In Which My Pity Party Concludes

It occurred to me this evening that:

1. I have not posted in almost 2 months.
2. My, I am quite dramatic when I get worked up.

For the record, I am a very normal person when it comes to everything else but my dog. What can I say, my dog makes me all weepy.

Ok, and other people's dogs make me all weepy.

And stories about dogs in magazines make me all weepy.

But really, other than that, I am quite normal. Really. Honest.

We are adjusting to the new normal. Caleb has shown a lot of improvement in flexibility and has TONS more energy than he did before we started treating this disk problem. Essentially, one of the disks in his back is deformed, not quite all there. Because it's not the right size, it throws everything else out of whack. Scientific terms, there, you like them? So the chiropractor helps keep things where they should be, the meds help with the pain and inflammation, and we control how often and how quickly he uses the stairs.

Agility and Flyball and Dock Diving are officially of Caleb's list of things to try one day because of this, but so far Nose Work is fine. As long as we choose activities where he will not be put in a position to extend his lower back (imagine him running mach 5 then leaping off the last three stairs to the floor with his feet splayed out behind him, or leaping out of my truck to go to Nose Work - that is baaaad back extension) or where he will not be asked to make hairpin turns or stop suddenly, we are ok. Fetch is technically in this category, and that is tough. We still play fetch, but I have tried to modify it a bit to hopefully help prevent him tweaking something the wrong way. We are under Doctor's order to keep up the running and walking two miles a day; inactivity is just as bad as the wrong activity, so that is what we are doing.

I am very thankful that I have the ability to provide this course of treatment and make these modifications for Caleb. Considering the joy he brings to my life, it is the least I can do.

But I may start calling him 'My Million Dollar Doggie'.

In Pain and In Pieces

The Month in Review:

I found a new job, so I quit my old job. Much to the confusion of most of the world.

I took a couple of weeks off.

Day 2 into my couple of weeks off, I contemplated a puppy.

Got Boyfriend on board, with the understanding that he got the color he wanted, and that this one would be 'his' (Quote: "I want one that looks like a bear!").

Found a black headed tri puppy from a rescue group. Rescuer didn't think that that puppy's personality would work with Caleb's, and suggested another puppy.

Very respectfully said: "Thank you very much, but part of the Puppy Agreement with Boyfriend was that he got what he was looking for in a puppy. Obviously making sure a puppy gets along with Caleb is critical, so we will take our time to find just the right one with the personality that compliments Caleb, and that looks like a bear for Boyfriend. We are not in a hurry, so we'll keep looking".

Got flamed on the interwebs for not taking any puppies from this rescuer. Should not have felt like an ass. Felt like one anyway.

Took Caleb in for his wellness check. Found out he was having pain in his hind end. I had no idea. He never whined or limped, just INSISTED we all leave his hind end alone thankyouverymuch. Turns out that IS a symptom in a stoic little Corgi such as mine.

Tried not to die right there on the floor of the vet's office. Possibilities: early onset arthritis from some trauma I knew nothing about in his prior life or an assortment of disk problems. Or a whole slew of other horrible things that the Google machines suggested. Tried not to die at home in front of the computer.

Got Caleb started on chiropractor visits and glucosamine.

Started my new job. Like it! The "I HATE MY JOB" stress that has plagued me for 3+ years left.

Found out Boyfriend had a nasty stomach infection, required a procedure. Couldn't be there for said procedure because it occurred 3 DAYS into new job. No job stress left just in time to make room for: 'IAMAHORRIBLEDOGGYMOMMY AND IAMAHORRIBLEGIRLFRIEND OMG I AM GOING TO CURL UP AND DIE' stress. Boyfriend came through the procedure just fine, was given monster meds and told everything would clear up. He took that to mean he could run a marathon three days later, so he did.

The men in my life are determined little boogers, if nothing else, and I am beginning to think they enjoy driving me nuts with worry.

Caleb got knocked out for x-rays of his hips and lower back and electrical stimulation to the muscles in his hind end. Boyfriend had to take him in in the morning because I had to go to work, and preferred not to show up blubbering like a fool and covered in runny mascara, as has only been there three weeks and that is entirely too soon to demonstrate to my new coworkers just how crazy I really am.

Caleb came through everything just fine. The nurse said that the x-rays of his hips look good and that the problem is with a disk in his back. The Dr. is going to follow up with me on Monday to go over everything in more detail. Three homeopathic prescriptions for pain and weakness in the hind end, instructions to continue the glucosamine and chiropractic treatments, and possible doggy physical therapy to strengthen the muscles in his hind end, and we were on our way home.

In some ways, I feel better.

I know Caleb has this problem with a disk in his back, and he is young. I can take steps to mitigate the problem now. If nothing else, I am a girl with a plan. Oh yes, we have a plan. The chiropractor and the acupuncture and the meds will help with the nerve pain. I put up baby gates to keep him from flying up and down the stairs 17 times a day and we are working on him following me up the stairs at a walking pace, rather than at mach 5.

He started the new meds yesterday, but he has been on glucosamine for almost a month now, and has had 2 chiropractic visits. I thought I noticed that he had more energy within a couple of weeks with the glucosamine, then dismissed myself as being biased. Then my instructors and the folks I train with in Nose Work mentioned how he seemed different, happier last week. He also seems somewhat less sensitive to folks touching his rear. So hopefully the new meds will add to the glucosamine and we can strengthen his muscles in the rear and mitigate whatever damage we cannot reverse. So, like I said, in some ways I feel better.

But in some ways, I feel worse.

Logically, I know we generally outlive our dogs. It is the other side of the dog ownership coin. We do not get the joy and the enrichment to our lives that a dog brings without the knowledge that, at some point, the despair, loss, and pain -that will be so vast it will seem to swallow us whole- will commence when we have to let them go. You simply cannot let the living and breathing perfection that is a dog prance into your life, coat every flat surface in your house with hair and otherwise generally make you wonder how humans ended up with the job of running the world when it is blatantly obvious that the dogs have it all figured out, without the agony of losing them when their time on this earth is complete. You can avoid it entirely of course, you will not mourn a dog you never had...but you won't have lived much at all without one. So I know that there will come a day when I have to let go of the dog who can see into my soul.

But not now, damnit. Not yet. It is too soon for hind end weakness and nerve pain and meds. I want to shout to the heavens that they have screwed up. That this is a diagnosis for old dogs, old dogs who have had good, long lives, and now it is just time for them to settle down into their golden years and take it easy from here on out. Caleb will be 4 some time in January. He is too young.



It is too damned soon.

A Little Something to Take the Edge Off

We live in a complex that is still under construction. Boyfriend bought the townhouse during the first phase of construction, so technically there's ALWAYS been something construction related going on, but it seemed like the construction was always a couple of buildings away, and really wasn't that bad at all.

But we knew that would change eventually. We watched month after month as new buildings popped up all around us. We knew that eventually the dirt patch next to our building, part of the third phase, would become occupied with construction workers, cranes, all manner of power tools, and hammers. Lots and lots of hammers.

The third phase of construction made it's debut on the dirt patch next to our building the same week I quit my job and began a lovely two and a half week hiatus in between quitting my job and starting at my new one in mid October. Naturally.

Now, I have a very strict NO COMPLAINING rule in effect regarding the construction noise. Boyfriend bought this place when there were more dirt patches than townhouses, and we all knew that would change, so I do not think either one of us should get to whine about it. Having said all that, it is undeniable that eight hours a day of sawing, hammering and crane beeping is jarring to the soul. It is even worse for Caleb, with his Super Bat Ears.

The good thing about having the third phase start the same time as my hiatus is that I got to see how Caleb would handle the increased noise. He is a very mellow guy, and even when he is worried, he is not destructive. He does not chew, bark, or whine. He paces.

On Friday, after a week straight of construction noise, Caleb had had enough. He could not settle down. He couldn't find a place to hide to block the noise. I found him in odd places all day long. At one point I put him in the walk-in closet in the bedroom, where it is dark and the construction noise was somewhat muffled. Which helped for a bit, until he realized I did not want to sit in the closet with him all day, then he wanted out to be with me. Then he started pacing again.

I decided I needed to do something, but I had no idea what. My favorite online natural pet store suggested a myriad of sprays that contained synthetic pheromones that supposedly calmed dogs down, which seemed worth a shot, but I needed something NOW, not in three to five days, thankyouverymuch. So I made haste to Pet Food Express, which is my favorite not-a-giant-pet-store store, and they did not disappoint!
This was the only product they had at the store that day, so I decided it was worth a shot, despite being 50 bucks. Pet Food Express has an awesome return policy, if I decided it wasn't working for Caleb, I could get my money back, and they would donate the product to shelters. The girl at the store also mentioned that she used it, although she noticed it took about a day for her to notice a difference in her stressed out dog.

So, I plugged it in on Saturday to give it plenty of time to permeate the house with calming goodness before the hammering started back up on Monday.

I am pleased to report that today, after a few hours of hammering, sawing, and crane beeping, we have had NO PACING! Hooray! Caleb is significantly calmer today compared to Friday! He is even sleeping in one of his favorite places in the living room (with his back against the couch), rather than looking for someplace to hide! I am so relieved; I hate to see Caleb stressed out.

Also, in searching for an image of the product I bought to add to the blog, I discovered that Amazon sells them! At a significantly lower price! They also have collars with the calming goodness infused right in, so your dog can bring the goodness with him wherever he goes! If you want to give it a shot, I say check out Amazon first if you are not in immediate need. I will definitely be ordering the diffuser refills online to save myself some money.

Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with the company or product or anything of the sort, I was just so surprised at how well it works that I had to share! Frankly, Caleb registers pretty low on the freak-out scale, I have no idea if this would be enough to help with bigger problems like chewing or barking, but the box says it would.

Let me know if you decide to give it a shot, or if you have tried other products that work for your dog's freak outs!

Corgi Goodies

Earlier this month Boyfriend and I went to the Scottish Games in Pleasanton, which involved too much sun, heavy foods, beer, Celtic music, and many, many kilts.

But, more importantly, these lovely goodies:


I don't often find corgi stuff, so when I meandered past the Highlander Graphics and Celtic Stamps booth, I bought everything with a corgi on it. Including that lovely furry fellow in the back, a corgi puppet! Check out that tail!


Should you find yourself in need of a corgi stamp (or two), you can order them online here:

http://www.highlandercelticstamps.com/catalog/celticanimals.html


I just thought I'd share the love, no affiliation here!

Something's Missing

I ran off for a long weekend with the Boyfriend this past weekend, which means Caleb spent a few days with his FAVORITE. PEOPLE. EVER. More commonly known as my Mom, Brother and Sister in Law.

It's so funny to call to check on him and hear how he is a completely different dog when he's at their house. Everyone that walks in the front door gets greeted with a happy dance and barking. The happy dance is normal, the barking - not so much. Remember, Caleb never read The Official Corgi Handbook and doesn't know he's supposed to bark like a fool at everything. He has also taken it upon himself to appoint himself to the position of Official Guardian of the Backyard while at my Mom's house. He lays in living room with his front paws hanging just outside the sliding glass door (We've had dogs for so long we gave up on the idea of a screen door years ago, and just leave the sliding glass door open most of the time) and WATCHES. When he locates an intruder: ZOOOOOOM. He shoots out of the door at mach 1o to chase away the cats and squirrels. This makes my Mom particularly happy, as the cats tend to leave 'surprises' in the pumpkin patch.

We got back to our house Saturday night, but because I actually had to be in Mom's city on Monday for other reasons, and because I am fairly certain she would dognap Caleb and keep him forever if she could figure out how, Mom suggested I just leave him with her until Monday when I would be down there anyway. So I was sans Corgi for a whole extra day.

Well, now. It turns out that I am a much less productive member of society when I am sans Corgi. First of all, I woke up on Sunday morning at ten. I do not even remember the last time I slept in until nine, let alone ten in the morning! Shocking! Disturbing! Completely unnecessary! Then I did not even bother to get dressed until about half an hour before I was supposed to be someplace! Horrors!

Once I got home, I decided to get caught up on my TV shows. Which was an experience, let me tell you. I plopped down on the couch, hit the play button...and watched TV. I guess I forgot how people without dogs watch television, because with Caleb, watching TV goes something like this:

1: Realize I want to watch TV. Begin contemplating the most effective ways to tire Caleb out.

2: Proceed to tire Caleb out through fetch, nose work, and a long walk. Yes. All three.

3: Pay that I still have one bully stick left for Caleb.

4: Rejoice when I find the last bully stick; present it to Caleb.

5: Sit down to watch TV.

6: Find my lap immediately occupied by Caleb AND nasty bully stick.

7: Try to convince said Caleb to lay down quietly in my lap. Get danced on instead.

8: Shoo Caleb off my lap, insist he take nasty bully stick with him.

9: Realize I've missed the first 10 minutes of my program. Rewind.

10: Notice my foot is now strangely slobbery. Look down to find a half dead, slobbery stuffy on my foot.

11: Wonder when Caleb had time to slobber on the stuffy in between dancing in my lap and gnawing on a bully stick.

12. Throw the stuffy. Fifteen times.

13: Realize I missed the first 1o minutes of the show again. Give up and let the show continue.

14. Watch 5 minutes of TV.

15. Notice that I have not been pestered for 5 minutes. Look for Caleb.

16. See that he has finally curled up and gone to sleep. Right up until I looked directly at him. He can hear me looking at him. No joke.

17. Repeat the dancing, gnawing, stuffy throwing and random bouts of sleep routine until my program ends.

So you can imagine how odd I found it when I got all caught up on my shows without so much as a phone ringing to interrupt me. I found it more unnerving than anything.

Dinner was another fun adventure. And by fun adventure, I mean it was completely mundane and routine and not at all as exciting as it is when you have a Corgi in your kitchen during dinner time. I made tacos and accidentally dropped some shredded cheese on the floor. Now, cheese does not normally hit the floor in my house, it is instead snatched out of the air with glee. So it never occurred to me that I would have to clean it up until I came back in the kitchen after dinner and found it right where I had dropped it. Before it dawned on me that Caleb was still at my Mom's, I thought I had entered a parallel universe.

I am definitely not one of those people who cannot go on vacation without worrying about their pets the whole time. I know that Caleb is with my Mom and he will be just fine. I do call everyday, but other than that I can let go and enjoy the vacation. But I was completely out of sorts all day yesterday! I think it had something to do with the fact that when I am on vacation nothing is routine, but when I am at home I expect things to go the way they always do and apparently a vast majority of my routine revolves around Caleb.

I have never been so happy to have Monday get here. I have my dog back, and all is right in the world.

On-Leash / Off-Leash

As I may have mentioned before, Caleb gets to come to work with me. On the one hand, it is wonderful that my company is dog friendly and I love having him in my office with me. On the other hand, for a company with so many flipping smart people, the ignorance of normal dog behavior is horrifying. Seriously, it drives me nuts. To the point that I've cut back on the number of days a week Caleb comes to work, NOT because he has EVER had an issue with a dog here, but because I figured it was only going to be a matter of time before I told off another dog owner for being a moron. Keeping my blood pressure in mind, Caleb now only comes to work once a week and the rest of the week I avoid the doggy hangouts and my blood pressure stays at appropriate levels.

Now, for a little background: My company had multiple campuses. I am currently on the smaller and more dog friendly of the two campuses. This campus is so dog friendly, dogs run loose outside in the courtyard area. All of the dogs here are good dogs, I have never met a dog where I thought, "Ok, THAT dog has got serious issues and should not be here". I have met a couple of neurotic dogs, I have met overly excited dogs, I have met somewhat nervous dogs, I have met dogs who are not entirely potty trained. But I have NOT met any aggressive, vicious, or overly terrified-to-the-point-of-being-reactive dogs. I give these folks credit for either choosing specific breeds that tend to have soft personalities, or who are so tiny as to be picked up and carried away should they get to be too obnoxious.

The few working / herding breeds I've seen are very well trained, but tend to be kept away from the pandemonium anyway just because their owners see the kind of chaos that reigns during these off-leash free-for-alls and know that it will not matter who started it, if their dog gets involved in anything, it will be the one that looks the biggest and scariest that gets blamed. I tend to fall into this category of dog owner and keep Caleb away from all of this, because, even though Caleb is little, he does not act like it. Small dog owners see Caleb and think that he's the perfect size to play with their Chihuahua / Pomeranian / Pug and make a beeline for us, and I have to explain again and again: He's not a small dog, he's a Corgi. Unless your dog's idea of fun is being herded 900 miles an hour, your dog is not going to want to play with us. So, for the most part, Caleb and I go out during off peak times, when there are not 20 dogs running around off-leash in various states of excitement / arousal, or we will schedule play dates with a few of the larger dogs who can handle, or actually enjoy, playing chase. This keeps me from having to launch into explanations for his COMPLETELY NORMAL BREED BEHAVIOR, and again, keeps my blood pressure at normal levels.

But. You knew it was coming. You cannot read an intro like that and not think, "Hmm...I wonder when she's going to get to the 'But' of this blog. Well, here it is. But.

Sometimes, I have to go to a meeting (This is, in theory, a place where we should be working, since I get paid to be here). I rarely leave Caleb alone in my office, most of the time he is with me wherever I go, and that includes to meetings. Which is fine if the meeting is in the building I'm in.

Sometimes, though...it's in one of the buildings across the courtyard. The courtyard full of more or less happy dogs, off-leash.

Aaaaand therein lies the problem. Caleb has a heck of a time dealing with dogs off-leash frolicking and playing while he is on leash and I am asking him to focus on me while we practically run from one building to the next. Now, I am counterconditioning the crap out of him to get him to associate me with fun and yummy treats when he is on-leash, but seriously, I am not a dog. Dogs are just so much more inherently rewarding to him than Mommas that this has been a struggle. One we are getting better at, bit by bit, but it is going to be a long road before we can walk by other dogs playing and have Caleb's attention on me and not on them.

So that is a training issue. One that I need to work on anyway, so if that was the ONLY thing I had to worry about, I would be fine. I could work with Caleb on focusing on me, and the off-leash dogs could continue to frolic and ignore us.

But.

But they do not ignore us. Usually one, and sometimes more than one see us coming...and they make a beeline for us. Now, they are giving happy, 'oh boy a new friend to meet' signals, but they have been playing for awhile, are in various states of arousal from all the excitement and they ALWAYS come on way too strong. This is a problem. A big problem. Caleb does not like meet and greets on leash. He has been attacked twice while on leash (no bite marks from the other dog thankfully, but only because I am fast and kick like crazy - it was still traumatizing for both of us), and with some dogs it only takes one or two bad experiences before they learn that certain situations are not safe. Caleb learned that other unknown dogs are something to be wary of when on leash. That is ALSO something we are working on, with a private trainer.

So it seriously pisses me off when I call out to the dogs owner, "We CANNOT do a meet & greet right now!" and they halfheartedly try to call their dog off, but their dog ignores them. And barrels right up to Caleb, looms over him, and Caleb has to them to tell them to back off. Caleb is loud, naturally, he is a Corgi. He does not snap, thankfully, but he will let you know when you are in his personal space and he needs you to get out of it. NOW. Then, suddenly, I have the previously oblivious owners undivided attention. He now runs to rescue his baby in dramatic fashion from the evil Corgi who must be a bad dog. Then he gives me 'shame on you' glares and I turn seven shades of purple trying to keep my mouth shut.

It infuriates me every time because Caleb was not in the wrong, he was just the loudest. Caleb gave your dog a multitude of body language signs (which is primarily how dogs communicate with each other) to tell him that he was uncomfortable with him barging in on him while he was on-leash. I know he did, I picked out 4 of them, and I am positive there were many more that I missed, but that your dog should have caught, because they both speak the same language: Dog! But for whatever reason (my best guess is the off-leash dog is in such a state of excitement that he is not really thinking anymore about his manners), your dog missed the cues and very rudely threw himself on Caleb. So Caleb told him to back off. Earth to oblivious dog owner: That is appropriate behavior in the dog world. That was an appropriate correction to a rude dog. My dog is not a bad dog, he is very clearly telling your dog what he is and is not comfortable with.

This has only happened twice that I can remember, I have since gotten very, very good at avoiding off-leash dogs when I have Caleb on-leash with me. But I see it happen EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. And do you know who apologizes every single time? The owner with the on-leash dog. Why are they apologizing? Because all it takes is one complaint about a dog and your dog can be asked not to return by HR. It goes without saying that the folks who make these decisions are hardly animal behaviorists, or are even interested in hearing the other side of the story. Piss off a dog owner by having a dog who dares to tell his dog it is being rude, and you could be asked not to bring him back. Like I have said, I have never had an issue and Caleb has not had his badge revoked, but all it takes is one complaint. So I am paranoid, and I feel horrible when I see it happen to other people.

But, THEN!

Today someone spoke up about this very topic! We have internal email lists for all sorts of groups, and one of them is for dog owners. Today someone sent out an email that basically said:

"This is a friendly reminder that while we are a dog friendly company, and we tend to turn a blind eye to all the off-leash business going on at this particular campus, you had better have a VERY good recall on your off-leash dog, because if it comes over to harass my on-leash dog, and my dog reacts, you're the one who is in the wrong, not me."

Huzzah! It is an email I have dreamed of writing myself many different times! But I knew immediately it was not going to go over well. It was too direct, too accusatory. I knew the author was going to get flamed for it. So imagine my surprise when the emails AGREEING with her started flooding in. Apparently people have been knocked over by off-leash dogs, have had their on-leash dogs harassed and are otherwise generally fed up with off-leash dogs chaos!

I'm not going to lie, I would almost rather have the no dogs off-leash rule in effect hardcore than have people get knocked over by playing dogs or have dogs up in Caleb's face, undoing all the hard work I have had to do through private dog training lessons.

The email thread took a decidedly anti-Dogs off-leash tone quickly, which led the pro-Dog off-leash crowd to reply quickly and beg that a few bad incidents not take away all the fun for everyone. Which made me decide, for the first time in the 3 years I have been with this company, to respond to a public thread:

To add a bit more context to *Name omitted*'s point: There are some dogs who are great off-leash with other dogs (or are fine when both dogs are on-leash), but get nervous or anxious when they are on-leash and are then "greeted" by an off-leash dog. From the on-leashed dog's perspective they are being restrained and know that they will be unable to get away from what could turn out to be a rude or intrusive greeting. Some dogs are extremely sensitive to those sorts of power imbalances, which is what a nervous on-leash dog views a greeting off-leash dog as: a power imbalance. Think of being in a phone booth room and having someone you don't know come barging in, maybe speaking a little too loudly, but in a gregarious and friendly way. You are suddenly in a small space with someone you don't know who although they are greeting you in a friendly manner, is just a bit too over the top for your liking...and they're blocking the door. But while we can say, "it's very nice to meet you...hey let's get out of this phone booth room so we can get some air" to get your personal space back, dogs can only say "BARKBARKBARK!" to let you, and the other dog, and everyone else, know that they need a little personal space while they are on-leash, thankyouverymuch. It isn't considered rude in the dog world to bark at another dog when they are in their personal space; by the time a dog gets to the barking stage, there were at least 3-4 other body language cues that the incoming off-leash dog ignored on it's way over to the on-leash dog, so the on-leash dog is now firmly under the impression that a barking correction is warranted as the off-leash dog failed to notice the 'frozen stance', 'tightness of the skin around the eyes so that it makes wrinkles', 'lips pulled tightly around the teeth' or any of the other many body language cues that dogs give to one another (and their people if they know what they're looking for) to let them know their emotional state at that moment in time.

I'm fine with dogs being off-leash as long as you have enough control over your dog to call him off when you see him headed to greet another on-leash dog, I just wanted a add a bit of context in terms of what can go on between on-leash and off-leash dog greetings. It goes without saying that there are also plenty of dogs that are able to greet on leash and off leash and who can easily ignore "over the top" greetings a million and one times before they give any indication that they are uncomfortable. That is wonderful and you are a lucky owner! But just because a dog needs it's space on-leash and will tell you so doesn't mean it's a bad dog, or is unfriendly, or shouldn't be at *Company name omitted*, it's just speaking it's native language, Dog, to get the message through. I'd hate to see folks be forced to leave their dog at home because we misinterpret every dog-dog interaction that involves "BARKBARKBARK" as "bad dog".

-Julie

So far, the responses have been positive. I truly hope this email thread will be all it takes to serve as a wake up call for those few owners who insist that 'Dog Friendly' means 'Dogs run wild', but if not, at least it will bring it to the attention of the higher ups, and maybe more strenuous enforcement of the leash rule will curb these sorts of incidents. And if nothing else, I have had my say, and I feel better now.

A Jolly Good Time

Ten Rules For Living Harmoniously With Julie and Caleb

Ten Rules For Living Harmoniously With Julie and Caleb

10: If you have made it INSIDE the house, congratulations, we like you! Stay as long as you like, but at 10 pm, we are going to bed. Lock the door behind you on the way out. Or, dust the dog hair of the couch and find yourself a blanket. Whatever. We are going to bed.

9: We are picky, picky eaters. Caleb never read the book on corgis and does not know he is supposed to eat everything that has the potential to be edible, and I am fairly certain I was born with my strange aversions to normal foods permanently hardwired in my brain. Keep us away from cheap dog kibble and lettuce, and we will be fine.

8: We are not quiet, we are plotting. Keep that in mind.

7: We take sleeping very seriously (See rule #10). Please, no touching. Sleeping is very. serious. work. Plus, we startle easily. We cannot be held responsible for the growling and flailing that will occur should one insist on such interactions. On such occasions when you simply must wrest us from our slumber, warn us. From across the room.

6: Very few things in life cannot be fixed with a tablespoon or two of peanut butter. Enough said.

5: We know when something is out of place. It irritates us. I can find a sock mostly hidden under the couch from across the room and see dust no other human can. Caleb can pick out the one branch / for sale sign / random bit of trash on the grass that was not there the previous day. The biggest difference between us here is how we manage said out of place object. I put it where it belongs, Caleb prefers to pee on it.

4: We are creatures of habit, but we hate mindless repetition. Keep things interesting, do not upend our universe. See rule number five for an idea of how we will tackle upended universes.

3: We are perfectly content to keep ourselves entertained. Until we are not anymore. Have no fear, you will know when we require your attention. We are not subtle.

2: Sighing and stomping is usually a good indication you may have missed one of our less than subtle clues. Please remedy the situation immediately. See rule number six for ideas.

1: We are fiercely loyal, and will do just about anything for one of our pack. Unless cold water is involved. Then, you are on your own.

Forever? Forever.

I may not know when your birthday is...
who your littermates are...
or what you looked like as a puppy...
But I do know the day I ran through the San Jose airport, desperate to find you...
the day we first cautiously peered into each others eyes through the bars of your crate door,
the day I fell hopelessly in love with you.

Today is the second anniversary of that day.

Save Jake, Buy An Apron

This wasn't supposed to be my 100th post.

I had grand plans of wowing you with new pictures of Caleb, the nice scenery surrounding our new place, and Caleb's ever growing collection of fancy bandannas.

But then I saw this: http://theaproncampaign.blogspot.com/

So, while I still promise you many lovely pictures of Caleb in his many bandannas enjoying the new scenery, it will have to wait.

I need to go buy an apron.

Nosework Level 2

Oh, how I wish I had asked someone to record Caleb's very first nosework run! When we first started he was so unsure of himself, unsure of the practice area, unsure of the boxes ('You want me to put my head where?!?'), I truly thought we needed another round of level 1 just to get him comfortable playing the game. But in the last couple of weeks, something clicked for us. To see him now, you would never know how much he struggled in the beginning!

We are now doing searches off leash, with Caleb pulling at his harness to get to the field to get started. I have been able to decrease the value of the treats, because the game is starting to be rewarding in and of itself. No worries, though, his "downgraded" treat is yummy grilled chicken (Previously I was using was canned venison - particularly smelly and messy!), so Caleb is not suffering too badly!

On our first night of nosework level 2, Caleb and I were set up to do a hide when another dog who was waiting her turn in her crate had a bit of a meltdown. Caleb looked towards where she was crated and looked worried for a second, then looked back to the field. The second he looked back to the field I let go (It was an off leash hide), and he made the decision to ignore the dog's hysterics and get to work! It was wonderful, and the perfect example of just how far Caleb has come!

We have just started to introduce the first scent, birch oil. To do this, you play the exact same game you have been playing all along with the boxes and the yummy treats inside one of them, you just add a tiny tin with a q-tip saturated with birch oil in it to the box This way, the dog starts to associate that smell with finding the yummy treat. This is called pairing, because that is what you are doing, pairing the scent with the food in the box. I thought it may startle Caleb, suddenly changing an aspect of the game, but he took it in stride, and found his hides pretty quickly.

I have to admit, there is a teeeeeeeny tiiiiiiny part of me that is now thinking about the ORT (Odor Recognition Test) in November. You have to pass the ORT before you can participate in a trial, and basically it demonstrates to everyone that your dog knows the scent he is supposed to be looking for and can alert you to it. When my trainer first mentioned it, I almost laughed and quickly dismissed the idea, I thought there was no way we would be ready by then. But in the last few weeks it has been like a switch was flipped inside Caleb, and with a lot of work, I actually think we may be ready to do it by November. Perhaps. Maybe. Did I mention we will need a lot of work?

I guess we will just have to see how things go from here.

In Which I Shamelessly Brag About My Baby

Hooray, we finally have videos of Caleb doing nosework! I was so proud of him this week, he completely surpassed my expectations. We have been practicing a lot at home, slowly working up from one hide a day to three or four. By Monday I was confident Caleb finally had a grasp of the game, but I had no idea if it was all going to fall apart once we got to class. Class is held outside, next to an animal hospital and a horse stable, a much more exciting environment smell-wise than inside the house, in the kitchen.

We did our first hide with the leash on, as we have been doing from the beginning. I was not sure Caleb could be off leash (even though the training area is enclosed), just because he likes to mark. After the first hide it was pretty clear that Caleb DID get the gist of the game, and the instructors told me to take him off leash. So I did, and here is what happened.

It took him 9 seconds to find his treat hidden in the small cooler! Off leash! So proud! My instructor stopped filming as soon as Caleb found it, so you don't see me grinning like an idiot, but trust me, I was.

But lest you think we spent the rest of the evening thinking we were all that and a bag of puppy biscuits, the next hide took us 3 and a half minutes. It was a tough hide for Caleb and he gave up once, plopped his fluffy but down in the middle of the ring and looked at me, announcing quite clearly that he was done with this silliness. We were able to get him reengaged in the game, and once the instructor added a bit more scent to the hide (more Bambi In A Can), he was able to catch the scent and find it. The link to that hide is here, apparently I can only pull one video at a time from her channel and embed it. If you're so inclined you can watch some of the other dogs do their hides as well, it is quite fun to watch!

Giveaway Alert! Giveaway Alert!

Make sure to head over to The Daily Corgi for your chance to win a $30 gift certificate! Your furry child can always use a new SOMETHING, right?!?!?

You can enter by:

• Signing up for the Daily Corgi's tweets
• Leaving a comment on any Daily Corgi post (Leave your first name, initial of last name, and location)
• Post about this giveaway on your blog, then email the link to Laurie

You can guess which one I chose.

Stairs?

As I mentioned in a previous post, Caleb and I moved into a shiny new townhouse! So far, we are both enjoying it, except for one thing:

The Stairs.

There are lots and LOTS of stairs.

Caleb is unfazed by them, he could run up and down the stairs all day long...and therein lies the problem.

Have any of you had any problems from your corgis going up and down stairs? Do you try to limit the number of times they take the stairs to prevent injuries? Am I completely insane to be worrying about this?

He's in perfect health, but as I know nothing about his lineage, I have no idea if he has any predisposition to injuries that could be sustained from running up and down stairs like a lunatic.

Any insight you can provide will be greatly appreciated!

Nosework

Since Doggy Daycare is no longer Caleb's happy place, I decided it was time to find something new that we could do together. At least then if he gets traumatized I will be there and know what happened, as opposed to taking the word of a college student trying to keep an eye on the interactions of 30 dogs. Whoops, did that sound bitter? Sorry. Still a sore spot. If I were a dog, I would need a cone to quit gnawing on it. Cone of Shame for Julie! Moving on...

I found out about Nosework through our new individual trainer, Michele (You knew I would immediately hit the interwebs looking for a new trainer to counteract the trauma of the daycare situation, right? Of course you did!). She is awesome, and I am really enjoying working with her. When we had our first chat I told her I had no desire to send Caleb back to Daycare, but I wanted to make sure he was getting enough mental and physical exercise. We already walk or run at least 2.5 -3 miles a day, but even with that, I was afraid he needed more. Michele told me about a Nose Work class she co-teaches and instantly I knew that we needed to give it a shot.

Nosework is a sport developed in Southern California by three people with many, many years of experience in narcotics and explosives detection, as well as every sort of dog training and canine sport imaginable. You can read more about them here, they are all kinds of awesome. Essentially, they took their years of rigorous professional training for working dogs and created a sport around it designed for pets. In this version, dogs are taught to search for natural essence oils, instead of drugs or explosives, and the idea is that any dog (read: dogs with issues) can participate!

Caleb and I are a few weeks into the Introduction to Nosework class. In this class were are learning how to encourage Caleb's desire to hunt through sniffing out yummy things hidden in boxes. As the class progresses, the instructors throw in more distractions, and manipulate the box with the food in it to make the hides more or less difficult, depending on the dog. Sometimes are are 6-8 boxes by themselves, sometimes there are boxes surrounded by cones, exercise mats, step ladders, Rollerblades, just about anything they can get their hands on that will hold on to smells differently. They manipulate the size of the search area and the external distractions in such a way as to always make sure the dog succeeds, so they will want to come back and keep playing this fun new game. The next level of classes involve teaching the dog to sniff out particular natural essence oils, but we have not gotten that far yet and are still building the foundation with delicious high value treats (Bambi In A Can, in Caleb's case).

This takes a lot of work mentally; I was pleasantly surprised at how tired he was after class. It is also worth noting that this is a different sort of tired than when he would come back from Daycare. Allow me to anthropomorphize for a bit: After Nose Work Caleb is tired, but it seems to be more of an accomplished tired, like I would feel after a busy but productive day. After Daycare, Caleb would come in and collapse, completely drained and exhausted, like I have felt these past few months (see previous post). I wonder if the same is true with dogs as it is with people, we are more productive when under a bit of stress, but only up to a point, then our work product and productivity take a nose dive as the stress increases?

There is another benefit to Nosework for those of you who may have doggies with issues around other dogs: No meet and greets. No doggy to doggy socialization at all. No doggie to people socialization either, for that matter. The class is run in such a way so that only one dog is working the course at a time. The other doggies are hanging out in their cars or crates. I know this sounds odd at first, but I promise you, it is actually a fantastic way to run this sort of class. You can be one of three places in class: In the holding area with your dog about to do the course next, In the course itself, or sitting down in chairs observing the other students doing the course while your dog is hanging out in his crate or car. This is great because when I'm not in the holding area or in the course with Caleb I am able to relax and focus on the other students and their dogs. I learn so much by watching others take their turn, but if I had Caleb right next to me the entire time I would be focused on keeping him quiet, not learning from the other students. Even with all the going back and forth between car to holding area to course and back again, you still get plenty of chances to do the course, and doggies that would otherwise not be able to participate in something like this due to their issues get a chance to participate! I really cannot speak highly enough about the whole program.

What does Caleb think of all of this? Well, for Caleb, the sniffing is not the difficult part; Caleb is a world class sniffer! The difficult part is getting him to stop sniffing every spot that may have ever had a molecule of pee on it within the last 500 years and look for his high value treat that has been hidden in the box. At home, he is much better because we practice indoors where Caleb has sniffed everything that needs to be sniffed and he can focus on finding Bambi. In class, an outdoor location next to a horse pasture - aka: distract-o-rama, he struggles a bit more. He eventually finds his treat, and is improving week over week, though, so I am not worried. I already know we are going to repeat this intro class at least once more to make sure the foundation really sticks with him, as the classes only get more difficult as we progress.

If you are interested, check out their website for more details. I will definitely keep you posted on our experiences with Nosework, there may even be video coming soon!

In Which I Reveal That I Am Not Dead (Yet).

I am not dead!

Yet.

But there was a period of time (read: a couple of months) where I thought the world may, in fact, be conspiring to kill me.

It started the SECOND I landed in Maui. In fact, I hadn't even gotten off the plane when I decided to check my voicemail. It was Doggy Daycare. I've thought long and hard about what to include about this in this blog, and here is my attempt to not fly completely off the handle in retelling it to you:

We're not going to Doggy Daycare anymore.

There were a series of very SERIOUS lapses in communication on their part, which led to me continuing to bring Caleb to daycare when it was clearly (to them, but not to me) NO LONGER his happy place. Had I had been properly informed of the fear behaviors he was displaying around a certain dog, I would never have brought him back. Period. But these lapses occurred and the end result was a phone call in the Maui airport, a half-assed apology for not mentioning Caleb's fear around this dog before ("Oooooh....Um....we thought we had?"), a request that he be picked up from daycare, and a subsequent hysterical phone call to my mother to GETCALEBRIGHTNOWOHMYGODHE'SNEVERGOINGTOTHATDAYCAREAGAIN.

No bloodshed, no bite marks, nothing. Only EVERY SINGLE INDICATOR that Caleb was incredibly uncomfortable around this dog during MULTIPLE (I found out later) encounters and NOBODY TOLD ME until Caleb pounced on this dog and pinned him in an unfriendly 'I don't want to play with you, you're freaking me' out kind of way and then someone thought maybe they should call me to come get him. While I'm in Maui. Still in the airport. But an ocean away. From my furry child.

Attempt to not fly completely off the handle in retelling it to you: FAIL. It makes my blood boil just thinking about it.

Once my Mom had Caleb and assured me that he would be fine with her, I was able to have an amazing time. An amazing time scattered with random flare ups of fury (Whenever I saw a dog on the beach; When on the phone with the Daycare trying to get my money refunded; When I woke up in the morning and realized I didn't have a dog to walk because my dog was in California after I had unknowingly traumatized him by taking him to daycare; the list goes on and on.)

We made it back from Maui without me having a heart attack or a brain aneurysm from the hysterics, and I was just beginning to think the world was returning to normal, when I got a call from my little brother.

He was going to get married!

In a week.

Please do not misunderstand, this was AWESOME news. I love my new sister-in-law! It was just so....sudden. I figured they would get married eventually, I just thought I would get more than a weeks notice. Insert a weeks worth wedding excitement here. Oh, and another request for time off work.

But we're not done with the weddings, folks. My Father then announced his intention to marry a woman he's known less than a year, that I have met once. You may draw your own conclusions from that one. Less than a month after my Brother got married we all hopped on a plane and flew to Texas for another wedding. At least I got more than a weeks notice this time. Oh, but there is one little side note to this as well: The day after I got back from Texas I was scheduled to move from my place to Boyfriend's place 30 miles away. The move was scheduled long before my Father's announcement, so in order to do both without losing my moving date, my trip to Texas went a little something like this: Fly to TX / Get off Plane / Go to sleep / Get up and go to wedding / Go to sleep / Fly to CA / MOVE, MOVE, MOVE!

Stressful? To say the least. Oh, have I mentioned I hate moving? Hate, hate, HATE moving. I proclaimed to Boyfriend that we might as well get married now because I AM NEVER MOVING AGAIN. I was feeling a bit melodramatic, I admit.

But it is finally over. We're moved in, Caleb has adjusted nicely. He particularly enjoys running up and down the stairs. I'm putting up baby gates to curb that behavior this weekend. I have enough doggy mommy guilt from the daycare trauma, if Caleb breaks something running up and down the stairs, I may finally curl up and die.

Next Post: In Which I Stop Whining About Life's Insanities And Tell You All About Nose Work!

For me?!?!? Wait...what do you mean, No?

Boyfriend and I took a quick detour to Dave and Buster's after dinner tonight to play a few games and won a couple of small stuffed animals from the cartoon Madagascar (One was Private the Penguin, and the other one was King Julian the Lemur, in case you were wondering). The second we walked in the front door, Caleb locked on to them with an expectant expression and the typical corgi smile. I tried to dissuade the furry child by explaining that these were MY stuffies, not Caleb stuffies, and produced a brand new bully stick to assuage any hurt feelings.

Which seemed to work...

For an hour.

After awhile, I noticed a commotion out of the corner of my eye coming from the dining room. I looked over to see Caleb staring up at the kitchen table (which is bar height, not normal dining room table height, so it is taller than normal), trying to figure out how to get at those stuffies. He remembered they were there. As I watched, he suddenly jumped up and balanced on his hind legs and stretched his neck as far as he possibly could trying to get at them. He had no place to balance his front legs to he just kind of tottered there on two legs for a second before going back to all fours then jumping back up to try again. It was hilarious. I was tempted to mark it with the clicker and add it to his repertoire of tricks, but walking around on two legs just cannot be good for his long back, so instead I dug out his favorite green squeaky ball and invited him to a rousing game of 'Look, you have 100 dollars worth of toys in the living room, you don't need my stuffies, let's play with something else'.

I just find it funny that nothing else I have ever put on that table (steak dinners, sweet treats, fresh bread, the cat) was interesting enough to walk around on two legs for, but a couple of cheap stuffies from Dave and Busters, was.

Crazy dog.

Nothing Says 'Trust'...

...Like a dog biscuit crammed into your ribcage!

Caleb has this thing with crunchy biscuits. He will eat one, but only after carrying it around, hiding it, and then softy "woofing" at it once he has hidden it (I call it "whispering his sweet nothings" to it). Then he sits by it and looks worried until it is either time to move it again, or time to finally eat it.

This can go on for days.

Last night, a friend came over to watch LOST!, and she brought Caleb a biscuit. Well, either he was more worried than usual, or he decided we were to enthralled with LOST! because he put on quite the show. He hid it in the usual places (Under the couch, in his dog bed in the living room, behind his toy box), but then he decided he needed to kick it up a notch so he jumped on the couch in between my friend and my roommate and proceeded to nudge them out of the way until he could cram it in between the cushions. Cute and endearing! We were all amused. I should also state for the record that Caleb is the only being on Earth allowed to put up the tiniest bit of distraction during LOST! (Can you tell I am a fan?), but last night he pushed it to the limit.

Once he decided the couch cushions were no longer suitable, he retrieved his prize from the couch, walked around my roommate who was on the couch, jumped into my lap while I was sitting in the recliner, turned around and pointed his furry butt in my face, and proceeded to try to dig a hole BETWEEN MY KNEES, then hid his biscuit there. Much to the amusement of my friend and my roommate. Then he sprawled himself longways across my lap and looked at me as if to say, "Here, hold this for me." That lasted about a minute before Caleb got the hint that he AND his dog biscuit were no longer welcome in my lap during LOST!. So he stomped off to hide it in my bedroom.

Once LOST! was over and my friend went home, I decided to watch a little bit of the Olympics in bed. Guess who beat me to it? Caleb was already asleep on the bed with his head near my pillow. So while I was shooing Caleb over to his side of the bed, lo and behold, I discovered the dog biscuit, buried underneath my pillow. Lovely. He immediately starts worrying about it all over again when I put it on the nightstand, so I give it BACK to him so he can hide it somewhere else. I climb in bed, get all nice and comfy, and where does Caleb decide to hide the biscuit? In my ribcage. OF COURSE! He tried to get under the covers, but I thwarted that, so he settled for laying the biscuit next to my ribcage and nosing it until the comforter sort of fell over it and it was uncomfortably wedged in my ribcage. Then he settled down and went to sleep.

And, because I am insane, I lay there with a dog biscuit in my ribcage, and watch the Olympics until I am fairly certain he is asleep and will not notice me slooooooowly moving the dog biscuit onto the nightstand. Did you know that corgis can hear a biscuit hit a nightstand and come out of dead sleep into full alert before you are even conscious that it made a sound when you sat it down? Yes? Well, I missed that chapter. When the whole worrying/hiding/woofing process started all over again, Caleb's evening invitation to share my bed was revoked and both he AND the biscuit were floor-ward bound.

I guess he thinks I will take care of his dog biscuit the way I take care of him, the spoiled little booger. Honestly!

Super Bowl Festivities

Somehow, I got talked into hosting a Super Bowl party. For Boyfriend's friends. At my house. No, I am not sure how this happened, either, but it did, so I spent the whole weekend prepping for said party. The apartment was cleaned from top to bottom, the bathroom got a heavy duty (down to the floor boards and grout) cleaning, and I bought a cart full of food at Costco to feed everyone.

Now I remember why I do not have parties at my house.

I spend so much time worrying about getting the apartment and the food and everything else ready, not to mention that I am not a big party person to begin with, that I never really enjoy myself. For a little bit of perspective, there are maybe 6-8 people and 3-4 households total that do not result in me having at least a minor freak out from either having them come over or going to their house. Don't get me wrong, I liked everyone that came to the party, they were just all there at once. In my house. Ack!

Then there was Caleb to deal with. I've never had 9 people in my apartment at once, and I've certainly never had 9 people with plates of deliciousness scattered about everywhere AND Caleb in an apartment together. I was getting pretty worked up over what to do with him when I remembered something from The Other End of the Leash by Patricia McConnell (side note: I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE her!). She says something to the effect of: trainers do not necessarily have perfect dogs, they just know when to put their dogs away and avoid any potential problems to begin with. So I decided that after Caleb said hello to everyone, he would be banished to my bedroom with a nice bully stick. Since I fail miserably at hiding anything from Caleb, I decided he would be better off there than picking up on all my 'OHMYGOSH THERE ARE PEOPLE IN MY HOUSE vibes', which would just be asking for trouble.

But then my Mom called wondering if Caleb might like to come over to her house for the super bowl. I guess my Brother was missing his dog, Scout, and they decided a visit from Caleb would help. BRILLIANT! I wish I had thought of this, rather than stressing out about what to do with Caleb for a week prior. So, my Brother came over and picked up Caleb, his dinner, and his favorite obnoxious green squeaky tennis ball, and off they went to enjoy each other's company in a nice big house with a backyard and no party goers!

I was feeling pretty good as everyone showed up, grabbed a plate of food and staked out a spot to watch the game...

Then the sneezing started.

In all of my hysterics to clean the apartment and prepare enough food for a small country, I forgot something vitally important: To make sure everyone knew I had a dog AND a cat in the apartment. In my (weak) defense, everyone I knew was already aware that I had a dog and a cat, it was the family members that they brought with them who were apparently allergic, and nobody bothered to mention it to THEM that there was a cat and a dog in the apartment.

Epic. Fail.

So lesson learned: Spend less time cleaning the grout in the bathroom that absolutely nobody is going to notice, and MORE time emailing, calling, and reminding everyone to take their allergy meds because apparently there are enough allergens in my apartment to knock a 15 year old to his knees (Even WITH my obsessive cleaning! I had no idea!). Or maybe the better lesson is: Have a party for Boyfriend's friends at Boyfriend's house! Sheesh.

In other news, Caleb had a wonderful time at my Mom's house, and even took her for a jog around the block. Unintentionally, I might add. My Mom was very excited to have a dog to go on a walk with her, but I do not think she was prepared for what an adolescent Corgi considers a walk, and was still in old Boxer/Mastiff mode (A much slower and more meandering pace). I guess there were very interesting smells in my Mother's neighborhood, and he dragged her hither and yon to each and every one of them, even yanking the leash clear out of her hands and one point. Apparently my poor Mother was half jogging behind him the entire way scolding: "I am not your Momma, I can't jog like she can! I have a titanium knee, I'm old! Slooooooow down, Caleb!" On the one hand, I find this hilarious and would have paid to see it. On the other hand, I am mortified because that is not Canine Good Citizen behavior! Granted, it sounds like my mother used every word except 'Heel', but somehow I do not think saying 'Heel' would have helped. Caleb knows exactly what he can get away with when he's with me (not very much) versus what he can get away with with my Mom (everything). Typical corgi. So that will be something I have to work on with both of them, I guess.

A List of Complaints

Dear Momma,

Please see the attached list of complaints and address them promptly.

1. You have kept me locked in the house like a common dog. Perhaps you have forgotten that I am Caleb, 'Official Corgi Office Greeter'? This has happened for TWO days in a ROW. That might as well be FOREVER. There are plenty of things to do in your office that help me burn off excess energy: Sleep in my comfy office bed, enjoy a bully stick, you know, VERY EXCITING THINGS. When you leave me at HOME, I am forced to sleep on the couch, enjoy (yet another) bully stick, and...well, ok you know what? It may not SOUND all that different but trust me IT IS. Leaving me at home is only a few steps away from abuse. Perhaps you were unaware. Now you know.
2. When you came home from work tonight you insisted we go for a RUN. I do not run, I chase. And you look like my Momma, not a squirrel or a fellow dog, so SORRY it is not at all similar. I thought we had worked through this, I am not a jogging buddy. Recognize.
3. Two words: PEANUT BRITTLE. I have never smelled such a delicious peanut buttery treat, and you WOULD NOT SHARE. I sat pretty, batted my eyes, followed you from one room to another while you selfishly helped yourself to three pieces (Yes, I counted!). What does a perfect specimen of Corgi, such as myself, have to DO around here to get a piece of that deliciousness?

I'm sure you've been busy with whatever it is you do all day when not worshiping me, but perhaps you should brush up on your corgi rearing skills, because I mean, REALLY.

Corgi Kisses,

Caleb

Phone Etiquette

Dear Caleb,

The second I get on the phone is NOT the correct time to whine for your green squeaky ball, then once I have relented and fetched the green squeaky ball from under the couch all whilst trying not to drop the phone, flop back down by the couch and whine again because you wanted the green squeaky tennis ball, and I gave you the green squeaky plastic ball.

You, Sir, are a spoiled rotten mess, you know that? Kindly address this lapse of phone etiquette.



Thank you,

Your Momma

A theme emerges...

Yes, I thought I was done with this theme, but alas, it was not meant to be. You have to endure one more post about tummy troubles. Specifically, puke. Again.

Perhaps it was one too many treats yesterday. Or the fact that he may have scored a french fry or two from McD's. Whatever the reason, my evening slumber was not to go undisturbed. At 2:30 this morning, my AMAZING DOG PUKE ESP was activated sending me lurching and twisting and leaping to get to Caleb before he chundered all over my comforter.

Again.

Oh, yes, this has happened before.

Ok, it is probably not actually AMAZING DOG PUKE ESP (Oh darn!), but that I heard Caleb hacking in my sleep and my subconscious sounded the alarm, sending me leaping into action before I was even fully awake (I have been known to have complete phone conversations with people while still asleep with only the hint of an idea that it may have happened the next morning, so this is not unheard of in my world).

Not that I remember hearing hacking of any sort; my first waking memory was of trying to get out of the covers and simultaneously feeling around for Caleb, only to look up to see his outline perched at the very edge of the bed. I tried to grab him just as he leaned as far over the edge as he possibly could, then threw up on the floor, missing the comforter with plenty of room to spare.

Good dog.

If I have to clean up puke at 2:30 in the morning, I would rather be cleaning it off of the carpet, rather than the comforter.

Your dog is a 5 time champion in something or other? Oh yeah? Well, my dog learned to puke on the floor instead of my comforter! Beat that! Wooooo!

I can joke about it now, but this morning it was not a laughing matter.

Seriously, Furry Child, what is the deal?

Stomach Status Update

Well, I think all is back to normal in the tummy department. Caleb hasn't thrown up in a day and a half, has been eating normally, and...er, other such business looks like it should. So I think we are good. *WHEW*

Now that I am not in "I-am-not-panicking-really-I-am-just-feeding-my-dog-with-a-spoon-to-get-him-to-eat-why-do-you-think-that-seems-panicky" mode, I think Betty was right and Caleb probably just had a bout of the same thing that his larger Brother From Another Mother had, stress colitis.

Side Note: I have no idea who Caleb's parents are, but, dang, don't Koda and Caleb look alike??? I think so too, hence the goofy nickname. Sorry, Koda! :-)

It makes sense, we were all stressed out and upset about Scout, and I was out of town for a couple of days, and Caleb was staying with my Mom at night while I was gone, so he was REALLY in the thick of the stress. After a couple of quiet days at home with bland food and no tiny morsels of people food (Well, ok, except for the last bite of my morning toast, I think Caleb would murder me in my sleep if I eschewed that tradition), he is back to normal.

Good grief, this dog can get me worked up.

Happy Birthday, Caleb!

Dear Caleb,

You are three years old today. Maybe. Nobody is quite sure of your exact birthday, except for you, and you are not telling. Regardless, you are quite firmly in the adolescent phase of your development. Your abilities to ignore me when I am talking to you rival my own when I was a teenager and one parental unit or another insisted on flaunting their authority. If we were the same species, we would totally be related.

You have mastered The Look. You know the one; the one you first used to communicate your desire to revoke the unjust "No Doggies on the Couch" rule that was in effect for awhile. The Look that now sends me leaping up to fluff your pillow and arrange your fuzzy blue blanket for you so you can snore contentedly on said couch. The same look that says, "You can either pick me up and put me on the bed, or I will help myself to the bed, but remember my hips...do you REALLY want me jumping up that high?" I blame The Look for never being able to finish a bagel or a piece of toast, you always get the last bite.

But despite The Look, you are not a diva; More of a benevolent dictator, I would say. I may be the leader of the pack, but we both know it is because you simply have better things to do (sleep 16 hours a day), and the daily operations of life (somebody has to buy the kibble) bore you. You do most everything I ask of you, even wear silly costumes for pictures (Sorry about that, by the way). You have shown yourself to be a true gentlemen to people of all ages, sizes, and colors. You get along with everyone at doggy daycare and at the dog park, large and small. You defend me from the maniacal whippets and the obnoxious miniature schnauzers on our walks. It is nearly impossible to be sad around you. You do your best to chase away the blues, sometimes stomping them out with a corgi dance in my lap to get me up and out of my funk and on with life, or at least, out the door so we can go for a walk.

You are turning into quite the well trained little corgi. You earned your CGC this year, much to the amazement of the folks at doggy daycare who observe your frenzied hysterics first hand. But do not worry, there is no contradiction in my mind. You behave when I ask you to, it is just harder to stay focused in the canine equivalent of Disneyland. You still greet some folks a little too jubilantly, but we are working on it. You have earned my trust to be off leash in a growing number of places, your recall is pretty dang reliable. You even leave the cat alone most of the time; Sophie the cat does not know how good she has it - you do not nip when you herd!

You are such an easy, joyful, loving, footstool shaped, sheds-like-it-is-going-out-of-style dog, I would not change a thing about you. I have never regretted perusing Petfinder that otherwise ordinary day when the whim struck me to get a dog, and I am quite sure that no matter how many dogs join the insanity that is our little pack, they broke the mold with you.


Happy Birthday, Buddy Bear!


PS: No cake for you, Mr. Finicky Tummy, but there may be some boiled chicken in your future. I know, I know, such sacrifices must be made. I am sure you will make do.