(*actual post may not be entirely wordless)
Where he’s from:
Which is why he can do this:
Other news that is out of this world:
Oh come on TWooie. You can do better than that. I expect more of you.
You’re one demanding beeyotch, you know that?
Fine. Hold on.
*Blurble* I think I got something *Blurble*
Here! HAPPY NOW?!?!
Day-um! This thing is fiesty!
If it bites me, you are in so much trouble lady!
*grumble* I gotta do everything around here.
Great Sculpin! Only TWooie can catch the sea creatures like this. He is a small miracle in a hairy package.
It was quite a large fish!
And kind of mean too. It totally sliced me open with one of its spines when I wrestled it from TWooie’s jaws in order to place it back in the water.
Of course, it was probably pretty pissed off.
What befuddles me most about TWooie’s incredibly fishing skills is that he’s from land locked Prince George, and had probably never seen the ocean before he landed at Casa de Food Lady. Moreover, after two years with West Coast me, he remains totally phobic of the sea.
It’s too deep! And cold! And wet! And SCAAAAARRRRRYYYYYY!!!
Come on, TWooie. It’s not that deep. Getcher butt out here.
No. I don’t want to. You can’t make me.
I’m going home.
I guess you can’t really blame him for being afraid. There are scary things lurking in the ocean.
Terrifying seaweed covered monsters!
Monsters who are INSANE!
Insane monsters who eat little dogs!!!
We are absolutely loving this fantastic weather!
A sunny day at the beach playing with the Wootie Toy™ was just what the doctor ordered!
Everyone was having a super good time.
They ran themselves ragged…
Jumped for joy…
Were just generally beyond happy…
… and pooped themselves right out :)
We hope you and your dogs all get a chance to play on the beach this weekend too!
But if you do, remember … don’t touch TWooie’s fish!
TWooie learns stuff!
Do you see that? That’s TWooie jumping in the air for a ball!!
But before you get all gushy with the accolades about my mad training skillz and how I finally taught TWooie to play with toys, let me be transparent with you.
TWooie has NO intention of catching that ball, or even trying to catch that ball. *I* have not taught an old dog a new trick. Rather TWooie has learned from example. Watching the other dogs get some air for the ball, TWooie has learned the following:
Did I figure it out? Is this what you wanted? I can haz cookie now, stupid two legger?
This damn dog is smarter than I thought. He remains eternally uninterested in playing with a rubber ball or a toy of any description. He also remains perpetually fascinated with the concept of receiving food. Therefore, he goes through all the motions of playing with the toy, except for the act of playing with the toy itself.
He haz The Wise.
Tweed, OTOH, has no intention of playing with this toy either.
Yeah. Right. Not.
For Tweed recognizes this toy from work, and is aware that it squeaks when operated by a dog’s mouth. And for all Tweed’s many fine qualities, bravery in the face of a squeaky toy is not one of them. Tweed fears squeaky toys. Once I accidentally brought a squeaking tennis ball to the beach for fetch and on the first chompy retrieve it made The Sound … he dropped it in the ocean, crawled under a log and pouted for the remainder of the outing.
Of course, this squeaky toy no longer squeaks because my old coworker Auntie Angela ripped it out of Dexter’s mouth one afternoon, jammed a pen in it, handed it back to him and stomped off back to her office. It’s been silent ever since ;-)
Dexter doesn’t care. As long as it flies, he is happy to follow after it.
Spring is also not fussy – noise, no noise, she just wants all the toys for herself. Rolling in dead worms is awesome, but being Keeper Of All Fun Things is better. So play she will.
And such a pretty picture she makes too!
Unlike some fat dogs I could name.
I’ve been squeezing the Fat Orange for a few days now, relentlessly, and he’s not as fat as I thought. He is, however, holding onto his winter coat for dear life and is determined not to give it up for anything. He is by no means skinny, but his coat definitely gives him the illusion of hiding a Volkswagon in his torso.
He will just never enjoy the svelte physique of Dexter “Long Stride” Morgan. And can I just admit that I love this photograph? He may suck at agility, and he may try my patience and get on my last nerve, but damn is he ever good lookin’!! :)
I just happen to have some fine dogs!
Less waxing poetic, more pretend fetching for food pleaz!!
The king has spoken!
I am working on another Wootube book for ya’ll – if you have a favourite post or photo that you want to see in it, let me know! I am trying really hard to find the time to put it all together so I can raise the rest of the money I need for Nationals, which is just over a month away, but the timing could not be worse. I just quit my job(!!). Oh yes I did! I accepted another more senior position at a different shelter, where I hope to be more personally fulfilled and more hands-on in my day to day work. The transition phase means I will likely be more physically and emotionally exhausted when my work day is over. But the plus side is that my commute has been shortened from 1.5 hours to 15 minutes, and that will hopefully make up for a LOT. I am very excited about this new opportunity! Wish my luck!
Also, if our agility success and videos (not with Dexter. Forget you even saw those) stirred within you the desire for another agility partner, may I humbly suggest you consider this piece of eye candy:
I don’t think I introduced you all to Ryder, a 10 month old border collie X australian shepherd (like Tweed!!) from Saskatchewan (like Dexter! No wait – forget I said that!) who is a superb agility prospect and available through TDBCR. I picked him up from his transport and held onto him until I got him to his foster home, and he is a total gem. A complete blank slate, I had him learning stuff with only a couple of repetitions in no time flat, and his foster home says he soaks up all learning like a sponge and comes back for more. He’s a tall guy, super athletic, crazy biddable and just an all around really nice dog. Honestly, if I didn’t have a houseful (including a very promising Springaling!), I would have seriously considered him for my next agility dog.
We’ve had a lot of nice pet applications for him, but I would love to see him in a home with someone who competes in agility at a more serious level. I really don’t think his adopter would be disappointed. Interested? Take a look at his profile and drop me a line.
He’s waiting for you (and he’s happy about it!)!
Happy weekend ya’ll!!
Mama’s dog’s so fat he can’t even scratch himself.
ZOMG, what have I done to the WooTWoo? They are both jiggly tubs of Jello these days. Yesterday I asked Mr. Woo for a “sit” and he plunked himself down with his back legs sticking straight out in front of him on either side of his forelegs, presumably because he was afraid if he sat the proper way he’d never see his back feet again!
He’s so fat he can’t even get any air for his disc.
I blame my alarm clock. Or more correctly, I blame the placement of my alarm clock. It’s right by my face, so when it goes off at the ungodly hour of 4:50AM it’s too easy to hit snooze a bunch of times until I realize in a panic that I am running out of time, leap out of bed and walk the dogs for 20 minutes before I have to get ready for work. They just aren’t getting enough exercise. IT’S MY ALARM CLOCK’S FAULT MY DOGS ARE FAT!!
Although, to be fair, it’s still really dark out in the morning when we get up, and TWooie generally has to stay on a leash anyway, elsewise he is off and hunting at full volume. Not something the neighbourhood appreciates. If I could teach him to be silent, he could vanish into the darkness along with his brother and get his cardio on. But then again, Woo is fat too and he’s not on a leash.
I am going to move my alarm clock across the room, so that I *have* to get up when it does.
What’s the problem? Just more of me to looooove.
Too bad those two baddogs don’t have Dexter’s naturally svelte physique.
You’re looking at my ass, aren’t you sugar? It’s okay, I know it’s fine. Oh yeah.
Dexter’s feelin’ pretty fly these days. He’s all healed up, his stitches came out last week and he doesn’t think there was ever anything wrong with him anyway. And a couple of weeks off from agility class seems to a have done wonders for his attention span. It’s also helped to replenish my storage locker of Dexter Zen I think. Last night in class he was darn near perfect – responsive, accurate, fast and (zomg!) he actually paid mind to my motion cues, while I was calm, (kind of) precise and not all worked up about him. We had some super nice runs for a change. I don’t mean to alarm you, but the world is clearly about to end because The Sadist paid me an *actual* compliment – TWICE! This can only mean the end is nigh. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Springaling did super well too – we’re doing running contacts because asking her to stop demotivates her something fierce, and she has a nice natural stride for RCs. We’ve had to play with her dogwalk contacts a little because she was missing the contact sometimes, and because I don’t have access to a dogwalk at home to practice on regularly, it’s been a bit hit-or-miss. But I’ve discovered that if I don’t race her cross the walk until she’s on her way down, and then I accelerate, she hits the yellow nice and square every time. Once she learns how to weave, she’ll actually be ready to start trialing. Who woulda thunk it?!
I thunk it.
Not that any of us will be trialing for a while – we’re far too poor for that. But Tweed and I *WILL* be going to Regionals this year, and we have you to thank for that. You know who you are, and we have a surprise for you which we’ll unveil at / after Regionals :) But know in the meantime that you have our eternal gratitude!
First though, Tweed goes to see Dr. Bowra on Tuesday for prolotherapy on his other foot.
Excuse you? I’m going where for what?
Three weeks of crated, pained Tweed again … I can’t see this going over super well. Don’t tell him it’s about to happen!
I heard you. And I am going to slap you to death with my frisbee. How d’you like them apples?
I’m not looking forward to doing this to him again, but the alternative is a painful limp for the rest of his life. Anti-inflammatories aren’t touching it. And I’m not looking forward to the vet bill either, but I *AM* looking forward to one last helluva party with my old man dog! I don’t even care anymore if we are first, 10th or dead last .. we’re going out with a bang, baby! There is no dog I love to run more than Mr Barky Von Sassmouthenstein. He’s the best agility partner a spastic gal like me could ever hope for.
Oh no wait – WOO is crushed! Take that, fatty!
Sorry Spring, but you have a long road ahead to reach Tweed Status.
And whilst I am doling out apologies, it might be that I blamed TWoo too quickly for Dexter’s gaping wound. I can’t know for sure, but I’m just sayin’:
Sweet vindication … at long last. Do I smell hotdogs?
The universe tried to crush ME these last few weeks, but I’m determined to get up every morning with a smile on my face (well, maybe not when the alarm goes off at 4:50AM …). I’ll overcome! After all, the sun is shining, the chickens are giving me more rainbow coloured eggs than I know what to do with, and everything is coming up roses! Or daffodils at least. These appeared in my front garden yesterday.
I’m just not going to let shit get me down :)
And if you ever wanted to see what happens when I release the Six Pack Of Terror from their group sit-stay, here’s your chance!
Happy long weekend friends!
cats dogs were fast as lightning …
Today I want to talk a little bit about things we are afraid of.
Like dead people?!?!
For example, I am afraid Dexter is going to shatter into a zillion pieces.
*After* he breaks Spring;s neck in half.
But mostly I wanted to talk about Wootie’s fear …. which is that someone will Find And Steal His Rawhide Bone.
If you try to take it, I will kill you. Dead.
Wootie and I play a game that Wootie *really* likes – I give him a stick or something and then I pretend to try to catch him and his stick while theatrically “sneaking” up on him, wiggling my fingers in front of me and sing-songing “I’m gonna get the Wootie Stick! I’m gonna get it!” (This is yet another reason why I moved to the stix. If nobody sees you engage in this kind of behaviour, nobody can call you crazy).
Mr. Woo thinks this game is *fantastic*. And I can do it whilst playing ball with the other dogs, so Woo gets some exercise too. I follow him around the field threatening to get his stick and he play-bows at me, and dives, ducks and weaves around (until he finds something better to do). I believe this is called “turning a ‘bad’ behaviour into a reward.”
We most often play it with a “Wootie Stick” but if I am feeling particularly wicked, I will bust out the “Wootie Bone” which is a rawhide from under the sink. Wootie is not all that enamored with rawhides, preferring his raw meaty pork bones, but he does recognize them as something of value. Therefore, he does not want to eat the the Wootie Bone, but he doesn’t want anyone else to have it either. So he paces around with it in his jaws making little whimpering whiny sounds and waving his Flamboyance™ in the air to let the other dogs know that he will kick the ass of anyone who tries to take it from him.
It’s mine and I don’t know what the eff to do about it!
Eventually, Woo decides the best thing to do is go and bury or hide it somewhere, so he can stop thinking about.
Nobody will ever find it here; I don’t even know what a telephoto lens is anyway.
Usually I keep on eye on where he’s hidden it, so I can make the game last longer by running toward his treasure cache and screaming that I am, indeed, going to get the Wootie Bone. But yesterday I discovered that I don’t even need to watch him hide it on order to find it. Such is our dogs’ great faith in our omniscience, Wootie believes I know where the Wootie Bone has been hidden even when I have no idea where he stashed it. All I have to do is threaten to get the Wootie Bone and he takes off at a dead run for his hiding place so he can get there before I do. He leads me to it every time. And then is ASTOUNDED that I can figure out all his favourite secret places.
This makes me feel powerful, so sometimes to further convince him of my greatness, I will tell another dog to “go find it.” They have no idea what they are supposed to be finding, but Wootie believes – *every time* – that I have sent my minions out to claim what is rightfully his, and then he leads them to it, barking and whining all the while.
OMG OMG OMG! He’s going to find the Wootie Bone and bring it to the Food Lady!
I believe this is called “f*cking with his head.” It’s no wonder, really, that the WooTWoo are so bad – if they were my kids, they’d probably be in therapy.
Another new thing for Wootie to be afraid of is my stellar aim. Today I flung the Flying Donut and managed to ring it around his neck in one go. Basically I turned him into a living Ring Toss game. It was a totally lucky once-in-a-lifetime shot, but Woo doesn’t want to play Flying Donut with me anymore.
HOW? How do you do these things?!?!
Here. Try that shizzat with me, beeyotch.
Poor Piper. The only thing she fears is nail clipping, and rightly so! The other day I was doing the rounds of the paws and I quicked her so bad that her toenail bled – I mean it PULSED blood – for over an hour and left pools of blood all around the house. She eventually had to go to bed with a giant padding of gauze and vet wrap twined around her foot. I felt really bad. But Piper’s feet are doing something I don’t understand – her outside toes are turning OUTWARD on all four feet, so her nails on those toes are laying almost horizontal to the floor, which is how I quicked her because I guessed the angle wrong. I want to say she is becoming, like, flat footed? It’s weird – anyone have any ideas?
TWooie’s biggest fear is that I will give him a bath with the hose. After all, he watched me do exactly that to the other 5 dogs this afternoon (well except for Tweed, who only got his undercarriage washed, because DAMMIT HE IS 12 YEARS OLD AND WILL NOT STAND FOR THESE INDIGNITIES!) from the safety of waaaaaay up the driveway. After each dog was bathed and toweled tried, they were ushered into the house until there was nobody left outside but me and TWoo.
I stood at one end of the driveway and he at the other and we stared one another down like a couple of gunslingers. A tumbleweed may or may not have rolled on by.
Nothing could convince him to come to me when called, not even when I asked him if he wanted to “get the bunny.” I got perky ears but not a single paw moved.
In the end, I moved partway down the drive and sat down in the gravel and asked him sweetly to please come to me for a cookie if I promised not to give him a bath. And he did.
Okay, I will come because I love you.
So TWooie and I spent about 20 minutes in the sun, sitting on the ground with him curled up in my lap on his back with his head resting on my chest, and we just loved each other quietly for a while. He wasn’t really all that muddy anyway :)
Stop being all sensitive and sh*t and come help me find a place to hide this that you’ll never find!