Oh poo!

As an occasional foster home, we more note the comings and goings of foster dogs than most. There is a beginning to the foster experience, a middle, an end, and afterward a period of reflection. One looks back; What worked well? What mistakes were made? Was it a good experience for both the dog and my family?

Lately, my period of reflection has been associated with picking up the poop from the yard. This may sound strange, but pooper-scooping is a calm, quiet event usually done alone (Why would that be?) that easily lends itself to reflection. And there is something really final about picking up that last piece of poop from a foster and putting it in the can; The dog is gone, and there won't be any more of where that came from!

Today I remember my favorite foster, Red 38 as I cleaned the yard. For those that don't know, she is the first dog that I went into the shelter, tested, pulled, rehabilitated and adopted out. The whole nine yards, right! Her foster lasted seven months. Going in, I would have thought she would have been adopted more like in seven weeks, but such is life. But it was good, all the humans shed a tear at some point yesterday. Red was an easy dog to love. She was great!

Except... She eats poop. Got the demand barking under control. The jumpy / nipping was much improved, but she never quit eating poop. She started out eating her own, but at some point decided that Sadie produced the best there ever was. I tried the meat tenderizer and all, but towards the end, picking up a Sadie poop out of the yard just became a thing of the past.

Red was so bad, that not too many weeks ago on a cold wet morning; The dogs were let out and all ran up the dew covered hill that is my back yard. Watching from the kitchen window, I saw Sadie started her circle walk and knew she was going to poop. Red knew too... She ran up behind her and I swear Red was practically snatching them out of the air as they fell the short distance to the ground. Not dressed to go out and in my bare feet, I just turned away and reminded myself not to let her lick me before lunch the next day.

Just this weekend, a similar occurrence: This time I was out cleaning the yard with the pooper-scooper in-hand. Sadie began her circle walk... Meanwhile Red and I found ourselves eying each other from opposite sides. Sadie stopped, wiped her paws, and we both rushed in eager to be first! Ha, I won!!! Red was unmercifully teased as I scooped up the grand prize.

Today I picked up the last of Red's poop... And for the first time in a while, found one from Sadie to scoop up as well.

SEVEN

Happy Birthday, pretty girl!

Wow, has it really been seven years? Time sure has flown! I can still remember having no clue about dogs when we first adopted you, six months into your life. Still well remembered, is the dedication and commitment I made then, that you would NOT be a back-yard dog like the ones from my childhood never allowed into the house. Like to think we nailed that one down!

Hah, remember those first few nights crate training? I was so worried it wouldn't work out.

Um, sorry about that first trainer. She was supposed to be the expert, recommended by your Rescue even. We both know better now.

You sure gave us a scare when you blew your knees three years ago. I will totally forget about it for a while, but then you do some wild acrobatic jump, and I shudder in memory of those dark days.

You are looking good too! We still hear; "Aww, look at that cute puppy" more than than not, when out. Funny to watch their faces when they learn you are actually seven! A guick pit-stop at the Vet's today reveals you dropped a couple of pounds and are back to 48 pounds.

Yep, seven years old, a middle aged lady, right?

Ha ha, WRONG!!! Oh, how wrong that thought is!

You still bark insanely every time I pull into the driveway. . Your eyes still get that glazed over look when ever someone pets you. Squeeky toys still hold your attention, and small furry things beware; You might have fake knees, but you can still out run them!

Happy Bithday Sadie, and I hope we spend many more years together.

David

A walk past the pond made me bark Japaneese:

A pink snow flurry.
The cherry trees sway and dance.
Soon done for this year.

The Spokesdog.

Zzzzzz...

Pssst, hey sis... Wake up...

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...

Pssst!

Zzzct? CAT!?! Here? Grrrrrr...

No it's me, take it easy! Stash the teeth for dog's sake!

Yeah, well stop making cat sounds in the middle of the night. What's wrong with you anyway?

I gotta go...

Go where? Its 3-am. Go to sleep!

I gotta pee.

Grrrreat. I'll go take one for you.

Sadie. I gotta go for real!

So bark then.

I'm afraid to.

Oh for crying out loud, Manny. Look, the rug in the floor really is a sheep's skin, not a dog's skin. I was just kidding when I said it was the last dog Dad had before you came.

Yeah, well I am still afraid.

*sigh* Good grief, I guess I have to save little brother's hairy butt one more time, not to mention the carpet.

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Zzzzzz...

woof...

Zzzzzzzzzzzzz zzzzzz...

Woof! Hey Dad...

Zzzct? INTRUDERS!?! Here? Get'em boys!

No it's me, take it easy! Stash the pillow for dog's sake!
Who ya gonna maul with that anyway? And who are you calling boy?

Yeah, well stop making sounds in the middle of the night. What's wrong with you anyway?

Manny's gotta go... (Manny is just behind Sadie, and if a dog can look sheepish, that is what he is doing)

Go where? Its 3-am. Go to sleep!

He's gotta pee.

Grrrreat. Go take one for him.

Fine. I'll go on the rug...

Arrrgh, never mind. I'll get the door. *grumble, grumble...*

Gee Sadie, Dad sounds almost dog-like in the early morning!

Go pee, Manny!

Are you SURE?

So its Okay... You're not going to change your mind or anything?
REALLY!?!

Whoooooo, hooooo! I get to bark a diary entry!!!

About time.

This has been a really hard summer and year for us all. It has now been over a year since some men came by and knocked down the old garage and screened porch. You might remember I tried to warn him about that back when it happened, but he said; no, it's all planned, and for me to shut up!

Humph!

Now who's laughing? Well, none of us I guess... The Pets are grumpy a lot more. We often listen as they complain about how a "90 day" job has managed to last a year this month. I think they are planning to do something about it, but not is not stuff I want to know about. Hey I am a dog! If it is not moving, squeeking, eatable, or stinky, I am not so interested, if you know what I bark!

Manny and I are grumpier too. Our back yard, small enough to start is only half the size it one was due to the construction area being fenced off. There really isn't enough room to do a good romp any more. We go to the back yard from the side door behind a temporary wire fence. Dad says we are too interested in whatever is on the road and bark too much... Hopefully that will change later.

Dad is doing his best to keep us all exercised and socialized, but we sure do all miss just going into the back yard every day for a romp.
We don't even have any new pictures to share. Oh well, maybe you hot dogs will enjoy the pictures from last winter.

SL

Visit the Kill Shelter...

I just barked a reply on the Dogster Blog. The subject was about how the sour enonomy is causing more of us to be turned in to the already overcrowded shelter system. Many of us are loosing our lives after a short, scary stay there. What a sad way to go!

Dad said if it was all just simple economics, why not turn in the two leggers? After all, they cost a lot more to house and feed than we do...

I barked back to Dad that more Pets (humans) need to visit the Kill shelter. That visit will transform them into something like Dad. Well, hopefully something not quite as wierd...

Once a Pet has looked into the eyes of a comdemmed dog at the shelter, that person can't help but be changed forever. Issues like Spay, Neuter, and Responsible Pet Ownership become more than just good ideas. Your voice will carry the power of conviction once you have seen this.

It will rip your heart out. You will cry. You will be transformed. You will have the power to transform others.

Do it.

BOL, this is RICH!

Oh Dairy, you are going to LOVE this news...

Dad ended up helping AARF with their Santa pictures at PetsMart today. He had expected to do a dog transport, but the run fell through, so off to help at the last minute he went.

Hmmmph, he left us alone all day. Finally he came home smelling like other dogs, cats and even stranger things. I just heard him talking to Mom, and guess what... He's going to be gone again for most of tomorrow helping AARF again.

BUT GUESS WHAT!!!

Hahahaha... Hee, hee... Oh, I gotta pull myself together... HAHAHA, HEE, HEE... This time... BOL!!! Ha, ha, THIS TIME HE'S GOING TO BE SANTA PAWS!!!! HA HA HA, HO HO HO even! Oh, I'm going to hurt myself! Hee hee... The FAT finally came through for him and got him a job. Ha Ha, Arrrrroooooo!

Uh Oh... Maybe I'd better be good. He might end up checking my list!

World's Coolest Finalist!

Wow... Wow... Bow wow.

What can I bark? We are all so shocked. To have one of our pictures selected as a finalist in the World's Coolest! There we are, in the Car Dog category... Hmmm shouldn't that be dogegory, or is that all too confusing?

Anywoof, we are proud to be selected. Thanks to all that voted us in!

Psst... Here's a little secret... Sissy took the shot with her pocket digital!!! Not Dad with the fancy Nikon.

Best in show? No, not us. We are just pleased to be a finalist.

The Other End of the Clicker!

Reading the title, you should guess... Dads note!

I am taking a dog behavior class at the SPCA. Last night, the teacher suggested one of us students to be the "dog" in a clicker training exercise to experience what it is like on the dog's end of a clicker training session.

My paw was first up! Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy.... Pant, pant. I reframed from sniffing anyone's crotch, but did roam around the room in excitement and then whined as I was directed out of the room so I would be unaware of the task (trick) the class wanted me to do.

I came back in, and took a few steps... "Click" / treat. Humph, the treats were pieces of foam somethings. I'd probably die if I ate one, certainally low value stuff for me. Bring on the steaks or pizza! Beer might work... Fifty dollar bills would be a good motivator...

I was looking at the front row of students. So... I took a second step while looking at the front row of students... "Click" / (treat).
Another step forward... "Click" again!

By now, I think the task has something to do with moving my left foot, that happened to be when the clicks were comimg. I hop around a bit, and nothing...

Hmmm.... Maybe the Click / treat has something to do with me looking at the classmates. I move to another table a row back and move forward... "Click" I move forward more "Click, Click, Click"...

The teacher stopped the exercise at this point, because we were not making fast progress at the task or trick of the exercise. The teacher then suggested "Lure" training using the "Click" as reinforcement...

The other student moved over to the podium, and lured me there with that nasty plastic treat... *sigh* I acted interrested... She placed the treat on the podium, and as soon as I touched the treat, I got the "Click"".

The task was to touch the podium.

Try this both ways with your human friends...

Ever see a dog spit?

Sure there are Spitz dogs, but can they really spit?

I can, learned how to this weekend...

We just got back from one of our favorite rompin' spots, the Outer Banks of North Carolina. The weather there is perfect this time of year for us ,with cool winds and warm water. Grrreat rompin' spots are ocean side with the big waves sliding in, and just a short bark down the highway is the sound side with smooth water, great for chasing sticks!

Our pack rented a beach house right next door to Salty Paws, one of our favorite dog stores! We could walk by and get pets and treats anytime. Not very far away is another favorite dog store, The Outer Barks.

The house was awesome, with two full kitchens to beg food from, bedrooms everywhere, a hot tub we couldn't go in and a heated pool we could go in, but didn't. This house even had a fenced yard, pretty rare at the beach. We liked being able to go outside without having to have Dad hooked up every time. Such a pain having to keep track of him like that...

Speaking of pain, the yard is the one thing that was not at all to our liking! And it is how I learned to spit. Seems no matter how hard the Pets try to keep up grassy yards at the beach, these things get into the grass... The Pets call them Sandspurs. I call them, #%@$ Sandspurs.

What, you never hear a girl cuss before?

Well, they deserve cussing, and the Sandspur name fits. These little spikey things hide in the grass and grab a hold of anything they touch, including our paws. They hurt!!!

I was limping all over the place at first. One would get me, and then I would limp until Dad could dig the thing out. After waiting for him too long, too often, I learned how to gnaw the thing out with my teeth. THEN THE #%@$! THING WOULD STICK TO MY LIPS!!! And I would have to spit the thing out.

Dad thought it was pretty funny, me spitting and all. Until I spit a few out INSIDE the house, where he could experience the pleasures of Sandspures in his feet first paw!

I'd like to see the fat man bend over, and dig them out with his teeth like I do. That'd be a trick...