Category Archives: Dogs
“Wait!,” said the receptionist. “Stop right there for a minute.”
Huh? Great. What did I do now?
Nothing, that’s what. But why is it, I wonder, that it is so difficult to look innocent of misdeeds, especially when you really are.
“Your dog is so handsome,” says the gatekeeper of the assisted living facility lobby. “I have dog cookies behind the desk here. Can he have one?”
Micron, who was under my control and care mere seconds ago, has alerted to the one word that means so much to him.
He looks up at me, then attempts to rush the nice lady who’s waving a treat at him.
“Did ya hear that, Food Lady?” says Micron. “I’ll be going home with the new cookie lady now. It’s been fun and all, but, you know. Cookies.”
“Mike-Mike!” I cry out his cutesy nickname in spite of his dropping two points from the Adorability Meter as he Baltos me across the lobby. “Slow down, Mike! Ok, fine. Sure, but he needs to Sit for the cookie. When he’s all excited like this, you’ll want to feed him like a…”
“Ow”, says the receptionist.
“Horse.” I say. “You’ll want to feed him like a horse. Flat, open palm.”
Horse. Donkey. Dire Wolf. Land Shark. Whatever he reminds me of during these food motivated moments, it’s a lesson learned. My dog will not only turn allegiance for a dog cookie, he will do so with great passion.
From the archives at Raising a Super Dog, we bring you the adventures from last year’s Easter’s bunny ear photo shoot, featuring Miss Euka and the mighty Micron.
I hope you enjoy reading this again as much as I did. Good times, y’all.
Hey Micron! says Euka. You big goldengoober! Lookit!
Look at what, Puppy Piddler? asks Micron, annoyed. He doesn’t look up from chewing a stick. It’s a good stick. Fresh from the mulch pile.
‘Member the time you smashburgered me into the ground? says Euka.
Which time? snickers Micron.
You know. That one time, says Euka. When Food Lady was gonna take me to the grocery so I could work on my fan base? And then she said I couldn’t go because you made me all muddy?
Just on one side, says Micron. If you could manage to keep a good Heel, nobody would even see. Why?
Why? asks Euka. Why? Because this is YOU! And I’m gonna smear YOU into the ground for once!
What’s that now? Finding myself amind yet another round of sibling smack talk, I admit to blocking most of this out. It’s all grr-grr this and rowl-rowl that most of the time, anyway. But the mention of somebody getting pounded gets my notice.
Euka, I say. What are you … No! Drop! That’s for the photos!
So you bring that new puppy home and housebreaking is going as expected. You can get the pup outside to do her business most of the time with only the occasional carpet christening.
But now it’s been nearly a week of successful toilet training and the pup has just walked over to you, made laser direct eye contact and squatted. Right there! In front of you!
What do you do?
You grab the classified ad section of your own local version of the Dayton Daily and roll it up tightly, right?
Then you smack yourself soundly on the head for not paying attention to the puppy.
It’s your own dumb fault.
When I say “you”, I really mean me, of course. Well, all of us collectively. Anyone who has raised a puppy or adopted an adult dog from a shelter.
I was reminded about this Paying Attention thing this week, when the Husband came downstairs and handed me this little nightmare.
|Introducing Saxon Sword
Possibly the most epic dog name ever.
(Sharing from Raising a Super Dog)
My mom and I tend to roll towards similar tastes, as many mother and daughter combos do. We agree on lifestyle choices like the preference of spending a quiet afternoon with a book over a shopping trip. We both enjoy the decadence of a rich cup of coffee with a side of chocolate cake as a favorite noshing opportunity. She loves to garden and I love to look at the gorgeous landscaped creations she brings forth every summer.
And Mom and I are fully aware that even though retro styles are the thing with young folk, there’s really no way to bring sexy back to the mid-70’s fashions. We were there together once and the memories of toe socks just won’t fade.
And through my mom, this appreciation of All Things Dog is a value I come by honestly. We always had several canine companions at our home, most of them working dogs with a job on the farmstead. And as a young explorer into the wooded areas about our home, I would have a protector or two to share my adventures.
Mom and I know how dogs can be so much more than kibble eaters and couch warmers. Instead we live an ideal life of total immersion in this Human-Animal Bond thing.
Life is good, y’all. It’s better with dogs.
So I was surprised when Mom and I had a philosophical disagreement on dog rescue.