Posts Tagged ‘Corgi’

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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