To all of those who do not see us on a regular basis (Geof included!), here is Ashley at 15 1/2 weeks.
Dante is admiring Ashley’s first given maternity top, sponsored by my Aunt Leisa. Thanks again, Aunt Leisa! Rosie has spent the week sulking around the house due to her shaved leg and was too embarrassed to be in the photo.
I live with a killer…dog that is 
The infamous Dante has struck again, only this time, it was not a bird he killed. Apparently he’s decided that birds were no longer a challenge. What he wants is some excitement, more chase. So what did I find waiting for me when I went to let the dogs in so I could leave for work… squirrel surprise! And what a surprise it was! I called them in and Dante picked up what I first thought was a rather large stick. Then it dawned on me, sticks aren’t fuzzy! (Hey, it was before my morning coffee!) When I realized what he had done I was so disgusted. My baby had managed to kill a poor defenseless squirrel. Oh the shame!
Of course Dante wanted to bring in the squirrel, possibly for his late-morning snack. And of course I would have none of that! So, I tried to use some of that obediance training that we paid lots of good money for. I gave him the “Leave it” command. And he would drop it, which is good, but he ignored the rest of the command. He is supposed to leave whatever it is and come. He didn’t want to come. So, he’d pick up the squirrel and I would yell “Leave it” and he would drop it and then I would tell him to come and he’d pick it back up, repeat cycle oh about a dozen times. Finally I resorted to bribery. Come get this tasty little dog treat in exchange for the dead squirrel outside. Good thing Dante isn’t too bright. Otherwise I’d probably still be out there trying to get him to come in 
So, he came in, but dropped the squirrel right outside the door on the patio. Once I had him inside I locked the door. Unfortunately you can see the squirrel from the window. So Dante would look at the squirrel, look at me, then look back at the squirrel and scratch to go out. He gave me the most pitiful look. He acted like I had just taken away his only and favorite toy, which might be true at this point. I told him to suck it up and that he would just have to look at it through the window all day. Afterall, I did tell him to leave it out in the yard, not bring it to the door. So it’s really his own fault 
Man, if this is what it’s like to have a kid, we may be in trouble I guess it’s too late now though. Hopefully my kid won’t kill and eat birds or squirrels, because if he does, we’re in much bigger trouble
I was thinking that it had been a while since the dogs had done anything post-worthy. That all changed this morning.
Warning: Grossness ahead.
Picture this:
It was about 8 AM. We were ready to leave for work so I was headed to let the dogs back into the house. Part of our morning ritual is letting the dogs romp and play in the backyard while we are getting ready. From time to time, I like to look out the window and watch them play without them noticing me. I love to see how they play together or just lie there surveying their backyard kingdom. Well, this morning, Dante was spread out in the grass. Beside him was some black stretchy material that I took to be a plastic bag. I just sighed and thought, “That crazy dog. He’s gone and chewed up a plastic bag. I hope he doesn’t get some intestinal blockage or something.” Just to let you know, plastic bags are not recommended for a well-balanced diet for puppies. But I digress. So, Dante finally saw me looking at the window and immediately headed for the door, so I went to let him in. He started to run inside but turned and made a circle for the bag. Rosie had already run inside at this point. So, I go out and try to convince Dante to give the bag to me so that I can throw it away.
Okay, it’s about to get gross now. Anyone with sensitive stomachs may want to skip down a few lines. You have been warned.
Dante is now dancing in front of me with the bag in his mouth. Me, I’m trying to coax it away from him. He finally comes within reach and I, with my super-mommy like abilities make a grab for it. I grabbed. And then I let go and immediately started going into hysterics of a sort. It was NOT a black plastic bag. What I grabbed was so the opposite of what I thought it was going to be that I totally freaked. Have you ever had the pleasure of grabbing what you think is plastic and finding out that in reality, it is tail feathers completely covered in dog slobber? Have you ever mistaken a dead bird in your dog’s mouth, for a stupid bag? Well, that was my pleasure this morning. I immediately started jumping up and down waving my hand around wildly in some crazy attempt to get the dead bird cooties off. Yes, I am an adult. Yes I am a biologist. Yes, I have disected animals bare-handed. But there are even limits as to what I will willingly touch. Dead birds do not fall into that category.
So, I come running in the house yelling “EWWWWW” and then run into Jonathan, who is looking at me like I’m crazy. (Not an uncommon response from him at all) Then he just kind of laughs as I head for the bathroom and wash my hands about a million times, using all the soap in sight. I finally managed to get Dante in the house without the bird. He tried really hard to get it in the house.
The bird carcass is currently lying in our backyard. The forcast for today is a high of around 95 or so. I can hardly wait to get home to the smell of dead bird. And of course, Dante will probably go straight for it. I have no choice but to remove the carcass before we let them out for the afternoon. But I imagine he will go to that exact spot and roll in it like it’s the best perfume in the world. I predict doggie baths coming soon. Or a nice little surprise on the carpet.
-Sigh- Is this what kids are like?
it was thundering. I knew we were in trouble. She didn’t even come to get me out of bed, I had to get up all on my own. Shortly thereafter, the puppy attachment was in place.
Benadryl was adminstered via peanut butter. It went a lot easier than normal. Either she’s not fighting as much, or I’m getting better at this. We’ve had to drug her way too much if it’s getting easier to do.
In the background (Dante): PEANUT BUTTER!!!!!! I want some peanut butter, Mommy! Gimme peanut butter! Can’t she see me here? My tail is gonna fall off if she doesn’t give me some peanut butter soon. OOOh, look, the spoon covered in peanut butter goodness is coming my way. Oooohhhh, yummy. I love peanut butter!!!
This is my life Sometimes I don’t know whether to laugh or cry
With the weather so nasty yesterday, Rosie decided that she wanted to go to work with Ashley and I. Of course, we could not take the pups along. When we got back home, it was still raining so the dogs were cooped up in the house all day long. Today, I thought that it would be a good idea to take them out for a walk since it has been so nice out. Around 2:30pm, Ashley and I loaded up the dogs into her car and took them down to the greenway so that we could have a nice little walk someplace new, instead of just around the neighborhood.
We only managed to make it a little over half a mile before Rosie and Dante started to wear out. “Ok,” we told the dogs, “we will head back to the car and take you home.” Since it was such a nice day, bikers, walkers, and rollerbladers were out in full force so we had to stop every few minutes and keep the dogs at bay so that they could get by. On the way back, we still had to stop every few minutes to let people by, but the pups took that opportunity to lie down in the grass, panting the whole time. When we finally made it back to the house, the dogs crashed for a couple of hours on the tile. I think we are going to have to walk more around the neighborhood to get the dogs back into shape so that we can take these longer walks in the future.
Okay, so yesterday was not exactly the best day for me. I had a rough day at work simply because everything I touched either blew up in my face, or I messed things up for other people. Really, I’m not exaggerating. Everyone that I came in contact with for the most part ended up having severe technical difficulties during the time of our interaction. Someone must have cursed me yesterday.
Anyway, I ended up leaving early since the weather was going to get pretty bad and I have a slightly neurotic dog during thunderstorms. So, I went home to take care of her and make sure she didn’t wet my carpet. Things went well, no puddles….yet.
Later that night, about 9 p.m., I was searching through my memory collection looking for some camp photos that I am planning on putting in a scrapbook. Well, I was in the closet when I caught a whiff of something. I wasn’t sure at first what it was since I was looking through some pretty old stuff and it kind of smelled funny anyway. Then I just had this feeling that I knew what it was. I had taken the baby gate to the guest room down so that the dogs wouldn’t stick their head over the gate and whine. Rosie has been known to stick her nose through one of the holes in the gate. I thought it would be easier to just let them in the room with me. Well, I came out of the closet and spotted it almost immediately. Guess I’m developing those mommy eyes, I’ve been told I am getting close to having a mommy voice when the pups get into trouble. So, I round the corner of the closet and come into the guest room and see not 1, not 2, but 4 puddles at the corner of the guest bed. At first, it did not register why there were so many puddles and why they were so small. And then it hit me… there were small puddles because it was dripping off of the quilt on the bed. Not only had the dog peed on the carpet, he had actually hiked his leg and peed all over the corner of the bed, soaking the quilt and bedskirt. I of course instantly knew who the only culprit could be. And there he was, about two feet away, laying on the floor looking up at me with the equivalent of a smile on the face of two-year old who has just done something wrong, and his tail was steadily wagging. I completely lost it! Of course, this obvious ploy for innocence was not working on me. I just looked at Dante for about 30 seconds, and then the words found me.
Now, during this entire ordeal, Jonathan is downstairs on the couch watching T.V. He has no idea what is going on, all he knows is that things were quite peaceful up until the moment he heard a string of explicatives interruped by “that dog”, “Dante”, “he’s just like a child”, and “are we sure we want kids?”. He yells upstairs to find out what is going on. I don’t really blame him, I wouldn’t have walked upstairs to me yelling and cussing without first assessing the situation and making sure the area was safe.
So now Jonathan has entered the picture and asked me what has happened. Of course, I don’t waste any time in telling him….a brief silence ensues….then, a burst of hysterical laughter that somehow continues for the next 15 minutes or so. He finally stops laughing long enough to walk up the stairs. There he finds me pointing at the corner of the bed and yelling in Dante’s general direction. And Dante just lays there quietly, wagging that stupid tail of his!!! So now, I have to strip the bed and wash the linens immediately. Otherwise things were going to get really smelly really quick. I send Jonathan to wash the linens, still laughing, while I continue to clean up what little bit managed to hit the floor. Then the nozzle on the cleaner quits working, which sends me into another fit, complete with a few more choice words.
And do you know what the worst part is? I can’t really be mad at the dog. Here are the reasons why:
1. I did not actually catch him in the act.
2. Too much time has passed for punishment to occur, he really wouldn’t understand what he was getting punished for.
3. He was just doing what comes naturally to a dog, marking his territory.
4. I was trying to work up a good mad so I wouldn’t die laughing…I mean the whole situation what absolutely hilarious.
So, the mess is cleaned up, Dante is probably forever traumatized by my irratic behaviour, Rosie is just there, the quilt and bedskirt are sitting in the dryer, Jonathan is waiting on me to finish this post so that he can post his version of the story, and I am still trying not to laugh about it…and failing miserably.
That is all.
Have a good day
Deep in the night, a mournful cry is lifted to the heavens. Is it a lonesome coyote, searching for a mate? Or perhaps a solitary wolf, finding the scent of a quickly fleeing rabbit and gearing up for a mighty chase? Or could it be a majestic hound detecting a fox nearby and alerting everyone that the hunt has begun? Who can know what goes on in the mind of a slumbering pup to cause him to lift his mournful cry in the wee hours of the morning…