Do we want to know what the dogs did to earn those beads? Right, probably not.
But knowing the cat, he’ll rat them out.
Or not.
Guess I don’t know the cat like I thought.
Actually, we borrowed the beads from college boy’s bedroom. And how did he come about owning these? That story, my friends, is indeed one I don’t need to know.
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| Grooming day |
“Yaxley’s teeth are so white!” a friend observes as the yellow dog stretches out a big horsefly-catching yawn. Well, they should be, I say. He just got them a few months ago.
And we all know that February is National Pet Dental Health Month, don’t we? Yep, for real and everything. An entire month dedicated to the chiclets of our four legged friends. Complete with a bonus day cuz this is a leap year.
To raise awareness of this National holiday, the boys have offered a photo demo in canine dental care. Of course, a Google search will net you a collection of excellent choices designed for educational purposes. A great place to start is at the AVMA‘s website. Some may find the video helpful in seeing exactly how you get a toothbrush into a dog’s maw in a manner that may actually do some good. The veterinarian patiently explains how to introduce your pet to the dental paste and toothbrush over a few days before doing the deed.
Solid advice, I think, for the skeptical pets of the world. I, however, have lab/golden crosses. I have never (Never!, I say) seen these fellas reject anything that went into their mouth. The trick is, and has always been, getting said object back out of those murky depths. So, I merely slap some poultry flavored toothpaste on the brush and they all line up. Introductory period? I think nae.
So with all these websites out there on the grid that offer pet dental care tips and tricks, what could I possibly have to offer you? Well, fasten your seatbelts, people, and prepare for a wild ride.
Because just for you, I offer pet dental care photos . . . taken with a Lomo Fisheye camera!
Wait! Don’t go! I know, I know. There’s no way anyone can enjoy this as much as I did, but hang with me for just another couple of minutes here.
For all you normal, healthy-minded folk, I must explain. The Lomo is a funky little plastic camera gadget that spits out images in that gritty genre of artistic expression. Proportional distortions, off colors, totally unreliable exposure, and light leaks — it’s a geek’s dream of a camera. It even needs film! Remember dropping your film off at the drugstore and actually waiting to see your photos? One-hour processing seems like an unbearable eternity to see what your camera had wrought. This is geekery topped off with nostalgia.
I love the Lomo.
So anyway, here’s Jager, Micron and Yaxley watching me load the poultry flavored pasted onto their personal toothbrushes. How do I know it actually tastes like a domesticated bird? I guess I don’t really care what the flavor is, so long as I don’t have to work out a six day introductory period with the dogs. It could be cat snicker flavored for all I know. Theoretically speaking and all.
This is our downstairs half bathroom and yes, it is indeed that small. Like a water closet, except we don’t say it with a British accent. We had to custom order that dollhouse sized sink at the last remodel of our 60 year old abode. (My mantra – the house has charm, the house has charm . . . ).
Don’t accept this next shot as proper dental cleaning by any means. I only have two hands and one is holding the Lomo. To pull up Yaxley’s lips to get to his pearly chiclets, I would need another hand. Or Jedi skills.
Yeah, same here with Micron. Not a real demo of technique. But it does show a sense of camaraderie with Yaxley’s valiant attempt to take one for the team. The plastic lens cap hanging in the lower left corner is a special plus for this shot.
Please sir, may we have some more? they ask.
Dental care is only one part of the trifecta of grooming fun. We got your nail clipping and coat care, as well. But we’ll just have to wait until National Make a Self-Aware Tribble with your Dog’s Fur Day to cover the rest of this adventure.
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| Don’t get me wet or feed me after midnight. |
Today’s “Would You Rather” challenge: Would you rather have a third hand or Jedi skills?
My vote is for the Jedi skills. The Force is all around us and, well, the challenge doesn’t make clear exactly where that third hand will go, now does it?
I just want to say to y’all that I prepare a family meal most nights of the week. All food groups included, mind you (note: Reisling is a fruit. As is a good Merlot.). This superwomen feat is accomplished after a full day in the office and an hour’s drive staring down I-75 to get my tired butt home. This needs to be said, not in a manner of womanly bragging, but merely because I crave a written record of it for posterity’s sake.
And don’t we all know that avoiding take-out cuisine is, of course, an exercise in significant hard-earned-dollar saving, as well as an opportunity to chow down on healthier noshables? But there’s another deep seated reason for me. Cuing my favorite psychology major son to study this one . . .
I find something rather therapeutic about chopping things into little bits. A cringe worthy statement when taken out of context, I know. Ah, but perhaps not as creepy as it need be. Consider this; a mindless task requiring no deeper thought than positioning that carrot (or onion or potato) in a safe enough manner so I don’t chop off a fingertip. It’s a simple pleasure going all Rachael Ray with my favorite chef knife to make teensy diced morsels for that turkey pot pie or my favorite potato soup.
The day’s memories of contrary budgets, computer problems and personality clashes fade into a misty vapor as I create itsy cubes of food. Ah, for the first time today, everything behaves exactly as it should. Right there at my fingertips. I am in control of my universe.
Yeah, this is how I process stress.
So anyway, this past week was especially ego defeating. By Friday, things got to be even too much for the sturdiest of my chef knives. So, I sigh heavily and accept my fate. It’s gonna be a take-out night.
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| I’m feeling a tennis ball in my destiny. |
Let’s get Chinese, I say. The Husband agrees, and not because I have expert knife skills, but because he recognizes the heavy sigh I just let out. Always best to keep Momma happy, he knows, to maintain a harmonious household.
And somehow our Chinese take-out Meal for Two results in four fortune cookies. Did I really order that much? Huh, apparently so. Stress eating, the second of my fortes. Been practicing for years, so I’m actually pretty darn good at it.
Let’s check your fortune, Micron!, I say, snapping the cookie doppelganger in half. No you don’t get the cookie, sorry dude. This is for entertainment purposes only. To be clear, my personal entertainment, but anyone can jump on the Friday Night Fun Train if they want. Ahem, here goes:
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| Destiny has a good mouth feel, sez Micron |
“Go above and beyond you duty. You will benefit from it.”
Misspelling notwithstanding, this is a match for Micron, I think. This dog still has a destiny and I stand by that belief. There’s too much Micron happening here and he must be shared with others. Somewhere out there, he is needed desperately. And we’re working hard on that, so check in with us later this month for more news.
Alrighty then, next up is Yaxley’s profundity cookie.
“Welcome each day as a fresh new beginning.”
Is that true dog attitude or what? Dogs don’t hang onto all that crap that happened yesterday, do they? This morning we’re gonna go outside and discover what’s out there to sniff. Then we’ll eat a bowl of kibble that will feel so good in the belly that a nap is required. I can’t speak for anyone else’s dogs, but mine don’t need therapists to help with personal issues they can’t let go of. They are the therapists. If we do come back in another life, I want the each-day-is-a-new-one canine view to get me through the next life.
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| The perfect nap, sez Yaxley, now, bring on what’s next. |
Ok, that’s getting a little deep. Time for comic relief, which in our house, is the Jagerhund. So, Jag, what’s up for you?
“To attain enlightenment is to be aware of your own Buddha.”
I’m reminded of the immature, but always spit-take funny, “in bed” ending for fortune cookie readings. No, I know that doesn’t fit well here. I have another ending for Jager: “belly.”
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| You know, Food Lady, sez Jager, you could cut back on the kibble yourself. |
Time to cut back on the kibble, Jager, I say. You look like a snausage on four toothpicks. He just smiles and wags his tail at me, though. With three dogs in the house, his motto is any attention is good attention. Rub my Buddha belly for luck, he says.
Uh oh, one cookie left. For the boss or me? Well, he did go out and get the stuff, so I’m feeling generous and forfeit. This one’s yours, I tell the Husband. Let’s see what the fortune cookie has in store for you. I crack the thing open and . . .
So people, this is where opposites attract. You may not have noticed, but I can run a little on the cynical side of the tracks. But the Husband? He is persistently optimistic, darn him.
Yeah so, I crack the thing open and . . . the cookie is empty. No fortune inside. None at all. Inside my head, I thinking, holy cow I hope he’s careful on the drive to work tomorrow. But him, oh no. No dark thoughts swirling around in his happy noggin. Get this, “That’s cool,” he says, “I can write my own fortune.” Can you believe that?! Where do these kind of people come from anyway?
Ok, ok, I got it. Here’s my plan for next week.
and of course . . .
I don’t usually turn to take-out profundities to make a life plan, but really, this is a good as anything else I’ve come across lately.
And maybe this can be the week the Husband won’t have to walk into the kitchen to tell me, Honey, put down the chef knife. That’s enough carrots. And anyway, I thought were you making chili tonight?
Today’s WW pic is a repeat from last fall’s post Turkey in the Raw.
Because I love the essence of mutual adoration captured here between Micron and his new toddling friend. And because I had a nightmare about Micron last night and he’s heavy on my mind this morning.
Off now to hug my dog.
Welcome! Come on in and have a seat. Grab yourself a Diet Coke and make yourself at home. No, no it’s ok. I’m not going to show you the slide show of our last Grand Canyon vacation or try to sell you plastic bowls that burp for freshness. Nothing like that.
Well, maybe just a little like that. Now we all know this isn’t the place in the blogosphere where you can count on finding the latest in product reviews. This sort of thing ain’t my bag, baby. (Austin Powers, 1997). Having my choice of druthers here, I’d druther just talk about the derring-do’s of the yellow dogs and post a photo or two.
And because product reviews of my favorite things might be something like . . .
No longer the place I was going to store those old CD’s. Instead that cardboard box I was saving was commandeered by the cat. And setting the thing on the printer keeps those privileged feline nether regions nice and toasty warm. Energy savings in one little corrogated package.
It doesn’t bother him a bit that he’s oozing random body parts out of it. I guess the side benefit is the natural face lift.
Levitating dog toys!
When tennis balls aren’t bouncy enough, we have the gravity defying Go-nut! After your dog gets the hang of catching this rubbery toy, keep the challenge going by having them fetch it while walking on two legs.
After a second trip to the vet to staple Jager back together, I asked if there were such things as anti-terrier meds. Can’t we just knock him down a notch on the hyperactive scale?, I ask. You know, drop the needle from Completely Maniacal to maybe just Flipping’ Freaky?
Apparently not. Obviously our vet doesn’t have a terrier.
But of course, I know she’s right. I just need to keep Jager on a shorter leash, so to speak. And anyway, I have other dogs in the house to consider. I mean, what would happen if, say, Micron got into the anti-terrier meds?
I’d never the college drop-out off the sofa.
The Super-Grip Camera Strap!
Handmade and customized by special order by Sassy Strap. The super grip feature is actually a manual setting. And by manual, I mean it’s me gripping the camera while two yellow dogs play an impromptu game of tug o’war.
Stylin’ Dog Bling!
Ah, but there’s a shiny gem in this mixed bag of treasure. And while Micron likely looks upon a Christmas gift of a new dog collar kinda like the kid and new crew socks, well, I’m rather jazzed about the bling of it all.
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| Micron models the Celtic Knot design |
A dog collar?, you say, can’t you just pick one up at the pet store? Sure, you could. If you were happy with some ho-hum look for your dog. As they say, don’t dress for the job you have. Dress for the job you want. As for us, we’re motivated to keep Micron looking good. I keep telling this dog, he has a destiny. A destiny that doesn’t involve daytime TV and a can of Pringles. Now that life as a service dog is out, we don’t know what’s ahead just yet for the mighty Micron. But let’s keep up the GQ metro style while we figure things out, ok Mikey? We chose Woof Wear Dog Collars to update his haberdashery.
So why this particular collar for my extra special dog? Well, for one, it comes in so many snappy and clever designs, it’s tough to choose just one. Even seasonal choices are out there for the opting. But this dilemma is easily remedied by the extra little removable tag switcher. The tag switcher can be removed from one collar and attached to another in a blink. Easy peasy to move the dog tags around, no pliers needed.
But the best part of it all? These fancy collars are handmade by a fellow Canine Companions for Independence puppy raiser, Nancee Wright. Afforable, durable and stylish, Nancee sells her canine bling online at Etsy. A special added bonus – she donates part of the sale to CCI.
Don’t be envious of Micron. I’ve asked him to dial down the handsomeness, but he just can’t help himself. And with the new Woof Wear, he’s too cool for school. But your dog could look this good too. Check out Nancee’s shop at Woof Wear at Etsy. Tell her Micron sent you.
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| Are we done here? Oprah’s on. |
Go. Do. Be Dog. 