Heart Like a Dog

The Good, the Bad, and the Oh My God of living with dogs!

Will the Guilty Party Please Stand

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This may come as a surprise to some of you, but I don’t make my living blogging. No, the sad truth is, in real life, I’m an Administrative Assistant for an Engineering Firm.

I tell you this, because yesterday was Administrative Professional day, which I totally forgot about until I saw someone’s post on Facebook.

So when my boss asked me to go into the conference room because my co-worker needed to chat, I was understandably suspicious.

Turns out Joey DID have something to chat about, but it was really a diversion while my boss snuck this in.

Pretty isn’t it?

Purple, my favorite color.

Purple, my favorite color.

What the fuck does that have to do with a dog blog you ask?

Hang in there friend, I promise you, a dog figures in here.

When I left for the day, I brought the plant home with me. I thought I could find a hook somewhere to hang the plant.

Turns out the hook on the plant was too thick for any of the available hooks at my house, and we were expecting a frost last night, so I put the plant on the corner of the pool table.

The CORNER of the POOL TABLE! You see that in the photo, right?

I put the plant on the corner of the pool table and went to change into my walking clothes. I grabbed my treat bag and as I did, I saw this.

Looks like part of a PURPLE flower to me!

Looks like part of a PURPLE flower to me!

Yeah, in the two minutes it took me to change my clothes and grab my treat bag, someone tried to eat the flowers.

Process of elimination will tell me who it is.

Sampson, can barely walk, never mind stand on his BACK LEGS to reach the pool table, so we’ll take his name out of the hat.

Delilah on the other hand, well Delilah routinely goes onto the pool table to score nummies, AND Delilah can STAND on her back legs.

For further proof to substantiate my claim, see the below photo.

Do you see that whitish looking spot on the left side of the flower? That's wet.

Do you see that whitish looking spot on the left side of the flower? That’s dog slobber.

That particular flower is on the back side of the plant,which means the dog that did this really had to reach for it.

So there’s my evidence and my argument, who do you think the guilty puppy is?

 

 

The Fox and the Hound

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I had a surprise companion on my morning walk yesterday.

It was this guy right here.

Pardon me, I'm just passing through

Ok, it wasn’t actually THIS particular fox, the fox I saw was running WAY to FAST for me to snap his photo.

Here’s how it all went down:

Delilah and I were heading back home on our morning walk yesterday. One our way down the street, we’d snuck one over on Bailey, the golden retriever who charges her e-fence and gets my heart started in the mornings.

We’d also managed to pass another small, white dog that was out on a lead in her front yard. In fact, I had taken a picture for a post I’m rolling about in my head.

As we headed up the hill, I saw something moving. It was running from the side of the house, on a path about 75 feet directly in front of us.

Delilah, as usual had her head down looking for food to snarf. So she didn’t see it.

As it crossed in front of us, I saw it was a fox, and a beautiful one at that. It didn’t slow down at all, didn’t stop to check us out, just crossed the road and kept on moving.

My immediate thought was, thank DOG that Delilah didn’t see it, and then my next, more important thought was, I wonder what’s chasing it to make it run so freaking fast?

I kept my eyes focused on the house and as we got close enough to look, I checked the yard to make sure there was nothing more threatening headed our way. Thankfully, there wasn’t.

As soon as we got to area the fox had crossed, Delilah’s head whipped up and she sniffed the air and then looked to her right, looking for that fox.

I said a quick thank you prayer that the fox was long gone. Told her it was gone, redirected her with a cookie and continued home with no further excitement.

As I was telling my mom about it she said, “Maybe the fox smelled you.”

I must have given her that, “Are you saying I smell?” look, because she quickly amended her statement to say, “Not like because you are smelly or anything, just you know, smelled human.”

Way to cover mom, way to cover.

What kind of wildlife crosses your path?

If you loved the photo of the fox, you can check out more of Harley’s photos on Flickr.

 

 

I Always Feel Like…

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Yesterday when I was walking Delilah a woman walked out of her house, just as Delilah was taking a dump on her lawn.

What can you do?

I said, “Good morning,” and proceeded to clean up after my dog, (like a good dog owner does. )

It’s not the first time Delilah’s been caught with her pants down.

We have such irresponsible dog owners around here, it wouldn’t surprise me if there weren’t eyes on me at all times.

And of course, the one day I forgot a poop bag, somebody WAS watching.

It was Easter morning and I was taking Sampson for his walk. Since I carry so many things with me when walking the dogs (cell phone, pepper spray, camera) I don’t use the poop bag dispenser. Instead, every morning I load the pocket of my treat bag with three poop bags. As I pull them off the roll, I open the bags so when it’s time to use them, I’m not standing there in the cold trying to open a bag. I try to always have three bags at one time. Because, well, you just never know when you might need another bag.

Sundays are my sleep in days, so my routine is out the window.

This particular Sunday Sampson and I headed down the hill. It was earlier than I usually walk on a Sunday because I got up specifically to make sure the roast got started on time. We walked our five minutes and turned around and headed for home.

Sampson stopped to do his pooping business and it was then that I realized I had no bags.

Frantically I looked around for an empty bag or a newspaper box with the plastic wrapping around it.

Shit! There was nothing. Nothing I could improvise with.

Very briefly I thought about leaving the poop there and coming back for it later, but two things stopped me. 1) This house has children in it and it was Easter. I didn’t want them discovering the wrong kind of chocolate egg and 2) it’s bad enough picking up warm poop, but the thought of picking it up cold makes me want to puke.

Thankfully it was Sunday and Hubby was home, so I called him up and asked for an assist.

So there we were, Sampson sitting on the lawn and me standing next to him, while we waited for Hubby to rescue us.

I kept looking around, waiting for someone to come out and ask us what the hell we were doing. And that’s when I realized we were being watched.

The Watcher In the Window.

The Watcher In the Window.

No wonder I always feel like somebody’s watching me.

Have you ever forgotten a poop bag, or even run out of them when you really needed one?

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