What's Worse Than a Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day? This.

*****Okay, this is what I like to call a "speed bump entry" - I can't ever get myself to really finish it but I don't write anything else because I'm convinced I'll finish the post soon and don't want to post things out of order. :-/ I really should know Future Lauren better than that by now. So, the first 2 paragraphs are back from 11/9/14 and then I'm just going to jump into a quicker synopsis. When you see what the post is about, you'll understand why it's taken so long.*****

Remember back when I was a young'un and I thought this was the definition of a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad experience? Ha! Memories. They make me laugh. Let's fast forward from that past about 4 years but rewind this week about 5 days to arrive at a TRULY terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. Days. Oh, the hell with it - week.

Tuesday started normally enough: Robert and I went to an OB appointment and had the second part of my fetal echocardiogram. (The first part showed everything to be on the up-and-up but the doctor only got about 80% of the views he wanted - because Ms. Baby was being uncooperative - and he wanted to make sure he saw everything.) I'd been having some mild cramping and even though that's not necessarily a worrisome thing, I asked the doctor while at the ultrasound and she confirmed that without other symptoms, it was normal. So, I went about my day and not much of note happened. Jenna hadn't been feeling herself the previous few days - she was lethargic and had very little appetite and just seemed to be "off." I'd taken her in to the clinic last week to check it out and Dr. K thought Jenna had bronchitis so

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And that's as far as I got, folks. Dr. K prescribed Jenna a bronchodilator and Jenna was only on it a few days when things started going downhill. By the time we finished dinner on Tuesday night, it was clear that Jenna's breathing was just too labored and I was concerned. So, Robert and I drove her to Ohlone Emergency and had her looked at. They put her on oxygen because her level was low but otherwise they found nothing urgently wrong. Jenna didn't have aspiration pneumonia and the doctor had given her an injectable form of the bronchodilator she was already on so once Jenna's O2 level was up to 92, the doctor said she felt comfortable letting us take Jenna home (because I'm a tech and would know what to watch for). The doctor did recommend a humidifier and some coupage treatment overnight so, since we don't have a humidifier, we had Jenna hang out in the bathroom with the shower running for a while and then I did the coupage (basically, you just use cupped hands and firm pats on the chest to help dislodge any mucus).

I'm not sure at this point what time Robert and I finally went to bed or even when I woke up but at some point in the early morning hours, I woke up with excruciating pain on my left side. I was instantly nauseated and couldn't sit or lie comfortably at all. I was reluctant to go to the ER but once I started spotting, I had no choice so off to Washington Hospital we went. This part I can definitely truncate: I was admitted to Labor and Delivery right away and it was decided that I was suffering from kidney stones. I had ultrasounds performed on both the baby and my kidneys, all of which looked good, and was given a little over 1500mL of fluids while I was there (about 8 hours or so). At an acceptable hour later in the morning (somewhere between maybe 8 and 10, I think), Robert texted my dad to have him run over to our place and check on the fur kids. After a bit my dad texted back, essentially saying that Garfunkel hadn't ruptured himself and something about not moving Jenna but we figured that just meant she wasn't feeling well and up to moving around much so he'd just left her to hang out. As it turned out, we did not get my dad's entire message and that turned out to be a weirdly fortuitous thing.

It's appropriate to inform people of your hospital stay via Instagram, right?

When I was finally discharged from the hospital (around 12 or 1ish), Robert and I headed straight home to check on the babies. I walked into the door first and immediately looked for Jenna. I saw her lying on the carpet just inside our bedroom and I knew instantly that she had died overnight. I dropped all that I was holding and crumpled on the floor next to her, sobbing "she's dead!" hysterically until Robert rushed over and squeezed me. This is where the weirdly fortuitous incomplete text comes in; turns out, when my dad stopped by to check on the animals, Jenna was already dead. (I feel just terrible that I wound up making the man find a dead dog. Ugh.) He'd included this bit of information in his text to us (hence the mention of not moving her) but we didn't get that part and I'm so, so glad. As absolutely heartbreaking as it was to come home and find her, it would've been excruciating to know she was dead and then have to hang out at the hospital for who knows how long. I had already let my clinic know I was going to be bringing Jenna in for an exam so I had to call and give them the news. Everyone just loved Jenna and was very sorry, of course. I also told them about my unexpected trip to the ER for myself and that, therefore, Robert would be bringing Jenna's body in later that day.

Robert wound up bringing Linguini in, as well, because in and around my sobbing, he noticed that there were a couple of piles of bloody vomit in the house, as well as the remnants of a chewed ribbon. So off my three men went while I sat at home, continuing to cry, and waited to hear if Linguini was going to need surgery. I don't think I gave my coworkers the heads-up that Gweenz was on his way in and that was unkind. I talk about how horrible he is all the time but I still should've prepared them! And told them they could do whatever they needed to in order to restrain his furry little butt. As it turned out, one of the girls I work with is a crazy cat whisperer and they were able to get x-rays on Linguini without even sedation! He did pee all over them, of course, but all in all that was a successful visit for Shitty Kitty. And he hadn't ingested any of the ribbon after all so he got to come home. Thank goodness.

I had never lost a dog before - Ziggy was living with my sister's dad when he died and while I was sad when I heard the news, I hadn't been with him for several years and I was happy he died living in a place where he was very happy. So Jenna's passing just knocked me down and continues to do so here and there when I see her ashes or have to write a blog post about her leaving us. Even though I knew she wasn't doing well at all - she'd had some bloodwork done just prior to her bronchitis diagnosis and her values were terrible - I just kept thinking we could squeak out a little more time. Up until the day before she died, she still loved walks and car rides and definitely loves. She just seemed to go downhill so fast; Dr. K suspects that, in the end, she had a stroke or heart attack and went quickly. Still, it breaks my heart and I feel guilty that she was home alone when she died. The logical part of my brain understands that she would've died whether or not she'd stayed at the hospital and so her being at home, a place she knew and where she was happy, was a good thing. But the emotional part of my brain just can't get over the fact that she was alone for hours before she died, when she was still alone.

Robert is very understanding of my residual mini-breakdowns here and there, (no doubt exacerbated by pregnancy hormones). He just loved Jenna to bits, too, and was deeply affected and saddened by her passing; even my coworkers said he just looked terribly heartbroken when he brought her body in. Jenna touched everyone she met, pretty much - the entire hospital staff, my parents, my aunt, even one complex 'regular' who saw Jenna and Funk on walks. I'm sure it seems silly to some people that we became so attached in just 3 months but we absolutely did. We were already so accustomed to the sound of her pattering around the house, her snoring, and her happy dance when she was really excited for food that the first couple of weeks after her passing were really tough. Still, I would foster her again in a heartbeat, no question. She was my best baby girl.

Last photo of the entire family (October).

Begging for chicken!

The very last photo of my baby girl. I was eating lunch at work and she was begging for peanut butter sandwich crusts.

I went kinda goon after she died and took photos of everything she had left behind...

including the spot where she went to the bathroom right at the bottom of our stairs.

 

Maria and Josh sent us the sweetest condolence bouquet.

Even though she was only with us a short while, Jenna was a member of the family and so has a spot in our ornament family timeline.

One of my Christmas gifts - Robert had a painting made of Jenna's final photo.

The likeness is wonderful! I love it. :-)

Foster Failure

Though I will say right off the bat that I never really expected to be a success in this particular case. :-)

This is Jenna. Jenna has been a patient at the clinic for roughly the same amount of time as I've worked there. She's an 8 1/2-year-old King Charles Cavalier with a grade 3 heart murmur who is currently in stage 3 kidney failure. Her previous owner, Voldemort (as in She Who Shall Not Be Named because she's a terrible person!), had a trade services agreement with the clinic, meaning that we gave her free vet care and she gave us free advertising in the magazine for which she worked. That agreement was made, of course, prior to Jenna's deterioration of health so, in the end, Voldemort ended up with a pretty sweet deal. In the last month of her contract, Voldemort had to bring Jenna in every other day to receive subcutaneous fluids; she had to pay for the fluids but not the actual tech time, which saved Voldy about $25 per visit. Voldemort's contract with the clinic expired in mid-August and the clinic manager chose not to renew it. Literally three days after Voldemort was informed of this, she decided Jenna was on death's doorstep and needed to be euthanized. 

Unfortunately for Voldy and fortunately for Jenna, the latter had been coming in to the clinic so frequently that all of us knew she wasn't ready to go. Jenna made a point of visiting the reception staff each time she came in for her visit, and then she'd head to the back without any prompting. When we'd let her in the treatment area, she'd trot around and say hi to all the techs and then head toward the table where she received her fluids. Jenna LOVES people but she was my girlfriend and everyone knew it; anytime Jenna came for fluids, everyone knew I'd do it because Jenna was a favorite of mine. She'd give me kisses after her treatments and I'd give her liver treats. We had a relationship. :-) So when the staff heard Voldemort planned to put Jenna down, we were all up in arms. We talked to the doctor about Jenna and he agreed to talk to Voldemort about surrendering Jenna to the hospital. Turned out Voldy wasn't interested in surrendering Jenna, she absolutely wanted her put to sleep. We all talked about this attitude in the back and came to the conclusion that, as an owner, if a doctor agrees to put your animal down, your belief in her poor health is validated and you, therefore, are not a bad person. If, on the other hand, the doctor wants you to give your pet to someone else, that means your animal isn't beyond saving and you are giving up on her. It really took a lot of persuading but the doctor finally convinced Voldemort to let Jenna go and she officially became the hospital dog. 

I think the doctor and the manager (his wife) were so easily persuaded to save Jenna because they believed I was going to adopt Jenna. And, believe me, I really wanted to! And I talked to Robert about it at length. Unfortunately, Jenna's care is quite costly and with the baby coming and the adoption in the queue, caring for a special needs dog wasn't the best idea. So the hospital was stuck with Jenna. There were several inquiries from clients interested in her but once they learned of her special needs, each one declined. Understandable, of course, because so did I but it was still sad. Jenna is an AWESOME dog - she loves people, car rides, and walks and is not fazed by loud noises, cats, dogs, children, or anything else. Aside from her medical needs, Jenna is the most low-maintenance dog you'll ever meet. But since no one was rushing to adopt her, Jenna had nowhere to go. Which, of course, meant I took her home the first night. 

Another tech took Jenna home several times in the beginning but she has two small children and a very active lifestyle and it was tougher for her to keep Jenna. Robert and I, as you know, are not social butterflies so slowly I became the Foster Lady and I was tickled pink. Robert fell for Jenna soon after meeting her, as I knew he would; it wasn't long at all before he decided she needed a new bed, new bowls, and a new collar. It's been 8 weeks now and Jenna is definitely a McCauley! It's actually a pretty sweet deal - I get to keep her but since I haven't officially adopted her, the clinic pays for her prescription food, three different medications, and her fluids/dripsets/needles. The manager has OK'd this arrangement for as long as I work there so I couldn't be happier!! I honestly don't know if that will change when I'm on maternity leave but I'm really hoping not.

We took Jenna to the dog park but she mostly just wanted to hang with people.

Linguini was VERY unhappy with Jenna's presence when she first arrived but he's slowly gotten used to her, in part because he's figured out she doesn't move much so she's not going to come at him. He no longer hisses at her and they can both be in the same room together. Funk was a little jealous at first but it wasn't as bad as I was expecting and now he's completely indifferent to her. Except when Robert or I get home from work - Funk definitely wants to be the first to say hello and is a little dramatic when Jenna trots up to say hi, too. I, of course, have to give Jenna all of her treatments and I will admit it's not super fun. She won't eat pill pockets so I literally have to shove the pills down her throat and syringe-feed her some water to make her swallow. And this happens twice a day. Jenna has also decided she's tired of being poked every other day and so doesn't take her fluids as uncomplainingly as she used to. But she's just a doll and I love her to bits. My parents like her, too, (a lot!) and have been super awesome about letting Jenna hang at their house when Funk does. Things have been going as well as could be expected and I'm just so happy about that.

She did pretty much immediately decide Funk's bed was her new bed and Funk is too much a gentleman to kick her out.

Jenna's health is the elephant in the room, though, and it's already decreased some in just the short amount of time she's been with us. Her kidney failure is a little tougher to manage given her heart issues so she gets bloodwork done every so often to check-up on things. (Another expense I'm extremely grateful the clinic covers.) The doctors estimate she has less than 12 months to be with us and while that does make me terribly sad to think about, I'm just so happy she's getting to experience love and cuddles and fun that fostering her is absolutely worth the upcoming heartache. And, best of all, when it is her time to go, I'll know with all my heart that everything was done for her and she wasn't just discarded as an inconvenience.

Jenna in her old bed and with all her hair.

Jenna in her NEW bed with her sassy new 'do.

Voldemort didn't keep up with Jenna's grooming so she was covered in mats. We shaved her down at work and then Robert and I took her to PetSmart to smooth out the cut and bathe her. She kinda looks like a beagle but you can tell she loves having less hair!

Of course, she wasn't thrilled with it right away... It took a little getting used to.

This is Jenna in the new bed we bought for Funk to replace the bed Jenna overtook. He sleeps on the couch.

Jenna is a born beggar and therefore fits in seamlessly with the boys.

The other tech that watched Jenna bought her a fabulous Halloween ensemble! Unfortunately, J is just a little too plump for a perfect fit so it had to be returned. I don't think she misses it.

Chicken Cheese Twists

As I mentioned in the previous post, the boys and I spent Easter alone. Which I honestly didn't mind because Easter is not a big holiday for me at all. (As any of my childhood/high school friends can attest, the Kimball house was never short on supply of candies so, really, the Easter Bunny had to pull out the big guns to get me something I didn't already have access to!) But I felt like there should be something special for my guys, so I tried out a new dog biscuit recipe. Funk absolutely loves them so I thought I'd pass it along.

Ingredients:
2 Cups of Whole Wheat Flour
1/4 Cup of Cornmeal
2 Tablespoons of Chicken Baby Food
1 Large Egg
3/4 Cup of Fat Free Milk
1/2 Cup of Parmesan Cheese

Directions:
Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Line ungreased cookie sheet with parchment paper. In a large bowl, combine flour, cornmeal, baby food, egg and milk. Mix well. If necessary, knead the dough with your hands. Dough will be slightly sticky. Finally, mix in half of the Parmesan cheese.

Next, using your hands, roll small pieces of dough into logs. (I found coating my palms with butter made a huge difference!) If possible, make all of the logs the same size. (As you can see from the photo above, I made most of mine the same size but threw in a few larger ones just for kicks. I baked them separately, of course, but they turned out just as well.) Take two logs and twist them together. Roll in left-over Parmesan cheese and place on parchment paper. Bake for 23 to 30 minutes. Cool completely. 

Note: Store in an airtight container for up to two weeks, then freeze. I know from experience that homemade dog treats will mildew if you look at them crooked so keep an eye on'em!

Garfunkel's First Equine Encounter

I saw this video a couple of days ago and waffled on whether or not to share (it's not the most substantial thing, after all) but I was inspired to post it after taking Funk on his walk this morning... because he saw his first horse! We were walking the trail around Quarry Lakes and a man was just taking his horse out for a Sunday morning ride. Garfunkel went absolutely bonkers, whining and straining to get a closer look. So the man was very kind and turned his horse around so Funk could check him out a bit better. I was proud that Garfunkel didn't completely freak out and run toward the horse but I do wish he'd been a little calmer - he basically whined like a maniac while taking a few sniffs and then flopped down on the ground to whine some more. I wish he'd been as mellow as this little guy:

Radar's Visit

Oh my goodness! I'd completely forgotten about this post. I started it back on August 31st, right after it happened so it's a wee bit old. Sorry!

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You guys already know how in-love I am with Radar, the only dog not adopted out after the end of last year. Well, this past weekend Foothill experienced a power outage due to some construction work being done on campus. That meant that while a backup generator would supply (some) air conditioning to the animals living in our lab, poor Radar would be at the mercy of the two tiny windows in the dog barn. So, of course, I worked my magic and got Robert to agree to let me bring Radar home for the weekend.

Unfortunately, the visit got off to a bit of a bumpy start; I did a poor job introducing Radar to Garfunkel and right off the bat there was a lot of barking and growling. Then there was some lunging. Now, that is all my completely my fault because I didn't do a proper, graduated introduction. That was little comfort to Robert, however, who was pretty adamant that things were not going to work out and that we needed to take Radar back to Foothill ASAP. I really didn't want to admit defeat, however, and after much pleading and cajoling I got Robert to agree to let us take Radar and Garfunkel for a long walk around the complex to get better acquainted. MUCH to my relief, my plan seemed to work - the boys started off the walk completely disinterested in one another (but at least they weren't fighting!) and by the end of the 75-minute walk they were sniffing each other and playing nicely. We brought the boys into the house and let them play the patio a bit and they continued to do well. Robert was persuaded to let Radar spend the night and Radar continued to impress. Luckily, we still had Garfunkel's old crate from when he was a puppy (and it is huuuuge so Radar fit just fine) and Radar went in and slept through the night with no complaints. In fact, he did so well that he was allowed to stay the entire weekend! :o) Radar had no accidents in the house, was happy to hang on the couch or go for walks with Funk and he didn't chew up a single thing. He hit a bit of a speed bump when we tried to walk him around Lake Elizabeth; Radar has lived his whole life in a kennel and gets verrrrrry excited at the sight of other dogs. If you don't know his temperament, he can seem a little intimidating when he starts shrieking at other dogs so walks around the neighborhood were made instead and he did A-OK on those. I was absolutely tickled pink that the boys wound up getting along so well and that Radar had a chance to get away from his run and spend some time in a real home. It goes without saying that I was in tears when I had to take him back to school at the end of the weekend.

Radar is, unfortunately, still with us at Foothill. He's being clicker-trained by one of the seniors and all of us are just amazed at how far he has come. He is SUCH a good boy - he loves people, dogs, and playing and if I had the space I would've snapped him up two seconds after he got to school. He is definitely a high-energy dog but he loves to please his people so if you know anyone who might be interested, PLEASE think of Radar. He would be a wonderful addition to anyone's home!!!





(Where was Linguini during all of this, you ask? Well, while Radar was very intrigued by Linguini, having never seen any kitties before, Gweenz was less than enthused at Radar's arrival. He spent the entire weekend (save nights when he was moved to the office) mewling in our bedroom. He was the only one in the house happy to see Radar's behind go through the front door!)

PUPPIES!!!!!

One of the dogs Foothill selected for our program this year is Julia, a sweet little girl whose background is unknown. She is a little dog, less than 20 pounds, and her age is estimated to be around 5 years. She had definitely already had at least one litter, as one of our other pups this year is one of her puppies (he's about 7 months old now). Unbeknownst to the instructors when they picked her out, however, was that Julia was already pregnant with another litter!

Dr. Peter took an ultrasound on October 26th and counted at least 5 puppies - and they were coming soon. So my friend Amy, who has experience, volunteered to take Julia home and help her whelp. The puppies were born late Halloween evening with a surprise sixth puppy coming a little more than an hour after number five, in the wee hours of November 1st.

I had never seen a newborn puppy - the youngest puppy I'd seen was about 6 weeks old and that was when we saw Funk at his adoption event. So Amy let me come over on the 2nd and check'em all out. I was in HEAVEN!!! You'll see it in the photos - my excitement could not be contained! :o) I have seen them again since, on the 8th, and those pictures are at the end of the slide show. The puppies just opened their eyes for the first time on Saturday so you know I'm gonna have to head back over and love on them some more. They are just as adorable and soft and wonderful as I'd imagined. Oh, and while the puppies will eventually make their way to stay at Foothill (until they find their forever homes), Julia has found her home with Amy and Jeff and is now named Koukla. I am SO happy for her! She's a super huge love bug and couldn't have found a better place to be pampered. YAY!!!

Laser Pointers: Not Just For Kitties

I tried playing with Linguini the other night while Garfunkel was resting. I don't think Linguini got much out of it.

Funk's Bro, Jasper

Remember this guy?

He's been returned to Pound Puppy Rescue because his "family can no longer keep him." And WHY NOT, Jasper's family? Ugh. Y'know, these kinds of things really frost my cookies. I mean, I understand that sometimes people find themselves in circumstances they didn't anticipate and I would, of course, rather have an animal returned to a rescue than risk being neglected or completely abandoned but pets are members of your family. People should understand before adopting that pets live many years and are a BIG responsibility - they should not be viewed as expendable items. I realize not everyone is as goo-goo for animals as I am but it really irks me when people don't realize just how affected animals are by such huge life changes. It's a big deal. I wouldn't give Garfunkel up for anything and I hope that Jasper's next home really IS his forever home.

If you know anyone who's interested:

CLICK HERE to go to Jasper's Petfinder page

Wrestling: Funk vs. Gweenz

Linguini and Garfunkel have definitely been getting along better since my last post. They're not BFF or anything but they have gotten to the point where they more than tolerate each other - sometimes, they even play together. Which is nice on those nights I'd rather eat my dinner than throw the one-legged hippo 4,000 times. :o) I caught them in the act the other day and started snapping away. Here's a little taste of Funk vs. Gweenz: The Smackdown.

There was no clear victor.




And as another example of their growing togetherness, here's a picture I took when someone thought I was taking too long getting his dinner ready. He's very lucky Funk's a good sharer.

I Am a Bad Dog Parent

I came across this article on Total Dog Magazine's site today (although it was originally published in April) and it made me ashamed, even sitting alone on my couch. Observe:

Revealed: The 5 Most Dangerous Dogs In The World!

Undoubtedly it’s going to be controversial. Without fear of chicken counting, it will receive a lot of traffic. And without any element of doubt, it might cause ripples but it needs to be out there, for the public to know. We’ve decided to publicly name the five MOST dangerous dogs on the planet.

The Most Dangerous Dogs in the World

in reverse order:

5. Badly fed dog.
Badly fed dog is the animal who’s been fueled up with a diet fit for an Olympic weight lifter, but who only ever gets to expend about 20% of the calories he takes in. He’s got lots of energy and his mismatched diet can manifest in bouts of sudden energetic rampaging. Badly fed dog would ask you to consider; how you would feel spending your day in an office when every inch of your body is throbbing and twitching as you crave the opportunity to actually use up some of those excess calories. Badly fed dog would be happier and safer if his diet reflected his lifestyle.

4. Never had any friends dog.
Otherwise known as ‘totally under socialised dog’.
He was a little naughty when he was a puppy, so his owner decided he’d be better off being kept away from all other forms of animal life. He now spends his days obsessing over what it would be like to chase other dogs around and, by George, one of these days he’s gonna actually do it!
Never had any friends dog is going to present his owner with a lifetime of problems, he has no social skills and has never had a chance to learn natural interaction through the teachings of his own kind. He’ll meet new dogs and will be about as socially adept as a 45-year old virgin at a Playboy mansion party. He’s going to blow it. Big time.

3. Shouty.
Shouty is the dog who has spent most of his life shouting at folks or being shouted at himself. He sees people on his street, he shouts at them. In turn, his owner shouts at him. Shouty presumes being shouted at is a recognition of his excellent work. In fact, hearing his owner shouting in response to his own shouting encourages his assumption that they’re just as upset, anxious, nervous, angry as HE is about the audacity of other people/dogs/pigeons to walk past his window. Shouty is relentlessly encouraged and endorsed in his shouty behaviour and, a bit like no friends dog, shouty spends his days imaging how good it will be when he FINALLY gets his chance to get face to face with the objects of his ire.

2. House proud.
House proud dog is SO touchy about people coming to his digs unannounced, he’ll happily maim you for your insolence in trying to visit his abode without obtaining the correct visitation paperwork.
House proud dog does a line in dishing out injuries to posties, meter readers and delivery people. Fortunately for house proud dog, his owners absolutely REFUSE to believe he is capable of violence, so leave him completely unattended to dish out his own brand of justice to anyone brash enough to consider entering his domain.

1. Spoilt dog.
“That’s mine and these are mine, those are mine, I’m entitled to that, I believe that I saw that first, I lay claim to those, I own all of these, I’m the rightful proprietor of this…”
Welcome to the world of spoilt dog. Quite simply, he believes everything he wants, he can have. Woe betide anyone to tell him differently. His timid owners have never had the heart to let him know that in the human world, simply showing your teeth and growling doesn’t constitute a legal contract on the ownership of goods. They let him off and, worse, they let him keep his spoils, which he’ll gather up and place in his own corner of the world. Sadly, spoilt dog is, one day, going to meet someone who is unaware that he has previously laid claim to every possession on earth. Unfortunately, unlike spoilt dog’s owners, this person is going to have to find out the hard way just how deep spoilt dog’s sense of entitlement runs. Really hard luck if it happens to be a youngster, blissfully ignorant to the fact that the shiny ball on the floor is spoilt dog’s most prized possession (at that VERY moment). A few stitches and a spell in hospital ought to serve as a permanent reminder though.

[What? You didn't think there was a such a thing as a list of 'dangerous dog breeds' did you? Pffft.]





As far as Funk is concerned, number five is not a problem - little dude isn't overfed and we make sure he gets to burn off energy at the park or on a long walk at least once, sometimes twice, a day.

Number four? Eh, not really a problem, either. Is Funk as socialized as he could be? No. (Thank you, parvo quarantine. Bah!) But he understands how to interact with dogs he meets and is a well-liked guy at the park. He's no Andy Stitzer.

Number three is where things start to fuzz up. Now, Garfunkel is not a dog that is constantly yelled at - far from it. But when he settles into one of his whining jags, the only thing that will get him to stop (though not for long) is a nice, loud "FUNK!!!!!!!!!!!" That also gets his attention at the dog park when he's fixated on joining a pack of dogs already in some degree of altercation. That is a reflection of bad dog parenting, though, so I can't really fault Funk for that. We haven't properly taught him how to be quiet so that's our bad.

Number two is a definite red flag. As any of you who have come to our house know, Funk is protective of his people and his domain. I'm sure that is a result of deficient training to some extent but I swear he's just an anxious, stressful guy. German Shepherds are neurotic, protective by nature and while there are those who think any and every behavior can be trained away, I disagree. I really think it's just his personatliy. Could he react better to such situations? Absolutely. And that's where the fault lies with us. But I don't think we'd ever be able to get him to be 100% calm and happy with new people and/or situations. He's just too mental. (We also do not refuse to believe he's capable of violence and wouldn't let him have free reign so don't be afraid to come over!)

Number one is mostly a problem at the dog park. Garfunkel is most definitely spoiled but I think more in the hugs and love department; he certainly doesn't automatically get whatever he wants just to make him happy. No, no, no. But when Funk gets to the park he is under the delusion that when he's drinking from the fountain, the water is only for HIM! Other dogs no drinky! And if he's playing with a toy, it's only for HIM! Don't try and touch it! He has bought himself an early ticket home from the park on more than one occasion because he wasn't playing nicely with others. (I realize this sounds like it flies in the face of my argument for number four but this behavior is much more the exception than the rule. Still, it happens.)

I do still have the brochure for Bark Busters on my cork board. That's probably a good thing.

The Three Amigos

Well, sort of. Quigley and Linguini got off to a bit of a rocky start but by the end of the day everyone was okay sharing the couch. :o)

Caught in the act!

An Ear-Cleaning Olive Branch

Are Linguini and Garfunkel getting along better? Yes. Are they getting along WELL? No. Funk is still making his displeasure with the interloper known and it's beginning to worry me a teensy bit, if I'm completely honest. I don't know how to make Funk like Gweenz! And Funk's funk is a bummer. :o(

Here's a video of them during a rare moment of sharing the same couch cushion:

It's Linguini McCauley!

Yes, I have returned. I think it goes without saying that this quarter is kicking my ass and that is why there have been no posts but just in case you didn't quite pick up on that, THIS QUARTER IS KICKING MY ASS. Ugh. I have a big ol' stream of consciousness-type post in the pipeline but as a small step back into the blogosphere, here is a post on the newest member of the family: Linguini McCauley. And he's a cat. Yes, you read that correctly - a cat. I know, I know, I have never been a big cat person but I couldn't help it! He was abandoned and needed a home. I have a home. What could I do?

Here's the poop: My friend, Amy, interns at a clinic where, on April 1st, a box of 9 newborn kittens was dumped on the doorstep. Amy wound up fostering 2 of them and she brought them to class with her for a couple weeks to feed them on schedule. Here I am with Linguini when he's about 5 weeks old:

I told Robert all about the baby kitties, of course, and showed him some photos of them with Amy's dog, Rocko. Well, for some reason the photo of the kittehs with Rocko sent Robert into LaLaLand and the dude wanted to snatch himself a kitty! So, I jokingly told Amy that Robert wanted one, she was all excited about it at her birthday party (a later post) and voila! We became proud owners of a domestic shorthaired kitten of unknown origin*.

Rocko and Linguini

Robert is absolutely goo goo for Linguini, it's ridiculous. I know I have said this many times over the past couple of years but I had NO idea back in high school that Robert would turn out to be such a... well, pushover smoosh. I love Robert dearly and while it is of course nice to have a man who is unafraid to show his tender side, it's sometimes off-putting to see your husband refuse to wipe goop off a kitty's nose because "he's so small - I just don't want to hurt him!" And forget about discipline. If this cat is going to learn what is and is not okay, it's going to be from me and me alone!

But enough about that. Here are some fabulous photos of the little guy for you to "ooh" and "aah" over. Oh, and his name is Linguini because I love all things Ratatouille and, as you know, Robert and I have a thing for long pet names. ;o) We call him Gweenz for short.

Hangin' with Amy

Napping with his brother (now named Simon)

It took Robert 0.2 nanoseconds to decide he wanted the kitten during his trial home visit. (We had to make sure Funk wasn't going to eat him...)

On his way from his foster to his forever home

My parents are most definitely NOT cat people but Linguini was able to work his magic and charm them both. Niiiiiiice.

Pretty comfy on his first night as Casa de McCauley

Kisses

Watching some TV

Nibbling on Funk's ear

Little lap kitteh! :o)

Sleepytime friends

He has taken to sleeping in Funk's bed, something Funk does not appreciate. We're working on getting him to sleep on his own bed.

* A wonderful selling point to this whole affair - not that we really needed one - is that Amy's clinic is going to provide all of Linguini's kitty vaccines as well as neuter him for free! Woohoo!