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The Cone of Shame

13 Nov

For the past week Denny has been diligent in ensuring that his rump is completely devoid of fur.  He has a hot spot that he can’t seem to leave alone.  The poor thing.  His rear is bold, red and angry.  (There’s an infant reference in there somewhere.)  He treats his rear like he treats his feet:  they are precious entities that must be defended against invaders at all costs.  This translates into him growling, snarling and basically looking like a bad ass anytime someone even stares thoughtfully at one of his forbidden areas.  It’s ridiculous.  After multiple doggy medications, I’ve settled on a hot spot gel for dogs.  It seems to work when he doesn’t manage to lick it off or rub it off on the carpet.  (Just imagine him lying on his back having an epileptic fit.  It’s hilarious and pathetic at the same time.)

This morning I finally broke down and drug out the Cone of Shame.  It’s been hiding in my closet since Denny suffered the indignity of being neutered a few years ago.  Somehow he seemed to have forgotten the horrible memories associated with the cone.  That is, until I tried to snap it around his neck.  Then it turned into a calf-roping rodeo where the calf had a lot of sharp teeth and the rope was a flimsy plastic piece of uncooperative crap.  Seriously.  This thing did not want to bend to my will and it definitely didn’t want to bend to fit around Denny’s neck.  It was a freak show that was thankfully only witnessed by Lemon,  our Dachshund, and our fish.  The fish did seemed to be a bit more wide-eyed than usual when I left for work.  I imagined that they were laughing and rightfully so.

I must admit that I am slightly afraid of what I’ll come home to.  Perhaps Lemon will be missing and the only clue to her location will be a note in her food bowl that has been snipped from magazines.  REMOVE THE CONE AND THE DACHSHUND WILL BE RETURNED UNHARMED.  ALSO, I NEED A BELLY RUB.

We shall see.  *fingers crossed*


Sniffing Around

12 Feb

The dogs rarely go into the kid’s rooms.  Mostly because their bedrooms are rife with tiny toys and stuffed animals just waiting to be un-stuffed.  Their bedrooms are the the things dreams are made of.

As you can tell, Lemon was very grateful for having been given such an opportunity.  Beds that had never be marred by her doggie scent?  Oh, the work that had to be done!  Please, let me kiss you!

Denny mostly showed his excitement by running laps through each of their bedrooms and hunting for things to shred.  He wasn’t really excited by Lemon’s kisses.

All smiles!  (Well, Denny is smiling behind that mouthful of stuffed fox.

It was a large, friendly beast

18 May

Every morning after I drop off the kids at school I come back home and walk the dogs around our neighborhood.  It’s good exercise for all three of us, plus it gives the dogs a chance to do their business in the yard up the road instead of in my living room.  It’s a win-win.  This morning we’d struck out early in hopes to catch as many cats as we could at the cat house.  There is a house about a block away that we pass by every day.  And every day,  on average there are at least three cats scattered about the yard in what I am sure is a plot to drive my dogs insane.  I’ve counted as many as six different cats there before.  What you might call crazy makes me feel nostalgic.  My mom has a ridiculous number of cats herself and I can’t see that much fur on a lawn without thinking of her.  

Now back to the walk…

We’d barely made it to the corner of our street before we met up with some excitement.  The house near the corner is home to a Shiba Inu who thinks it’s poop doesn’t stink (pst, it does) and quite possibly the largest Mastiff I have ever laid eyes upon.  This dog is e-freakin-normous.  I’ve only ever seen it’s head poking out from under its garage door and the tip of its tail as it whizzed past the top of a 6 foot fence.  It’s like the dog from The Sandlot.  This morning, however, it escaped from its yard and ran at full speed for me and the dogs.  Lemon, who is a dainty southern bell, yelped loudly and then proceeded to dissolve into a puddle of Dachshund pudding.  Denny, who is completely tailless and whose legs are barely long enough to be called legs, tried to eat the Mastiff.  And what about me?  I squeezed my eyes shut, held my breath and waited for the dog to eat me alive.  Maybe it would be kind and go for a vital organ first.  However it turned out that the horse-dog was extremely friendly and is named Bailey instead of Butch the Destroyer like I had imagined.  

Bailey didn’t linger long as his master, a small woman who could have happily ridden the dog to work, ran into the yard to gather him up.  She apologize and I finally found enough nerve to open my eyes and give her one of those “…ah, no big deal.  Now if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ve wet myself” kind of smiles.  I managed to get Lemon going again, who I am sure would have laid there and played dead for a solid week if that’s what it would have taken for her to regain her composure.  She’s so delicate.  [wink]

The rest of the walk passed by like normal.  Although there was only one cat to be seen at the cat house.  It was a large and fluffy cat who had enough fur to make at least two more.  So I wasn’t disappointed.  It was a grand enough cat to make up for the lack of the rest of the hoard.  Though not nearly as big as Bailey.

I should have named him Sparky

15 Dec

The most mysterious phenomenon has been occurring around me lately.  Everything is shocking me.  I know it’s pretty common during the winter.   The air is dry, your skin is dry…everything is like a desert.  And I guess that’s why static electricity builds up so easily.  However, I have entered an entire new level of dry.  You think it’s dry in Georgia during the winter?  Move to Oklahoma.  It’s dryyyyy.  And I’m not talking about little shocks…I’m talking big ones.  BIG ones.

Take for instance the other day: I walked into Jordan’s office to give him a quick kiss.  Because he’s a sexy man beast.  [wink]    The moment was perfect, the fluorescent lights where humming overhead, the computers were whirring softly in the background and Jordan had a 2-week-old beard that tried to attack my face whenever I got near.  The time could not have been more perfect.  However, just as our lips touched, static electricity stole the show.  Our lips shocked each other so badly that I was sure we were going to look like that kid from Jurassic Park once we took a step back.  (You know…when he’s climbing down the electric fence and the people back in the control room finally figure out how to turn the power back on?)  Yep.  Bleeding ears and all.  Talk about a man who can knock your socks off.  His kiss really packed a punch.  (Ba-dum Chish.  <– That was a cymbal and drums, FYI.)   For the rest of the day we just exchanged hugs.

Then, two nights ago, static electricity showed up in the oddest place.  At 1AM Denny, our Corgi, heard another dog in the neighborhood barking.  Not wanting to be rude, he returned the dogs barks from inside our bedroom.  I yelled “No!” as loud as I could, hoping that he would catch on to the idea that dogs shouldn’t bark indoors, especially when the entire house is asleep.  No takers.  About that time, Jordan popped up awake beside me.  He hadn’t heard Denny barking, but he had heard my yelling.  He assumed that I was talking in my sleep again.  It’s as if I talk in my sleep often.  (Eh-heh)  I can’t imagine why he’d assume that.  ;]

Once I’d assured Jordan that I’d yelled out on purpose, he went back to sleep and Denny continued to bark at a dog that was in no way capable of hearing him.  So I put him in bed with us.  I petted him and talked baby talk to him because all dogs love baby talk.  Right?  After a few minutes of having his ears rubbed and his back scratched he calmed down and stretched out to go to sleep.  Just then, the weirdest thing happened: As I was petting his back, sparks began to appear in his fur.  His fur started crackling and sparking like a roman candle.  Holy 4th of July, Batman.  This dog is about to go off!

I.  Freaked.  Out.  Holy moly.  My dog was throwing off sparks.  If I continued to pet him, surely the bed would catch on fire!  And then the house!  And then the neighborhood!  (Ah-ha!  We’d show that other dog what happens when he barks in the night!)  Denny didn’t seem to notice that his fur was alive with electricity, but I certainly did.  I quickly woke up Jordan again, sure that he would help me put out the fire that our dog was going to start.  He was….less than happy that I’d woken him up again.

“Omigosh, Jordan!  Denny is on fire!  I mean, not ON fire…but his fur is throwing off sparks!  Look at this!  Oh…the utter horror of it all!”

“Um…that’s perfectly normal.  Can I go back to sleep?”

“What do you mean that’s normal?  Our dog is going to start a fire.”

“No he won’t.  Trust me.  It’s just that the air is dry and it’s easy to build up an electrical charge when the air is like this.  I used to create sparks with my pajama’s all the time when I was a kid.  I’d just kick my legs back and forth under the covers and sparks would appear. Static electricity.  Now, goodnight.”

I may have sat at the end of that conversation feeling a bit dumb, but I am still convinced that Denny is going to cause a fire.  Now I know why the gas pumps always warn you to discharge yourself before touching the pumps.  If my dog can do that, imagine what I could do at the gas pump.  Ooo…spooky.

So now I may become a hermit.  You know, stay in my house made entirely out of concrete and never leave. [wink]  It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make if it means not burning down the universe.

Put the lotion in the basket

9 Dec


My dog has lost his mind.  He hasn’t just temporarily misplaced it, it is gone.  Forever.  Never to return.  (Could I get any more dramatic?)

Tuesday Denny went to the vet to get neutered.  He’s gotten to be a little too aggressive, especially around Fisher.  (Could it be because Fisher regularly body-checks Denny?  Hrm.)  It was the usual routine: check in early, stay overnight, return home the next day minus the hormones.  And apparently, a shred of sanity.  Did you know that a dogs peace of mind can be found in the region of his nads?  I didn’t either, but I’m pretty sure that’s where it is.  His herding instincts have suddenly been kicked into high gear.  Much to the detriment of Lemon.  He follows her everywhere.  EVERYWHERE.  He doesn’t get more than 2mm away from her at all times.  Meal time?  Why eat his food when he can obsess over Lemon eating hers.  Nap time?  Why stretch out and relax when you can have a 20 pound Corgi sit on top of you?  Need I say more?

He’s walking around the house in a constant state of hyperventilation.  I was sure that after five hours that he might pass out.  But, no.  He hasn’t.  He’s still just panting, shaking and stalking.  I’m waiting for him to tell Lemon to “…It rubs the lotion on its skin or else it gets the hose again.”  If he had a basement, I’d totally be checking it out for dead prostitutes & Dachshund-skin jackets.

And the worse part?  He desperately needs to be wearing the “cone of shame.”  But when he’s in the cone, he dials up the crazy to 10.  Do you really want to know how much sleep I got last night?   Would you like it in hours or minutes?  Because it wouldn’t be hard to calculate either.

(Even now as I’m typing Lemon is sitting in my lap and Denny is staring madly at her from the edge of the recliner.  Barking, whimpering, panting and basically going nuts.  Holy moly.)

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go hunt down an aroma-therapy candle for my dog.

The Three Non-Amigos

5 Oct

I’m on dog duty this week.  With Jordan’s mom gone to Texas with her Dad for a visit to M.D. Anderson, I’ve got several furry bodies to watch after.  And for the most part it’s not that bad.  Denny lazes about until he notices that your ankles haven’t been gnawed on in a while.  Lemon follows you around like a groupie hoping that you’ll accidentally fall so she can smother you with her love.  And Zoey, Jordan’s Mom’s Shiba Inu is indifferent to everyone and everything.  Unless you’re an elderly woman walking your Yorkie on the sidewalk.  Then she’ll bark at you from the dining room window like a creature from the beyond.  Hey….the elderly and they’re lap dogs need to be taken down a notch every once in a while….right?

So this morning it was my turn to try my hand at walking all three dogs at one time.  And to quote some famous last words…”How hard could it be?”   The answer?  Harder than you think.  Zoey sprints from leaf to leaf in a hurry to pee on them all so she can get back home and bark at the innocent from her ivory tower.  Denny lunges himself at every car that passes him by…which wouldn’t be all that bad if he and Lemon weren’t coupled together on a shared lead.  Thus when he makes one of him infamous lunges, Lemon gets slung through the air in a back flip reminiscent of a Cirque du Sole act.  After ten minutes of this juggling act I could care less whether one of the dogs leaves a steaming surprise in the neighbor’s yard.  Sorry folks…but your grass thanks me.  You couldn’t by fertilizer fresher than that.

Mmm…no better way to start your morning than with some steamy goodness.  *wink*

Denny, car chaser extraordinaire.

Lemon, helpless heroine of morning walks.

Zoey, leaf pee-ing aficionado.

Get your tickets now…

10 Mar

…to a gripping tale of two dogs…in hot water. (But not too hot)

They were both ashamed of their plight.

Lemon took it like a lady…a wet, shaggy lady.

Denny took it like a man…one that had been asked to turn and cough.

Seriously, the most fun a person could ask for.  Wink