Unconditional Love and Unconditional Grief

I wrote this blog post below over a year ago when one of my D2D dogs passed away ... I never published it, not sure why. It's certainly a lighter perspective than the one I have today having lost my precious Alexis. But I know I will return to that perspective again and be able to focus more on celebrating the life and not so much on mourning the death. Not to downplay any ones loss but death is part of life. We must endure the sorrows as well as the joys to fully experience this thing I call a wonderful life.

"2/7/10: People are often caught off guard by how grief stricken they are when they lose a pet. Many people experience more sadness and grief by the loss of a pet than a family member or friend. But if you think about it, it makes sense. Whats the worst possible loss one can experience? I'm guessing it's the loss of a child. Not to insult people with children in any way but many pet owners simulate their relationship with their dog as one of parent and child. How often have you heard someone say their dog is "my baby" or "part of the family" or my very own "we don't have kids, we have fur-kids" so it would stand to reason the level of grief is elevated. After all, in my estimation, there is no other being on the planet like a dog that relies solely upon us to take care of them for their entire life and in return gives us unconditional love and never judges us, never tries to change us, gets excited to see us return whether we leave for a minute or a month, doesn't get mad if we leave dishes in the sink or come home late or leave the toilet seat up, loves us for who we are and doesn't care if we lounge around in our sweats all weekend or how much we weigh or what our breath smells like (in fact they'd much rather we didn't brush out teeth quite so much) or if we hog the blankets, eat the last of the ice cream or drink out of the milk jug (just as long as we don't drink out of the toilet--hey that's their territory!). It's as true and honestly unconditional as you can get. No other relationship on earth is like that. No wonder our world crumbles when we lose our best friend. I know I will crumble when I lose Alexis but it's a fact of life that I can do nothing about so I will crumble but I will put the pieces back together. The pain in the end will be worth it for all the joy that preceded it. That's certainly not something we feel at the time of the loss but it's true anyway. There was a time that I thought about my late Cornelius in such a way that "this is it, I could never love another dog as much as I love him; no way no how" but never say never and here I am thinking that very thing about Alexis. But to be totally cheesy and coin a phrase from a very popular song, i know my heart will go on. My heart breaks wide open every time this earth loses a dog but each crack inside makes more room to love the next dog that comes into our life. "

Stolen Identity

By now, most of you know that we lost our beloved Alexis suddenly last week to what we believe to be a heart attack. She passed at home with me by her side, in her bed, under her favorite "woobie" that she had since she was a pup. It's a devastating loss. So if this post makes little or no sense or tends to ramble and babble on, well, then tough shit. Oops must be in the "anger" stage of my grief.

My heart is broken. My tear supply is gone. My soul is empty. My mind is numb. This page is blank. I don't know what to write. I don't know what to do. And I don't know who I am. So I keep myself bizzy to avoid the volcano eruption that is bubbling beneath this everything-is-fine-I'm-ok-don't-worry-about-me surface. I'm Doberman tough after all.

They say you don't know what you've got until it's gone (whoever the hell THEY are). Screw them, I knew exactly what I had! I had a sweet, amazing, incredible, strong, gentle dog that I was literally in love with, in awe of, and had a once in a life time connection with. A dog that I am ever so grateful for having in my life for almost 12 years. A dog that I fooled myself into believing would live forever. I just didn't realize how much of my identity had become being this Doberman's owner. Doberman this, Doberman that. Doberman pictures. Doberman quotes. Doberman screen savers. Doberman hats. Doberman tee shirts. Doberman friends. Doberman envy. Feed the Doberman. Ask the Doberman if she wants to go out. Let the Doberman back in. Let her back out. Watch in awe as the Doberman sprints around the yard. Tell Doberman not to eat the snakes. Play fetch with the Doberman. Watch Doberman play with all her day care friends. Bring Doberman over her BFF Willow's house to hang. Be awakened by the Doberman to snuggle. Be nudged by the Doberman when she wants something. Try to figure out what it is the Doberman wants. Be followed into every room by Doberman. Don't stray too far from home so you can get back soon to be with the Doberman. Don't go on vacation because you'll miss the Doberman too much. Jump up to get to the door before the Doberman does when someone knocks. Let the Doberman out on the front porch when suspicious characters are around the neighborhood. Blog about Doberman. Post Doberman pics on Facebook. Beware of Doberman signs. Doberman farts! (Don't laugh--ok you can laugh but it's a big part of who a Doberman is. Hey they're gassy!) Fluff the Dobermans bed. Take Doberman on trips to pet store to pick out toys and bones. Receive Doberman kisses & Doberman high fives. Dance with Doberman. Do Yoga with Doberman. Have snowball fights with Doberman. Take naps with Doberman. Buy matching ottoman as one of Doberman's beds. Watch Doberman fall asleep standing up with head in laps of friends and family who come to visit. Watch Doberman turn fearful people into ones who look forward to seeing her again. Take pictures of Doberman when she's not looking. Take pictures of Doberman when she is looking. Hug Doberman. Kiss Doberman. Touch Doberman every five seconds. Twirl Dobermans ears. Sing our song to Doberman. Tell Doberman you love her more than anything in life. Beg Doberman not to leave you. Ask Doberman what'll I ever do without her. So much for not knowing what to write. But I still don't know who I am.

Attack Of The Killer Snow Shovel

...Sounds like a good title for a Stephen King book doesn't it? There's this one quirk that Alexis has that has puzzled us since the very first snow storm she ever experienced as a pup. If she's in the vicinity while your shoveling snow she will attack the shovel! Best as I can tell she thinks the shovel is an evil monster. She crouches down, bites and barks at it. It's funny to see and hard to explain because it's not her usual I'm-gonna-get-you-sucka bark. It's more like a combination of her "help I'm stuck" bark peppered with her "c'mon let's play" bark with a dash of "i want to kill you." (My friend The Queen of Cuisine will simply love my food references) She even started to do it to the rake in the fall. Could it be that Alexis simply doesn't care for yard work!? Like mother like daughter!

Mad at God today

I know being mad at God is about as illogical a thought as you can have but I'm no Mr Spock so mad at God is how I feel today. I know it's wrong but I'm sure many have felt this way at one point or another in their life. I don't get mad at God very often, in fact it's a very rare occasion. Life is wonderful, life is great and when it's not; bring it on God, gimme your best shot. I'm gonna bounce back no matter what, just give me the strength to get through it is all I ask. EXCEPT when a dog dies. THAT takes me a little lower and a little longer to bounce back from that dark place. My heart shatters into a million tiny little puzzle pieces every time this world loses a dog. And it's been a pretty rough several months in the passing-of-dogs department. We lost Brady, Daisy Mae, Cinnamon and now Ty, a 5 year old amazing Boxer who had debilitating bone cancer that had to be put down yesterday. These aren't my own dogs, they are dogs I take care of for my clients but I treat them and love them as if they were my own and they died too young. Ty died too young dammit! And that's really why I'm mad at God today. If I'm mad can you imagine how their owners feel? I weep for their sorrow. I sob for the dogs pain and passing. I cry for myself that I'll never see them again. How can i NOT be mad at God? Surely there are other creatures on this planet that are ripe for the taking; a wild animal just hit by a car needing to be put out of its misery. Or an elderly patient suffering from end stage cancer. Or a criminally insane death row inmate convicted of doing unspeakable things. Or a young driver in a car accident laying in a coma never to recover. Surely, surely God you can take them and leave us to love our dogs just a little bit longer. A selfish request, I know. One for which I will not apologize. The only thing that can keep us going is the wonderful memories. We must somehow find solace in knowing that a body is just a living, breathing, temporary container that begins to die the minute it's born that houses our spirit. When the body dies that spirit moves on to live in places that we are unaware of except for that little bit of spirit that takes up residence in our hearts forever. Once we get past the grief we should consider ourselves lucky if we have a dog's spirit living in our heart.

R.I.P. Ty 3/20/05 - 11/21/10

Forgive me Father for I have sinned....

...it has been four months since my last blog post. At least i THINK that's one of the deadly sins right? I think ten hail Mary's oughtta put me back in the blog God's good graces.

Well it certainly was a super bizzy summah! I had dogs galore all summer and Dave was up to his eyeballs in property maintenance jobs (WHAT recession??). He spent just about every weekend working which leaves me time to lounge by the pool, true, but I don't like to swim alone (must be fear of that whole pesky drowning thing ... Don't wanna end up like William Shatner's wife now do we?) so I didn't get to enjoy the pool all that much, on the weekends anyway.

As most summers go there were parties and BBQ's and beach trips and our jam packed end-of-summer vacation. I know, I know, it seems like we JUST got back from Bermuda and there we were taking time off again. Time flies when you're having rum though, oops spell checker must have missed that one...time flies when you're having FUN!!

We did some pretty amazing stuff on vacation:
-Codzilla
-Block Island
-Jim Gaffigan comedy show
-Plymouth Waterfront Festival
-Annual Wrentham Outlet shopping trip
-Labor Day Karaoke party

Needless to say it was all good clean wholesome fun up until the Labor Day karaoke party. Cuz lets face it; ya gotta be highly intoxificated (made up word) to do Karaoke (well atleast I do) and my poison of choice was Smirnoff Vodka. Anyone who knows me knows that i ONLY drink Absolute if I'm drinking "vokka". I've tried and tested them all in every night club, divey bar, limo ride and back yard party there is and Absolute gives me the least after-effects the next day so I've sworn off all others, even Grey Goose but ESPECIALLY Smirnoff...Normally I drink Black Opal Shiraz wine which also results in nary a hangover but Smirnoff was all that was available at this party so I took a chance. Oh what a super fun, ugly, messy, vomitous, blacked-out chance it was. (Go ahead, I'll wait here while you google "vomitous" to see if i made up that word too). Anyway, there's nothing like a good, summer's end hangover with dry heaves to make you crawl under a rock for two days and put you on the mother of all wagons for a few months. I'm just now tip-toeing myself back into the world of Shiraz (just in time for he holidays)...Vodka might take a while longer, or will it?

BERMUDA SHOW & TELL

THE WHEELS ON THE BUS GO ROUND-AND-ROUND
yup that's right we rode a school bus en route to the Falcon Pier, Boston. We took the commuter rail to South Station (way WAY cheaper than a cab) but who knew they were working on the tracks between Holbrook and Braintree for the next few months? (I never got the memo!) So they announced we would be shuttled by bus between these stops. Now I'm thinking Greyhound or the Plymouth-Brockton Bus...you know; tour bus type. Whenever we pulled into Holbrook station I just about fell off my chair and tripped over my jaw when i saw yellow school buses!! Yes apparently now I'm a bus snob.
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CANES, WALKERS, SCOOTERS, OH MY!
The Boston to Bermuda cruise is like the cruise of the living dead! Many, many senior citizens. And not that they shouldn't enjoy a nice vacation; hell they paid their dues but it just surprised the shit out of us how many feeble, hunched over, ghostly, elderly people with canes and walkers and YES even rented scooters monopolized the guest list on this cruise and chose a floating, heaving, hoeing, weaving, waving hotel as their destination. We saw several blue-heads take a flying leap! Screw life jackets; I hope they had extra hips on board!
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YOU KNOW YOUR ON VACATION WHEN...U DON'T EVEN WANT TO TALK ABOUT DOGS
except for the towel dog left on your bed by housekeeping that is. On a few of our excursions we made some friends and ended up at karaoke with them. Sitting around the table the conversation went to DOGS (always does) and i found it to be the LAST thing i wanted to talk about. I tuned out and did some chair dancing to the gawd awful karaoke going on in the background. Surprising, i know; Amy didn't want to talk about dogs! Kinda like Glenn Beck not breaking into a crying fit on air or Donald Trump not wanting to fire someone.

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WHERE CUP HOLDERS OUGHTTA BE
I don't have a picture of this one but DANG i wish i did...there were actually cup holders in the stalls of the restrooms all over the ship. Ishityounot! No pun intended. (In the stall next to me were a mom and her little girl screaming "I want daddy!!!!!" ...yeah that'd be me if we ever had kids cuz, after all, everybody loves Dave! 'quite an epiphanic moment for me)

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WOULD YOU CARE TO DANCE?
No island vacation would be complete without the ridiculously expensive SWIM WITH DOLPHINS excursion. We were gonna scrap it because of the price but Dave won $300 at roulette (go 21!!) which paid for MOST of the excursion. It was INCREDIBLY EXHILARATING! I highly recommend this excursion on any vacation! Even if you're a water-phobe like me!
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VIEW OF KINGS WHARF BERMUDA FROM THE SHIP
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A FEW OF THOSE CHEESY, OVERPRICED, SHIPS PHOTOGRAPHER PHOTOS THAT YOU MUST HAVE!!
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WE'RE GONNA NEED A BIGGER BOAT!!
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WE SURVIVED THE BERMUDA TRIANGLE AND LIVED TO TELL ABOUT IT
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DAVE'S GQ POSE
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MARTINI'S NEED PROTECTION FROM THE SUNS GLARE TOO YA KNOW!
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RANDOM PICS:













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IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE

5/21/10
There's nothing like going on vacation to make you appreciate coming home. Vacation was awesome but I had a shit-eatin grin on my face the whole ride back to Middleboro (often referred to as Wheel barrel). I couldn't wait to get back to my dogs, my house, my bed, my life! I even gave my car "Ruby" a hug when I got out of the cab. (Ok we've already pointed out that I'm crazy so hugging my car should HARDLY come as a shock to you.) I felt like George Bailey when he got his life back as he ran through Beford Falls with such excitement at the reunion with the wonderful old Bailey Building & Loan, the Emporium, the Movie House and even Mr. potter and not to mention the rickety stair ballast post at home in his drafty old house! I finally figured out why going far away is hard for me. I LOVE my life! So why do I need to leave it? That's not to say I don't like taking time off from work; cuz I love that too. I just prefer to take it off at home. I don't need a vacation from life, just from work. Home Sweet Home!

Incidentally, "It's A Wonderful Life" was originally going to be the name of this blog but it was already taken.

I DIDN'T BLOG WHILE ON VACATION BUT I HAVE A FEW INTERESTING THINGS TO SAY ABOUT IT SO STAY TUNED FOR POSTS AND PHOTOS FROM BERMUDA!!

Dear Vacation Diary, Installment 7

5/10/10
Dear Diary,
OMG! OMG! vacation is just four days away! I'm half-way between excited and overwhelmed. There's so much to do and plan...and OMG I'M LEAVING MY DOGS FOR SEVEN EFFING DAYS!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OMG! < < SLAP > > Thanks I needed that! As a person who takes care of dogs for a living I see people come and go on vacation and leave their dogs like it's just another day of the week. Why, oh why, can't i?

Dear Vacation Diary, Installment 6

5/8/10
Dear Diary,
Our trip is just under a week away...It could just be from sheer exhaustion because I was Dave's job site slave today and my sciatica is actin up but I have very little excitement at the moment about this trip. I think it's a survival-mechanism; one of my brains inner panic-prevention measures. Instead of getting all worked up, all emotion is removed so I feel nothing. Yeah, just wait until the night before the trip, there will be an avalanche of emotion and I'll be doing the conga in the kitchen! The trial sleep over with the dogs at Lisa's went great last night except for a little wee-wee accident and trying to walk on the pool cover. (Apparently they are NOT strong enough for an elephant to walk on like the commercial says...so any of you that HAVE an elephant, don't let them walk on the pool cover.) Nobody got in a fight, nobody escaped and nobody got scooped up by a chicken-hawk! But still, I have little motivation to prepare for this trip by digging out summer clothes from storage in the basement and washing them, packing, packaging the dogs food for their stay at auntie Lisa's, get a mani-pedi, color my hair, organize our passports & cruise tickets, arrange for a ride to Boston AND clean the house. That's right, clean the house! I can't possibly be the only one who likes to come home to a clean house after vacation, can i? Oh it's just one of my many quirks...And apparently I like the added pressure of jUsT oNe MoRe EfFiNg tHiNg on the to-do list!! I'm a huge procrastinator and last-minute-lucy when it comes to any monumental task. I blame that on Scarlett O'Hara, she's the one who taught me! "But I can't think about that right now. If I do I'll go crazy. I'll think about that tomorrow." Scarlett came up with the best ways for dealing with stress...I'll take her cue!

Dear Vacation Diary, Installment 5

5/7/10
Dear Diary,
We dropped the dogs off earlier tonight at auntie Lisa's for their trial sleep over. Annabelle sniffed around here, there and everywhere then went out side and pee'd here there and everywhere. Alexis, having been to Lisa's before, felt right at home and went straight for the doggie toy box but noticed a cardboard box next to the fish tank and was eyeballing that for a good chew instead. (Cardboard trumps ALL dog toys just so you know!) Go figure. Back at home, the house is quiet and empty tonight without them. I hope I can sleep. 'Trying not to let my neurotic thoughts run away with me. Runnin runnin and runnin runnin.

Dear Vacation Diary, Installment 4

4/22/10
Dear Diary,
ok, just added another wart to the worry list: Lisa has a huge plate glass window in her living room. What if Alexis sees the UPS guy or a cat or a bird or a leaf and jumps through it????????????? It could happen.

Dear Vacation Diary, Installment 3

4/8/10
Dear Diary,
Before going to, appropriately enough for me and Lisa, a Mexican silver jewelry party tonight we headed out for a pre-party glass of wine at a trendy Plymouth waterfront local spot that had funky lamps on the bar made of barbie dolls sitting in mini Adirondack chairs. So cute! So cool! Of course the topic of our dogs came up--always does. We love them so! Lisa asked what am i so afraid of when I leave the dogs with her to go on vacation. Gee when you ask it so simple and 'matterafact like that, I almost couldn't come up with anything logical. My answer would only give her another sneak peak into the well hidden, crazy inner-workings of my mind. Aside from the hawk paranoia, I'm not entirely confident in Alexis' ability to sleep away from home with someone who works full time without having an all out panic-shit-yourself-attack. It's not uncommon for dogs to have a nervous bowel movement. I see it all the time in new dogs to the daycare group. Often on their first day they'll have to make a bowel movement within seconds of arriving and if i miss the signs, my kitchen floor is just as good as a patch of grass in the yard. Alexis does what Dave and I jokingly refer to as a "stress poop" but I assure you it's nothing funny! If she is stressed out over a long period of time it will eventually result in a diarrhea poop explosion. So I told Lisa of this delightful little tidbit. She was surprisingly unphased by it and said poop can be cleaned up, don't' worry about it so i said ok. Now that we have the hawk thing covered and the poop thing covered things are looking up.

Dear Vacation Diary, Installment 2

Wednesday 3/31/10
Dear Diary,
I have a secret fear and it's like something out of the Twilight New Moon series...It's that poor little Annabelle would be swooped up by a hawk. This is something that can actually happen out here in the boonies where a plentiful abundance of owls and hawks the size of a Yaris swoop down and make off with our cats and tiny Paris Hilton dogs! I've never verbalized this fear to anyone, not even Dave, but it was something I was going to eventually warn The Queen about before she dogs sits while we are in Bermuda, of which i fully expect her to laugh at me and pee herself while doing so. Just imagine my shockorror (shock and horror...i told u I make up words!) when The Queen tells me in passing conversation today that she has a hawk living in her trees. Oh! My! Effing! Gawd! I explain my secret fear and we have a good chuckle. This is going in the dear diary blog I tell her. She laughs and tries to calm me by telling me it's just a one eyed disabled hawk. Ok so that means it will just run Annabelle over with it's handicapped accessible van? Does it have a handicapped placard to prove said disability? A Doctors note even? Hawks can't be trusted! You've seen Warner Brothers' Foghorn Leghorn get his ass kicked by that unassuming little chicken hawk in those cartoons haven't you? Not to be trusted I tell ya! "Go away boy, ya bother me!"

Dear Vacation Diary

We just booked a Bermuda Cruise for our 15th wedding anniversary and it is with much trepidation. How can this possibly be you ask. Any great length of time spent away from home, away from my pack is, has always been and will always be, a bittersweet experience. Even long before Alexis came along. For example, three days into our trip to France in 1999, I missed the Yorkies so terribly that I would have gladly gone home early. It didn't help that I felt like we were in a galaxy far far away. I'm a homebody at heart so going far from home is hard for me...unless of course it's the type of vacation that I can bring my home with me. How redonkolous but it's true. Once Alexis came into the picture it became more difficult to pawn off 3 dogs to go on vacation (see my previous blog on that subject too) so we got creative and planned vacations where we could take the dogs with us. RVing. Beach House rentals on the cape. Stay-at-home vacations with day tripping. You get the pathetic picture. We finally got up the nerve to take a real vacation for our 10th anniversary five years ago; a mini 4 day cruise to the Caribbean. We had it all planned out; a family member was going to house sit and take care of the dogs. Except 2 days into it we found out that family member wasn't comfortable being away from HIS pack either (home & computer etc) so he left my sister holding the bag to come feed and let out the dogs twice a day. It was a total bummer but it all worked out ok. So here we are five years later, one less dog and ready to go on a real, 7 day cruise to Bermuda. I think I'm more excited to be cruising out of Boston with NO flying than I am about the actual cruise itself. And I must add that this would never be possible without our good friend Lisa Henning a/k/a Queen of Cuisine. Sure, as soon as i booked the trip I was playing steel drum Caribbean music dancing around the house. Really, it's true; ask Dave! Yes, I'm goofalicious! Like you didn't already know that! But now reality has set in, the music has stopped, the steel drums have been silenced, the dancing shoes have been put away and here I am with my thoughts about leaving my dogs...

Sunday 3/28/10
Dear Diary,
Yesterday I was dancing to steel drums, today I'm petrified to leave my dogs. Oh I'm sure they'll be in good hands with my dear friend Lisa but I'm a worry wart and I'm thinking about all that could possibly go wrong. What if she forgets the garage door is open and she opens the door and Alexis gets out? What if Annabelle pees on the carpet? What if Alexis misses me as much as I miss her and she turns into one of those separation anxiety ridden dogs that I have to kick out of D2D? What if? What if? What if? OMG somebody slap me! This is the part of me that I hate ... and for most of you that know me I'm pretty full of myself so this flaw in my fabric is troubling. It has all the makings of a scene out of Analyze This! (I would be the Robert Dinero "tough guy" character in case you were wondering.) Ok I'm sick of thinking about this right now. Gonna go back to folding laundry (a/k/a laundry therapy).

You are what you eat

WELCOME TO MY FIRST POST OF 2010!!

Wave your fingers in Wayne's World fashion and let's get back to 1999 OR you can plug your DeLorean into the flux capacitator and get it up 88mph to generate 1.21 gigawatts of electricity, whichever method you prefer ...

As any good dog owner would do, we signed up Alexis for obedience classes toot-sweet as soon as her breeder, now trainer, would take her...around 4 months old. So that takes us back to around July 1999. Ahhh the 90's, i remember them well.

Trainings were held in the basement of some big old church by the Bristol County Dog Training Club of New Bedford which Alexis' breeder was part of. Our first training class was just that; a class. All the dog owners sat in chairs with the trainer at the front of the group, kinda like first grade. Hindsight being 20/20 i think this was nothing more than an opportunity for the trainer to weed out the idiots from the half wits and the geniuses. I ain't gonna brag here...i was one of the idiots but at least I knew to keep my mouth shut. One of the topics we discussed was pet nutrition, which by the way was a turning point for me in biblical proportions when it comes to edumckating dog owners about what's in their pets food. I owe the entire life of my dogs to this class and this trainer! One of the first questions she asked was "is it ok to feed dogs raw meat?" I didn't really know the answer so Tar-baby just sat thar ain't sayin nothing! But someone yelled out "no, because it gives them a taste for blood and they'll want to kill." Holy crap were we in the werewolf class or something?? Did i make a wrong turn somewhere in the Whaling City? But in amazement, alot of people agreed..."mm-mm that's right." It was probably all the trainer could do to contain herself and keep from goin all Jackie Chan on that guy but I have a feeling she'd heard it before so for now, his life was spared.

Our trainer was not much of a preacher; she relied more on the power of suggestion. She suggested we all go home and do an internet search on "pet nutrition" and she told us we would be amazed and horrified at what we found. (This was LONG before the days of "google it" ... how did we ever survive!?) That's all she said; that was our homework assignment. No clues, no hints, no indications as to what exactly we were looking for or what we were supposed to find in this Sherlock Holmes-esque assignment. I suppose the people who really cared about their dogs went home and researched it on their big clunky hard wired computers with dial-up internet. The ones who didn't care, well, their dogs have probably left this earth from the various ramifications of poor pet nutrition. NOT ME!! As you all know, Alexis is still here, healthy as a horse, strong as an ox, alive and well, thinking she's 5 years old instead of nearly 11. What did I find out about pet nutrition on the internet, you ask? Dare I leave you in suspense and make you do the very homework assignment I was given some 10 years ago to find your own answers? That would be cruel...and besides I love to hear myself "write." What I found was that the brands of food you buy in the supermarket and many retailers are downright inferior and dangerous; many of the ingredients used are killing our pets! The commercial pet food industry is a sub-industry of the human food/agricultural industry. Anything unfit for human consumption at slaughterhouses such as waste & grain remnants that end up on the floor ends up in our pet food. I bet you never really thought about that did you? Whats worse than that is useless and dangerous, indigestible ingredients are used as fillers in pet food so that these large corporations can save a buck! Whats even double-dog-dare-ya worse than that is research has shown that euthanized animals have been used in pet food. Have I got your attention now? As an answer to sub-standard pet food, premium brands were created by veterinarians, breeders, etc. and use only top grade, species appropriate ingredients that are fit for human consumption. (But beware; some self-promoting premiums are anything but!)

I now give this research homework assignment to every new customer that passes through my door and any one I know with a dog. I tell them to google "pet nutrition" and see what you find. Of course I help my customers along by giving them a printout of my "Pet Nutrition; It Can't Be Found In The Supermarket" article that appeared in two issues of The Pet Gazette last year, which has a mini analysis of the most popular brands of dog food and shows you how to decipher the ingredients list on your package. You can see the entire article at www.dedicated2dogs.com/petnutrition

Pet nutrition has become my soapbox (anything to make me taller, right?) I believe that what you feed your dog is the single most important decision you have to make when it comes to the physical health of your pet. Education is power; don't just take the word of me, your veterinarian or anyone else what to feed your pet. Do the research yourself. Our pets rely on us to take care of them. Pet ownership is a huge commitment that should not be taken lightly. What you feed them should not be taken lightly either. Although many will eat anything, Dogs are not garbage disposals. Dogs (and cats for that matter) are carnivores (meat eaters) and simply lack certain enzymes to digest and process many of the foods we eat such as grains and plant based materials. You can see by their TV commercials taunting us with yummy vegetables and stew-like foods that many of these corporate, commercial brands are trying to fool us into believing that dogs and cats are omnivores like us (meat AND plant eaters). They are not! It's important to make yourself aware of those ingredients and avoid them or I promise you, you are shortening the life of your pet!

Ok I'm stepping off my soapbox now before my head pops off. After you read this blog and my Pet Nutrition page you will be wiser....Use your power for good, not evil! May the force be with you. WOOF!

My Date With Cesar Millan

OK so it wasn't a DATE ... we just went to see him live on stage with a few thousand other people. Either way, Cesar is just as magnificent live as he is on the National Geographic channels' "Dog Whisperer" show. When you watch the show you might think how the dogs just magically behave when Cesar takes hold of the leash is some kind of back-room-editing trick; kinda like how Julia Child would put a roast in the oven after she cut the dickens out of her finger and the roast would mysteriously be ready before the show ended. But I'm here to tell you there's no editing when you're live...Cesar is the real thing baby! He had four people come up on the stage with their dogs with various issues (aggression, shyness, hyperactivity, etc) and it was like watching the magician saw the girl in half leaving you saying to yourself "how did he do that?"

The main focus of Cesar's message is about your energy and state of mind in your relationship with your dog. If you are tense or nervous that energy will translate to your dog that you are not a balanced pack leader and you'll end up with a tense or nervous dog that is constantly trying to figure out who his leader is. The gist of it is that your calm assertive energy will result in a calm submissive dog. (Don't confuse assertive here with aggressive or submissive with fearful!)

Secondary to your energy is to view your dog in a particular order; first as an animal, second as species, third by breed, fourth by name. We humans mess it up by viewing our dogs backwards and impose all our human emotions and irrationality onto our pets. No wonder they're F'd up! I've never had a problem viewing my pets as animals; that's what they are. (My issue has always been my energy; it's rather frenetic!) Dogs are not people; I get that. They don't understand happy, sad, guilt, anxiety...they understand ENERGY. That's not to say they can't probably experience these energies when we mistakenly encourage bad behavior with a nurturing "it's OK" or pat on the head while our dog is in the midst of unacceptable or negative behavior.

Thirdly when we greet a dog, practice no touch/no talk/no eye contact if you want to gain any respect from the dog. It's funny to watch Cesar jokingly mock the way we greet dogs; our bodies wiggle, we bend down to the dog's level and in our highest pitch voice we squeal "hi cutie schmookie pookie schnookie bum!" Everyone in the audience had an LMAO moment with that because let's face it; that's exactly how we do it! It's good we can laugh at ourselves and not take the whole thing so darn seriously.

Fourthly, (is fourthly a word? eh tough I'm goin with it...Probably a good time to remind you of my legal disclaimer that I make no promises in my blog for proper grammar, punctuation and the like. I'll save that task for my publisher one day) Cesar swears by his formula of exercise + discipline + affection + rules/boundaries/limitations = a balanced dog. Having a balanced dog is what Cesar is all about. We cannot have that until we apply this formula AND remove our over emotional attitude and pleading negotiating games we play with our dogs to get them to do what we want.

Not every trainers' methods are going to jive with every pet owner. But if you really listen to Cesar's message you'll see he is totally in the mindset of a dog! And how better to know someone or something than to get inside its head. "Think like a dog" I always say! (that's also the title of a book I'm working on...Geesh if I ever finish a book instead of just starting one I might actually get rich, but that's just my Gemini nature which is a story for another day...oooh or a book for another day! there I go again)

I must make mention of Cesar's foundation, which has many programs but there was one that he highlighted during his tour that I thought was just an amazing concept. The program goes around to U.S. schools to teach preschool and primary grade students essential skills for caring, empathy and respect, building relationships, acting ethically and responsibly then applying these skills in their interactions with people and animals. If our young children can learn at an early age how to respect animals they can grow up to be responsible pet owners and we might just have less issues with aggression, lack of training, lack of socialization and less dogs given up for adoption. I love it!

Until my next blog, Think like a dog! WOOF!

Five Thousand Dollar Cat

ZIG ZAG 8/22/03 - 10/2/09

I sit here and stare at the blank text box for my next blog post not knowing what to name this post or even where to start. All I know is that it's dedicated to my late Zig-Zag kitty and the rest will come to me as I go; that's pretty much how I do this thing called life...make it up as I go. This blog is supposed to be all about Alexis, my Doberman, but she and Zig were so much a part of each other that I think it's appropo to memorialize him here.

Zig-Zag kitty's life had a tumultuous start and so I suppose the rest of his life just followed suit and mimicked that tumult. (Yes, I've been known to throw a bit of Yiddish into my blogs.) Unbeknownst to us, Zig was born under our deck in August, 2003 only to be abandoned by his feral mother 10 days later. We were never sure why she abandoned him; maybe he was sickly or maybe there were just too many dam dogs in the yard and she couldn't come back for him. (chicken shit!) She wasn't winning any mother-of-the-year awards on this one. Either way my fenced backyard where I run doggie daycare was an odd location for her to pop out a litter of kittens in the first place but when I look back on it maybe there was some infinite wisdom there after all. None the less, Alexis found the kitty under the deck tucked away behind the usual stuff that is stored under decks; garden tools, bikes, (i have a bike?) lawn tractor and the like. Oh how he cried out for his mommy! We left him there all day but checking on him every few hours, hoping the mother would come back for him but by night fall she did not return so we took him in. The rest, as they say, is history but what an expensive history lesson it was!

Do you have any idea how to take care of a 10 day old kitten? No but I was sure it involved a bottle and some formula so off to the pet supply store we went. It just so happened the Taunton Animal Shelter was holding their cat adoption day there so we sought advice from them how to care for such a young animal. We were a little horrified to find out that kittens this young cannot "relieve themselves" on their own. The mother has to stimulate them by licking their bottoms to get them to pee and poop. OOps sorry should have warned you about the gross factor! We were also told that this kitten would likely not survive. OK miss negative cat shelter lady but you don't know me very well! No kitten's gonna die on my watch! We had our work cut out for us but little did we know we had miss Nightingale to help us...Alexis' maternal instinct kicked into high gear and she actually helped take care of the kitty. Usually she just wants to kill kitties she sees outside but close-up she turns into, well, a pussy cat. She would lick his face clean after he ate his formula, she would lick his ears clean and she would also have the unfortunate task of stimulating the kitty so he could empty his bladder and bowel. Of course she didn't seem to think it was as gross as we did. (Kinda makes that whole human baby diaper changing task sound easy doesn't it?) If Zig cried, Alexis came running! This went on for a few weeks until kitty was out of the danger zone for survival and until he could go potty on his own. Many days and nights of wrapping him tight in a towel like a kitty burrito and holding him like a tiny, little baby to give him his bottle. He would claw and cling to that bottle for dear life! Weeks of watching him grow stronger. Weeks of watching Alexis take care of her baby. By week three I had sent out emails that we would need a good home for this kitten in the near future. But who the heck can give up a cute little kitty burrito after all that? One day I found my self just looking down at him all wrapped up in his baby bunting and it hit me; "oh-oh I love him and I want to keep him". Dave was thrilled (NOT). Naming him was easy! He had this funny little white crooked stripe on his tail and back and he would literally zoom from room to room, from one direction to another. Zig-Zag Kitty was beyond a perfect name for him. The rest is history and what an expensive history it was. Oh shoot, I already said that...well the name of this post IS "Five Thousand Dollar Cat" after all.

The first few years were typical; vaccinations, neutering, watching Zig & Alexis become more and more inseparable, etc. BUT (there's always a big BUT) four short years into our life with this black and white tuxedo wearing zigging and zagging back and forth dog loving cat his bladder became blocked. This is very common in house cats (not sure why but every cat I've ever had has developed crystals in the bladder which end up getting blocked so they can't pee, a/k/a Feline Urological Syndrome or FUS). You wont mistake it for anything else. Besides the obvious straining to urinate and spending copious amounts of time in the litter box with little results, a cat with a blocked bladder will symptomatically crouch and become very vocal. Wouldn't you? Unblocking them is simple, if you've spent 6 years in veterinary school, that is. The animal is sedated and catheterized and the bladder is flushed with saline to remove the crystals. Badda Bing Badda Boom! This has been a typical, non-eventful procedure every time in my other cats. Oh but not THIS black and white tuxedo wearing zigging and zagging back and forth dog loving cat! We brought him to our regular vet who shall remain nameless....awww what the heck I'll tell you. It was Hanson Animal Hospital. They performed a flush earlier in the evening but it didn't quite work so they kept him overnight so they could try again. Well during that 2nd try they accidentally perforated the bladder!! We got a very matter-of-fact-non-apologetic call at 11:00pm that the cat needed emergency surgery and we would have to take him to a 24 hour facility. Say whaaaaaaat? and oh by the way, before you can take him you owe us $1,000. Say whoooooooo? Those of you that know me can imagine my disgust and anger, which was not held back during that 11:00pm phone call, at the fact that I had to PAY them to almost kill my cat. Well Hanson Animal Hospital had us by the schnarglies; what could we do? Thank God for credit cards and equity lines of credit that's all I can say. We arrived around midnight with said credit cards and checkbook in hand and brought the semi-sedated cat with a catheter in one end and IV in the other to Westbridge Animal Emergency Hospital. If you know anything about 24 hour emergency animal care the price depends on what time you walk through the door. The price at midnight is higher than at 11pm. Now had we walked in at 11pm we probably could have saved a couple hundred dollars but I don't have THAT much control over the universe no matter how many times I watch The Secret DVD. We arrived around 1am. Because we called ahead they were ready for us and they scooted him into surgery. But no sooner had we let out a breath of relief had the receptionist whipped up a nice hefty estimate for us to the tune of $3400 of which a 50% deposit is required on the spot. Again, thank god for the credit card and equity line. Mind me when I tell you this was all the EASY part of the story! Yes it gets worse. What could possibly be worse you say? Well, he was supposed to only be in there for a few days. But three days turned into four and four turned into five and so on, of which every day they said "he should be able to go home tomorrow". If only i had a thousand dollars for every time they said that I could have paid the bill in cash! The issues is, the same as it is with people, when a catheter is removed you can't go home until you can pee on your own. Well Zig Zag kitty was having severe urethra spasms and he couldn't urinate so they had to keep reinserting the catheter, which in itself is traumatizing to the urethra and can cause scarring. OK so stop doing that! This "he should be able to go home tomorrow" went on for a week and a half to the high-pitched tune of $250/day ON TOP of the surgery cost plus trying every medication under the sun to try to relieve the spasms! Needless to say we blew their original estimate out of the water like open season on a mallard! I don't even want to tell you how much the final bill was. YET! (I can hear your internal calculators going CHA CHING) Every day we grappled with spending that much money vs. having him euthanized. I'm not going to lie; Dave and I argued about this every day during this ordeal. He would ask "what's the line in the sand, how much are we going to spend here?" and I couldn't answer the question. All I could say was "I don't know" ...I did know that I didn't want to be one of THOSE people who put down an otherwise healthy, young animal because we didn't want to spend the money. I felt his frustration. He felt mine. We were emotionally drained and soon becoming financially drained. The piggy bank was becoming anorexic! We jokingly referred to it as a money hemorrhage. We visited Zig every few days and even started to bring Alexis with us hoping that would help him along faster. I'm not sure it did but it made us feel better I guess. Approaching the end of the second week they told us once again "he should be able to go home tomorrow." It was like a bad version of Groundhog Day minus the "I've Got You Babe" song. Well, Dave just about lost his mind and told them that Zig is going home tomorrow come hell or high water. We went in the next morning with check book in hand to pay their rent for the next few months and brought Zig home. All told between the Hanson Vet bill and the Westbridge vet bill we spent ((drum roll please))...wait for it...$4973!! I know, you're gasping for air right now aren't you?!

John Howard Payne wasn't just whistling Dixie when he said "Amid pleasures and palaces though we may roam; be it ever so humble, there's no place like home." Neither was Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz. Zig started to improve immediately as soon as he was back with his beloved surrogate Doberman mother, Alexis. Geesh we shouldda brought him home sooner. We still had a long row to hoe but there was a light at the end of the tunnel that he would be ok. For several months after we had to force feed him his muscle relaxing pills twice a day. We had to survey the litter box every time he went in it, which was probably 5-10 times a day, to monitor his output. We added Chinese herbs to his food to aid in his bladder function. And best of all we had to switch him to a very expensive food that would prevent the crystals from returning. We also had to tell the entire family that year that we had to scale back on Christmas and that we would only be buying gifts for the youngest children of which there were few of.

Eventually Zig fully recovered and never had another episode. He went on to be a healthy, happy cat for the next two years but remember my previous reference to his tumultuous life ... Healthy and happy until his stroke this past October. It just came out of the blue. We woke up one Friday morning to find him paralyzed from the waist down. It didn't really seem to stop him though; he dragged himself around pretty good. But I knew this was bad! Dave brought him to the vet; I could not go as I had daycare dogs to tend to. I thought maybe he fell or Lexi stepped on him in the middle of the night but the vet could find no injuries on the xray or anything else conclusive in the blood work. Over the phone we made the decision to euthanize him but I made Dave bring Zig home first so we could spend the rest of the day with him. I kept it together until my last daycare dog had gone home. I laid on the couch with Zig and just bawled! Dave and I returned to the vet that evening together with Alexis to give Zig a proper farewell with his "pack" around him to send him off to the next world.

I must mention Zig was an integral part of my doggie daycare business over the last five or six years. Many times customers would come through either with an adopted dog or young puppy not knowing if their dog got along with cats. Zig made sure they did. He's even responsible for fully rehabilitating Brady the Boxer who had a less than healthy appetite for cats when she first started coming to D2D. Because Zig grew up with dogs all around him he was fearless of them and acted very much like one so he would always make an appearance at the meet-n-greets to sniff out the new dogs. And he would often play, nap and eat among them during daycare and boarding. As a result all of my dogs had some exposure and interaction with a cat, which enhanced their social skills and allowed my customers the possibility of owning a cat one day as a companion to their dog. My remaining cat, Tiny Tim, has some big shoes to fill. 'Not sure if he's up for the task...Zig always held his ground when encountering dogs. Tiny on the other hand, will run for the hills. If it runs, a dog will chase it. Zig knew that somehow so he stayed put and claimed his territory and won out every time. 'Shouldda named him Alpha Cat.

I'm glad Zig was able to make it into one of my blog posts before he died. My "What's In A Name" post gets rolling with the many nick-names of Zig-Zag kitty so be sure to scroll back and read that one.

I've had pets all my life. I've loved and lost many. I go into it every time knowing full well that some day I will have to usher them into the next life. That's just how it goes. But this one made me a little angry. What was it all for? All that saving and rescuing we did. All that money spent. Only to get a measly six years worth of living and loving. But you know me; I can find the "everything happens for a reason" in anything so I've gotta look at it like this... If we had never found him under the deck he probably would have died. Or if his mother never abandoned him he probably wouldn't have survived in the wild to six years old anyway. (Ferals typically live shorter lives) Or if he did survive to six years old in the wild he would have woken up paralyzed one day out there, instead of in our warm toasty house and he would have struggled to survive or would have become a sitting duck for coyotes. So I guess in the end we saved him from a savage death no matter how you look at it. Not exactly the nine lives I was hoping for but I can live with that.

Now Zig lives in my heart, and on my screen saver. I get to see him in the sink every day like he never left. And I have a video of him and Alexis cuddling so that I can hear him purring any time I want. Modern technology does somehow ease the pain a bit.




We never did go back to Hanson Animal Hospital. We moved all our pets and their records to Westbridge because I can just about guarantee that if an emergency is going to happen with our pets, it's gonna happen at midnight.

Zig was a truly unique cat and he will be missed by humans and dogs alike! Bye Bye Boop Kitty!

"IT BREAKS MY HEART EVERY TIME A BELOVED ANIMAL LEAVES THIS WORLD ... BUT A BROKEN HEART MAKES MORE ROOM TO LOVE AGAIN" ...ME

It's Easier To Pawn Off A Yorkie Than It Is A Doberman

First, let me say thanks for all the comments and emails about my last blog "What's In A Name." All your positive feedback was tremendous and I truly appreciate all the support. Apparently you all like it when Amy let's a little bit of crazy outta the bottle once in a while!

As for this blog; Who knew that when we got a Doberman we'd never go on vacation ever again. Sure, EVERYONE wants to take your Yorkies, but who is qualified to take your Doberman? In fact, you'd have better luck getting someone to take TEN Yorkies easier than just ONE Doberman. Anyway, when Alexis was around 8 months old--(or somewhere around 8 months; it could have been 6 months old for all i remember, after all, we ARE relying on 43 year old memory cells here but geesh I hope it wasn't six months old and you'll understand why IF I ever get to the point. I DID warn you in my very first blog about my run-on sentences, didn't i??)--Dave and I wanted to go up to Ogunquit, Maine for our anniversary (where we got engagged...yes "engagged") but what to do with the dogs for the night? Ask your fabulous neighbors Helen and Al to check in on them, that's what! Simple task right? Sure, no problem! The Yorkies get free reign of the west wing and, for the Fup-Fup, we'll just put up a baby gate at the end of the hall and she can have free reign of the east wing. Yeah like we had a mansion or something! NOT! This was all a piece of cake! In theory anyway. We packed up the car and headed north young man! We wined, we dined, we shopped, we shmyed (that's Yiddish for browsing...go ahead, google it. I'll wait). [Elevator muzak plays the Jeopardy Theme while we wait] See, told ya! Back to the story (Boy, you people get distracted easy). As we headed back to our hotel later in the evening we got a frantic call from Helen that Alexis was trying to attack Al. Of course, I was in absolute and utter denial at these shocking allegations about my sweet-adorable-angel-puppy! Helen had sent Al over to let the dogs out; Yorkies, no problem. Doberman, not so much. The baby gate was placed at the end of a long hall way so when Al, a man's man, approached the hallway and his large, tall, shadowy figure filled the entry way it must have scared the bajeezus out of Alexis and she went into attack mode. (Bajeezus was Jesus Christ's evil twin brother who could scare the crap out of the devil himself.) As the story goes, she was snarling and growling and barking at Al, who, although a formidable opponent to an 8 month old Doberman, wasn't gonna touch that with a ten foot pole! What exactly WOULD someone touch with a ten foot pole by the way?? A dead body? A leper? That one always puzzled me! You can talk amongst yourselves on that one when you're done reading...Back to the story...Where were we? Oh yes...Ogunquit, some 120 miles away. We might as well have been on the moon! What the hell were we to do? We instructed Helen and Al to just leave Alexis be for the night and if she has to "relieve" herself in the hallway (on my beautiful hard wood floors) then that's what will be and we'll deal with the mess in the morning when we get back. AND "RELIEF" THERE WAS!! But I'm sure you don't want to hear about that! You do? OK...NO!

And so began Lexi's gate/barrier aggression. To this day, at 10 years old, if you are standing on the other side of any gate she will go absolutely bonkers at you and you'll probably crap your pants...Unless of course you are Lisa Henning whom Lexi loves ...or a Jehovah's Witness; they don't crap their pants for ANYTHING! However, once you are inside the gate with her (Which we typically don't have a habit of letting Jehovah's inside just so ya know) she's a big ole pussycat! SHHHH don't tell the robbers!! Needless to say because of this incident, plus the time Cornelius was attacked at my sisters by the neighbors' German Shepherd AND my ridiculous co-dependence on my animals, AND my need for control AND my overall lack of trust of anyone to take care of my animals, we have only gone on ONE traditional vacation in the last 10 years. All our vacations have been planned around the dogs so that we can bring them along; RVing, renting summer cottages, day tripping, etc. A few times we even brought the cats and the litter box! Yes, you can call me crazy but I think we already established that in my "WHATS IN A NAME" blog so calling me crazy at this point is just overstating the blatantly obvious to which I say "I am rubber, you are glue, crazy bounces off me and sticks to you".

Hmmm, let's see, what current event shall I comment on today? The Cambridge Police vs. Professor Gates mess? Nah! How Michael Jackson went to a va-jay-jay doctor for a pimple? Nope! Brides trashing their wedding dresses? Ugh! Mischa Barton's bizarre behavior? Puh-Lease! Sarah Palin's continued idiocy? Shoot me! Crazy ex-American Idol contestant Alexis Cohen dies? Nyet! Actor Stephen Baldwin declares bankruptcy? DILLIGAF! The Youtube wedding boogie sensation? This is news?! Health Care Reform? Cough-Cough! Lance blows Tour De France? Non! The Massachusetts Sales Tax hike? Bring on the tea party! OK apparently I'm not in the mood to talk current events today...I blame Noreen & Steve's party last night! I'm really only in the mood for McD's today! aaah those Golden greasy Arches.

And so it goes...until my next blog I leave you with this: "If you get to thinkin' you're a person of some influence, try orderin' somebody else's dog around."

WOOF! WOOF!

What's In A Name?

Well hello again! You came back for my third blog post! Thanks, I just love you for that! Kind of like moth to a flame, bees to honey (or bears, which ever you prefer), like a dog to a bone, like a Hollywood brat to an Oscar, you came back. You love me, you REALLY love me! Well off we go!

When last we blogged, we had gone back in time to summer 1999 and we had just picked up Alexis from the breeder to take her home. Of course our little canine alien didn't know her name yet and I should mention that up until my Alexis name brain flash, her AKC registered name was Voyager. What can I say, the breeder had a thing for Star Trek or Star Wars or Battle Star Galactica or Pigs in Space, I dunno! But all her pups were named after the series. Oh yes! some of the other puppies' AKC names were Live Long N Prosper, Red Alert, Stargazer and Seven of Nine just to name a few...and her fathers name was Kobayashi Maru. But I don't imagine that the breeder was calling out to them as "Voyager, Red Alert, Live Long and Prosper, come and get a cookie" or anything like that. Needless to say Alexis didn't answer to any name just yet. Her breeder suggested that we use a short nick name like "pup-pup" in a high pitched voice when trying to get her to learn to come when called. FYI, having chopped up hot dogs in your pocket doesn't hurt either! So while she learned to bond with us we used pup-pup. "Here pup-pup!" "Good pup-pup!"

Like every pet name I've ever had for my animals they evolve and morph themselves into other nick names. Ok, they don't morph themselves; it's my over active brain that does all the work but still. Here's some crazy examples for ya! My cat Zig-Zag has several aliases and BUHlieve me, he knows them all for there is hope, with every call out, that a tasty morsel might be on the other end. Besides, he thinks he's a dog but that's a story for another blog. Anyway, If Zig was on America's Most Wanted, his list of a/k/a's would rival Santa's naughty/nice list for sure and would read something like this: Zig-Zag Kitty, Kitty Burrito, Fat Kitty, Kidgy, Boop Kitty, Upsidedown Kitty, Coo-coo Kitty and Coo-Coo-Machoo. My other cat, Tiny-Tim, just has one nick name; Tiny Kat but he seems ok with that. Then there's my late Yorkie, Cornelius T. Lovejoy, who had many nick names over his 15 year life; Schnooki-bum, Corndog, Corndognelius, Buddy Boy. My dad even had a nick name for him; Seargent York. Annabelle Lee Vixen, my 12 year old Yorkie, has a litany of nick names too; Annabelly-Feet-so-smelly (which is actually Dave's brainchild), Fancy Pants or Fancy Britches and sometimes Fancy Bitches but also Fantasy Pants because when my niece was young she would pronounce Fancy as "Fantasy". Annabelle is also sometimes referred to as Patty Pissy Pants...no explanation needed!

Just to expand upon my insanity for you, even my daycare and boarding dogs have been given nick names. (Oy this is gonna be a LONG blog post!) It goes something like this:
Bailey H: Little Bailey, Bailey Bump and Bumpy Lump
Bailey W: Big Bailey
Boomer: Boom-Boom
Brady: Barr Brady and Bo Brady
Cassie: Cassy-Q
Cazzy: Cazzy Boy
Cinnamon: Cimanum and Cinny
Cocoa & Dakota: Cocoa-Wee and Kota Face
Cody & Daisy: Codeeee and Daisy-BunnyRabbit-Jackolope
Daisy Mae: Miss Daisy and Dazy Mazy
Dory: Dory Dory Blaze of Glory
Duncan: Dugga-Dugga
Emily: Miss 'Em and Emery
Ginger & Marianne: Gingie and Mara'ane
Hamlet and Shyla: Hammet and Shy-Shy
Libby: Libby Gurl
Lucy: Loosey-Goosey
Magnus and Lili: Magnish and LillyBillz
Max K: Maxy boy
Max L: Me-Mi-Mo-Maximus
Mocha: Mocha Face
Monty & Roxie: Drooley-bum and Rocks
Oscar: Oscarbibble
Patriot: Patey and Pay-Pay
Pippi: Pip-Pip and Pipster
Puddy: Puddin Head
Remy: Ding, short for Rema-lema-ding-dong
Roxy: Roxycute
Ruby: Booby-Boob
Sadie: Shady Banana
Sammie: Sammie So-So
Sassy: Sassafrass
Seirra: Sahara
Shadow: Pant-Licker and Mr Beasley
Sonny: Sunny-Bunny
Teddy: Tigger
Ty: Tie Bow/Bow Tie
Willow: Willy-Whistle
Wrigley: Wiggly

Why, even I have nick-names...My dad used to call me "Half Pint" when I was a little girl as I frolicked down the flowery hillside in my gunnysack dress...oh wait, that was Little House On The Prairie, never mind! But you can see what I mean about the name-morphing. So it goes without saying that Alexis' Pup-Pup nick name has been morphing for some 10 years now...let's meander down memory lane and see what other monstrosities Amy's brain has come up with, shall we? Somehow Pup-pup became Fup-Fup (I'm not sure how we jumped from P to F but it's the letter from which most future nick names for Alexis spawned)...so then Fup-Fup became Fuffa which turned into Fuffa-Noo (thanks again, Dave) only to later become Folena and that became Folena Phalandri (sort of a spoof of Pheobe Buffay's alias character on the show Friends; Regina Phalange...No, not her Princess Consuela Bananahammock alias.) Then Folena become Flibbity Jibitz...then that became Flim-Flam and that later morphed into a rant of Folena-Flim-Flam-Flibbity-Jibitz along with a pat on the head any time we crossed paths in the house. If she's so inclined, she might also answer to Lexi, Lexi-lue and My Pretty Pony (again, don't ask! I should really just start each blog with a "don't ask" disclaimer.) Boy, spell checker is going to have a field day with this blog post!

OY now that i see all this nick-name-nonsense in writing I appear to be a certifiable loon! They're coming to take me away! But c'mon people, tell me you don't have silly pet names for YOUR pets? Don't scoff! In fact, let's hear from you in my comments section about your silly pet nick-names!! Don't be shy...See if you can out-do crazy Amy the dog lady! OOPS i just gave myself a nick name! LOL

I'm skipping today's current event mention. I am, instead, dedicating this post to the late "Whitey" Neal who recently went to doggie heaven. Our thoughts are with the Neal Family.

Until my next blog, I leave you with this: "There is no psychiatrist in the world like a puppy licking your face".

WOOF! WOOF!

Bringing Home Baby

Back in 1999, after much soul searching about what I wanted to be when I grew up, (assuming I was ever gonna grow up, that is) I decided I wanted do something with dogs...a trainer or groomer or doggie daycare. (An idea that I wouldn't put into action until some 3-4 years later.) I also decided I needed a much more substantial dog besides Yorkshire Terriers to go along with my new career path. No offense to Cornelius and Annabelle. Non taken said they. I grew up with Dobermans and even adopted an older one in my early 20's (some XX years ago) but never had one of my own from puppyhood. Puppyhood? Is that even a word? I'll consult with Webster later. Anyway, a Doberman seemed like a logical choice. I hit the internet looking for breeders. Apparently the universe was in line with my thinking (long before "The Secret" came along) because there was a local breeder who just-so-happened to have a litter of show quality Doberman puppies for sale. CHA-CHING! I called her up and away Dave and I went to see her puppies. On the phone the breeder told me that SHE would pick out the puppy for me. In my head I was thinking "oh no you ain't!" As it turns out, she was a very experienced breeder and matched me up to one of her puppies based on my experience (or lack there of) with raising a Doberman. Having never actually raised a Doberman, she matched me up perfectly with one of the more docile puppies in the litter. Yup that's right, a pups personality is already established as soon as they pop into the world. OK they don't exactly POP in, they sort of oooze in. Gross! It turned out to be a good match and thank God (or thank DOG as I like to say) because later on when other customers of the breeder and I showed up at her obedience class, Alexis' litter mates were a ruckusing, out-of-control bunch of devil dogs. And there was Alexis, a little rowdy but a dainty princess by comparison to her brothers and sisters who's owners arms were being pulled out of their sockets. Hey, better them than me!

Back to the story... Before we even met Alexis, I had a name all picked out for our puppy too. At the moment it escapes me so I'll have to ask Dave; he remembers everything! So off we went to see all the puppies. (I think I already said that part but whatever.) There they were were, about 8 pups in a pen, their ears all taped up looking like little canine aliens. There were a few black and tan pups and also a slew of brown and red ones. We wanted the traditional black and tan. Each pup had a different color yarn tied around their neck for identification purposes. We liked the one with the pink yarn. She was in the front of the pack bouncing around; a fine specimen. Yes, we'll take HER! Alas, she was already spoken for. By who you ask? By none other than the breeder herself, that's who! I guess we DO have good taste in dogs. Our breeder pointed to our puppy...the one with the white yarn; the quiet, loser in the back, facing away...not even looking at us...not even giving a rats ass who we were. No bother, the minute we picked her up we were hooked! And that name I had picked out before...GONE! Her real name came to me in a flash (as most things do); ALEXIS CARRINGTON. (Don't ask!) We put our deposit down and after a few more visits and once she was ready to be taken away from her mother, we went back, paid the remainder of the hefty sum and loaded baby into the car and life with a Doberman as we know it today began.

Oops sorry folks Dave doesn't remember the name we had picked out either so that part of the blog (and Alexis' life) will have to remain a mystery.

Today's comment on current events is the undeniable tragedy of the passing of Michael Jackson. When you watch his life all together in one consecutive montage you realize how much of a musical genius he really was. Let's remember him for the amazing entertainer that he was, let's feel empathy for the strange and sad private life he led and let GOD deal with Michael's demons.

Until my next blog i leave you with this..."Whoever said money can't buy happiness forgot about puppies"
WOOF! WOOF!

Breaking the seal

Welcome to my very first blog! I guess this means I am no longer a blog virgin. It's something I've been thinking about doing for a while now. I saw all the fun my friend Lisa was having, a/k/a The Queen of Cuisine (http://queenofcuisinepcs.blogspot.com) and she finally convinced me to do one. Although I can't compete with her writing skills, I'll sure give it the college-of-hard-knocks try.

Here i sit with a snow white blank page having no idea what to write. I imagine this is how many a great author started out! How exciting! As if coming up with a name for my blog wasn't hard enough, now I have to actually write something! Something interesting. I have to somehow get all these jumbled up thoughts out of my head into some kind of legible-making-sense-order. It's kinda like trying to get the gumballs out of the machine in the exact order of the rainbow colors. Such a task! Being a dual personality Gemini I just have too many ideas...first there was "The Dog Blog"... then there was "It's A Wonderful Life" but grrrrr that was already taken ... then there's "Gemini Blog"...OH my head is aching just thinking about all the blogs i COULD be doing. In the end, go with what you know (Dogs) and go with what you love (Dogs) and follow your dreams (to write a book about my Doberman titled My Kingdom For A Dog) and here we are.

I suppose I should comment on all this shitty weather we are having! (Am i allowed to say "shitty" in my blog? too late x 2) But that's too obvious and a bit negative...the sun WILL come out...tomorrow...right? Oh yes and I almost forgot to tell you...I am obnoxiously optimistic! Go ahead ask anyone; they'll tell you. Don't try to be all sad and depressed or self deprecating around Amy or she'll punch you in the face!

As far as grammar and spelling goes, I make NO promises! I use a lot of dots and dashes and exclamation points and run on sentences when I write; that's just who i am. The Gemini in me is always trying to express herself. And to be honest I much prefer to use small case "i" - it just looks cuter and it's a little different and that's who i am. So don't be surprised or think me an idiot if you see a variety of "I" and "i" peppered throughout my blogs. There will be enough elementary-school-English-teacher corrections by my editor when I'm writing the real thing later (my book) so I'm running barefoot and fancy-free now while I can. Hope you don't mind a little self-fulfilling prophecy.

Until my next blog post...I leave you with this: "Every dog needs a home and every home needs a dog"

WOOF WOOF!