"The Art of Racing in the Rain"

This week, I'm going to plug a book because I've read so many great ones over the past year.  The Art of Racing in the Rain by Garth Stein is my most recent read.  I simply could not put this book down!  What attracted me to it in the bookstore was the picture of a golden retriever on the front (and the comments from other authors on the back), but the book isn't about a golden retriever at all.  Enzo (the dog) is actually a mix of some sort (if I remember correctly) and the story is told through his point of view, which is hilarious!  This dog is so loyal and insightful that from the first few pages, I felt like I knew him personally.  It is brilliantly written and from beginning to end evokes emotion after emotion from its readers.  I laughed out loud, I cried, I got angry, I was happy... and then I laughed and cried some more.  Enzo takes you through his life, and in turn, his owner's life during those years and all the trials that come along with.  You're never left hanging, however, as seemingly every chapter includes a little life lesson... from the dog, of course.  That's where I learn most of my life lessons, don't you?

"The dogs were quiet today..."

... began the note from the dog walker this afternoon.  I was hoping it had more to do with the fact that we had a 30 minute play time over my lunch break... and less to do with, well, what actually happened.

The evening started off nice.  As per usual, they were excited to see me.  We hugged, danced, kissed, etc., etc.  I was able to enjoy my dinner in peace and catch the end of Ellen without interruption.  My plan was to then do a quick Valentine's Day card photo shoot, which actually went swimmingly.  But to bribe them into good and photo-worthy behavior, I had to bring out the chewies.  Then all hell broke loose.

Nugget just hoards his chewies, which infuriates Oscar.  He obviously doesn't see the point of saving the chewy until one is in the mood to enjoy it.  So he barks.  And he barks.  And he barks.  And barks. And barks, barks, barks, barks.  Soon, he pounces and then the battle begins.  Everyone is standing on two hind legs, mouths on throats, growling, squealing, barking, more growling, slamming to the ground, more growling.  Vicious, they are!  But when Nugget has had enough, Oscar takes to running laps.  He does this with the Wubba in tow, squeaking it loudly and incessantly at louder and shorter intervals.  He crashes into walls, knocks over barstools, skids across the tile on the 'magic carpet', tips the water bowl, jumps on and off the couch 12 times, jumps over Nugget (who is sleeping on the floor at this point), and finally comes to an abrupt halt next to me on the couch (seen below).  He's zonked in less than 2 minutes.

So that is what they were up to this afternoon... resting up for their second wind.  Just for me.

Dog 'Tudes **Updated**

 As  you'll see in Exhibit A, I stepped out of the shower this morning to find a freshly squeezed turd in the hallway.  Prime Suspect:  Oscar.  How do I know?  It smelled like Oscar!  He was kind enough to "help" clean up his mess... by eating the other turds.  How do I know?  Because one turd couldn't alone produce the awful aroma that overcame me.  I think I'll pass on Oscar smooches tonite.

In addition to Oscar's rebellion on outside defecation, Nugget decided he just flat out didn't want to go outside or potty at all this morning.  Fine.  Hold it until the dog walker comes at 3.  I didn't have time to mess with him this morning because I had planned to stop at Chick-Fil-A for my free spicy chicken sandwich (which sucked by the way) before work.  If he chooses to forego our morning potty walk, I'm fine with it because I know he'd sooner explode than ever go in the house.  Really though, what's with the 'tudes this morning?

In Exhibit B, we have a right hand.  My right hand.  It is bruised.  (Really, it is just hard to tell in this photo).  Inquiring minds may want to know how exactly I acquired this injury or any of the other 17 bruises about my body...  I will tell you.  It involves: Oscar, me, Golden who teaches bad habits, leash, Oscar's teeth, teeth missed leash, teeth met hand.  Nugget has an obnoxious habit of celebrating a good poop by taking his leash in his teeth and jumping around like a jack@$$ until we're both tangled 36 different ways.    B hates when Nugget does this!   It used to be cute. But I have to be honest, it's not as cute with 90lbs of dog on the other end.  Now Oscar, being the impressionable young lad that he is, often mimics Nugg's behaviors.  And while most of Nugg's antics aren't terribly annoying, the leash biting I can do without.  Of course Oscar thinks this is a cool thing to do and often tries (and fails) to do the same.  Poor doodle is still so uncoordinated with his long legs... he's lucky he can walk and breathe at the same time.  So Monday when I got home from work, Nugget, Oscar and I celebrated our reunion (as we do every evening at 5:15) with some jumping around, dancing, barking and hugs before heading outside for "business".  Oscar really has a difficult time containing his excitement and his awkwardness makes it that much funnier.  But he tries.  And on this particular day, in trying to emulate Nugget's annoying habit, Oscar missed the leach completely and chomped down on my hand.  Hard!  I squealed and immediately closed by eyes because I was sure it was gushing blood and that I was ultimately going to have to have it amputated.  Fortunately, when I finally gained the courage to look, I realized that while it might be broken, there was not, in fact, gushing of any sort.  (Thank God!)  After I stopped seeing stars, I acknowledged it probably wasn't that bad but dang did it hurt!  We are going to begin some serious doodle discipline, now that he finally understands (selectively) the meaning of the word, "No!".  Wish us luck!

**I had a nagging feeling of guilt that I didn't make Nugget go out to potty before I left for work.  Granted, he would have been able to hold it until the dog walker arrived, but I'm a sucker and have a hard time enforcing consequences for actions - or in this case, lack thereof.  So I went home over lunch and sure 'nough, he really had to pee!  He peed for like 2 straight minutes... and he kept balance on 3 legs the entire time.  Impressive.

Do we have to guess where Nugget spent his day?

As a rule of thumb, I generally don't make my bed with wrinkles and paw indentations on it...

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Just Another Day in Paradise...

After 3 delightful weeks of being spoiled by B's help with the dogs and such, his vacation is over and he's back on the road for work.  It seems like they are extra rotten just after he leaves... and everything else falls apart, too!

3:15am - Osc whines signaling his desire to visit the outdoor commode.  Given we went to bed at 8pm, I'm not annoyed.  That's a long time for the little man to hold it.

6:00am - Osc whines again, signaling his desire to conclude his unfinished business from earlier.  My alarm was set for 6:15 anyway... though the moment I sit up I realize my four-day migraine has just entered its fifth day.  Super.

6:15am - Everyone gets noms and I lay back in bed after having reset the alarm for 7:30.

6:20am - Both dogs in bed, battling because someone's tail touched the other's face; or one of them breathed too loudly in the other's direction... who knows?!  Now I'm annoyed.

6:21am - I yell (does great things for the migraine!).  Everyone stops.  Oscar lays on my left; Nugg on my right.  All is peaceful in 1D once again.

8:15am - I am startled awake by the sound of my alarm and groggily stare at the clock until my eyes focus... 8:15?!?!  Oh crap.  I scramble through a shower and blindly dress before begging the doodle to enter his cage without protest.  He obliges.  (Thank you, Jesus!)

8:40am - I manage to only be 10 minutes late for work... Phew!

5:15pm - I walk through the door and am promptly greeted by a very excited Nugget.  This is, officially, the longest we've been separated for at least the last 3 days!  GASP!  We dance.  Kisses are disbursed equally by both parties.  Oscar barks to indicate it's his turn!

5:19pm - Oscar and I embrace as though we've been separated for, well, 8 hours.  We dance.  Kisses are disbursed equally by both parties.

5:24pm - I read the note left by the dog walker.  No surprises, we're always "cute!".

5:24:47pm - Scratch that.  I look down and SURPRISE!  Someone tracked mud in this afternoon.  Everywhere.  I guess I'm glad I didn't end up steam cleaning the carpets last week.  Sigh...

5:25pm - We head out the door for pre-dinner business.  Nugget slithers away and becomes overly friendly with a boxer who is exactly the opposite of friendly.  She growls.  Nugget cowers... and continues galloping along down the driveway like he's not going to get the beating of his life when I catch him.  (I kid, he gets a light spanking, though through that fur, I doubt he feels it.  His continued defiance affirms that suspicion).

5:35pm - Everyone is back inside.  Nugget hides because he knows he's in trouble.  I flip on the TV hoping catch the last 20 minutes of Ellen before I have to get ready to leave for dinner with a friend.

5:36pm - Something about me sitting down to relax for even 5 minutes triggers an uncontrollable urge amongst the two to begin the loudest of battles right in front of the TV.  Today, a bacon and cheddar filled bone is the source of contention.

5:39pm - I dig the other bacon and cheddar filled bone out of the toy basket.  Coincidentally, it is exactly the same as the bone over which the battle began.  No dice.  The battle continues over cheddar and bacon filled bone #1.  I give up.  They do not.

5:55pm - I successfully coax Oscar back into his crate so I can leave.  Upon putting the lid back on the toothpaste while brushing my teeth, I look up just in time to catch Nugget's blurred reflection in the mirror as he scurries out of the bedroom, unidentified object in mouth.

5:56pm - Cornered in the dining room, he forfeits his stolen treasure: a sock from my laundry pile.  It's really a wonder I have any matching pairs.

6:00pm - I'm finally out the door... and realize I have no idea where I'm going.

Fast forward to 8:30pm - Dinner was ... well the food was awful, but the company great.  Now I have a lot to do before bed.

8:32pm - Dogs out, pottying ensues.  Nugget again needs a stern request to get his tail back inside!

8:37pm - I hastily load some remaining dirty dishes into the dishwasher and set it to start before I go fold laundry in the bedroom.

8:45pm - I re-enter the kitchen en route to the laundry room, pile of dirty clothes in arms, and about bust my butt slipping on a very large puddle on the floor.  The only thing that saves Oscar from being the first suspect is that it's soapy.  How special; the dishwasher is sudsing out the bottom.

8:47pm - I'm scooping suds and water from the bottom of the dishwasher.  Meanwhile, doodle is lapping up the puddle on the floor.  Thanks, but no thanks for the help, Osc.

9:00pm - Dishwasher back in order, laundry back in process.  Cleaning continues.  Dog battle of bones begins again.

10:00pm - A few yelps, barks and sharp squeals later, it appears the boys are tuckered out.  I sit down on the couch to relax, doodle in my lap, Nugg on the floor at my feet.  I'm about ready to call it a night...

The perfect ending to this day will inevitably be the untimely explosive diarrhea experienced by Oscar around 3am.  (See 8:47pm event).