Willie Monster!

How about some puppeh blogging!

Well you asked (you did, right???), so your humble scribe shall deliver.

It’s been barely six months since we adopted Willie (“Don’t You Hate It When You Go To A Parade And Come Home With A Puppy?“). And look at our boy now:

He’s already outgrown one crate and will soon outgrow the largest crate we own. He weighs close to 70 pounds and is not even 11 months old yet. I’m rethinking the Lab-Pit Bull mix thing and starting to think it’s Lab-Great Dane.

He’s a really sweet boy, though. He’s been easier to train than either of our other two dogs. He’s by far the most laid back puppy I’ve ever known. He loves to play, and he’s a master sleeper. If this is how he is at 10 months I can only imagine his life at 10 years. He’s never shown even the tiniest shred of meanness, he’s just not wired that way. He is oblivious to his massive size, and it’s funny — and dangerous — to see him try to play with the cats, unaware of what an imposing behemoth he is. He’s truly our gentle giant.

I’m a little worried because he seems to be really intolerant of even the smallest amount of heat — 75 degrees wipes him out. Buddy, you are not going to like August! We’ll have to get a kiddie pool for him to jump in, he loves the water.

The only bad thing I can say about him is that he eats his own poop. I think I’ve pretty much broken him of this habit but I can’t be sure because I just don’t give him the opportunity. It’s disgusting, nasty, wretched habit and none of the supposed “remedies” (food additives like “Forbid,” pineapple, etc.) worked.

Anyway, let’s hope that’s all, um, behind us.

Here’s a picture of Willie in his customary repose:

Here’s a picture of him in action with Riley, his good buddy:

The Water Is Wide

Yesterday we helped our old friend Cleo cross the rainbow bridge. It was a very, very sad day for me, but she went peacefully, at home, thanks to a very compassionate mobile veterinarian who performs at-home euthanasia services.

It was time: an ultrasound last week revealed tumors all through her liver, spleen, and her one remaining kidney. She was in pain, despite doses of Tramadol. She’d stopped eating her regular food and could only manage a few nibbles of ground turkey and sweet potato I cooked for her. So, while we’re sad, we’re grateful we got to spend a final weekend saying our goodbyes and telling her how much we loved her.

I wrote about Cleo here, about how I got her from Nashville’s pound, and our first trip to the beach two weeks later. Cleo was the first dog I actually picked out, and I can’t believe how fast our time together has flown.

We have lots of stories about Cleo, most of them involving food. She was a masterful counter-cleaner, and sneaky, too! One time Mr. Beale was looking for the half dozen Jalapeno bagels we’d bought the day before, and we realized Cleo had eaten them all when we found the plastic sleeve she’d hidden in her bed. Another time I had two New York strip steaks marinating in a dish under a paper towel. When Mr. Beale had the grill ready he lifted the white paper towel and shouted to me, “Hey! Do I get a steak?” — where there had been two steaks, now there was only one! Cleo had snuck one out of the marinade, without disturbing the white paper towel, without leaving so much as a drop of marinade on the counter or floor. If she’s reincarnated as a human she will be the best thief ever.

Cleo loved to swim, but she hated baths. Her favorite thing in the world was to chase squirrels. I imagine she’s with her good buddy Zelda, running through a field chasing squirrels and jumping in a cool, clear pond.

Goodbye, old girl. You were a good dog.

Cute Overload

Have the insulin handy before watching this video because it’s the cutest damn thing you’re going to see all week, bar none:

(h/t, Balloon Juice)

Happy Riley-versary

I’m sort of in a lull today, feeling very uninspired and unmotivated. I really don’t feel like I have anything to add to the discourse. That can only mean one thing: time to throw up a cute dog photo! Here ya go:

Riley, Master Sleeper

January 30 marks the one-year anniversary of Riley showing up at our house. He still looks pretty much the same as in his first blog appearance (at the link), except the ‘nads are gone. Sorry, buddy. House rules.

Riley’s had a big year. He’s learned a lot. He goes to doggie day care about once a week or so, and he gets a good report card every time. He gets along with everyone and has charmed the staff.

I’ve spent the past year doing some intensive training; he’s finally learned not to drag me up the street when he’s on the leash. I honestly didn’t think we’d get there, and he still needs lots of time-outs when we’re going somewhere fun, like day care. It’s that stubborn pit bull thing.

But I have to say, I’ve drunk the pit bull Kool-aid. Riley is just the sweetest, gentlest thing ever. All that stuff you hear about how pit bulls “snap” and are unpredictable? Utter bullshit. They’re just stubborn, but the flip side of that is that they’ll stick with you through thick and thin. Check out this story on Spooky, a pit bull who miraculously survived a fire that destroyed his apartment. Just amazing.

Meanwhile Chaka, our Viszla mix, is completely neurotic and psychotic. We’ve got her on Prozac and had to take her to a veterinary behaviorist to address her aggressive behavior. This after spending a fortune on dog trainers. She can’t go to doggie day care or a dog park, because she will rip someone’s face off. But Riley, the sweet, playful pit bull, is banned by ordinance from Metro’s dog parks. Makes no sense whatsoever.

Anyway, I’m reposting this adorable video I took of Riley chasing his tail last summer. I was listening to some Latin dance club music for a work project and Riley got up and started dancing to the music. Cracked me up:

Riley’s New Toy

Riley’s got a new toy. As you can see, he adores it:

I think Riley is pretty freaking adorable, but that’s just me …