Sunday, December 11, 2011

Ho Ho Ho-ly Crap, Who's THAT Guy???

The holiday season is upon us!  Everywhere you look there are signs of festive decor in shops, on houses, even on cars.  Kids are busy hammering out letters to Santa, moms are baking Christmas cookies, and everyone is gearing up for a festive evenings of making merry in anticipation of the Big Day.

My two dogs are suitably unimpressed.

I wanted to get a good photo of the dogs in the spirit of the season to commemorate their second Christmas with us.  I was not going to even attempt to stick fake reindeer antlers on them as that would obviously end in disaster (remember the fun with Leila's graduation hat?) and frankly it's rather creepy.  On a routine visit to the pet store to get yet another 40 pound bag of dog food, I spied a sign in the window regarding having your pet's picture taken with Santa today with the proceeds going to a local homeless animal charity.

Given Leila's ongoing abject fear of strangers, this was a project so destined for epic failure that I simply could not pass it up.

As soon as we got to the table where the Santa photo set was set up, Leila put the brakes on.  Forget the fat guy in red, she was already giving attitude to the kind ladies who were trying to guide her over to the corner and set up the photo.  She immediately sat down and arched her head back in an attempt to yank the leash out of the gal's hand.  It was painfully obvious that she wanted no part of this trio of weird people she did not know, so my kids jumped to the rescue and tried to coax her in by going in themselves.  Bodie sauntered right up and happily accepted the ear scratches and pets from Santa.  His attitude has always been "Rather than one for me and one for her, give two to me!"  He's no fool.  We managed to drag Leila to within the general zip code of the scary man sitting in the chair, but keeping her there
proved a challenge.  My daughter kept reeling her in like she was deep-sea fishing, but Leila kept a safe distance by keeping my  daughter between herself and Santa.  Finally the photographer lady realized this was as good as we were going to get and started clapping her hands and squeaking a toy to get the dogs to look in the direction of the camera.  Leila had a look that could only be interpreted as "Clap all you want, lady, but I'm not taking my eyes off this creepy guy!!!"  Bodie sniffed around knowing full well there were treats in this guy's pocket and could care less about a squeaky plastic chicken being waved in the air.  Finally the lady snapped the photo and we were off to the checkout stand to pay for it while it printed.  Leila sensed the worst was over and bolted from the set like she was shot out of a cannon.

When we returned to the Santa table to claim our memorable moment, the photographer told us that she accidentally cut off most of my son's head in the photo so we were going to have to re-do it.  I hated to break the news to Leila who was already hiding behind me in case the scary red Santa spied her again.  "Sorry girl" I told her.  "Just one more time, you can do it."  My son led Bodie back to the far side of Santa chair while my daughter tried to maneuver Leila back towards the Den of Horror.  Leila shot us her best "Oh HELL no!!" look and immediately tried to escape behind the giant green cardboard backdrop, pushing it over in the process and almost crowning Santa on the noggin.  By now a small crowd is forming to watch the antics of Santa trying to cajole a terrified 82-pound sissy.  By this point I feel I should probably intervene rather than snap photos and wipe tears of laughter from my face, so I get down on my hands and knees and push her still-seated butt across the linoleum floor towards the seated Santa and my daughter.  Meanwhile, Santa has given Bodie a treat that he happily devoured, so Bodie is sitting in front of Santa, back to the camera, just as I taught him, in order to score some more.  As I scoot Leila into the frame, I use my other hand to scoot Bodie around so his face is facing the camera. This is no small task, mind you, since Bodie weighs over 90 pounds and I'm still trying to hold onto Leila so as not to lose the progress I have made thus far.  Leila refuses to look at Santa, figuring that if she doesn't see him, he is not really there and all is well.  Her pleading eyes watch me and the photo ladies as if to say "Hurry up and get it over with!"  I roll myself out of the frame just as the lady snaps the photo and says "I got it!"  Applause erupts from the audience.  Bodie scores more pats from Santa and Leila exits, Stage Left.

The photo is printed and when the helper lady pulls it off the  printer, she starts to laugh.  "Uh....." she says.  "I think we need to take it again.  Santa has had a slight wardrobe malfunction."  I look at the photo and Santa's fake belly has shifted and is oozing out of the front of his jacket and into his lap, looking very Cinemax After Dark, if you know what I mean.  "Put that away, Santa, this is a family show!" I pipe up. By this point the ladies cannot contain themselves and are in hysterics.  Yes, Leila, your greatest fear has returned...we have to do it again.

This time Santa decides he had better remain standing.  After tucking his belly up and securing it in place, we tried to trot the dogs back in.  Even Bodie is starting to get fed up with this project now.  Tired and cranky, the dogs are panting with tongues hanging out approximately five feet, it seems.  Moving at light speed, we get Bodie into place and then whisk Leila over towards Santa while keeping her attention on me by waving a treat at her.  She hesitates for just a second and that's all the opening the photographer needed to snap her little Kodak Easy Share camera to capture the moment.  "I think we're done!" the lady says, and Bodie bolts from the corner, done for the day.  Lump of coal will be just fine, sir.

The lady gives me the photo and both dogs have glowing green eyes like some sort of cyborg canines from space.  Seems only fitting, since by now Leila no doubt has phasers set to "stun."  I thank them all and as we proceed to the parking lot, I can still hear the laughter behind us.  My kids are cracking up and I am trying to figure out where to buy my dog supplies in the future since I can no doubt never show my face in that store again.  At least we were able to leave without Leila laying waste to the entire backdrop or chewing off Santa's leg.  I guess it's back to the drawing board with Leila's fear of strangers.  As long as they are not wearing red suits and sporting big white beards, we might have a fighting chance.

Anyone have any fake reindeer antlers I can borrow?

Stay tuned.....

 My sincerest thanks to the kind folks of PetSmart and the volunteers of
Delta Animals Safe Haven for their understanding and great sense of humor.

Friday, November 25, 2011

The Berner Life Outtakes

Ask my eleven year old daughter what she wants to be when she grows up and she'll tell you "A wildlife photographer"!  An admirable profession to be sure, but by no means an easy task.  Certainly she will need to upgrade from her trusty Canon Powershot and unless her portfolio is going to consist of a series of animal butts as they run away, something with a faster shutter speed may be needed.  Many of her shots have been used in past blog entries here, but as she and I have both found out, getting the shot you need from two Bernese puppies can be more comedy than commodity.  Case in point:

Slow shutter speed plus shaking dog = turbo head!

Trying to get two untrained pups to pose for a
portrait?  Yeah, right!!!

Are puppies supposed to twist that way?
Either yawning or voicing extreme
displeasure when I tried to get the remote.

Sometimes Bodie comes up to inspect
the camera at just the wrong moment.

Really bored with the whole
stair-climbing adventure.

Leila always has a comment regarding the
picture with the stuffed toy.



Always trying to make a new angle

Take a picture of Dad with the dogs!
Dad?  Where'd you go??


Look at the camera, guys!
No, THIS camera!!!!!

I'm sure they have many more memorable Kodak moments for me, probably at the time I least expect (or need) them!!!

Stay tuned......

Friday, October 28, 2011

A Gathering of Berners

Every year, a pumpkin patch in Half Moon Bay, CA holds what they call a "Bernese Mountain Dog Day" where Bernese owners and their pooches visit the farm for fun, frolicking, and quite possibly Halloween pumpkin purchasing.  "Farmer John" as he calls himself (which is fitting since his name is John and he really is a farmer) states on his website that last year they had about 100 dogs there!  I really wanted to attend this event with my two, but given Leila's lack of personal skills, I was really not sure this was going to be possible.  The last thing I needed was for her to get all neurotic and freaky and undo all the months of other-dog-training we have been doing.  On the other hand, what better place to get in the middle of the fray with a gaggle of her peers?

Put on your big-girl dog-panties, Leila, we're going socializing!

Now, Half Moon Bay is a good hour-and-a-half drive from my house, so as we sailed along the freeways (two kids, the hubby and me, and two happy drooling canines) I had plenty of time to think about all the awful things that could go wrong after we arrived at this place.  I had visions of the half-hour it took me to get Leila out of the back of the truck when we went to the snow that one time (another lengthy drive I thought would end in disaster) or her being so intimidated by the other dogs running around that she dashes off into the Pacific Ocean and we have to drive all the way home with that wet-dog smell.  Neither vision was very appealing, given the time and gas it took us to get to the coast.  But I was pretty much committed now and seeing how this was all my idea, was praying for the best!

The town of Half Moon Bay loves Halloween.  Famous for their pumpkin growing, Half Moon Bay sports pumpkin patches on every corner.  In order to entice tourists and locals alike to visit their grounds instead of  their neighbors, over the years each patch has gotten more and more elaborate by introducing corn mazes, bouncy houses, face painting, train rides, pony rides and whatever else can capture a youngster's attention.  As we rolled into town, my kids' attention was 100% captured as they pressed their faces to the windows to check out farm after farm that rivaled the fanciest of Las Vegas Casinos.  We turned on the coastal highway and made our way to Farmer John's Pumpkin Patch which was not as splashy (thankfully!) but still decked out with festive fall decor.  As a result, I felt good about the jaunty Halloween-print bandannas I brought to put on the pups so they played the part.  My husband, definitely not a fan of dressing up pets in any form (with particular emphasis on reindeer antlers at Christmas or little chihuahuas in doll dresses) gave me the Olympic version of an eye roll and groaned "You're not going to put scarves on them, are you?"  I corrected his obvious fashion faux pas by shooting over a look that would freeze fire and announcing that yes, the dogs are going to wear their Halloween bandannas, thank you very much.  If I had to battle the throngs of old ladies at the fabric store in order to purchase two little pieces of cotton fabric, they were not going unused!

We get to the parking lot for the farm and the employee directs us to a parking area walled off with hay bales.  We turn the corner to the clearing and find a place to park the SUV.  The parking area was a sea of shining black and brown...Bernese dogs running everywhere!  My kids started squealing with glee and both dogs started barking, although I don't think it was a "gleeful" bark.  A "WTF????" bark was more like it.  I could tell already that it was going to take some creativity to get Leila out of the truck again.  After a little coaxing and friendly shooing away of other dogs who came to inspect the SUV, we finally manged to encourage (read: yank) Leila out of the back of the truck.  It was crazy-amazing to see so many dogs in various shapes and sizes, but all looking the same, with their fluffy black tails and white blaze of forehead, not the mention the shining white Swiss Cross on their chests.  We started to walk to the back area where we could safely let them off the leash.  Through clenched teeth my husband whispered to me "Good call on the bandannas!"  That made me laugh.  Even if this trip turned out to be a total bust, at least I was vindicated on that front!

The nice thing about Bernese is that they are friendly, happy, goofy dogs.  They are the stranger in the car ahead of you that pays your bridge toll.  They are the coffee-drinker that holds the door for you at Starbucks when you are trying to exit with two Venti toffee-nut lattes in your hands.  They are silly, inquisitive, smiling representatives of the canine world and here in this crazy gathering of distant cousins, none of them are fighting, snapping, even barking.  They are all just playing and milling around like old friends at a high school reunion.

Then there are my two.

While not being aggressive, my two dogs are clearly set to DefCon 1.  Leila's eyes are so big she looks like she is drawn from Japanese anime.  Bodie perfects the art of bob-and-weave so he can avoid the oncoming greetings of other dogs.  At least the two have each other and when they run off to the outer fringes of the clearing to get away from the herd, at least they are together.  Some dogs pose for their picture on a table.  Mine hide under the table.  A handful of dogs are bellying up to the big tin bucket of water for a drink, mine are sneaking up behind me and licking my hand so I can pour some of my bottled water into their foldable water dish I had the sense to bring along.  It was then I notice that although they are not socializing in the party-sense of the word, they are not fleeing in terror either.  Maybe it's the feeling of familiarity when you show up to a party where everyone is wearing the same outfit, or maybe just tired in the heat of the October sun.  Either way, they seem a bit more interested in these other dogs and yet, keeping a respectable distance.  Even Leila has a spring in her step which is probably her way of saying "La la la, I can't see you!" in pretending the other dogs really aren't there.  Hey, whatever works for her!
All in all there were maybe about fifty dogs there, all dancing around and trying to get their owner's attention.  There were a few pulling carts like their ancestors did before them.  One was so fluffy and fat her looked like the canine version of a pot-bellied pig.  Even a  few little cuddly puppies that relished all the attention they were getting and made me nostalgic...was it really only a year ago that my two were that size?  The dog owners were all friendly, chatty folks and over the din of laughter you could always hear the question "Which one is yours?"  I could usually find mine within a minute or two, first checking under a table or at the outer edges of the cornfield.  Yep, there they are!

We made our way to the pumpkin side so the kids could pick out a couple of good jack-o-lantern candidates and climb all over hay-bale pyramids and tractors.  After a brief stop for lunch we made our way back across the bay and headed for home.  It didn't take long before kids and dogs were all asleep in the back, exhausted from all the running, jumping, laughing, and in Leila's case, hiding.

It was such fun to see so many Bernese in he same place.  And thanks to their bright garish bandannas, at least we came home with the right ones!


Many thanks to John and Eda Muller of Farmer John's Pumpkin Patch for hosting this wonderful event.  Sadly, the Muller's own beloved Bernese passed away just a few weeks before the event date.  We send them our best wishes and hope to see them next year as well.
 

Monday, September 26, 2011

The Pups Get Schooled

The kids are back in school now, husband is off at work and it's just me and the dogs.  Our daily walks are pretty routine, but Leila still wigs out whenever we come across another dog (which is often in this neighborhood) and won't even walk PAST the gate to the dog park; instead she throws herself into the ivy along the pathway and refuses to budge.  At first her fear of other dogs was kind of quirky and endearing, now it's just pissing me off.  Other dog walkers look at me sympathetically as I struggle to keep my balance when Leila puts on the afterburners to race past another dog on a leash.  They figure that maybe I am trying to rehabilitate a dog that was once attacked...little do they know that Leila's only affliction is that she is spoiled stupid.  When she freaks out and runs, Bodie feeds off that hysteria and puts it in gear as well.  Me at the other end of two leashes really doesn't stand a chance with that horsepower pulling me along.  I think one time my eight-year old actually got airborne for a minute.

That being said, if I am ever going to break Leila of this "oh-my-GAWD-there's-another-dog!" adrenaline rush, I cannot really rely on the occasional passers-by on our morning walks to cure her.  I am going to have to force the issue and go to where there are other dogs in a controlled environment and make her understand that they are not all out to kill her.

Time for Obedience School!!

Yes, I know, I should really have started this earlier when they were younger and less strong, I just didn't make enough of an effort.  The dogs are actually pretty well-trained with my home-schooling and have the sit-and-stay routine down pretty well, especially if there is a treat involved.  I figured I could have them Hollywood-trained ready in my own house in no time!  Sure!!  The thing is, there is not a lot of other-dog traffic in my house (just a moth-eaten stray cat whom I am sure is the cause of all this misery in the first place).  I needed the dog school more for the social interaction rather than the academics, not unlike dropping your three-year old child of at daycare for the first time.  You don't expect them to prove the binomial theorem, just share the Tinker Toys once and awhile.

On our first day of pup-school, we entered the "classroom" which consisted of several spindly-legged plastic stools and little else.  We took our place on one side and sat to wait on the teacher.  The other "students" in the class consisted of a terrier-poodle mix that was cute and easy-going but somewhat lacking in the social graces, a Yorkie with a rather bad haircut who snarled and glared at the terrier, and an enormous pit-bull that looked like she had been carved out of a side of beef.  My two sat by us in the corner, with Leila trying her best to fade into the back wall in hopes that no one noticed her.  The teacher, a jolly little man named Ken, came in to greet us and say hello to each of his new pupils.  When he got to our corner, Bodie gave him a half-hearted tail wag but gladly accepted the ear-scratches he gave him on his head.  Leila, on the other hand, made one point abundantly clear.

She could not stand Ken.

The other dog owners smiled in amusement when Ken tried to pet Leila and she backed into the corner, eyes wide with terror, and then tried in vain to climb into my purse.  We had only been there five minutes and already she was gunning for the "Most Likely to be Expelled" award.  Something told me this was going to be a very long six weeks.  Ken let her be and started teaching the class, talking about methods to get them to focus, sit and stay, and all the other things my pups knew by heart.  He even demonstrated with Bodie, who went along willingly when he found out there were jerky treats involved.  Bodie has his own phobias about other dogs but has come up with the idea that if he doesn't look at them, they don't really exist.  So when the happy terrier took a few steps toward him, Bodie examined the ceiling, took a glance to his right as if he saw Elvis walk by, and generally looked everywhere but at the grey fluffy terrier in the snazzy red harness vest trying in vain to get his attention.  If Leila would even get THAT far I'd be thrilled!

As the weeks went on, Leila slowly warmed up to Ken and would allow him to pet her head without her trying to turn herself inside out to get away from him.  She walked past the other dogs with great trepidation, all muscles tensed and ready to take off at breakneck speed if one should so much as flinch.  Amusingly enough, the owners of the pissy Yorkie did not return after the first class.  I'm told they transferred to another class that had only small dogs because "they were afraid the bigger dogs would hurt their small dog."  Seriously?  Not only were both my dogs terrified by this little yapping bad-hair-day of a dog, but I was beginning to fear for my life as well!  The giant pit bull, as it turns out, was the most mellow of the students and could truly care less.  I wish I had some of her mojo!

The pups finished their course with less-than-flying-colors but they got the general gist of it.  More importantly, they were able to eventually maintain a small level of dignity when locked into a room with two other dogs.  They still don't like other dogs and I don't think these two other students will be on their Christmas card list anytime soon, but at least I can now manage them in a way that they don't sent me flying off my feet when we pass other dogs on a walk.  On our final class, Ken placed graduation caps on their heads and awarded them their diplomas.  Bodie wore his hat with pride, especially when Ken diverted his attention with a liver treat long enough for my daughter to snap his official graduation photo.  In putting the cap on Leila, she immediately turned into the Whirling Dervish of Tasmanian Devils and sent the hat flying, bucking like a bronco.  No liver treat was going to get that thing on her head!  Hell, even a T-bone steak wasn't going to cut it at this point.

I guess I have more work to do with my wild child.  I know there is a "Most Likely to Succeed" badge somewhere in her future.  With my luck, it will have a pissy Yorkie guarding it.


Bodie the proud graduate

Leila...not so much.

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

The Ears Have It (Or Not....)

There are certain things in life that we really don't want to do.  Getting up early Monday mornings to go to work.  Paying our taxes.  Going to the dentist.  But, being the responsible adults that we are, we do them anyway because we know it's for our own good.   Preventative measures, especially for our health, might be an annoyance at the moment, but they are better for us in the long run.  (I always tell my daughter, getting a mammogram is the least favorite thing on earth, but it sure beats the alternative.)

On the other hand, when a dog is faced with something he or she doesn't want to do, they will not do.  Period.  End of story.  Good preventative measures be damned, there is no "long-term" to a dog, there is just the here and now, and the here and now says nope, sorry, ain't gonna happen.

Case in point is Leila and her sensitive ears.  Even on her first puppy exam the vet noticed she had a bit of redness and wax in her ears and gave me a bottle of ear solution to squirt in there twice a day as a preventative measure.  Being the naive puppy, Leila let me do it once, in one ear.  After that it was a full-fledged WWE cage match to try and get the other ear done.  Needless to say, we opted to just let her ears do their thing unless ear meds were warranted.

Fast forward to today.  Leila is considerably bigger, heavier and stronger than she was at the last attempt, and now she has been shaking her head a lot and sometimes scratching at her ear.  Dreading the outcome, I took her to the vet so they could assess the issue.  I warned the vet that she is "not terribly cooperative" when it comes to ear meds.  Apparently that was the watered-down version.  It took one vet, three technicians and a big burly 20-something, 200+ pound orderly to hold her down, and she STILL wriggled away.  The vet got a passing glance at her right ear and not so much as a peep in the left.  His advice to me?  Put the ear drops in twice a day until she stops scratching at it.  Seriously?  If the vet-trained Gang of Five can't get the meds in her, what hope do I possibly have?  If I can get ear drops in there twice a YEAR I'd consider it a national holiday.  But if I don't, her ear irritation could turn into a full-blown ear infection and then the need will be required (while she is in pain, no less).  The vet said that if we couldn't do it, we'd have to bring her back in for a sedative so they could have a look in there and administer meds.  I told him if I had to do it at home, I was the one that would need the sedative!  He laughed.  I didn't.

At first we tried the "strong-hold" method of one of us holding her down on the couch or in a corner while the other squirted in the meds.  She fought, wiggled, climbed, and did an amazing shuck-and-jive and eluded our grasp.  Then we resorted to the "sneak attack", where I would invite her to lie her head on my lap while I stroked her and rubbed her ears and got her to relax.  Then like a teenager on a date, I stretched my arm up and over in the direction of the end table where the bottle was waiting.  My fingers hadn't even reached it yet when her head shot up, eyes focused on my hand, and she was up and out the door in milliseconds.  Another plan in ruins.  Finally we tried the "Hey look, it's Elvis!" routine, getting her attention looking the other way at a treat while I came around the back and tried to ambush the ear.  Not even close. 

When all else fails, plop on the couch and watch TV, I always say.  I turned on an episode of "The Dog Whisperer" in hopes of gleaning some enlightenment.  Surely Caesar would know what to do, right?  If it's on TV it must be true!  I was pretty sure the episode would not feature a pissy tween-age Bernese who did not want to take her meds, but I was desperate at this point.  Or maybe I just wanted to see other people whose dogs did not play by their rules to make me feel better.  Losers unite!!!  

The episode was about a mangy terrier-beagle thing that looked like it was made out of spare parts.  This dog would attack other dogs on walks and was quite unruly.  Caesar took command and with a few corrections on the leash, this dog was walking alongside his master like he was headed right for the Westminster Kennel Club stage.  All of their problems solved in ten minutes flat!  Oh, if only we could apply video-editing to real life!  I could really use that trick!

I realized that Caesar's ten-minutes-to-perfection lesson was a tad overstated, but he did bring up a few good points.  Leila usually responds pretty well to corrections on the leash (something I admittedly don't do often enough) so maybe I can employ that tactic to let her know I do not appreciate her hell-no-I-won't-go! behavior when it comes to ear goo.  It was worth a shot, since I had exhausted all other avenues.

I picked up Leila's leash and training collar and called her over.  Thinking we were going for a walk, she got all happy-feet on me which was making me feel like the biggest horse's ass on the planet.  Bodie danced around as well, wondering where his leash was.  I figured I should probably have put Bodie outside since he will only fan the flames when she starts to panic, but too late for that.  One trauma at a time.  I picked up the ear solution bottle and Leila immediately went on red alert, yanking the leash backward in an attempt to get away.  I held firm and barked "No!" and tried to get her to stand in one place.  She thrashed from side to side while scrambling backwards, pulling me over in the process.  This type of workout would be exciting if trying to reel in an 80-pound marlin while deep-sea fishing.  In my own home with a year-old puppy, not so much.  The leash slips from my hand and Leila bolts.  Score: Leila 1, me 0.

Trying to retrieve the leash and accompanying dog is a workout in itself.  Leila has perfected the art of the bob-and-weave, managing to stay one step ahead of me and using Bodie as a canine shield.  He thinks it's all great fun and is jumping and barking, only adding to the carnage.  She gets to the far side of the island stove in the kitchen and will undoubtedly go right when I go left.  This might take us all night.  Finally she retreats into the entryway and I pounce upon the leash and drag her forward, all the while trying to calm her down.  Her terrified face is making me feel guilty while wondering just how much of their other training I have completely erased with this act of defiance.  She is managing to stay as far away from me as possible while we are still connected by the leash, in a sort of face-off.  This is getting old.  My soothing words of "It's okay, baby, come here Leila, it's okay" are now replaced with "Get over here you bitch!!!"  Finally I work my way down the leash so there is only about three inches showing, and command her to sit.  In one swift move, I flip back her ear, twist open the solution bottle cap and squirt in her ear, only to see it dripping down her shoulder and puddle on the floor.  Charming.  Using my corrections and "No!" when she tries to pull again, I flip her ear again and squirt just as she cocks her head back, smacking my arm and causing the solution to squirt across my chest.  My t-shirt is now sporting a cucumber-melon version of the Nike logo and my house smells like a cheap day spa.  I back her up to the wall, hoping to block off one avenue of escape, give corrections and commands, and actually manage to squirt a sizable amount into her right ear.  She immediately flips her head around, showering the walls, door and me in a fine spray of ear meds.  While she is analyzing this bizarre feeling, I swing left and squirt solution into the other ear.  Success!  And I only used half of the bottle on two ears!

We are both so exhausted at this point she probably would have let me do an entire appendectomy on her and said "Yeah, whatever."  Her big brown eyes are still the size of dinner plates and she is panting like she just finished a marathon.  I feel so awful, but am happy to get at least some of the meds in her ears.  "I'm sorry, Leila." I tell her.  "I'm just trying to help you."  She looks at me in that sorrowful way but still can spare a tail wag for me.  It's as if she says, "It's okay, mom.  In all my panic, I peed all over your travertine floor."

Who's the bitch now???

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Siss, Boom, Bored

Independence Day is always a favorite time of year in this country, especially for kids.  Parades, barbecues, and of course, fireworks.  The louder and brighter the better!  Whether they are sparklers on your front lawn with the neighbors or full-on professional displays in the sky, fireworks are what the Fourth of July is all about.

Except, of course, if you are a dog.
 
Few things strike fear into the heart of a dog like the booming and crackling of fireworks.  Every July 5th I see fliers posted on sign posts and in store windows of lost dogs that ran terrified from their homes when the noise and flashing of fireworks filled the skies.  I was dreading this time of year, as technically speaking, this was our dogs first July 4th.  Last year at this time they were three days old so I really don't think they could appreciate the sheer terror of it all.  And let's face it, we have already established that my dogs are not the bravest beasts on earth.  They still live in abject fear of the family cat, spray bottles, chihuahuas, bicycles, falling leaves...trust me, I could go on.  It's not much a stretch to figure out that pyrotechnics are not going to be high on their list.

Many counties in California, this one included, have banned fireworks from being set off in the streets for fear of brush fires.  While I get that and begrudgingly comply, I remember having a blast as a kid, holding sparklers or lighting off Picolo Petes in the court I grew up on.  I wish my kids could experience the same fun.  Apparently I am not alone in my thinking, as law-be-damned, there is NO shortage of street-side firework shows going on in the neighborhood and beyond.  Some ballsy families even go as far as shooting the illegal type up in the air to get the Full Monty of fireworks displays and keep their fingers crossed that the police are too busy to hunt them down.  Since we don't have any professional displays nearby to us, I applaud these law-breaking families, as that is the only way my kids get to see fireworks and experience what July 4th is all about.  We would get in the car and drive around town and point out "There's some fireworks now!  Look at the felons!"

This year, I opted to stay home with the scaredy-dogs while my husband drove the kids through town.  I did not get them any tranquilizers or any calming meds that many vets suggest, as I don't really believe in that, but had my arsenal of biscuits and other treats to try and distract them when the stress level got too high.  Both dogs were crashed out on the fireplace hearth when I hear the first pops of firecrackers nearby.  I braced myself for the onslaught of 170 pounds of hysterical Bernese to come flying into my lap any second.  Then suddenly a neighbor somewhere behind us lit off what sounded like an M-80 that exploded with a deafening BOOM that made even me jump.  I looked to dogs to see what I could do to calm what was bound to be obvious terror.

The dogs could have cared less.

I watched them in amazement as they continued to stretch out on the hearth, sometimes yawning or rolling over, as the barrage or booms and cracks played outside.  After a string of firecrackers went off somewhere in the distance followed by the sounds of someone laughing, Leila actually opened one eye and perked up an ear as if to say "Did you hear something?"  But that was quickly followed by an expression that said "Meh!" and back to snoozing she went.  The only time they jumped to their feet and barked is when the kids came barrelling in the front door to excitedly tell me all about the cool fireworks they saw.  My husband told me about how he saw several terrified dogs running loose through across the streets and asked how our two did and how many pee puddles I had to clean up.  "None!" I proudly exclaimed.  Although I thought there might be one from me when that M-80 went off.

In July 4ths of years past, my old boy Jack had a terrible time with the sound of fireworks, so I was ready for battle with the current chicken-dogs.  I was surprised when I really didn't have to put anything to the test.  I guess these guys can still surprise me. 

So on our next walk, when we come across a chihuahua or small poodle and my two leap in fear into a nearby bush, I will say "It's okay!  It's just a firework!"


Gotta love America.

Friday, July 1, 2011

Birthday Bernese

Today is the pups' birthday!  They are officially one year old today, which means I can stop referring to them in "months."  Unfortunately, I cannot stop referring to them as "puppies", since I read that Bernese are still puppies size-wise until they are about two, and are puppies in attitude and mischief until they are about three.  Great!  Any chance I can swap those two around? 

September 2010
The pups celebrated their birthday by decorating the back lawn with my new sandals (yes, chewed), one t-shirt, three socks (none of which match), a pair of underwear, and a ten-pound diving brick.  This was all in the course of about fifteen minutes.  It's as if they knew today was special and they weren't going to get scolded so go for broke! 

July 2011

We decided to take them on a field trip to visit their friends at the vet's office where they were warmly welcomed and given lots of hugs.  While there, I got them each on the scale for grins.  Bodie tipped the scales at 90 pounds and Leila came in at a petite 82 pounds.  The fact they are not done growing yet is a little alarming but they are healthy and active and carry it well, so I say...bon appetite!  Hard to believe they were twelve pound puff-balls when they came to us last year.  What a difference ten months makes!

While out and about we stopped by the pet store to pick up some snacks and a birthday toy and yes, ran into other dogs on leashes and yes, Leila tried to turn herself inside out to get away from them.  Looks like our next jaunt to the pet store will be for training classes!  They are making progress on accepting humans a bit more easily but dogs and especially cats are still persona non grata.  Well, I still have another year of puppyhood to get them used to the real world.  Oh wait, make that two years!  Ugh........

Stay tuned.....





Monday, June 27, 2011

Did The Fireplace Get Smaller?

Well, contrary to a previous post, summer has finally arrived here in the Bay Area.  And like an annoying in-law who shows up unannounced on your doorstep, summer sort of caught us unaware.  On Memorial Day it was raining and cold.....by the end of the week it was in the 90's.  Yes, we commonly hit the 90s out here in the valley in summer but we usually get a warning shot across the bow first.  Mother Nature must be off her manic-depressive meds.

When the pups first came to us, it was September of 2010 which was a pretty mild summer compared to what we usually get.  Still, I worried about them in their furry black coats as I had read that Bernese can get overheated quite easily.  But it wasn't long (Day Two, I believe!) that the pups discovered the cool granite fireplace hearth under the ceiling fan, and claimed it as their own territory.  Almost the entire lower level of the house is stone floor, so it's not like there were not other cool places to crash, but the black granite hearth became the official Cool Puppy Destination, which it remains today.  There was plenty of room for two toasty puppies to stretch out, either tail-to-tail or nose-to-nose.  If one got there first and plopped down right in the middle, hogging up all the cold, no worries!  There was still plenty of room for the other to curl up besides the first and still relish in the relaxing chill.  The hearth is surrounded by warm, heat-holding carpet but no fear!  The pups were quite content on their black granite island all to themselves (no cats allowed).


That being said, when the temperature hit 102 last week, Bodie and Leila spent much quality time on the granite hearth.  Just like old times, they migrate to the fireplace hearth by default, hoping to soak up the cold.  I'm not sure if they notice, but they don't exactly fit there anymore.  They try to lie the way they did before, only now it's just the back ends that are getting cooled, while their heads overlap onto the carpet.  After plopping down, they glance up at me as if to say "Did this thing shrink?"  And if one gets there before the other (usually Bodie) and stretches out to relax, the second one is, well, pretty much screwed.  Leila is lucky to get her butt and tail on the granite, while the rest tries to get comfy on the carpet.  This has caused Leila to get a bit crafty.  Not one to be gypped out of her happy place, she will come up to me on the couch and get all silly and barky, pleading for some attention and ear rubs.  When Bodie sees that he is losing out on the loving, he gets up and comes over as well to get his fair share.  That's when Leila makes her move, slyly extracting herself from the lovey-frenzy and making her way back to the hearth, where she plops down with a satisfied "Oof" and claims her stake.  When Bodie realizes he just got snookered, he tries to make his 85 pound body as comfortable in the small remaining corner of granite as he can, usually ending up with his backside right in front of (and sometimes on top of) Leila's face.  Always the gentleman, he's not about to push her off, but he CAN make her stay there as unpleasant as possible.

Meanwhile, the dog blankets have been washed and put away, hopelessly unnecessary for the next few months.  Although as I was folding their favorite huge brown one to store it in the garage, Bodie watched me with his big brown eyes and I know what he was thinking.

"Does this come in granite?"