Every day I wonder what kind of mess I'm going to find when I get home. Will it be muddy paw prints all over the couch, a hole in the screen the size of a boxer puppy or a small tree in the dining area?
Today was not bad. Nora moved all the rugs around, Clifford's dog bed was in the new rug pile and there were a lot of twigs on the floor but nothing looks missing or damaged.
I don't think that there has been a day without a mess since we first brought Nora home. I'm not sure if the other dogs participate in the making of the messes or if they just sit back and shake their heads while she goes crazy. I do know that Nora is the instigator. The hole in the screen is just her size and the paw prints on our couch...there is no way they belong to any of the other dogs.
We have gotten pretty good at locking the doors that we can and blocking others. At this point the dogs have the run of the kitchen, the dining area and two hallways. That doesn't stop the messes but at least we know where the damage will happen.
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Friday, November 18, 2011
The Road to Four Dogs
Its not easy living in a household with four dogs and I certainly never planned on having that many dogs at once.
I actually grew up in a household with only cats. That does not include the odd hamster here or there.
I met a girl once that owned a Toy Rat Terrier. She was the sweetest, cutest little puppy and she followed her owner around everywhere. I knew then that I would have one someday.
A year or so later, after some research, I found a breeder that was about an hour away. She told me about a male puppy that she had that was reddish brown with a blackish stripe down his back and white boots/socks. I had learned during my research that Rat Terriers might be small but they think that they are big. This, along with the description of reddish-brown fur made me think of Clifford The Big Red Dog. My son and I were soon proud owners of Clifford the Toy Rat Terrier.
About a year later, we moved in with my husband and his dog, Russki, a two year old Yellow Lab. Russki was named while my husband and his brothers were at the beach house drinking White Russians. They liked to call the White Russians "Russkis". And in all fairness, Russki's fur is pretty white.
When Russki was taken to the vet for the first of his shots, the vet assistant was asking about the name and how my husband wanted it spelled. My husband hadn't really thought about the spelling to that point and asked for her opinion. It turns out that she was from Russia and told him that she would spell it "Russki" but that she didn't want to name his dog. He then told her that it was okay since she wasn't naming him, she was just helping with the spelling.
So now I have a husband, a son and two dogs...
Now at this point I should have been happy, but there is just something wonderful about a dog. They are so friendly and loving. It wasn't long before I started bugging my husband to get a third dog. I would show him ads and articles in the Chronicle about the Pet of the Week. It did not look like it was going to happen for me.
Around three years ago, I found an organization that I wanted to work with that will take a critically ill person's pet to visit them in the hospital. Unfortunately I haven't found the time yet to do any more than the occasional monetary donation. A little over two years ago I received an email from one of the members looking for a home for Bandit. Bandit's mom had passed away after a long battle with cancer. He was a ten year old German Shepard/Blue Heeler mix. I must have caught my husband at a really good time because he said yes as soon as I asked. I didn't give him a chance to change his mind. I sent an email immediately offering to take him and I picked him up the same weekend.
At three dogs, it seemed our family was complete. Three people and three dogs seemed to work for us. One person for each leash, bowl of food, pile of poo. We did discuss what kind of dog we would want someday when one or two of our dogs have passed. I like the small, toy type of dogs but my husband's next dream dog was a brindle boxer. Preferably a female as we have an abundance of males in the house. Okay maybe the female part was my idea as I was the only female in the house at the time.
A couple of months ago at work, my son (he was working there for the summer) called me to the warehouse. There he stood holding about twenty pounds of the saddest looking puppy. I had him bring her to the kitchen to give her some water but she wouldn't drink. She just seemed so sad and sick. Most people would probably do the sane thing and call Animal Control or a rescue group but my first thought was that I had to get her to the vet. I had my son put her in my car and off we went. What I found out at the vet was that I had an eight to ten week old female brindle boxer. She also had fleas, worms and a fever.
Much money later, Nora is now a healthier and dear member of the family. I mean really, who could resist this face...
At this point our family is complete. I think...I hope! I know that I will have many stories to share due to the chaos that happens in my household every day it seems.
I actually grew up in a household with only cats. That does not include the odd hamster here or there.
I met a girl once that owned a Toy Rat Terrier. She was the sweetest, cutest little puppy and she followed her owner around everywhere. I knew then that I would have one someday.
A year or so later, after some research, I found a breeder that was about an hour away. She told me about a male puppy that she had that was reddish brown with a blackish stripe down his back and white boots/socks. I had learned during my research that Rat Terriers might be small but they think that they are big. This, along with the description of reddish-brown fur made me think of Clifford The Big Red Dog. My son and I were soon proud owners of Clifford the Toy Rat Terrier.
About a year later, we moved in with my husband and his dog, Russki, a two year old Yellow Lab. Russki was named while my husband and his brothers were at the beach house drinking White Russians. They liked to call the White Russians "Russkis". And in all fairness, Russki's fur is pretty white.
When Russki was taken to the vet for the first of his shots, the vet assistant was asking about the name and how my husband wanted it spelled. My husband hadn't really thought about the spelling to that point and asked for her opinion. It turns out that she was from Russia and told him that she would spell it "Russki" but that she didn't want to name his dog. He then told her that it was okay since she wasn't naming him, she was just helping with the spelling.
So now I have a husband, a son and two dogs...
Now at this point I should have been happy, but there is just something wonderful about a dog. They are so friendly and loving. It wasn't long before I started bugging my husband to get a third dog. I would show him ads and articles in the Chronicle about the Pet of the Week. It did not look like it was going to happen for me.
Around three years ago, I found an organization that I wanted to work with that will take a critically ill person's pet to visit them in the hospital. Unfortunately I haven't found the time yet to do any more than the occasional monetary donation. A little over two years ago I received an email from one of the members looking for a home for Bandit. Bandit's mom had passed away after a long battle with cancer. He was a ten year old German Shepard/Blue Heeler mix. I must have caught my husband at a really good time because he said yes as soon as I asked. I didn't give him a chance to change his mind. I sent an email immediately offering to take him and I picked him up the same weekend.
At three dogs, it seemed our family was complete. Three people and three dogs seemed to work for us. One person for each leash, bowl of food, pile of poo. We did discuss what kind of dog we would want someday when one or two of our dogs have passed. I like the small, toy type of dogs but my husband's next dream dog was a brindle boxer. Preferably a female as we have an abundance of males in the house. Okay maybe the female part was my idea as I was the only female in the house at the time.
A couple of months ago at work, my son (he was working there for the summer) called me to the warehouse. There he stood holding about twenty pounds of the saddest looking puppy. I had him bring her to the kitchen to give her some water but she wouldn't drink. She just seemed so sad and sick. Most people would probably do the sane thing and call Animal Control or a rescue group but my first thought was that I had to get her to the vet. I had my son put her in my car and off we went. What I found out at the vet was that I had an eight to ten week old female brindle boxer. She also had fleas, worms and a fever.
Much money later, Nora is now a healthier and dear member of the family. I mean really, who could resist this face...
At this point our family is complete. I think...I hope! I know that I will have many stories to share due to the chaos that happens in my household every day it seems.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)