I have a dog. My dog is needy. My dog is a golden retriever. There are those who would say that those last two sentences were redundant.
If you come to visit me, my dog will love you. Whoever you may be. She's not very discriminating. Given a choice between a man and a woman she'll go for the man every time. She'd rather not have to choose, though. She wants everyone to love her. She will force you to pet her and she will whine and she will roll onto her back to demonstrate her submission to you. She will make sure your crotch is up to snuff. She will be very very glad that you are here.
She is not a very good watch dog.
Now every time she does this with someone new, I apologize profusely, of course. She is an embarrassment. I always say, "She's just so happy to get some attention. I usually just sit around all day poking her with a fork."* It's my attempt at levity. It's a take off on a Steve Martin line ("I do TERRIBLE things to my dog with a fork").
I have said it so many times that my kids have started saying it.
And then I saw this: **
Holy crap.
I'm going to have to come up with a new line, 'cause there's nothing funny about that one anymore.
*I have NEVER poked my dog or anyone else's dog with a fork!
** 'My' and 'FoxNews' are not words that go together in my house, but it was the best thing I got on my google search after seeing the story on the Today Show this morning.
Showing posts with label pets. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pets. Show all posts
Friday, July 17, 2009
Thursday, October 9, 2008
The Eyes of Love
Liv's school had a dog show today and Liv asked me to enter Molly.
I was reluctant. Molly is relatively old. Sometimes she is hard to handle. She gets overwhelmed. She doesn't do any tricks and she doesn't really behave very well.
But Liv was adamant.
And I had nothing else to do.
When she saw me getting the leash down in the middle of the afternoon, she got very excited. She hopped into the car with the exuberance of a puppy.
We arrived at the school as other parents were beginning to arrive with their dogs. She hasn't spent a lot of time around other dogs, so this disoriented her quite a bit. We had to go into the school to sign her in. There was a lot of barking (not Molly), jumping (miraculously not Molly) and butt sniffing (not Molly. Ok, maybe a little bit Molly). Molly just whimpered and wrapped her leash around my calves. She clearly just didn't know what to do with herself.
After we signed in, we were directed out the back door to the playground to wait for our kids. As we walked out the door, other kids were still out at recess. They MOBBED the dogs - the kids just went nuts. Molly had hands all over her and she was happy as a daisy. She tried to greet each one of them.
We mingled with the other dogs and their owners while we waited for our kids to come out for the dog show.
Liv came out and made a beeline for Molly. She fell to the ground hugging her and kissing her. Molly, by this point, was shaking like a leaf and crying. Liv assured her that she was the cutest and best dog there. All around us, dogs were practicing their tricks. Molly was whining and getting her own paw caught in her leash.
The regular cast of characters were all there; the folks I expect to see anytime I go to a function at my kids' schools. The bevy of soccer moms with their bob cuts and their big sunglasses paying more attention to each other than to the kids (or the dogs, for that matter), the asshole with a bluetooth conducting business throughout the whole event (so very important, don'tcha know?), the indulgent grandparents who think the sun rises and sets by their grandbabies, you know the crew.
The show goes off without a major glitch.
The dogs are being judged in four categories: biggest, smallest, best trick, and cutest. Molly, a nine year old Golden Retriever with no discernible talents didn't stand a chance. But Liv didn't see it that way. She told Molly, "that Chihuahua is the smallest and Bear (a St. Bernard, maybe?) is the biggest. You didn't do a trick. But you are DEFINITELY the cutest." As they announce third cutest and second cutest, she whispered to Molly, "next is gonna be you!" I looked around at all the puppies and the well-groomed designer dogs. Then I looked at old Molly, finally relaxing in Liv's arms and thought, if there were a prize for most cherished, she just might have a shot.
I was reluctant. Molly is relatively old. Sometimes she is hard to handle. She gets overwhelmed. She doesn't do any tricks and she doesn't really behave very well.
But Liv was adamant.
And I had nothing else to do.
When she saw me getting the leash down in the middle of the afternoon, she got very excited. She hopped into the car with the exuberance of a puppy.
We arrived at the school as other parents were beginning to arrive with their dogs. She hasn't spent a lot of time around other dogs, so this disoriented her quite a bit. We had to go into the school to sign her in. There was a lot of barking (not Molly), jumping (miraculously not Molly) and butt sniffing (not Molly. Ok, maybe a little bit Molly). Molly just whimpered and wrapped her leash around my calves. She clearly just didn't know what to do with herself.
After we signed in, we were directed out the back door to the playground to wait for our kids. As we walked out the door, other kids were still out at recess. They MOBBED the dogs - the kids just went nuts. Molly had hands all over her and she was happy as a daisy. She tried to greet each one of them.
We mingled with the other dogs and their owners while we waited for our kids to come out for the dog show.
Liv came out and made a beeline for Molly. She fell to the ground hugging her and kissing her. Molly, by this point, was shaking like a leaf and crying. Liv assured her that she was the cutest and best dog there. All around us, dogs were practicing their tricks. Molly was whining and getting her own paw caught in her leash.
The regular cast of characters were all there; the folks I expect to see anytime I go to a function at my kids' schools. The bevy of soccer moms with their bob cuts and their big sunglasses paying more attention to each other than to the kids (or the dogs, for that matter), the asshole with a bluetooth conducting business throughout the whole event (so very important, don'tcha know?), the indulgent grandparents who think the sun rises and sets by their grandbabies, you know the crew.
The show goes off without a major glitch.
The dogs are being judged in four categories: biggest, smallest, best trick, and cutest. Molly, a nine year old Golden Retriever with no discernible talents didn't stand a chance. But Liv didn't see it that way. She told Molly, "that Chihuahua is the smallest and Bear (a St. Bernard, maybe?) is the biggest. You didn't do a trick. But you are DEFINITELY the cutest." As they announce third cutest and second cutest, she whispered to Molly, "next is gonna be you!" I looked around at all the puppies and the well-groomed designer dogs. Then I looked at old Molly, finally relaxing in Liv's arms and thought, if there were a prize for most cherished, she just might have a shot.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Hanging (with) Chad
Ever since Liv's beloved rat Rita died last year she has been begging for another one. I have been successfully putting her off for quite a few months. There were always some travel plans in the future or some perfectly reasonable explanation I could give her to make her wait "just a little bit longer".
Until now.
School has started, there are no travel plans in our future, she took complete responsibility for Rita so I have no reason to believe she can't care for a pet, she rarely asks for anything...
Last night Tom took her to the pet store and she came home with Chad.
Chad enjoys bananas and running in his exercise wheel in the wee hours of the morning.
When they got home, Tom's first words were, "so if I get a snake, it's grounds for divorce, right?"
I really, really, really, really, really don't like snakes. Really.
Once, when I was walking at Blacklick, two little garden snakes crossed my path. Truly, they were barely bigger than worms. And I froze in my tracks. I literally couldn't move for a couple minutes. When I was able to move, I hauled out of there fast. Not as fast as when the bats were in pursuit, but that's another story for another day.
I reluctantly allow the rodent in my home. Liv keeps it in her room and takes care of it all by herself. I will see Chad rarely, and he will grow on me. Probably. Rita did.
But a snake? Not in this lifetime...
Until now.
School has started, there are no travel plans in our future, she took complete responsibility for Rita so I have no reason to believe she can't care for a pet, she rarely asks for anything...
Last night Tom took her to the pet store and she came home with Chad.
Chad enjoys bananas and running in his exercise wheel in the wee hours of the morning.
When they got home, Tom's first words were, "so if I get a snake, it's grounds for divorce, right?"
I really, really, really, really, really don't like snakes. Really.
Once, when I was walking at Blacklick, two little garden snakes crossed my path. Truly, they were barely bigger than worms. And I froze in my tracks. I literally couldn't move for a couple minutes. When I was able to move, I hauled out of there fast. Not as fast as when the bats were in pursuit, but that's another story for another day.
I reluctantly allow the rodent in my home. Liv keeps it in her room and takes care of it all by herself. I will see Chad rarely, and he will grow on me. Probably. Rita did.
But a snake? Not in this lifetime...
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Good Golly, Miss Molly
Molly, our Golden Retriever, will be turning 9 next week. Yesterday we had her professionally groomed for the very first time. She seems to feel so pretty! She has been sitting up so tall! I am sincerely hoping that this will considerably reduce the amount of shedding she does, because I was really about at my wits end. You could just see fur floating through the air in our house when the sun hit the sky-light just right. So, fingers crossed. Even if that doesn't happen (oh, please, please, please let that happen) she smells really good and her nails look pretty nice. Yay.
Last week Molly started limping, and we couldn't figure out why. We took her to the vet where they took some X-rays. The vet couldn't draw any conclusions based upon the X-rays, so she suggested that if Molly was still limping in a couple days we should have the X-rays sent to a diagnostician who might be able to see something she had missed. A few days passed with no improvement, so we did so. The diagnosticians conclusion? Inconclusive. Over a week (and $800-$900) later, she is still walking on 3 legs (though she's gotten much more proficient at it) and we don't know a thing. Frustrating.
Last year around this time Molly required surgery to remove the bowel obstruction that occurred when she attempted to eat a kitchen sponge. Yummy. Two years ago, around this time again, Molly had to have her stomach pumped because she ate a whole bottle (literally - bottle and pills...) of my thyroid pills. The year before that, she nearly had a heart attack after eating a whole bag of Dove dark chocolates that I mistakenly thought I could put out in a bowl on the table. But at least in regard to these 3 incidents, we knew what caused them, which was, mostly, my negligence. In my defense, she's my first dog. I had no idea they were so - indiscriminate - in their appetites. Even the chocolates, which I can't really fault her for, really, except that she ate the foil wrappers, too. That week was fun in the back yard...
It's a darn good thing she's so cute.
Last week Molly started limping, and we couldn't figure out why. We took her to the vet where they took some X-rays. The vet couldn't draw any conclusions based upon the X-rays, so she suggested that if Molly was still limping in a couple days we should have the X-rays sent to a diagnostician who might be able to see something she had missed. A few days passed with no improvement, so we did so. The diagnosticians conclusion? Inconclusive. Over a week (and $800-$900) later, she is still walking on 3 legs (though she's gotten much more proficient at it) and we don't know a thing. Frustrating.
Last year around this time Molly required surgery to remove the bowel obstruction that occurred when she attempted to eat a kitchen sponge. Yummy. Two years ago, around this time again, Molly had to have her stomach pumped because she ate a whole bottle (literally - bottle and pills...) of my thyroid pills. The year before that, she nearly had a heart attack after eating a whole bag of Dove dark chocolates that I mistakenly thought I could put out in a bowl on the table. But at least in regard to these 3 incidents, we knew what caused them, which was, mostly, my negligence. In my defense, she's my first dog. I had no idea they were so - indiscriminate - in their appetites. Even the chocolates, which I can't really fault her for, really, except that she ate the foil wrappers, too. That week was fun in the back yard...
It's a darn good thing she's so cute.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)