The Biggest Heart

On Christmas Eve, Dawson had a seizure like episode that left him gasping for breath and scared. I thought that losing this boy would be the absolute worst Christmas present ever, but thankfully Holly intervened and told my boy he needed to remain until I was ready to let him go. After a few terror filled hours he began resting peacefully. Unfortunately, he developed a rather persistent cough that necessitated a trip to the vet. There was a rather noxious strain of kennel cough in the area, and although he had been vaccinated the vet thought that he had still contracted the disease as we had been to a play date at a local pet store. We traipsed home with medicine and were pleased that the cough seemed to improve. Unfortunately, about a week later, Dawson started to ignore the small things, like dinner, and breakfast.

His breathing was still labored, and I became suspicious when neither Ginger nor Buddy showed any signs of contracting the horrible strain of kennel cough although both had been around Dawson when he would have been infectious. Yesterday, once again we visited the vet and had x-rays taken. His body cavity is filled with fluid, which is pressing down on his lungs making it difficult for him to breathe. His left lung shows signs of hardening, which may indicate that cancer has taken a hold of his body. The vet was concerned when my response was merely to say that I would come by to take him home.

It took me a while to understand that the Vet was afraid that I was one of those parents who would be unable to face the needful task of ending his suffering. Once that thought had penetrated my grief, I was able to let her know that I was merely taking him home so that I could let him know how much he had meant to me and how much I would miss him.

I have one more day left with the boy whose heart is as big as the sky, who is so gentle that toddlers can pet him without fear of being pushed over, and whose patience allowed a small red poodle puppy to try and tug him by the tail across the lawn. He has dined on salmon and beer, and right now is resting quietly at my feet. Tomorrow he will be abl to chase the mule deer with abandon, hunt rabbits to his hearts content, and soothe all the ruffled souls who have had to deal with the Hollidog.. I love you with all my heart, my precious boy. I will miss your soft fur, your liquid eyes, and your boundless love for all.

"May you see with the eyes of light in the everdark, may your mind walk free and unfettered amongst all, touching wisely and well, may you go in peace. But wait for me beloved."

Another Freakin' Poodle?

You have GOT to be kidding me. My Aunt just adopted another one of those wee curly attack dogs. My sister is a poodle, my uncle is a poodle, my cousins are all poodles and I even have a cousin once removed who is a poodle! It's enough to make any dog renounce his poodleness when he contemplates how much pouncing on the head that adds up to. Why do I hear ghostly Holli laughter and the faint barked words "be careful what you wish for!" I didn't wish to be surrounded by poodles. I wanted to be an only poodle in a household with a poodle loving Mom.

I can hear you thinking - oh NO! Will Dawson renounce his poodleness when faced with all these curly haired examples of insanity? Nope. I won't. Because I have learned something extremely important. Mom. Loves. Me. She doesn't care that my hair is straight, or I snuggle instead of pouncing. She calls me Her Very Sweet Boy and when we snuggle - my head is safe from poodle pounces. I will remain myself, the only Fauxpudel in existence, and every one else will have to be jealous of my Mom.

Don't believe me? Go up to the next dog that looks like me and ask the owners "Oh! Is that a Fauxpudel?" If they don't ignore you or walk hurriedly away (you don't run from a mad animal), they will probably take out their cell phone and call the men in the little white coats. Unless it is my Mommie, they will probably say "No. This is a -insert appropriate breed here-. What the heck is a Fauxpudel? Is that a new designer breed?" Go ahead, make my day.

I am a GOD!

That's right. In the sweet brown eyes of an adoring kid sistah, I am a god. Anything I do, she does. Anything I want, she wants. Anywhere I sleep, she curls up next to me. If I want Mommie, she wants Mommie. If Mommie wants me, she wants Mommie. She thinks my food is better than her food (obviously because I am a God, and we Gods don't eat normal food). In fact, I cannot do anything, think anything, say anything or go anywhere with out my adoring public pouncing on my head. I always thought that once you became a God, you would be living the good life. Instead, I've got to watch my behavior to make sure my worshiper doesn't pick up any bad habits, like stealing my belly rubs, stealing my stuffies, stealing my mommie, stealing my treats, stealing my snuggles....

WAIT A MINUTE! That little rodent has me hoodwinked. She's just using me to get twice the amount of the good stuff. MOMMIE!!! Mommie?! Why on earth are you snuggling with that two timing, lying little red puff of poodle fur! Mommie?

I demand a recount!

Somehow, when my back was turned, okay so I was probably zoned out getting a belly rub, a vote was taken about whether or not a new puppy should be brought into the home. Apparently, when the votes were counted the answer was unanimously yes. I don't remember voting. Did I miss the poling date? Was there election fraud? Who stuffed the ballot box?

This morning started normally. Mom woke up late and rushed to get dressed. She didn't even make coffee, so I knew she was running late. She pushed me out for a quick pee and then ran off. She was gone for hours. When she finally gets home, who do I see trailing after her but this wee little red thing, looking like a chicken mcnugget with legs. What does Mom say then? "Oh, look Dawson! This is Ginger. She's your new sister."

WHAT!????? Hey Mom! I seem to recall something about my Only Dog Status. You know that it was supposed to be inviolate. Your lap was supposed to be solely available for me until further notice. What on earth am I supposed to do with this wee thing? You won't let me eat it. I snuffled it pretty good, and it doesn't smell very tasty. It smells like puppy pee. And what is this about it being allowed on the bed? It doesn't like belly rubs, does it? WHAT?!!!! It loves them?

**brushing off old want ad while grumbling***

WANTED: NEW OWNER. Must expel other dogs from household upon adoption. No Cats. No Camping. Will need to pass belly rub test. If you can't hack two hours rubbing a belly, don't bother.

Being Top Dog is harder than it looked

Okay, Mom promised me I could be an only pup once my sister decided to go up and terrorize everyone at the bridge. I've had to adjust, and it isn't easy. I mean, Holli ran this household with an fluffy tail and an iron paw. I've claimed the bed, it's now my favorite place to nap when Mom's at work. The other night, she changed the sheets for me, and I hopped up smack into the middle of the bed, rolled over on my back and demanded belly rubs. Perfect Top Dog Behavior, right? Mom LAUGHED at me! Then she ran to get the camera, and well, I had to go see what she was doing... didn't I? And when we go for walks, I do my best to boldly lead where I want to go. March right off to the best place to do my business when I hear "Uh-uh, Dawson. Not the flower bed." I know Top Dogs don't let others decide certain things for them, but ... when I move away she says "Oh what a good boy! You're Awesome!". If I ignore her she gets this sharp edge to her voice and growls "Daaawwwwson!" and when I look at her she says "Come here, bud." So I go over, and she hugs me and I melt. Holli used to demand biscuits everyday, and I'd get my share. Now, Mom sometimes notices the cookie jar on the counter and says "Oh, yeah. Biscuits. Here Daws." I'm hopeless. I just can't stop myself from wanting to please her. I think I'm going to have to go rest my head on her knee and demand some quality pets. That is if she isn't too busy...

Neglect is a Four Letter Word

Okay, I got used to the fact that Mom would go get poodle puppy kisses every now and again. I've met Buddy and he is a cute kid, and respectful of his elders so it's okay if Mom gets kisses from him. It's really quite flattering to have this little brown and cream puffball trying to imitate me and the things I can teach him! But this past week Mom has gone overboard. Totally overboard.

I can understand wanting to rescue that little black kittie we saw loose in the neighborhood. I can understand making it a shelter, buying it treats, buying it toys, buying it more toys, and buying it more food. That's okay. I draw the line when Mom cuts short MY walk because she spies the kitty in the woods and wants to befriend it. I draw the line when she drags me away from the kitty food that I am snacking on claiming it's not mine. If Mom bought it and Holli doesn't want it, it's mine. Period. That darn kitty, which Mom has named Star, has to learn it's place in the pecking order. Okay, it's cold out and I don't want the kitty to freeze or anything so I'll let that pass.

I WILL NOT TOLERATE THE FRENCH KISSES BY A DOXIE NAMED ERNIE NOR THE ATTACK KISSES BY SOME GOLDEN LAB NAMED FREDERICK. That is just going to far. Those two pups are stealing my belly rubs. It's just not fair! I've been to the theatre, I was good, why don't I get to go back again? Huh? Why not? Because Frederick or Ernie are there. Mom gets kisses from them and ignores me. I'm going to go find the phone number for the Animal Cruelty Hotline. Perhaps she'll be fined to at home jail time and be forced to give my belly the rubbin' it deserves.

The Sorting Hat

The overlooked sibling of a dominant pup
who often decides it's best to go 'belly up'
I wonder just where your hidden talents lie
because you're such a sweet and unassuming guy

But wait a minute what do I see
when anything threatens your family
you jump to the fore and scare it away
to keep them safe another day

Your bravery shines out from inside
and isn't dimmed by overweening pride
You stay by your family through thick and thin
and snuggle close when troubles begin

That makes it easy to decide your place
and know where to bestow your unique grace
And so with belly rubs galore
I place you in house

GRYFFINDOR!

TAG! and aparently I'm IT.

Zoey, a beautiful schnauzer, just got me involved in a game of Tag. She was tagged by Troopy Doop, who was tagged by Ruffian, who was tagged by Jovi, who was tagged by Scooter ,who was tagged by Digger, who was tagged by Samantha. I couldn't trace it back further than Samantha. All this happened in just one day. Amazing, huh?

Tagged again, by the cute, sweet little chewing machine, Lacey. I keep up to date on the page, as Mom threatens me with a sheltie puppy when I'm bad.

Tagged again, by Sassy. My smooochie girl.

Tagged again by a Certified Poodle Warmer, Akimi. Who would have thunk there was certification for that. What a good pal to have, eh?

The Rules: Each player starts with seven random facts about themselves. Dogs who are tagged, need to post in their Diary the rules and their 7 pawsome facts. Then choose 7 dogs to tag and list their names. Don’t forget to bark them a pmail that they have been tagged and to read your Diary, or send them a fun Rosette announcing they've been Tagged!


I chose the rosette, because then I could leave a little gift for all those gorgeous grrrls. I also hope, that if none of them grrls wish to play tag, that they just let me know, and I will apologize deeply.

7 Pawsome facts about Me:

1. I love beer.
2. I stash my plushies, until I'm ready to destuff one. If the stash is found, I move it.
3. I hate to be yelled at or talked loud to.
4. I growl at other dogs to say hello. I never really learned how to talk Dog properly.
5. I don't like the water.
6. I'm a dyed in the wool Momma's boy.
7. Everyone who meets me wants to take me home with them.

Dogs tags:
1. Annabelle Such a cutie.
2. Ellie A beautiful shiny black dog. Just like me. ♥
3. Rosie My beautiful Mountain Rosie.
4. Pebbles Ah, such grace and beauty covered with such lush fur.
5. Jeannie One of the nicest pups here on Dogster.
6. Daisy One athletic pup who is way out of my league, but gorgeous.
7. Pixie Another special sweetie.

Cloud Nine

Did you see my main photo? I love my mom.

Wanna Go to the Beach, Dawson?

YES! YES MOM, I WANT TO GO TO THE BEACH. EVERY SINGLE TIME YOU HAVE ASKED ME IN THE LAST SIX YEARS THE ANSWER HAS BEEN YES! It hasn't changed. But your excuses sure have. Jeeez.

Excuse #1 - Well, this large lake has a shoreline, so that's just like a beach. Newsflash, Mom. A large lake is not an ocean. Please let those people who think PA has beaches know. A beach on the shore of a Great Lake is not the same as a beach on the shore of an ocean.

Excuse #2 - Montana Doesn't have beaches, sweetie Hello? Of course Montana doesn't have beaches, but if you are offering a trip to the beach then, by logical assumption, you are offering a trip outside of Montana. Oregon has beaches, so does California. They are within driving distance of Montana. I like car rides. Why did you never load up the Jeep? Huh?

Excuse #3 - Um, sorry about the trip to the Oregon Coast we planned, sweetie. I just got cast in this play and ... Blah Blah Blah. Another reason for you to leave me behind, home, with only the Hollidog for company. I'm not listening... The only plays that were fun for me were the ones you took me to rehearsal to. And even then, Holly was the understudy, and I was either in a crate or tied to a chair.

Excuse #4 - It's raining, and it will be miserable at the beach. Mom, I'm a dog, and while I'm not fond of getting wet, I will suffer for the experiece of a little sand between my toes and gulls to chase. You took three days off, planned the whole trip, and stayed home. What on earth is wrong with you? What do you mean Grandma needed you more than me? Can Grandma rub her own belly? She can? I rest my case.

Excuse #5 - The sun is out it will be too hot at the beach. Actually, with the breezes off the ocean it will probably be cooler at the beach than stuck at home.

Excuse #6 - I'm just gonna sleep in today. We'll go to the beach next week. HELLO? What is the problem here? Too wet, too hot, too far, too bad but... I'm so over this. Next week, Mom. If I do not feel sand between my toes and see a crab I am going to barf on the bed. What worked for Holly may work as well for me.