dogs

Annie, unplugged

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Annie has become quite the svelte dog. Her muscles bulge when she runs. You can see her chest muscles as she's lost all of her doggy fat, all of the soft parts of her body.

We feed Annie the same amount of food that we feed Bella: different formula, butthe same amount. Annie, however, runs around a lot more than Bella does. Sure, when we go for a walk, both the dogs and I all walk the same distance. When we go to a park, however, Annie runs around. When we go on a hike, Kris, Andy, Bella, Shadow and I walk x distance, Blue walks 2x distance, and Annie runs about 4x distance. She burns a lot of calories.

She's also very, very, very food motivated. Too much so in my opinion. I hate that she's always scavenging for food.

When we arrived home from Christmas, I thought she looked particularly lanky, so I thought to help her out: I decided to feed her more than her normal amount of food. She burns off the calories, what can it hurt?

Instead of her normal one scoop of food, I gave her three scoops of food for dinner, might have been four. She devoured it. Hoovered it. Ten seconds, it was gone.

Okay, clearly she can eat that much. I gave her that much again the next morning.

Well, last night, she wasn't doing so well. If Kris or I touched her along her back, she yelped. She wasn't able to jump up onto the couch, nor down from the couch. Come dinner time, she wasn't particularly interested in food, but was plenty interested in eating grass in the back.

Hmmmmm.... grass.... upset stomach. Crap.

I admitted to Kris this morning that Annie might be plugged up. "Plugged up? Why?" he asked. Well, see, you know, um...

Eventually, I confessed. I told him I had overfed the dog and maybe her intestines were impacted. Okay, he'd try to get a Saturday morning appointment with the vet.

I thought I'd try an old-fashioned way of unplugging her. I took her to the part this afternoon and let her run around. She managed all of maybe 20 yards before she stopped a took a dump. A spectacularly large one (lovely blogging material, that Annie). In the minute it took me to clean it up (and the next five it took me to clean up some other flippin' moronic dog owner's dog poop because he was too freakin' lazy to frackin' do it himself, thereby risking my ability to take my (Kris'?) dogs to the school because of his laziness), Annie had dashed off to the edge of the school yard and dumped again.

Well, there we go.

After that, she was happy as a clam, running around again, sniffing things, jumping up.

Apparently Annie's dog food is her goldfish. Need to get more fiber into that dog...

Or less food.

In one sitting.

YKD: wet

You Know Dog

you'd be a lot more comfortable and a lot less wet if you'd just let me dry you off with a towel.

Underwear, the continuing saga

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Sometime last month, Kris came up to me and asked me, "Are those Heather's clothes in our room?"

I had just moved the basket of Heather's clothes from our room to her room, maybe an hour or so before, so answered, "No, I already moved them."

He was insistent, however, and asked me to look at the clothes. Fine, I'll go look at the clothes. I already put them away, why do I have to look at the clothes again? I stomped into our bedroom.

To find Heather's pajamas, and a pair of underwear all chewed up.

DOG!

The underwear explained the bumping noises I heard earlier near her door: they were Bella rooting through her clothes basket.

Sigh.

So, I went over to Heather's door, and knocked on it. After she answered, I tried to explain through the door that, well, Bella really likes the taste of women's dirty underwear, and, well, could she please keep her bedroom door closed so that Kris' dog didn't eat all of her underwear?

She couldn't undertsand me through the door, and yelled, "What?"

At which point, Kris burst into laughter at the awkwardness of my delivery. Hi, my dog likes dirty underwear, but only girl underwear. How's that for an ice breaker at parks?

I opened the door and was barely able to explain everything; Kris' laughter making me laugh, too. Heather laughed, too, and, okay, dumb dog.

This weekend, we washed, dried and nearly folded every piece of laundry we own that wasn't already on our bodies. I did my "Count the underwear and see if you need to buy more" ritual when we had finished the laundry.

I then went online to buy more. On Kris' credit card.

In four days, I'll have 24 more pairs of underwear.

Which will probably last me a month.

Dog.

Trained dogs

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After watching a good four hours of Battlestar Galactica (watching it from the beginning, bought the DVDs), I turned on some random Law and Order SVU episode that tivo had recorded. Having seen every episode of L&OSVU except maybe two or three from the last season (and many of those episodes more than once), I was able to describe the whole plot from the first 30 seconds of the show. Kris was unsurprised.

A short bit into the show, which started with a dog chasing down a suspect, then finding another body (dead, of course), the officer with the dog called out to the other officers, "Detectives! You're going to want to see this. She (the dog) found a body."

This sentence immediately started me off on my "you're going to want to see this" rant (and how this show actually got it right). I can't stand television or movie dialog where one character says something like, "Captain, you're going to want to see this." If I were the captain, I would immediately shoot back, "Don't tell me I'm 'going to want to see this,' just tell me what the frack I'm going to see when I walk over there. Then I'll decide if I want to see "this." But don't tell me to come over to look. Idiot."

Kris laughed, then started talking about the dog, and other shows he had seen about work dogs. I cut him off and told him my dog stories.

When I was in junior high, we lived down the street from the Herrings. In particular, Officer Bob Herring, who we referred to as Ossifer Herring. He had a K-9 dog (crap, I can't recall her name), who was incredibly well trained. Dad tells the story of when Bob showed the dog his gun, pointed to the gun and said, "Mine." then set the gun on the floor. The dog went up to the gun, pulled it under herself, and sat on it. It was Bob's gun, and no one else was going to get it.

Another story of that dog was of when it was chasing an armed suspect. Said suspect had a gun and was running away when the dog was released. He had thrown away the gun and thrown his hands up just as the dog was leaping at the suspect, presumably for the throat. Mid-air, she heard Bob's call to stop, and managed to twist in the air mid-leap. Instead of killing the man, she merely knocked him over.

There were other dog stories (what was that dog's name?), but I'm blanking on them now. It was a big dog, not one I think I'd want, but definitely a very well trained dog.

Kris managed to finish his working dog story by describing a K-9 dog that lived at the officer's house, with two kids like five and three. The K-9 dog knew he was a pet when he was home, but the officer had to be very careful about what words he used around the dog. Sure, he was a pet, but he was also an animal trained to kill. When guests came over, people unknown to the dog, the officer had to be more careful, as the dog was typically fairly protective of the kids.

His other story, and the one he enjoyed more was about a shepherd who had three border collies. One was the dominant work dog. The shepherd gave his command to her, and she directed the other two (in dog-speak!) to execute the command. Kris said they were amazing to watch.

Yeah, watching. Time to turn off the television and do some work.

Stupid cute dog

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