weather.  It’s the first day that the weather’s been nice in a long time, so we took advantage of it and went for a quick walk around the neighborhood.  We actually got down the street a ways when we realized we’d forgotten the camera so Duchess and I bolted back to the house.

It’s really the first time we’ve ran together with a leash (not supposed to jog with a Dane until they’re about 2 years old due to the growth plates not being finished yet), but it was just a short ways so it wasn’t a big deal.  It was pretty funny to watch her though.  The vampire wife said she looked like a rabbit/horse the way she was loping and bounding down the street.

Once we got the camera, we headed back out.

And no, Duchess did not poop out a newspaper the way it appears in this picture.

Then headed down the street.  Notice Jake is walking in the gutter.  That’s his designated spot to walk and he’s quite OCD about it.  I actually think the real reason behind it is that his footpads are extremely soft and sensitive so asphalt hurts him.  One time when he was a lot younger, his pads actually came completely off one morning when we were jogging.  I didn’t notice it until we got back to the house and bloody paw prints were all over the driveway as we headed to the door.  Talk about feeling THIS small.  I felt so bad for him.  So, now we just let him walk in the gutter just in case the theory is correct.

The old man leading the way.  He’s also OCD about having to be out in front of the other dogs.  That has nothing to do with anything other than the fact that he has a big ego.

Stopping for a quick break in the sunset.  Hard to believe he’s getting this old… he’s mostly white now.  I was watching him walk while I was behind him on the last bit of the walk and he has hardly any motion in his back hips anymore.  He basically swings them around to move the rear legs up in his stride.  It’s one of those heartbreaking moments in dog ownership that can really put a lump in your throat.

And rounding the corner heading home.  I can’t believe I went back for the camera and absolutely nothing interesting happened on the walk.  We did run into one guy with a tiny little dog, but he quickly jumped to the other side of the street and wanted nothing to do with us, so no photo ops there.

As we got back to the house, our good friend and neighbor Tilman pulled into his driveway and he came out to visit.  He’s one of the coolest guys we’ve ever met.  He stated, “Just look at that menagerie!”  He’s pretty sure that we’re insane for having this many dogs.  He’s always good to love on them though – even if they do “slime” him as he calls it.

Sorry for the blurry pic – it was getting dark and the camera couldn’t quite keep up with the motion anymore. Not to mention Duchess likes to spaz out when she sees him which sort of multiplies the whole “blurry” issue.

Then back across the street to the house. Notice the good dog sitting perfectly still, paying attention, and not being held on the leash while the other goobers aren’t?

Sorry if that wasn’t the most entertaining of posts.  However, I guess that’s a good thing to point out – that owning a pack of dogs isn’t always entertaining.  Sometimes it’s just doing the boring old basics, like exercising them regularly.  Walking as a pack is a natural thing for dogs (even if you just have one dog, they still see you as being part of their pack) and does so much for them, not just physically but mentally as well.

So if you live around here and own a dog… break out that leash if you haven’t used it in a while and enjoy this week of warmer weather!

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Oliver is a Johnny Cash fan…

Or so it seems.  We took this picture today mainly for facebook and twitter for Johnny Cash’s birthday, but since Oliver the Anti-Social corgi insisted on posing in the picture I figure I’d better blog about it.  He usually doesn’t want anything to do with situations like this and almost always turns his head away if you point a camera at him.

This time was exactly the opposite.  I was messing around with the camera and noticed that he had hopped right in there and was posing beautifully.  He was even smiling.  I guess since he is mostly black that he felt like it was appropriate to set his neurosis aside for a brief moment to honor the Man in Black.

It didn’t last long though.  We’re now in the living room and Oliver’s off hiding behind a recliner or end table somewhere.  I guess I know what to do now when we need a good picture of him at least.  Hmmm, wonder if we should rent “Walk the Line” tonight for him?

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So we loaded up and went to town (we live in the boonies – we’re just a jalopy away from being hillbillies) to take the boy to gamble… I mean… play token games at an arcade as his reward for getting straight A’s.  Don’t judge me.  I can hear the tsk tsk’s from here through the magic of the interwebz.  He enjoys it, and as long as he’s not spending his lunch money on them or gets in trouble for some sort of organized crime at elementary school, I’m fine with it.  Well, he does have a little racket going to “upgrade” lunchroom desserts for a small fee, but I don’t see anything wrong with that – that’s just fostering an entrepreneurial spirit and future life skill I think.

Anyway, we made the trip and I needed to stop by Petsmart (like we always do) just to take a couple of quick pictures for an upcoming blog entry that I’m doing.  Well I’m not sure exactly how it happened, but we made a trip down the toy aisle without Duchess being there.  Ooooh stupid, stupid humans.  If you remember in previous entries, she turns her nose up at the toys, which keeps us moving right along.  That didn’t happen today with her not there.

We came home with new toys and reloaded our training treats… oh, and a cool bathing mitt like we used at the groomer’s once.  That thing worked like a charm and made all kinds of lather.  I’ll test it out and let you know how it works later.

Do you see the big alligator?  Or is it a crocodile?  I’m not certain… but I’m going with alligator because A is before C in the alphabet.  That’s how I settle most debates where I know absolutely nothing about the subject matter, and I don’t know jack about the differences between alligators and crocodiles when it comes to stuffed toys.  Real life crocodiles and alligators?  Now we can talk – but stuffed toy ones?  I ain’t got nothin’ to say to you.

So yes, the alligator in the picture.  One of us (I can’t remember which, you know, from being all overstimulated by the aisle of brightly colored toys and no dog to supervise us), found it in the aisle and I went “OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!!!!” and my vampire wife went, “NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!”.  Why?  Read this tag attached to the alligator…

Oliver the Anti-Social Corgi HATES, LOATHES, and DETESTS squeaky toys.  I mean, not in a disinterested, aloof sort of way.  More of a “I’m going to absolutely come unglued and be the Ike to your Tina Turner if you squeak that idiotic thing one more time” kind of way.  Which means of course I just had to buy it.  I like to think of it as – confronting that which you fear or detest the most.  Yeah, that’s it.

Duchess was a little timid with the alligator at first.  Wait a minute.  That thing needs a name.  Something with that level of magnitude can NOT just remain “the alligator” and it can’t be named anything cutesie like her “woobie” (mainly because she already has a woobie).  So if any readers have a good name for it, please leave me a comment with your suggestion!

Where was I?  (Man I am ADD tonight.  I think it’s the fact that I haven’t had food for quite some time and my blood sugar is getting all whack.  Feeling a little tingly and lightheaded at this point.)  Oh yes, she’s timid with the unnamed alligator – I think because we’ve never let her have anything like this before because toys of this sort usually get shredded in a matter of  hours after they cross our threshold.

After a few minutes though she was jumping and flinging it around.  I tried to get a movie of this in progress to share, but when she hears the beep of the camera turn on she always stops whatever it is she’s doing.

The funny thing – Oliver the Anti Social Corgi didn’t seem to mind the squeakers at all.  Go figure.  Jake didn’t want much to do with it either.  We then moved on to the new Kong Wubba thingymajig that’s a fun toss around toy that looks pretty indestructible.

She loves to play catch… but in this case she missed.

And this is a blurry picture of what she looks like when she leaps into the air to catch it and almost hits the ceiling fan (she can get some serious air when she jumps straight up).

That’s all well and good, but there’s really only one way to see if she really approves of the new additions – and that’s if she tries to look really cute to get your attention while she’s playing.  These passed the test.

I thought I took one of her doing this with the alligator too, but it’s magically disappeared… or dustappeared as my boy likes to say.  Hmmm.

Something else happened at Petsmart yesterday.  As we were strolling the aisles, my vampire wife stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes got huge and she did one of her heart-stopping gasps that she’s so famous for.  Of course, I stopped, clutched my heart, felt my stomach go in knots for a second… thinking we left the garage door open, she left a candle going, the curling iron is on and lying right underneath a pile of kleenex soaked in gasoline… you know, the usual things that go through your mind when someone gasps as if a ghost has passed right through their soul.

But no, it wasn’t anything like that.  She was just barely able to utter something (at about 48920592 words per minute I might add).  It sounded something like “gahrfenladle”.  I don’t know what a “gahrfenladle” is so I asked again and she said, “GOLDENDOODLE!  SOMEONE JUST SAID GOLDENDOODLE!”  I don’t know if you remember… but she’s obsessed with Goldendoodles.  Somehow in a giant department store full of people, barking dogs, etc. my wife was able to hear someone say the word Goldendoodle.  It’s the vampire in her I think.

We took off and we hunted down this very nice mom and daughter that had this goldendoodle with them.  My vampire wife asked to pet him and I could see the wheels turning in her head – “now how do I incapacitate these two ladies so that I can bolt out of here with this dog?”

See that look on her face?  That’s usually the look most women get when they meet someone’s new baby.  In our house it’s a little different.  We get those looks when we see a dog we reeeeeeeeally want.  I think there may be trouble on the horizon… according to the sounds from her laptop, she’s playing Farmville and CafeWorld, but I’m just wondering if those are up and running as a front, and there’s really a browser window open with a google search for nearby Goldendoodles going on.

When will we ever learn to stay away from Petsmart?

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Every night, we put the boy down to bed, feed the three dogs, and settle in for the evening.  After they’re all done eating they take a potty break then come back inside.  This is when some strange phenomenon occurs.  I don’t know exactly how it got started… it just sorta happened I guess.  Perhaps they said, “Hey, I like to chew on big hunks of plastic after I eat.  As do I.  Well let’s form a club then.” (That’s a completely self indulgent Mitch Hedberg reference there for those who are thinking that makes absolutely no sense.)

They each pick out a nylabone, pick a spot to camp out on, and go to town chewing.  It’s like a community chew time.  It’s great I guess because it’s kind of like brushing their teeth – without all the squirming and gnawing and fighting and whatnot.  Have you ever tried to brush your dog’s teeth?  I have.  It was… unsuccessful.  I may try again some time, but for now the nylabone will have to do.

We looooove nylabones around this house.  They last for a long time considering the massive force that they’re subjected to, and keep the doggies happy when they feel like they need something to do.  We have tons of them – scattered ALL over the house.  Santa even brought a few this year since the old ones were getting worn down and needed to be retired.

There’s only one drawback though.  The ends where those chompers go to work get these little sharp prongs that stick out.  I don’t know how they manage to chew these things, but no one is complaining so far.  Sometimes we have to take it away from Jake if he gets a little too ambitious with it because he’ll make himself bleed (remember, he’s the insane one… obviously has a self mutilation problem).

Here’s a picture of one that’s been worked over pretty good.  I don’t know how well you can see the little prongs of death, but trust me they’re there.  I have no clue what that brown gunk is on it, and I’m not asking any questions.  Some things are better left as a mystery.

It’s not really a problem until it’s 2 AM and you have to go to the bathroom.  Imagine getting out of bed, staggering blindly around in a dark house still in a half-asleep stupor just to step on a cactus with your bare feet.  No wait… a cactus that’s on fire, has been covered in super glue, rolled in shards of glass, dipped in kerosene, lit on fire with napalm, then coated with a nice helping of bee stingers.  There.  I think that pretty much describes what it’s like stepping on one of those landmines in the middle of the night.

It’s quite easy to tell when my wife, the vampire, has found one in the middle of the night with her tootsies.  I’d always thought of vampires as being very refined, cultured, and quite elegant.  It’s funny how a hunk of plastic can throw all of those preconceived notions out the window in a heartbeat.

Maybe they should put that in the next Twilight movie? (disclaimer – I’ve never seen, read, or touched anything Twilight.  They seem way too… sparkly for me.)

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We’ve had our great dane (should that be capitalized?  Who cares – it’s my blog and I’ll do what I want… actually that will drive me crazy and I’ll have to google that later) for about 5 months now or so.  After each day has brought what has seemed to be an unending string of comedic events, accidents, and other things that just make you stop and say, “That just happened?!?!?” I’ve decided that I should start some sort of a blog to keep track of these things.

No one will probably read it, but at least my family will have it here for posterity.  So many things have happened in this short span of time that I kept talking myself out of starting this because I kept thinking there’s absolutely no way anything else interesting will happen.  I would think this after I would look at our aging golden retriever, Jake, just snoozing away on the floor, waking up every couple of hours just to change positions just to go back to sleep again.  However, I just have this feeling that Duchess is going to be full of adventures.

Before we get ahead of ourselves, I want to take you back to 1997 when I brought home a little ball of fur that could fit in your pocket named Dottie.  The picture below was taken of her in her prime – somewhere around 2002 I believe, and also when I was just learning how to use my camera.

Dottie was FULL of adventures.  I could dedicate an entire blog site to her shenanigans and things that she put our family through, but I won’t go into those here.  There were about a bazillion emergency vet visits as a result of things she got into (some because she just had that attitude that comes along with a rat terrier, and some inadvertently).  Spider bites, falling off the vet’s exam table to get a concussion, unwrapping about 70 individually wrapped Reese’s peanut butter cups and eating them all, purposefully pooping on the people she loved most as some bizarre initiation ritual known only to rat terriers… it was quite an eventful life she had.

We weren’t supposed to be able to have children, and she filled that void in our household for a long, long time.  She was our first baby, and we loved her so.  Unfortunately a little over a year ago (I think) she had reached that point where she was no longer living a full and meaningful life.  It’s that point that all pet owners dread from the moment they pick up their new companion and experience the joy of puppy breath.

She was grey, feeble, blind, in pain, and lost all sense of what’s going on around her.  We just couldn’t stand to see her live like that any longer.  So we made the excruciating decision to put her down.  Even though we knew it was the best thing to do, it felt like leading our own child to be slaughtered.

After watching Jake (the golden mentioned above – were you paying attention?) start to deteriorate over a few months, the decision was made to begin the search for another puppy.  (Oh, we also have a corgi named Oliver, but he probably won’t be mentioned much because he’s quite anti-social – refusing to partake in any type of puppy activities or behaviors… he’s a little… off.)

After researching for many, many months it was decided that we needed a great dane.  That seems reasonable right?  A small house with two dogs, a 6 year old boy, and two adults really needs a small pony living inside with them don’t they?  It’s quite obvious we’re insane and lack reasoning skills.

Anyway, there’s a little background.  I’ll try to recount some events that have taken place over the last few months as well as chronicle things that are currently happening.  We’ll see how it goes.

Oh, and to give you a little visual, here are all the dogs in our star-studded cast.

Jake the golden

Oliver the anti-social pembroke welsh corgi (don’t let the cuteness fool you, he’s certifiably looney tunes)

And the star of our show… Duchess the Great Dane (one of her puppy pics… she’s ginormous now)

I hope people actually read and follow this – it will keep me motivated to keep it updated.

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