December 18, 2011

Merry Christmas!


September 8, 2011

Weinerdog bliss involves cleaning the gravy out of the pan.


Don't love this face. I dare you.

September 3, 2011

The relationships between Rusty and The 3 Old Maids are finally started to equalize. Daisy actually wagged her tail and didn’t growl. Lacy played a little bit, and Lily ignored him. The hope is we can eventually get him to sleep in the crate with Lacy, but she has absolutely NO tolerance for his barking, so the jury is still WAY out on that one.

He is typically goofy and shows very little common sense, but in people years he’s about 3, and there aren’t many 3 year olds with any sort of sense at all, let alone common sense.

He yodels. Loud. All I have to do it leave him at the bottom of the stairs by closing the gate, and the head goes back and he starts channeling Jimmie Rodgers. If I could get him to do it on command, and not just when he’s deeply disappointed,I’d have a winner of a YouTube video, because he’s so stinkin’CUTE when he does it! However, it irritates the 3 Old Maids deeply.

He is sleeping with us. I know, save the lecture. We sleep better, he sleeps better, and he’s pretty good at staying down at the foot of the bed. Tho I did wake up a little when he decided to share the pillow and drooled in my ear. Terry’s the only one allowed to do that, so Rusty went back to the foot of the bed. He likes his dog bed, when it’s got toys and he can see me. He’s even ok with the crate, as long as the door is open and he can come and go at will.

He can definitely use the pet door, but only coming in. Apparently going out is not in his bag of tricks yet. And he’s stellar with the pee pads! Now to get him to bark when he needs to go out. Not sure how to go about that yet. The 3 Old Maids don’t bark, they just hold it until I put them out every couple of hours. Yes,we have a pet door, but the cats need to stay in and they totally know about the pet door, so it stays closed unless we’re going somewhere for a few hours,then the cats are locked in the gameroom and the dogs can go outside on their own.

Anyway, The adventures of having a puppy are…small and sweet.

#4 child, who’s 12,informed me he knows Rusty’s last name.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Stevenson” he answered. “Say it. Rusty Stevenson, it just rolls right off your tongue. Unlike, say, Rusty Dopamine, which sounds odd. Or Rusty Clam Chowder, which is just weird.”

I have an interesting family.

Bad DogMom

August 31, 2011

I had things to do today, that involved not being at home. The big dogs were put outside, and Rusty was left inside with the cats, who likely psychologically abused him.

When I came in the house, he was all wiggly and screeching and telling me things like
“Dey huwt my dewicate feewings and I fink I should get to sweep in the big bed tonight”
“dose cats, dey’s not vewy nice”
I know this because the cats were sitting on the dining table, looking self satisfied, even for cats they looked smug, and Poor Little Rusty(tm) was crouched under the table, crying and squealing.

He’s fine now, blessed with the puppy’s short memory.

Rusty Gets a Check Up

August 29, 2011

I took little Rusty to the vet today,he was, with the exception of yeasty ears, given a clean bill of health. The ear thing happens, when you have those long floppy ones, they don’t get aired out well. Some drops and a bit of cleaning for a couple of weeks, he’ll be right as rain and stop smelling like old cheese. Ok he smells like puppy, but if you stick your nose in his ears, *they* smell like old cheese.

The 3 Old Maids are getting used to him, enough that they don’t growl anymore when he comes near, and I was able to get that picture on the header.

The cats are hovering around the perimeter of the property, waiting for him to leave so they can come back in and have peace. Eventually they’ll get hungry enough they’ll turn up and come inside. Until then I am leaving the pet door open,so when theydo come, they can bring all their rabid raccoon buddies with them. Or baby rabbits. Or birds. They’ve never brought a raccoon, but they’ve totally had baby rabbit parties under our bed at 2 am.

Product recommendations:
that spray stuff that’s supposed to make a particular spot attractive for a dog to wee. It works. Rusty totally uses the pee pad when I spray it with that stuff, I haven’t cleaned up a single puddle.

Product boos:
Sentinel. Stick with a normal heartworm pill, and a good flea shampoo. I distrust those combo things. Since complaining about Sentinel, I’ve talked to 3 other people who’ve had issues with it, rashes on their dogs and sush. purely anecdotal,I recognize that, but it’s enough to keep me (especially since my dog DIED 30 minutes after taking it) from wanting to have anything to do with it.

Porth Kennels. 3 of my dogs are Porth dogs, and they are sweet tempered, healthy and all-around great critters.

An act of generosity

August 28, 2011

So the whole Homer Affair was pretty awful. I won’t say it’s as bad as it gets, because my children are all alive and healthy, no one is starving, no one has been abducted into sexual slavery in Thailand. (my mind knows no limits when it comes to thinking up awful scenarios)

However, it was pretty awful nonetheless.

In response to it all, Terry (bless him) called the breeder we got Homer from (Porth Kennels, y’all… if you ever want a miniature dachshund GO THERE), the veterinarian where we got the Sentinel, and my father (a retired veterinarian), to let everyone know what happened.

I think I said that in the last post.

Anyway…Missy Porth, in an incredible act of generosity, offered us another puppy. Yesterday we made the drive to Lexington, SC and picked out Rusty, half brother to Homer.

Rusty, born 5/30/11

If Homer was Homersaurus Rex, Rusty is a Rustyplodicus. Ok, no more comparisons.

Why did Terry name him Rusty? After his favorite race car driver, the now retired Rusty Wallace. Other names that were considered: Harry (he was Harry about for about an hour), and an assortment of Teutonic names like Beowulf, Otto, and Heinz. Thor was considered for about 30 seconds. I called him Grover once, when I couldn’t remember Rusty. I do that with everyone and every thing, having a terrible memory for names.

He and Terry watched the race last night. The dog sprawls. Back legs behind, forelegs to the side, belly flat on the cool floor. He nibbles, too. He ate kibbles like popcorn, watched the race, and WENT INTO THE YARD to do his business! none of this puppy “whatever wherever” stuff.

He is a POLITE litte fella. Terry put his bed on the floor next to ours last night, and threw a used t-shirt over him. He promptly went to sleep until about 2am, when Terry heard “um…excuse me please, I don’t mean to be a bother but I’m kind of lonely down here.” and he picked him up and Rusty mooched around on the bed for a few minutes, then snuggled in and went back to sleep. Terry put him back in his own bed, where he slept on until about 6, when he woke up, peed ON THE PAD NOT THE FLOOR (stunning!)and asked to get back in bed with us.


The 3 Old Maids seems to kinda sorta like him Ok, I guess. Even the cats aren’t acting like we’ve tried to introduce them to Beezelbub. No (ok not much) hissing, poofing of tails, or panicking.

And I am totally paranoid about putting him outside without me being there to watch closely. I haven’t figured out what to do this morning for church,but I’ll work something out.

Homersaurus Rex,we had him less than a week, folks. I took him to the vet and he was given a gold star for being healthy, and a tablet of Sentinel, the heartworm and flea once a month preventative. And he had an allergic reaction to it and died. I’d given him the tablet and a cheese nip, then sent him outside for a bit. I know, NOW I know, I should have kept him in and watched him for a reaction. NOW I know that. I could have given him benadryl. I could have, I should have, I could beat myself up 100 hours, and I am.
I called his breeder and told her, so she could warn others. I called the vet, and they apologized. I called my father (a retired veterinarian) and he said Sentinel has had issues with allergic reactions, and my vet should have known this. Now I’m angry and I am going to change vets. With 4 dogs and 2 cats that’s not insignificant.

Yesterday was horrible. poor Homer.

Missy Porth, the breeder, generously called and offered us another puppy, so we’re going up there today to get one. and we will not name him Homer. Perhaps we should give it more time, for grieving and such. But the older dogs and cats were just getting used to Homer, and I want to carry that on, rather than give them time to get unused to him and have to go through the whole process all over again. And Terry, he needs his shop buddy. AND NO SENTINEL.

I’ll give baths and combings. No SYSTEMIC FLEA STUFF.

Good Lord that was traumatic. Poor, poor Homer. He was just getting into the groove of the household,was almost housebroken even.


Homersaurus Rex

August 25, 2011

that’s his new name. He was so laid back and mellow when we got him, like “dude, whatever…i’ll just lay here and chill.” but apparently he was either drugged or had to evaluate the situation or something because NOW he’s not LIKE that. O No…NOW he’s all RAWR Ima DINASORE RAWR and gnawing on appropriate toys as long as I keep them handy. Y’know, roadkills and things like that, rubber bones and stuff.

#4 picked him out a toy called ‘roadkill skunk’ which totally appealed to him because he’s a 12 year old boy. The thing is like a stuffed animal skunk with no stuffing and the eyes are all strange. It has a squeaker at each end which Homer ignores but drives Daisy bananas when you squeak it. She goes all 50 Year Old Virgin Librarian with her “GIMME THAT NOW” then gnaws on it until she gets to the squeaker and goes out in the yard and buries it. Hates it she does.

The Old Maids are warming up to him a bit. They won’t cuddle yet, but they don’t act like they’re going to eat him either.

AND! Last night he slept in his bed without crying at all! Terry hit on the perfect solution. Homer’s bed is next to ours, on the floor, and Terry threw the t-shirt he wore that day on top of Homer, who snuggled down into it and fell right asleep, for the whole night except once when he got up, trotted into the bathroom, and pooped on the rug. At least he had the room right, yeah? not a whimper or a whine, just a happy snuggle with a sweaty, stinky t-shirt.

So that’s my tip for getting your puppy to sleep all night without crying. Let him sleep in your bed a couple of nights, to get used to your scent, then give him a shirt you got sweaty in to sleep with, in his own bed. Ding!

3rd Day with Homer

August 22, 2011

Terry scratched around and found a pair of industrial earplugs, and I wore them, thus sleeping without hearing the puppy AT ALL…except that…the reason I didn’t hear the puppy AT ALL was because CJ got himout of the crate and put him in his bed. Which is fine,but doesn’t go anywhere toward getting the dog crate trained. Oh well, whatever. unfortunately for the puppy, CJ is probably moving out next week. THEN WHAT? Crate training. Or maybe he’ll sleep with us. (OH NO I DID NOT JUST SAY THAT)

Anyway. A good night’s sleep goes miles toward having a good attitude.

We’ll figure something out that works for all of us. Maybe if Homer and Lacy get along, they can crate together. She’s showing signs of being interested in him. Daisy and Lily, not so much. Daisy treats him like he’s…well,let’s just say she DOES NOT LIKE HIM AT ALL. Lily ignores him. In her world, she is the only one that matters,and he is merely a gnat.

Gracie, our female Siamese cat, figured out real quick that Homer is too small for stairs, so she spends her time upstairs. Phleud (our male Siamese) comes out of the game room long enough to realize we haven’t flushed the puppy yet, looks annoyed, and returns to the game room. That’s ok. The litterbox,catfood and water are in there, he can stay indefinitely. He’ll eventually come out and go upstairs with Gracie.

Homer is feeling better this morning. The breeder wormed him Saturday, and I think he had a bit of gut gripe all weekend, and wasn’t very playful. This morning,however, he was bouncier and tail-waggier. He’s a sweet little fella. I’m letting Terry do all the cuddles and holding, because I want Homer to know he’s Terry’s, and not mine. I am sure, however, the day will involve some playing and a bit of cuddling on the couch. Because that’s what weinerdogs do!