TWooie’s probably disgusted that I just trivialized Remembrance Day by marginalizing that poem.
But it’s not like we can even have a moment of silence around here. TWoo and Dex are too busy making ugly noises at one another. The unfriendlieness between those two wants to come to a head, like a festering boil. Last night, Dexter lifted his leg in my house! He marked my mudroom wall after he and TWoo had a growl-off about who got to guard the cat-food-in-bathroom-slash-go-outside corridor, and then he marched into the living room and lifted his leg on TWooie’s bed.
If you ask me, someone would be wise to remember that he has testicles, because the leg lifting just reminded me that it’s about time to have those things removed.
Although I can maybe just chalk it up to some supremely frustrated dogs. The time change means it’s now dark when I get up to go to work and dark when I get home too, and while I’ve lived with dogs, a job and time changes for lo many a year, I’ve not had to do it out here in the stix, where streetlights are a rarity. It’s pitch black outside no matter where I go, so we are confined to walking down the end of my dead end road and back several times as a piss poor excuse for “exercise.” Lame! You can practically see the little frustration tornadoes exploding in Dexter’s adolescent brain.
In the mornings I rotate between having Tweed and then Piper in the shelter with me. Can’t bring in the WooTWoo because they obsess over the guinea pigs on the counter. I’ve also been bringing my 2X2’s to work with me in the truck, and on my lunch break Dex and I go out and practice in the parking lot. Then he gets to come into the shelter with me for the rest of the afternoon where he drives my coworkers insane by playing with a squeaky toy for hours on end, and greets all visitors with a football for them to throw. I used to take them for a hike or game of ball at a nearby park after work (sometimes the one by my parents’ place, as they then feed me dinner!), thus accomplishing both exercise and missing the commute crush home, but now it’s dark long before my shift ends.
Horrors of horrors … I’m contemplating getting myself a head lamp so we can walk the dykes in the dark. That’s what it’s come to. How embarrassing.
There are many hazards of walking in the stix in the dark you know! Aside from the obvious ones like tripping/falling down and coyotes, there are also potentially SPIDERS, and the most insidious danger of them all – the dead fish. I just know there are dead fish out there, and I know it because the other night when I went to bed after our evening walk, there was an overpowering smell of fish in my bedroom … which turned out to be emanating from Wootie, who had clearly rolled in one on our walk. I hate the 11PM dog bath!!!
Everyone was happy today when we went out for an extra long walk along the dykes and through the blueberry fields. Now that it’s November, the fields are once again empty of workers and can be re-incorporated into our walking routine. Especially Mr. Handsome Young Man. Look how nicely he is turning out!
He’s still a little taller in the back than the front, but he is starting to even out a little more every day. He’s also no longer a beanpole draped in pathetic puppy coat – he’s muscular and athletic and growing some real fur.
And speaking of fur, we haz it – in abundance! I don’t know if it’s been a cooler year, or if the dogs’ biological clocks know that it’s going to be a brutal winter, or if it’s just because for the last year I had no job but I did have a yard and we spent a lot more time outside, but whatever the reason, my dogs are growing coats like nothing I have ever seen in their lives. Even PIPER is hairy – and I mean really hairy, with undercoat that is matting and everything. Someone recently called her “fat” but when they laid hands on her, realized it’s all hair!
And Tweed looks like a cotton ball, with all this incredibly manly chest hair.
Does anyone else have any extra-coated dogs this year? We are spending a lot more time getting up close and personal with the grooming kit or I can’t keep the matts under control. It’s crazy!
It’s almost as crazy as the voting storm that has overtaken poor DogSport Magazine and NTI’s contest! hahahahaha! Oh those people people didn’t know what hit ’em when we asked for your votes. Dexter is blowing every other photo out of the water. That doesn’t mean he’ll win, but I think he deserves to ;-) He’s such an archetype of an athletic, driven, focused, intelligent dog … and it doesn’t hurt that his photo is pretty nice too. But thank you all for your support! That was so fun to watch :)
I don’t know how he doesn’t fall down more often.
Sadly, there will be no Chet updates because due a long, depressing story that makes one really wonder if the phrase “good breeder” is an oxymoron, he is no longer coming into rescue. There’s no point in sharing the story, but let me just say that it’s wise to remember that just because someone is a big deal in dog circles doesn’t mean they have a well calibrated moral compass, or any moral compass at all for that matter. The more breeders I meet, the more I like my rescue dogs.
It’s probably for the best on THIS end, because me and my dogs could all use the break, and I now I won’t have to quarantine myself from visiting the Candy Puppies at Hilary’s (yay!) In fact, I may go visit them tomorrow, so watch for an update! In the meantime, another rescue offered me a dingo (yes, an ACTUAL dingo!), which I really, really had to think about really hard before saying no. Because of COURSE I want a dingo!! But really, I shouldn’t have a dingo.
Yeah, no. No.