The Boys Being Cute

Wow! It's been longer than I thought since my last post... Sorry about that. I worked 10-7:30 last week and it totally wore me out!!! My manager doesn't give out the next week's schedule until the weekend before so it makes planning things difficult. For example, I still don't have my schedule for the upcoming week so I have no idea how many hours I'll be working or on which days. It's more than a little frustrating. But I digress. This is supposed to be a cute post, dammit! So here goes.*

First, we have Funk. Many mornings when I wake up, I see a big, black puppy laying in his bed. Notice I said laying, not sleeping. Funk's bed is on my side of the bed and when he thinks I'm awake but isn't sure I'm going to get all the way up, he just wags his tail. He doesn't commit to actually getting out of his bed until he's sure I'm really, truly going to get up (and pet him). One morning I teased him by whispering to test his commitment to the stay-down and he didn't disappoint:

He's so cute I can barely stand it! And even though Linguini is generally a butthead he, too, has a cute habit that I caught on film. Those of you that have visited Casa de Mac may have noticed that our doors all look like crap. But our bathroom door is especially sad, and for some reason the previous owners shortened it so the gap between the bottom of the door and the floor is abnormally large. (Not creepy Peeping Tom large but larger than normal.) Every night, Linguini likes to thrust his paw through the gap and try and nab my feet. I think he plays the game with Robert, too, but he really likes socks and Robert rarely wears socks so my feet are way more tempting. :o) It is TOO CUTE to see the little pink-padded paw reach out and try to grab my toes, I love it! My nighttime routine has gotten a bit longer to include ample play time but since Gweenz doesn't have much that he seems to enjoy with his people, I will play as long as he wants. (If he gets a good grip on my sock, I'll slip it down to about mid-foot and let him pull it off. He still likes to play after he conquers the sock but he definitely doesn't play as long with bare feet.)

* Clearly, I suffer from VVS. I'll try to work on that in the future.

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!)

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.

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!

Happy New Year!

Funk and Quigs rang in the new year in style. :o) I guess Robert's and my hard-partying night of fondue and movies just wore these guys out!

Our Christmases

Remember when Robert bought me a super awesome camera for my birthday? Me, too. Unfortunately, the box didn't come with an improved desire or ability to take photos so I have no photos of either the Kimball or McCauley Christmas celebrations. (The post's title is a bit of a misnomer... Sorry.) I'm pretty much just SOL on the McCauley photos but Melanie took oodles of photos on Christmas Eve so once I get those bad boys from her I'll put'em up. In the meantime, peruse the few photos I did take. (Apparently, something about dogs triggers my very weak photo-taking gene!)

Robert did a beautiful job wrapping my gifts:


I sported some nifty holiday footwear:


My mom worked VERY hard to get Quigley interested in his bully stick gift:


It didn't take as much to get the dogs interested in the Skineez skunk:


Quigley went crazy on that skunk's ass!


All that playing tuckered the pups out pretty quickly:


Quigley eventually retired to his new Snoopy bed. You know I'm a sucker for Snoopy!


To be continued...

Our Christmas Card to You

This year, Robert and I opted not to mail out a Christmas card. Of course, once all of your beautiful cards started arriving I felt like a huge ass. So, in the spirit of card giving, I whipped up a little holiday message for you all:

Love,
Lauren, Robert, Garfunkel (and Quigley!)

Hmm...

Does there come a point when your dog is too comfortable in the house? Not for me!

Dog Territories

Quigley has been at our place a little bit more often the past few weeks so I, of course, have been a bit snap-happy. (We like to have Q over for play time when the weather's too wet to visit the park. We also just like having two dogs running around the house so it's nice that my parents are willing to loan Quigs out to us!)

Here's a lovely photo of my fajita being double-teamed by the Dog Vultures:



A few nights ago I was the meat in a puppy sandwich on the couch. I had Quigley on my right:

And Funk on my left:



That same night, Robert had some work to do from home. He was having a hard time concentrating in the living room so he went off to work in the bedroom. But he didn't get too far from his fuzzy shadows:


But! Quigley better watch out - there's a new puppy in town lookin' to infringe on his territory. When we brought Garfunkel with us to the McCauleys' for a recent party to celebrate Carmen's birthday, Garfunkel got along smashingly with John (Robert's cousin) and Lali (John's fiancee)'s little chihuahua mix, Rocky.



I think Quigs is still #1 in Funk's book but it's nice to know he's capable of having more than one friend.

Funk Got Skunked!

This post is a sort of an addendum to the Hanson post because, unfortunately for us, Garfunkel tangled with the black-and-white demon on the same night. Actually, I blame Hanson; Funk got skunked literally only 5 minutes before Robert walked in my parents' door to pick him up. Had Hanson had only ONE opening act and not TWO, Robert and I would have been home in time to grab him before the skunk ever appeared. Just sayin'.

But, as luck would have it, Hanson did have two opening acts and Garfunkel was able to get himself good and sprayed right before Robert arrived. Why wasn't I with him, you ask? Well, it was about 12:30 or so by the time we made it back from the city and we were in separate cars so I headed home to get a jump on the showering, tooth brushing, lunch making, etc. I was in the midst of doing just that when Robert came running into the house reeking of skunk and telling me that Funk had been sprayed. I immediately hopped on the Web to look up stink remedies and Robert changed into something grubby before heading out to the store to procure all the goodies. Fast-forward to 3 AM and Garfunkel had been bathed, scrubbed, soaked and rubbed too many times to count with a hydrogen peroxide/baking soda/soap concoction as well as his regular dog shampoo. Robert did the bulk of the washing; I came in at the end to do a final inspection and some touch-ups. After finally deciding we'd done the best we could, we headed home and stumbled into bed at 4:30. Robert went to work at his usual time, poor guy; I didn't have to be on campus until 11 so I got a couple more hours sleep. It was just so nice that Garfunkel decided to christen himself in skunk funk on the one night we were out late... and not on, y'know, one of those pesky nights in the 4 months prior when only one of us had to wake up early. Excellent timing.

The BEST part of the whole thing is that Funk got sprayed right in the face. Yay. In fact, according to my Robert, Funk actually had a white, foamy goatee of skunk stink. His muzzle and chest smelled so strongly that I think it singed our nose hairs, I'm not joking. It was awful!!! And even though my parents heard the rustling and so never let Funk in their house after he was sprayed, the incident occurred so close to their house that the entire thing just stunk. It was bad. Luckily, Quigley did his business and then ran back into my parents' house so he avoided being hit. Garfunkel, on the other hand, decided that messing around with a big, fluffy, stinky black-and-white 'cat' would be a lot of fun. I really, really, really hope Garfunkel is smart enough to realize that those kinds of 'kitties' are no fun at all and that he stays away from them in the future!!! (Just as an aside, my childhood dog, Ziggy, lived his entire life outside in our backyard and NEVER got sprayed by a skunk. Ever. He chased raccoons from time to time but never got bitten, scratched or sprayed by any of the various wildlife trolling around the BART tracks behind my parents' yard. He was either incredibly lucky, incredibly intelligent or a little bit of both.)

It is now about three weeks post-skunk'd Funk and while my parents will dispute me on this, both Robert and I think - nay, we KNOW - he still carries some residual funk. (His breath was the WORST for the first few days after he got sprayed but thankfully that died down more quickly than the fur stink did.) I did a bit more research on the topic the day following the incident and Robert wound up buying some Tecnu and giving Funk another rubdown and bath that night. That actually seemed to help a lot. I managed to salvage Robert's clothes and all but one of the towels used to wash Funk down after several soakings and washings in the hydrogen peroxide mix. Garfunkel's collar took the brunt of the hit, I think, and was subsequently the hardest item to de-skunk. I soaked it. I washed it. I rubbed it down with Tecnu. I soaked it again. I washed it some more. I scrubbed it with even more Tecnu. Finally, I decided to rub some Goo Gone on it and that seemed to do the trick. Something about the orange oil... I don't know and I don't care. I'm just glad Funk doesn't have to wear his birthday collar with the Christmas ornament tag anymore! He got his hot dog collar back just a couple days ago. :o)

Let me just reiterate that I really, really, really hope Garfunkel has learned NEVER to do this again. Ever.

What, Oh, What Should Garfunkel Be?

You all did so well with my last poll (thank you to all who voted! It makes me happy to see people reading and participating in the blog), I need your input on one more thing. Generally, I am not really into froo froo get-ups for animals but I have recently stumbled upon two items that I just love and with which I want to torment Garfunkel. And here they are:

(I know, I said I stumbled upon two things I like and I'm showing you three options. The banana and the tree outfit are my top two contenders; I thought I'd throw in the Santa stuff in case it jumps out at someone else. It would be cute, too.)

Now, they all cost the same amount so that's not a deciding factor. I like the banana costume because it's adorable, would look fabulous against the Funk's black fur and it would be hard for him to take off. :o) I like the tree ensemble because it's like nothing I've seen before, I lurv Christmas stuff and he could potentially wear it more than the Halloween costume (Christmas is a season - he could wear it on several days! And don't let the fact that the tree hat-wearing dogs look miserable color your opinion, please...). However, it would be much easier for Garfunkel to rip off his cuffs and knock off his hat than it would be for him to wriggle out of a giant banana. So I'm torn. This is where YOU come in.

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