Archives for category: Dog

The other day I asked Brian if he would have a picture of our sweet little Lexi drawn for me when I got home. He never asked why I wanted this and he didn’t need to. I had no reason. I just felt compelled to ask for a drawing of my hippo-faced dog.

Here’s the result:

I was impressed.  Super impressed actually! The more I look at it though the more it looks like she’s a criminal on the loose being searched for. Is it just me or does this look like a police sketch of some suspected murderer or something?

Then I got to thinking, if Lexi were a criminal, what would she be wanted for? The most obvious one that comes to mind is hamburglary. She would be the canine equivalent to the Hamburglar. Her problem is she looks more like Grimace.

This post really has nothing to do with anything. This is what happens when you don’t sleep well the night before and you wake up with a clogged-full-of-wax right ear. My apologies if you’ve actually made it this far…


Saturday. A day reserved for errands and general merriment. Almost every week my husband and I go to PetSmart either for a vet appointment or just to get the dogs bones or a toy or just to torture myself with the adoptable puppies available.

This past Saturday was no different. Well, there was one difference, when we stopped at PetSmart we were parked across from a brand new Aston Martin. I was ready to divorce my husband, not for the guy driving it, but for the actual car. It was a beauty.

Back to the story, I was holding one of the adoptable puppies doing my routine of begging Brian for one when one of the vet techs walks by, “Oh are you all thinking of getting a third?” Dangit. How does everyone here know exactly who we are? “Oh no,” we say, “we were just stopping by to look.”

Fast forward a few minutes at the checkout line where we’re buying our dog’s another bed. We currently have five beds for two dogs but that’s a different story for a different time. We were checking out and the lady said, “Now you all have two dogs right?”

“Yes,” we both said.

“And which one is this for?”

“The smaller brown one.”

“Oh ok and what is the other one again?”

“The shar-pei/lab mix. We’re here a lot…”

“Yeah, like a ton…” she said.

I was too embarrassed to even act offended because it made me laugh. It’s a sad day when everyone at PetSmart knows who you are. Do you have stores or restaraunts where everyone there knows you? Please let me know I’m not alone…

Also, is this sad that this has been the highlight to my week? I think it’s time for some adventure…

 I think everyone here knows I love my dogs more than a lot of things. Even more than some people that I know! Yes, honey, some days I love them even more than you!

But then there are days that I just want to wring their cute little necks. Especially when they listen to everyone but their own mother and father.

I can’t tell you how many times Sadie (the brown one) won’t come in when we call her.

She really is the most stubborn dog I have ever been around in my entire life.

And nothing makes me more angry than when I have an audience for her stubbornness. And then that audience gets to see me struggle to try to get her inside while she’s barking insanely at the neighbors. And then said audience, we’ll call that audience Lauren, goes to the back door, says, “SADIE GET IN RIGHT NOW!” And then the stubborn dog runs in like she miraculously got her hearing back and knows to come in.

I think she’s just trying to be a rebel and rebel against her parents. Or maybe she’s just a punk. 

Yeah, she’s just a punk.

Here I am, totally uninspired and uninspiring.

I am sitting here watching Let’s Make A Deal on yet another snow day. Which, let’s be real, I am not complaining about. But with all this snow comes a lot of indoor time. The dogs want to play but I’m not going outside in below freezing weather to throw a tennis ball. And I know we’ve been warned about yellow snow, but what about chocolate snow? I’m just saying…

Also, I’m itchy. All of this cold weather has made my skin dry. It’s driving me crazy. How much lotion does a girl have to put on? I feel like I have little ants running up and down my legs. I mean it doesn’t help that I haven’t shaved in like a week, but still, the dryness is killing me.

But the worst thing ever? My husband and I are eating the same foods, and both working out about the same and he is looking slim and trim and I still have my muffin top. Hmph! I’m sure you ladies can feel my pain, right? RIGHT?

The good news is, is that I’m alive, I’m healthy, and the snow should be melting in the next day and it’s going to be a nice weekend!  Also, I have a cheat meal in my future…I live for cheat meals…

This week the dogs decided to be little turds.

The end.

Ok, not really.

I have not had one morning go by without at least one of them waking me up. And it’s not like the “Oh yes, I still have three hours of slept left” wake-up. It’s the “You stupid dog–I had ten minutes of sleep left and you ROBBED ME OF THAT” wake-up. It’s annoying to say the least.

Sadie, the brown one, is the main culprit. She scratches to get out, so I let her out. Then ten minutes later she scratches for me to get up. Just to sit out there with her. All she does is sleep on the couch after she forces me out of bed. It’s like a game to her. A sick, mind-bending game.

I’m pretty sure the only reason these two are not sleeping well is because of two small, itty-bitty changes to the bedroom. (I almost typed their bedroom–Freudian slip I suppose.) We took out the rug and changed out their beds from the bedroom and put the ones from our living room in the bedroom. BABIES-get over it and leave me alone!

A couple of mornings ago the black one woke me up by sitting right next to me in bed, her face in my face, whining. All she wanted was attention.

HMPH! Do these dogs know how much I value my sleep? They may find out if they wake me up one more time. They will find themselves sleeping in the doghouse.

Either Lexi is talented enough to cook her own dinner (and if that’s the case she needs to start cooking mine) or she was waiting for some phantom meal that I cooked to be ready.

She’s special in every way.

And yes, our kitchen really is this small. It’s not just the angle.

And no, it is never this clean ever so I’m not really sure when this was taken. I’m guessing everything was on the other countertop not seen in the picture.

And yes, Lexi is adorable and worried all at the same time.

And no, you can’t have the whale magnet on my refrigerator.

All Sadie, the brown dog, wants to do is fetch.

That’s it. That’s what she lives for in her life.

She would do this twenty-four hours a day if we let her.

Or if another dog named Lexi would let her.

You see, Lexi, aka The Bulldozer, has a bit of a problem with playtime. I don’t think she had any siblings when she was a puppy and never learned how to play.

And people, please don’t ask me how I got our yard to look this good. God just blessed with a naturally beautiful yard full of browness.

This is Lexi’s idea of playing:

Don’t fetch the ball–fetch SADIE.

Sadie begs and pleads with her to stop.

But that just angers the beast.

This is about the point I have to step in and take matters into my own hands.

I wrestle Lexi and put her in her place.

Ok, that’s a lie. I just hold her back until Sadie has a chance to breathe and/or regain consciousness.

Now, you all know I love my dogs. I love them more than my husband most days. But sometimes they do something that makes me want to pack their bags and ship them off to their grandparent’s house.

Last night the brown dog, we’ll call her Sadie (mainly because that’s her name), decided it would be fun to bark at the random neighbor who was out at 10:00pm talking on her phone while it was 20 degrees outside. [Side note: I overheard her telling the person she was on the phone with that she should have a safe word–kumquat. I don’t even want to know what that convo was about. Although I strained with all my might to hear what it was about.]  She would not come in for anything. I said the magic words: Bone, grandpa, bedtime, treat, Cheeto…NOTHING worked.

So there my husband and I were at 10:30 (I know that’s not late but for us it’s way past our bedtime) running around the backyard with sticks. Obviously not to hit her with, but she loves to chew on sticks and that was our only strategy to lure her in.  Of course it didn’t work so we just gave up and went in.

Five minutes later we hear a ‘scratch, scratch’ on the back door. After forty-five minutes of chasing her around the backyard she decided she was cold and ready for bed.

We’ve definitely created a brown, furry monster.

Oh is there anything more fun than taking your dogs to the vet? Most of you probably have well-behaved dogs that enjoy public outings and act like civilized members of society.

I do not.

I had to take the worst behaving one this morning. And as always it was a nightmare.

Where do I begin? She whines constantly, the whole car ride there she whines. She drools, everywhere. She is 85 pounds of solid muscle (that’s what I keep telling myself–in reality she’s probably 65 pounds of fat and 20 pounds of muscle) and is awful on a leash.

And the topper…she poops on the scale almost every. single. time. It’s like she has no control over that bottom of hers. I get it, she’s nervous, but I can only apologize for the humongous pile of doody that she expels so many times.

Then when we’re waiting for the doctor it’s more whining, panting, drooling, climbing on me, expelling of hair. Luckily she didn’t drop anything else on the floor.

Also, please don’t steal my Faux Uggs [Fuggs]/Sweatpants style. It’s MINE!

Too sum up my visit, which was for what I thought was a deadly skin disease and a horribly hurt back leg, the vet basically said, “Ehh, I think it’s dry skin and she may have the beginning stages of arthritis. But her poop is immaculate and she’s a giant fat lard-o.” Ok, the vet didn’t say the last part, but I could tell she was thinking it.

Needless to say the pain and agony of taking a big, giant baby to the vet was all for naught.

I won’t even go into the story about the guy there with a Chihuahua that was not on a leash…ugh.

Am I the only who’s ready for it to be the weekend? I know most of you had a four-day work week.  I wasn’t so fortunate so I’m really ready.

My plan is to watch some football, eat (isn’t that my plan for every weekend?), and just relax. 

How about you?

On a totally unrelated note, I was going through some old pictures of the dogs and somehow I’d missed this gem of a photo the first time I went through them:

Who knew I had a dog who could curl her tongue!  Now if only I could teach her to do that on command.  I’d be RICH. Ok, maybe not rich but it’d be pretty cool.

She also has a talent of swatting at spiders with babies all over it’s back sending the babies scattering all over our kitchen floor.  But that’s another story for another time. 

I’m traumatized.

Have a fabulous weekend!