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.

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.....



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?"

Cattle Dogs?

There are various theories out there as to why exactly dogs eat grass.  Some say that when a dog's stomach is upset, they will eat grass to ease the discomfort.  Now, I like to think that my two pups are geniuses just like the rest of the dog owners out there, but I really don't get the feeling that they think to themselves, "Hmm, I'm feeling a bit off tonight, perhaps I shall go seek out a natural stomach calming remedy!"  So they eat grass and vomit it back up, usually on the carpet.  There are other vets that say that dogs eat grass simply because it tastes good.  An hour later, however, it becomes an irritant and up it comes, oftentimes accompanied by chunks of the $45 high-quality dog food you chose to feed your pet instead of the cheap grocery-store kind.

In the springtime, there is no shortage of the tall leafy green stuff along the banks of the creek that runs beside our home.  Many folks walk their dogs along the pathway around the creek, and many dogs will stop and nibble a blade or two for an on-the-go snack.  In contrast, my two run through along the bank, mouths open, looking like two contestants on "Minute to Win It" by cramming as much grass into their mouth as they can before I yank the leash and pull them back to the path.  They come back with grass blades hanging from their chins, smiling like a pair of happy cows.

At first I was rather alarmed at the rate they were playing weed-eater, and even looked online to see if there was some sort of reasoning for this.  The grass along the creek bank is not treated with pesticides or herbicides so at least they are not getting poisoned by this peculiar habit.  And Lord knows it's funny to watch.  But to see them make a bee-line for the meadow and snarf like a starving person at the all-you-can-eat salad bar, I always have to keep in mind that in the middle of the night I am bound to hear the familiar "hork-hork-hork" of Bodie performing his personal composting.  I'm pretty sure this is not what Al Gore had in mind when he told us all to "go green."

As summer approaches, these same sweet acres of green goodness turn to brown, crisp fire-hazard weeds full of foxtails, ticks, and other dog-unfriendly varmints.  Our latest walk had Leila bounding happily towards the amber waves, only to have me yank her back and make her heel on the path, much to her confusion.  That's okay, Leila, I have a whole yard at home with tufts of un-mowed grass sprouting up with your name on them.

Just please don't feel the need to give it back three hours later.



Dogs In Fall

Okay, I know the calendar says "Spring" but over here in NorCal, Mother Nature has been a bit bipolar (get it?) and we've had a little bit of everything EXCEPT Spring.  Some days are a bright, balmy 80+ degrees and within a day or two it is back to torrential rain and wind.  Then we bounce back into the high 70's and just when I think it's safe to pack away the sweaters and umbrellas and turn the sprinklers back on, the clouds roll in and the temperature drops dramatically.  With all the rain and cold come perennial mud flats in the back yard  which then get tracked into the house by eight thundering feet that go in and out about fifty times a day.  It's an endless battle and I find myself longing for the time when Spring comes in earnest and I can officially stop living in a swamp.

About the only season that seemed to play its part was Autumn.  It didn't rain much, but was cold and brisk in a refreshing sort of way.  The leaves turned orange and yellow and looked so dramatic on the trees until they fell.  The Summers out here are stifling hot and the Winter is wet and cold, but Autumn seems to like to be a referee between the two.

I could walk the dogs with ease during this time, without having to wipe wet muddy paws before they came in or worry about them overheating in the scorching sun.  They seemed to like walking in Autumn as well, although Leila would jump at the occasional falling leaf.  I wanted to share my favorite photo from one of our walks, when my eight-year old son took the reigns (literally!) and enjoyed a nice stroll along the creekside.

I showed this photo to my son, when we were sitting inside, drinking cocoa, and enjoying the quiet stillness of a brisk Autumn day.  My son looks at it carefully and says "The dogs look like they have leaves stuck to their butts!"

Okay, bonding moment over.

Stay tuned......

The Dogs of Winter

It may be spring-like conditions in many parts of the country, but here in California, winter is still alive and well, despite what the calendar says.  We have had a series of rainy, windy thunderstorms and the Sierra snowpack is 158% of normal.  Ordinarily I like winter and rain, but having to wipe down eight wet muddy feet every time they come in from a backyard romp (which is often) is starting to get really old.  I'm ready for spring!  But before winter bows out for good, I really wanted to get the pups and the kids up to the snow to have some fun while we can.

I figured the pups would love the snow, seeing how the hail from Berne, Switzerland which is no stranger to the fluffy white stuff.  But to be fair, my two pups were born in Iowa.  In July.  The closest they have ever gotten to their ancestry is when they stole a piece of Swiss cheese off my sandwich when I wasn't looking.  What if we drove all the way up to the mountains and they hated it?  They have already proven to have their odd quirks (Lord knows!) so why should this be any different?  I decided to push my luck and we loaded up the SUV with dogs, kids and all the accompaniments it takes for a day in the snow which pretty much filled it to the top.  Good thing we weren't going for the weekend, I'd have to rent a U-Haul.

As luck would have it, we managed to find a day last week when there was no rain or snow falling, we so headed up to beautiful Bear Valley, a three-hour drive into the Sierra Nevada mountain range.  A pretty short drive to get to 7,000 feet of snow; an eternity with two restless kids and two dogs giving their best effort to repeatedly climb into the center seat section of the SUV to escape their back-of-the-bus exile.  After a quick stop for gas, a dog pee-stop when we found a grassy area, and a pull-over stop to rescue a stolen bag of chips from the back and right the overturned cooler, we arrived at Bear Valley Village which to our amazement was bright, snowy and practically deserted.  We found a clearing off the main road where the kids could sled and the dogs could romp without fear of running into the street or annoying other guests.  We made it!

After piling into ski pants, jackets, gloves and snow boots, we opened the back of the SUV to get the dogs out and start our adventure.  Bodie, who was tired of being cooped up amidst inflatable sleds and duffel bags, jumped out of the SUV and began his happy "Bodie dance" around us to stretch his legs.  He didn't bother to investigate the 7-foot high snow bank next to the car but left a "yellow snow" tattoo to commemorate the occasion.  The kids were equally as antsy to begin playing and before long I was completely tangled up with a dog leash and sled tow-rope while trying to keep my footing on the icy road.  Are we having fun yet?

All this time Leila is standing in the back of the SUV, pacing back and forth and giving me her combo bark/whine/protest.  Apparently she was agitated that she was separated from Bodie, but not mad enough to actually jump down and join him.  I tried pulling on her leash to lead her to the edge of the car and she put the brakes on in a way that only a terrified 60-pound puppy can do.  Suddenly Bodie leaps back up into the SUV, his big wet feet getting blobs of dirty snow all over the clean clothes pile.  I seemed to be moving backwards in my attempt to unload the car of all things dog!  The kids are about to explode with anticipation of heading across the street to try out the sleds, so my husband shoos them over and they take off like a shot.  Seeing them run off, Bodie once again leaps from the car in an attempt to follow them.  I tell my husband, "Take Bodie over, I'll get Leila out and be there in a minute."

The "minute" turned into twenty of them.

No matter what I did, Leila was not going to get out of the SUV.  Little Miss Dainty apparently had zero inclination of getting her feet cold and wet.  I tried tugging on her leash, which only made her dig in harder.  I tried coaxing her with a biscuit which she sniffed at but only stretched her neck over, keeping her feet firmly planted in the back of the cargo section.  I tried opening the side door of the car and folding the seat down to have her come out that way....no luck.  I even tried crawling in and grabbing her in a fireman's carry hold, to which she responded with an artistic back-bend and wriggle technique to get away from me.  By now she was shivering with terror so I sat down next to her and tried to calm both of us down.  I could only envision the steam that would spout from my husband's ears when he learned that we drove all the way up here and Leila would not get out of the vehicle on any account.  Just then I saw my husband and Bodie walking back to the car.  I started to panic.  I tried reasoning with Leila (why I thought this would work is beyond me but I was desperate at this point!), digging out more biscuits, even trying a piece of string cheese I dug from the bottom of the cooler.  No dice.  My husband and Bodieso's that were about to come flying my way.  "I'm sorry!" I started before he could say anything, almost in tears by this point.  "I've tried everything but she won't get out of the car!  I don't know what else to do!"

Leila took one look at Bodie and flew out of the back of the SUV to his side.

"So, what's the problem?" my husband said, clearly amused.  I was speechless.  I thought of a million witty retorts to throw at him but they all paled next to my first reaction: get the hell out of the car and shut the hatch before the bitch jumps back in!!!

We finally got both dogs and kids to the clearing in the snow and to my delight (and total relief!) the dogs had a blast!  We dropped the leashes so they could run free since we were alone (but me, always the cautious one, kept the leashes dragging behind them in case I needed to make a leaping grab to catch on of them) and the two of them ran, leaped and dug in the snow like it was their own personal playground.  Leila ate some, found it interesting, and sampled it in various locations.  Bodie took the time to mark several spots with his signature yellow, which made me laugh.  They chased the kids, rolled around, and completely wore themselves out.

When it was time to go, I had a horrible idea that now Leila would probably not get back into the truck, just to make me crazy.  But no, they both flew up into the cargo area, their backsides covered in frozen "dingleberries" which were luckily just water.  We hadn't even put the SUV into "drive" yet and both dogs were laying down, exhausted.  Mid-way home I glanced back and saw my eight-year old had put down the center seat and was lying down with his head in the cargo area, Leila asleep with her chin resting on his head.  A big pile of tired, happy campers.

So Leila could not deny she had a good time in the snow.  Hopefully in the future, when we go on another new adventure, she will trust me, do what I say and have another great time, you think?

Yeah, me neither.



That's What Happens When You Feed Them

On one of our daily walks last week, I passed by a woman walking her retriever-mix dog who was about the same size as my pups.  We chatted for a few minutes while her dog wagged its tail and inspected my two, who were cowering in fear behind my legs.  I mentioned to her that after all the rain we have been having recently, it was nice to get out in the sunshine so my two could burn off some puppy energy.  She looked at me strangely and asked how old they were.  When I told her they were seven months old, she looked at me with equal parts horror and great amusement.  "On my" she said.  "They are going to be BIG!"  Her dog, as it turns out, was almost two years old and currently seeing eye-to-eye with Bodie and Leila.  Or, more correctly, would have been seeing eye-to-eye with them if they bothered to peek out from behind me and stopped trying to flee.  Yeah, we're still working on that.

But it got me to thinking, just how big have these two gotten, anyway?  I see them every day so they look the same to me.  When my husband comes home from a trip away for a few days, he swears they are taller than when he left.  It isn't until I go through some old photos that I hear myself saying "Look how small and cuddly they were!"  To be fair, they are still quite cuddly, but the "small" part might be debatable.  Especially when I am picking up dog poop in the back yard....ain't nothing small about that!

Before Bodie and Leila came to live with us, I bought a stuffed Bernese Mountain Dog toy online that my kids named "Bernie".  (the name tag on the toy said its name was "Trevor"....who the heck names a dog "Trevor"?)  The first thing I wanted to do was take a photo with Bodie and Leila next to Bernie for comparison's sake.  That proved to be a hilarious task in itself, trying to get two wiggly puppies to sit still long enough for me to snap a photo.  Back then they had not learned the art of the "stay put and you'll get a treat" ploy that they fall for so easily nowadays.  But back then, there was not a great difference in size between the two of them and Bernie.  Today, one has to look closely to even see Bernie at all....it's like a canine version of "Where's Waldo?"  I took their latest group shot yesterday and marvel at how tall and majestic they have become in such a short time.  Where did those roly-poly fluff balls from September go?

I'm sure that by this time next year I'll be looking at yesterday's photo and saying "Remember when they were eight months old and we thought they were sooooo big then?"

Stay tuned.....




ages in photos (in order): 10 1/2 weeks, 11 1/2 weeks, 3 1/2 months, 4 1/2 months, 6 1/2 months, 7 months, 8 months