December 30th 2008 3:50 am
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Mom shipped me back to the US so I could work with someone who felt like climbing their butt out of bed in the morning. Life was good. I got to do drills and stuff with Mom's friend's Rotties while Mom's trainer friend spent a lot of time working me. Life was good and full.
Until Monday morning. I was outside playing and found this stinky smelling critter that rattled at me. I decided to mess with it and it bit me on the nose twice.
When I was found, I was already running hot, but I was breathing funny. One of the teens helped get me loaded into the truck and off to the vet we went. Before we got there, I saw this light and I went towards it.
I guess my new job is to be guardian angel for Mom and Scooter. My new family is pretty upset about it as well as my trainer. They had to call Mom.
May 27th 2008 7:52 am
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Tuesday May 27th
This is one of those occasions where Mom is going to use my diary as a soapbox.
I think that the pup importation ban that was attached to the Farm Bill sucks.
How many pups really come from foreign puppy mills? Current airline regulations call for air carrier to not transport pups under 8 weeks. All that was needed was mandatory vet certificates (clearly stating the animal's date of birth) and a copy of any registration paperwork. If someone tries to sneak in a younger pup, FINE THEM. If the vet assists in the fraud, FINE THEM.
Who is this legislation really protecting? US puppy mills.
Who is this legislation going to hurt? Law Enforcement, SAR, and the working dog community (those who train/supply PPDs, Shutzhund, French Ring, NVBK, ect). The trainers (AKA Vendors) who import the pups and get them started will end up paying more for initial purchases. This increase will be passed on to the end user, which, in the case of the Military and Police K-9's, will come out of the tax payers' pockets. It also means that quality may be sacrificed as the best dogs go quickly.
Add in a recent Newsweek article that criticizes the price of green imports and this becomes a huge can of worms. This article questions both the premium price for these imports and why our government is not buying American.
Frankly, when it comes to working dogs, "Made In America" translates into "A piece of crap". Maybe if American dogs weren't bred to just stand around and look pretty, they'd be worth a second look. It really isn't that difficult to understand - you get what you pay for. In this case the extra cash paid for a European import generally translates into a longer working life, better temperament (less chance for lawsuits), and all around better athleticism.
This situation also serves as a good example of how watering down a breed isn't in anyones' best interest.
May 14th 2008 7:42 am
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Wednesday, May 14
Mom got me an appointment. Scooter decided to be a little hemorrhoid so we missed the bus we needed to catch. Mom and I walked to the vet clinic. Thankfully, it wasn't oppressively hot (nice cool wind), but it was still a lot of work. Poor Mom had to tote 2 liters of water for me. I heard mumbling about a new Ruffwear pack in my future.
We kept a brisk pace for going up the big hill and through Itaewon. The gate we needed wasn't as far as Mom thought and the clinic was right there.
Doc snipped off the skin and liked Mom's idea of rotating the neosporin with the Cut Heal. He also suggested that we might try some of the nasty blue stuff that Mom use to keep in her bag of tricks. They discussed carpal boots since it is obvious that I use those pads quite a bit. On the way out, he was quizzing the tech about what that pad was called. She didn't know. Mom did. So he asked us if we knew what the big one on the bottom was. Mom threw out two answers. One of which was right. Go Mom!
Oh, when we walked into the building, there was a woman sitting AT THE DOOR with a Chi in a crate. He started raising hell as soon as we opened the door. Mom told me to Ignore It. I did. It was annoying; she kept telling him to hush and he'd just get louder. Then on the way out, there was this shaggy mutt that wanted to catch me. Mom made me walk off sides to stay between us. Military pets are just like military kids; some are much better behaved than others. Those that aren't have parents that believe they are precious little snowflakes that can do no wrong.
We found the bus stop for the Post Run. That was interesting. The bus was crowded. We ended up 2 rows from the back and stuck with a tire hump in the floor space. I really didn't want to cram myself in there. It was a small space. (Seriously, airline economy seats have more leg room.) Yes, I'm a big girl, but my butt is almost too big to fit. Getting out was worse than getting in. I had to back out and got turned around, so then I had to turn around in the aisle. No fun.
Mom decided to get off the bus unexpectedly. She had spotted the Dog Boys (and Girl). One was actively working out on the soccer field. He looked like a slightly shorter haired version of Destry (who I think is an absolute hunk). Mom introduced us to the rest of the team while the handsome boy finished looking for explosives. Then we watched as a male Mal worked on narcotics. He was a handsome guy too, but I'm bigger than he is.
I was Miss Congeniality with everyone. Hopefully, this will be the thing so that I can go play with the big boys. I need something constructive to do and they do constructive stuff all the time.
We were close to our mail room (which is in BFE), so we checked it and met Dad. It was an interesting walk to the PX to pick up a few things. Since I need more bus work, Mom wasn't in the mood to walk home, and we had some time to kill, we went into the food court.
There is no way I can lay under one of those tables. Most of them are barely big enough to get 4 chairs around. The booths aren't much bigger. Mom picked an out of the way mini-booth and I laid down beside her.
The ride home was interesting as well. I walked onto the bus like I owned it. Since it was at the bus station, Dad was the first person on and we were right behind him. Mom backed me into the space and told me to sit. I refused. I braced my legs and decided it would be a test of wills. Mom proved, once again, that she's the Alpha B in our house. She then told me that I had better keep my butt planted (using the tone and the look that means she was more than serious). I didn't lift my rear until she told me to stand up when we reached the compound. The bus got FULL. Bad enough that I think we had the only "empty" seat, but that is because I was sitting in front of it. There is no way I could sit between Mom's feet on this bus.
The guy that Mom, Dad, and Scooter had seen the day before with the huge teddy bear was there during my little tantrum. He had been asking Mom about me (and Scooter) before we got on the bus. She had explained that I'm still learning my tasks while we are also working on my public skills and that the latter needs more work and pointing out that if we were in the States, we wouldn't be working on public transportation training. After I showed out, Mom pointed out that was part of what she meant when she said I'm not ready. He laughed and told her that I'm still better behaved than 99% of the dogs he's been around.
I've got what Mom calls a "Little Fan". She's under three and very tiny. She saw us walking towards the building and was going to come off the playground to say hello. Her Mom is really nice too. She asked if my fan could pet me. Mom was impressed that the child remembered that I have to be told I can visit. As soon as Mom told me, she stuck her hand out for me to sniff. She giggled when I kissed her hand, then eased over to pet me on the neck and shoulder. For such a young kid, she understands being gentle and to rub not hit. With me sitting, I can actually look down on her; she's that small. She calls me "Puppy." When she was done, she told me bye and went back to play. All Mom can say is that she has been taught well. (Don't we wish they all were.)
Scooter actually greeted me at the door, like he hadn't seen me in a year. He was mad at Mom for about five minutes before he decided to just climb in her lap and tell her about it.
I had to cool down before I could eat. Mom doctored my foot and I sacked out. It was a long afternoon.
Dad did take a picture of me on the bus. Hopefully, he will download it so Mom can put it on my page.