Heart Like a Dog

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

Meet the Fairweathers

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Okay, I might have tricked you with that title. Maybe you’re thinking…hmmm, she got new neighbors? Are they DADO’s?

Or maybe you’ve been reading this blog so long, that you know Fairweathers, should really be Fair-weathers, or fair weathers. You know, those folks who only seem to come outside when the weather is…fair.

Perhaps you yourself are a Fair-weather. And that’s okay. What you do doesn’t bother me, it’s what the Fair-weathers in my neighborhood do that we’re talking about right now.

There are two kinds of Fair-weathers. The Dog Fair-weathers, who only walk their dogs in nice weather. And I’m proud to say, we don’t have a lot of those dog owners in my neighborhood. No, the dog owners in my neighborhood just never walk their dogs.  But they are DADO’s and we all know DADO’s are…well let’s be nice and say DADO’s are a special kind of people.

The other type of Fair-weather people, are the people who come out to bike, run, walk, but only in the nice weather.

Now you see why I’m calling these folks, Fair-weathers.

And truthfully, I don’t mind the folks who only go out when the weather is nice. Hell, if I didn’t have to walk two dogs, I’d probably be a Fair-weather myself. Or maybe I’d be a barfly, or an actress playing a barfly.

Who the hell am I kidding? I’d probably just stay in and be a couch potato.

But I digress.

Anyway, what I do mind about Fair-weathers is they seem to have forgotten, or perhaps they never knew the protocol about sharing the road with people and their dogs.

When I walk the dogs, or just walk in general, I try to walk facing oncoming traffic. Yes, there are places in my neighborhood where I have to disregard my rule, because of dogs, or people who hate me, but whenever I can, I face oncoming traffic. How else can you see what’s happening in enough time to try and avoid it?

Two weeks ago, this happened to Delilah (of course) and me.

We were on our evening walk, and going down a hill, when I heard some slapping behind me.  I turned around to see a jogger runner towards us. I quickly moved Delilah to the other side of the road, as I did not want the woman running past us, and startling Delilah. One never knows how a startled dog will react.

For the record, she never said a word. Didn’t acknowledge us in anyway. (At least the guy that was chasing her was kind enough to wave.)

Now when I’m coming up behind someone, I like to let them know. You know, so they don’t crap their pants, or a have a heart attack. Because I’ve wet my pants before and I’m telling you, it’s no fun. Nor is the walk home afterwards.

There’s that digression again…

The woman never said anything, not a word.

Now I’m thinking back to a story one of my neighbors told me two summers ago. Her daughter was out jogging and she came up behind a woman walking her dog. The girl called out hello to the woman, and went to pass her and the dog, and the dog bit the girl on the back of her leg. Right below the butt.  It was a pretty bad bite (from what I saw of the photos) and of course, there was a lot of drama, because, well you know….DADO’s. (If anyone wants to read that story, let me know, and I’ll schedule it for a future post.)

Beautiful photo editing and image lettering by the amazing Mary Hone.

Ever since I heard that story, I’ve tried to be aware of people coming up behind me, because I think it’s something that people just don’t think about.

When we walk, I will always cross the road to be on the opposite side of a walker, jogger, biker. And of course another dog. To me, it’s just being courteous, but it’s also looking out for my dog and making sure she doesn’t fail. Because if she fails, that means I’ve failed her.

And I don’t like failing.

So tell me, do you cross the road when you encounter someone, whomever it might be? Are my expectations of people and their behavior just too high? Is that do unto others saying just a load of bunk? Am I wasting my time trying to be nice in my neighborhood?

 

 

Chief Inspector Stone, At Your Service

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If there’s one thing I’ve learned from having a pure bred Labrador, it’s this.

They are ALWAYS on the hunt for food.

If Labrador Retrievers had a club, Delilah would be one of the top candidates to be their spokesdog.

Paws down.

She knows every spot in the house, where food might reside. Anytime someone eats something, she’s right there to make sure not a crumb gets left.

Nothing goes on in the kitchen, without her supervision, AND when you’ve finished what you’re doing, she will inspect the kitchen and clean up any mess you might have made.

She’s so thorough, she licks the floor and the cabinets. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve said, “Stop licking the floor!”

There are times when it can be terribly frustrating, and then there are times when you walk in and see this….

And you can’t help but laugh. It also makes me think, if I wanted to keep her busy…all I’d have to do is smear something on the door of the cabinets.

You make me smile (or laugh,) the sweet, funny, loving things my dogs do that bring a smile to my face, or a laugh to my lips.

What did your pet do that made you smile or laugh this week?

Get a Male Dog They Said, They’re Easier Than Females They Said

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Some of you may remember the (hem, hem) ‘incident’ with Sampson and his morning friend. If you forgot, or you just want another chuckle, you can read about it HERE.

So..the saga continues.

Most days there isn’t an issue.

Some days we have instances where he’s licking, but it’s not out of control.

Rare days, we have full blown, rise to the occasion, issues.

This happened a few months ago. I got home from work and was changing into my walking clothes. As I was putting my shoes on, I noticed Sampson was once again, licking himself. His penis was enlarged, his ‘lipstick’ was beginning to show and he was panting heavily.

Clearly he was uncomfortable as he kept pushing at me to pet him. I reassured him he was okay, and we’d get outside as soon as possible, as that usually makes him feel better.

I figured it’s probably best to grab a urine sample, so I reached into the cabinet, grabbed my handy dandy urine sample kit and out the door we went. He hurried to the gate, a determined purpose in his steps.

Because it’s no fun when you’re covered in dog pee.

He had no trouble walking or urinating, and I easily obtained a sample. Then I wandered the neighborhood, flashlight, filled poop bag, urine sample, ladle and leash in my hand, while we finished our walk.

After walking Delilah, I hurried to the vet’s office to drop off the sample and asked if I could wait for the results. (It seemed counter-productive to drive home, only to turn around and come back for the antibiotic.)

After a few minutes Dr. Soutter came out and said “There’s no infection. There’s no blood in the urine, and no white cells.”

“So what could it be?” I questioned.

“His little adrenal could be shooting out some hormones…. His prepubice could be dry.”

Then she got a little red in the face and said, “You’re going to hate me for this, and forgive me for saying it, but try putting a little KY jelly on it.”

Say WHAT?

I said the first thing that popped into my head. “Um…I don’t think I have any KY jelly at home…”

“Here’s the good news, it’s everywhere,” she responded.

My next question, “Can I use Vaseline?”  (Hey! It beats the looks I’m going to get when I purchase that KY jelly.)

“NO! It has to be water-based.”

SO… I stopped at Rite-Aid on my way home.

Which is how I ended up with my dog stretched out on the bed, a tube of KY jelly in my hand.

“Get a male dog, they said. They’re easier then female dogs, they said.” (Who are you people, and why do you say such things?)

KY jelly.

On my dog’s prepubice.

I took a deep breath and squeezed a small amount on my finger, then I gently dabbed it in.

At first he sat up, and looked at me. He took a sniff of the KY. Didn’t seem interested and lay back down. I finished the dabbing, got up and went into the bathroom to wash my hands.

When I came out, he was laying on the bed, a huge smile on his face.

I feel like a cigarette might be in order here.

I felt dirty, so I went and took a shower. He was still smiling when I was done.

A little while later, I gave him his Kong, and went to work on a blog post.

He kept diverting his attention from his Kong to stare at me.

“WHAT? It’s not like I WANTED to do that,” I told him.

He looked at me again, then he dropped the Kong on the floor.

I got up, picked it up, as I leaned over to place the Kong in front of him…he sniffed my hair.

Siriusly.

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