Innocent Until Proven Guilty

In my backyard is a large bountiful hazelnut tree. I never actually get any of the hazelnuts, as I have a squirrels nesting in the fir tree that grows tall above them.

While weeding amongst the trees one day I kept hearing a tapping sound, about every 10 seconds. I looked around and noticed small half shells falling from the sky. They were my hazelnut shells! A squirrel was having a feast, fattening up for the winter, tossing the shells off the side of the nest, laughing at me as I dodge them.

Once the spring arrives and the sun is up when the alarm rings, Mr. Party's morning ritual slightly changes. Once the door to the back yard opens, rather than searching out the prime location to relieve himself, his first and most important task is to race as quickly as he can to the squirrels trees. Looking up into the limbs, hoping to catch a glimpse of the elusive squirrel, just as a child searches the sky for Santa's sleigh. 

Today, an unfortunate event happened. As I was walking through the yard, picking up toys and sticks in preparation for tomorrow's big "mow" day, I bent down to pick up a mangled stuffed toy, thinking to myself, "they snuck one of these out here again!" Before actually touching the thing, I realized that this was not stuffed toy at all, it was one of the beloved squirrels that lives...um....lived in my trees.

Luckily the dogs didn't try eating it, and now I'm recalling finding it odd that the Nanny was intensely sniffing the area that I thought Mr. Party had marked. Well of course she was, she must have been trying to determine how much longer she had to wait until she had her own custom puppy-perfume-patch.

I do not like to think that Mr. Party actually caught a squirrel. After all, he's been chasing them for three years, he knows that if he killed it, he would have nothing to look for in the morning sunlight. All games of chase would come to an end. As I brought this up to the dad of the household, he reminded me that my mother-in-laws diabetic 20 pound cat caught its first bird last weekend.

I'm positive that this poor squirrel misjudged the distance between branches, and only fell to early demise. Mr. Party only kills on command, and so far, that is just big giant spiders that are only looking for a warm place to sleep. They do not know that I have a Newfie that will do absolutely anything to protect me and earn my affection.  He would never kill for sport, that is not the kind of dog I have raised.

Gonna be bad, best to make it good.

Arriving home on a sunny Saturday afternoon, we step out into the backyard to greet the family. After the usual greetings, I start fiddling with the hose, as Shawn walks across the yard. 

"Did you get these guys a big giant rawhide bone?" Shawn asked.

"No, why?" I replied.

"Because there's one here in the yard," he says.

I join him in the center of the yard to find this: 

A filthy, dirty rawhide that looks like it had been buried in the ground since Christmas.

My first thought was that my dogs have been barking at the neighbors while we were away, and they threw a distraction over the fence. But we are both pretty sure that if we are not in the yard, the dogs do not feel there is anyone to impress, therefore remaining silent until we get home.

Then I noticed the fresh dirt....and the giant hole dug under the fence. (Now filled in with rocks big enough that a 65lb dog cannot move.)

Mr. Party dug his way to freedom for a warm sunny afternoon, but he WAS back in the yard by time we got home, because he KNOWS that if he is not "caught in the act" then he is not a bad dog.

During the act of freedom he found the bone, there are a lot of dogs in my neighborhood, so I'm not sure how far Mr. Party roamed today. But he was successful on his hunt.

Later that night, as The Nanny ran into the house after her bathroom break before bed, we didn't notice that she had snuck that big stinky bone into the house with her. It was shortly after Shawn smelled it. It was immediately disposed of, but now we have to wonder. Did the Nanny smell the bone from a distance and send her fun-loving brother that will do ANYTHING to make everyone happy, on a hunt for the bone. Which one is really the naughty dog?

Big Little Brother

There are some actions that makes a person stop, look, and gain an overwhelming sense of comfort. A recent visit to the veterinarians office assured me how loyal Mr. Party is to his family.

Due to life in general, in 2 years Mr. Party and the Nanny had always had separate veterinary appointments. But this year, it worked out to where we were able to take both of them in at the same time. The vet doesn't phase Mr. Party at all, he's just happy to meet new people and he likes that the doctor gives him attention.

The Nanny is a different story. She is one of those dogs that you see being drug across the floor because she does NOT want the attention from the doctor.

Once we coax the Nanny into the examination room, we talk to her and pet her to try to convince her that she is safe. Mr Party continues to wag his tail and dish out kisses, not only to his humans, but he kept giving the Nanny a couple licks on her muzzle.

This action is out of the ordinary for Mr. Party, he constantly kisses his humans, but rarely kisses his furry siblings.

The doctor entered the room and Mr. Party was very excited to have a new human to praise him. After he had his little exam the doctor turned her attention to the Nanny. The Nanny has been to the doctor much more often than Mr. Party and lowered her head in an Eeyore fashion "not you again" is what she seemed to be thinking.

At this moment, Mr. Party rushed to the Nanny's side and stepped in between her and the doctor. He gave the Nanny comforting kisses on the muzzle and inquisitively looked at the doctor as if to say "why are you making my sister uncomfortable?"

It was comforting to see Mr. Party  be so brave and protective of his older sister, as a dog will return the love and affection given to him in loyalty and devotion.

Midnight Romp

Late Saturday night, I'm falling asleep on the couch while watching Colin Quinn's HBO special (not because it wasn't entertaining, but because I failed to sleep past 7am on this sunny Saturday.)

As I wake up and decide I'm going to move to the bed, Shawn tells me he's antsy so he's going to take Mr. Party downtown for a walk. 

I thought this was a great idea, because the Pride Festival was this weekend, and I was sure there would be lots of people for Mr. Party to interact with, and I was right.

At the beginning of the night he got some oohs and aaahs from a bachelorette party.  And then a Harley-Mom needed to stop and give him some lovin, while her Harley-Man waited even though you can tell he really just wanted to get into the bar.

After making a trip around the downtown area, Shawn stopped at the car, but Mr. Party was not ready to get in and go home. Shawn poured him some water and they started on round two, circling the downtown area of Olympia.

They ran into the bachlorette party as they were leaving the bar that they first entered, and the women spotted Mr. Party again and squealed..."It's the Party Dog!!!"

The Nanny's Homecoming

We saw a picture of The Nanny on a website I am now forbidden to view; petfinder.org. The "proper" way to choose a dog I suppose, is to meet the dog with an unbiased opinion, in order to logically decide if this dog will be a right fit for your family. Luckily, at the time, our family only consisted of two humans and two cats, and there was nothing in her description about not being suitable with living with either species. Which is good because we had our mind made up before we even met her.

We travelled 50 miles to meet her at a Petsmart adoption fair. She was shy, and uncomfortable in the chaotic surroundings. Reasoning would tell us that she is not confident and to pick a more outgoing dog, but even after the foster moms warnings that she might take some time to warm up to us, and she might be scared riding in the car she was abandoned at her vets office,  we couldn't go home without her.

She was nervous in PetSmart, but as soon as we passed through the doors, she became a different dog. Her tail stood up, she lifted her head, and she began walking with a pep in her step, happy to be alone with these two humans. She even cut Shawn off to make him stop so she could hop her front paws onto his leg and lean into him. Once to the car,   hopped into the backseat and sat in the middle so she could poke her head in between the humans on occassion, as if to let us know that she was enjoying this trip.

We laughed regarding the foster mom's warnings about the car ride. A sparkle in this dogs eyes and an occassional light lick to our cheek told us that the car ride is obviously one of this dogs favorite things to do.


Upon arrival to the house, I ran inside and locked the two cats in the bedroom. We allowed the Nanny to explore the house and become familiar with the smells of her new family. After torturing the cats with a couple hours of isolation, we released them from the bedroom jail-cell.

Surprisingly,  (because at the time we thought herding would be trained, not an instinct) The Nanny's herding-instinct instantly took-over and she immediately chased the cats, rounding them back into the bedroom. I am sure those poor cats lost one of their lives that day due to a heart-attack. We immediately took off to the store to purchase a baby gate, in order to give the cats a safe haven to get away from the new monster taking over their territory.

After 2 months of stress and not knowing how to get the Nanny to stop terrorizing the cats, we nearly gave up on her ability to "fit" in with the family. There were a couple nights that we laid in bed saying....what did we do? But we couldn't just give up on this dog, she had so many wonderful loving qualities about her, we carried on with our discipline of distraction when the Nanny stalked the cats. Miraculously, our persistence paid off. I couldn't even tell you when or how it happened, but we suddenly realized that the Nanny was ignoring the cats.

Of course The Nanny still enjoys pestering the cats. Particularly if one gets to close to the human food, The Nanny is right there to nip at a cat butt, pushing them onward passed the temptations of the milk or ice cream. They don't snuggle together, but when all of them are outside in the yard, they do not stray far from one another, they are all part of a pack of a hodgepodge of species.

La-La-La

I walk each of the dogs, one at a time. This either makes me not lazy or really lazy, I haven't figured out which.

I walk them one at a time because Mr. Party needs to be in the lead, therefore zig-zagging every other step to ensure the Nanny stays behind him, and the Nanny needs to stop and smell every flower.

So yes, I'm lazy for not training them to be better walkers, but I'm not lazy because I walk twice.

A couple nights ago, I set out taking Mr. Party for a walk. The Nanny is left at home with Dad. Dad decided that he would take her for a ride in the car, it was a sunny day, she could have the window down and let the wind blow in her face. When Mr. Party is in the car with her, the windows have to stay up because he wants to jump out when he sees people, rabbits, dogs, cats, garbage cans, rocks...you get the idea, right?

Dad opens the door that leads into the garage, not realizing that the big garage door is open, the Nanny takes off trotting down the driveway in search of Mr. Party. She was already to the end of the driveway when Dad realized what happened. With her head held high and her tail straight up in the air, the Nanny prances passed all the houses on the block. She had a gleeful look on her face, as if she was singing a tune, la-la-la-laaaa. Dad was trotting behind her, leash in hand, his call laying on deaf ears.

This Nanny was on a mission to find Mr. Party and Mom, but soon her nose got the better of her, she had to stop and smell a flower.

Dad caught up with her, just as she stopped sniffing, she looked at him quinted her eyes and turned up her lips in a grinning expression that says, I'm so cute you can't help but love me, then started trotting back towards the house. la-la-la-laaaa. Round two,  passing the neighbors windows with the Nanny prancing, head held high, tail straight-up in the air, and Dad chasing after her.

Strolls on Nature Trails

We have a nature trail close to our house, McClane Creek Trail. I enjoy walking this trail, it's always changing. Today I went for the first time since 3 seasons ago, and I thought that the Department of Natural Resources certainly recreated all the trails. But of course they don't have the budget to do this, I just realized the swampy water was higher than I had every seen it, so it appeared the trails were recreated through the pond that I normally stroll next to.  It's a very marshy area, and I always prepare myself to not be so startled when an alligator jumps out of it catching dinner. Of course this should never happen as we are on the other side of the continent as gators, but I always prepare myself for the worst.

Mr. Party has a hard time on these nature trails, because there are so many scents he turns into Mr. DADD (doggie-attention-deficit-disorder). The goal of tonights walk was to teach Mr. Party that it's ok to slow down and "stroll," especially when there are puddles of mudd that mom could easily slip and be drug through.

Mr. Party was getting the feel for strolling, mom got to spot salamanders, smell the skunk cabbage (ew) and admire the ducks swimming by....but then Mr. Party decided that he needed to train for the Iditarod, mushing along the trails as I'm digging my heels into the ground to slow him down. Finally, I regain control and he sits, wiggling about as if sitting is the most difficult thing he has ever had to do. Slowly, an older gentleman comes around the bend that was about 100 yards ahead of us, then his wife, and finally the whole reason for the uncontrollable wiggle, an elderly sheep-dog, so well behaved that the older couple didn't even need to use a leash. This made me a little jealous. Will my dog ever be that calm and well-mannered? *sigh* Of course the gentleman had to holler a chipper "hello!" Which I know really meant "look at how well my dog behaves! nothing like yours!"

The elderly couple continues down the path, Mr. Party soon forgetting that they existed as we stopped in the middle of the pond. Stopping long enough to let the wind whistling in our ears to cease, letting the sounds of nature surround us, thus freaking a dog out as if he's being bombed by nature in all directions. Mr. Party first focused on the birds cooeing in front of us, but then croaking frogs creeped up behind us, and quaking ducks from the side, oh my! Mr. Party began turning in circles, confused, ready to defend himself from mother nature's attackers.

At this point, I felt that it would be best to get Mr. DADD home. We ended our "strolling" lesson and I've never seen Mr. Party so excited to see his car.

Collars

My dogs get VERY excited to have their collars put on, after all, this means we are LEAVING THE HOUSE. Whether it be by automobile or by foot, they don't care, they get to stimulate their senses with new territory.

But what is even more entertaining, well entertaining is a cruel way of putting it....amusing....no, ok...thought-provoking, is how Party-Pants gets absolutely disgusted and pouts when I take his collar off. The Nanny doesn't care, she just shakes and goes along with her business. But Mr. Party, he cowers when I grab the buckle, shakes once trying to break my grip. Once the collar is off, he lays down with his chin on his paws, gazing up at me with those big brown puppy-dog eyes, that my friend, is definitely a pout.

This action got me thinking. Mr. Party was a stray, maybe he likes this collar because it shows everyone that he has a pack, a family that he eats with, sleeps with, plays with and protects. His collar is far more to him than just a trip out of the house, it is his sense of belonging. His reminder that he belongs somewhere.

Introduction

There was only a short time in which I lived without a dog in my house. This was the 4 years after I graduated highschool.

My dogs are my children. My dogs are my mom's grandchildren. Even though I know they are "supposed" to be treated as dogs, I am sure a professional trainer would say that I humanize my dogs a little to much. But I like letting them sleep on my bed, I like talking to them, and I like making up stories as to what they must be thinking.

Ok, now that I've put that on paper, I realize how crazy that sounds, but I'm sure other dog owners will understand....I hope.

I have two dogs. One is an Australian Shepard/Akita mix. As expected, she's very intelligent. I know I'm supposed to be the leader, but part of me tells me that she has just tricked me into thinking that I'm the leader.  We've nicknamed her the Nanny. She prefers everyone to be sitting, move slowly, and talk quietly, if she were 18 (and had opposable thumbs) she would be voting for the legalization of marijuana.

The second is a Newfoundland/Retriever mix. Every second of every day is a party for him. Always happy, always optimistic, and constantly trying to get in the middle of everything. 

We had the Nanny first. As what happens in so many families, the first one was sooooo angelic, we thought for sure a second one would be just as easy......