Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Thunderstorms are Scary
Sam's experienced thunderstorms before, and although he certainly didn't like them, he wasn't petrified of them. Usually if he's outside and it thunders he'll jump and look around for the source of the noise, and that's about it.
This afternoon, however, we had a pretty bad thunderstorm come through, with almost constant flashes of lightning and frequent, deafening bursts of thunder. Not the kind you can hear rolling up, either, but the kind that sound off like a gunshot with no warning.
Sam was in the kitchen with me, and he was not pleased with this. He kept pacing between the door and my chair, his ears pinned back, his tail tucked between his legs, keeping low to the ground. I finally sat with him on his doggy bed and pet him--it's always easy to tell when Sam is upset because he lets you pet him without trying to mouth you or play with you. I finally got him to lay down in my lap and continued to stroke his ears and along his back and hummed lullabies to him. After ten minutes or so, he started trying to bite at my hand, and he rolled over on his back and pawed at my arms and wagged his tail.
Crisis averted!
Also, because I don't have a picture of this episode to share, I figure I'd post one of Sam being a goof from his (slightly) younger days. Behold Sam at 9 weeks:
Rawr! I'm a dinosaur!!
This afternoon, however, we had a pretty bad thunderstorm come through, with almost constant flashes of lightning and frequent, deafening bursts of thunder. Not the kind you can hear rolling up, either, but the kind that sound off like a gunshot with no warning.
Sam was in the kitchen with me, and he was not pleased with this. He kept pacing between the door and my chair, his ears pinned back, his tail tucked between his legs, keeping low to the ground. I finally sat with him on his doggy bed and pet him--it's always easy to tell when Sam is upset because he lets you pet him without trying to mouth you or play with you. I finally got him to lay down in my lap and continued to stroke his ears and along his back and hummed lullabies to him. After ten minutes or so, he started trying to bite at my hand, and he rolled over on his back and pawed at my arms and wagged his tail.
Crisis averted!
Also, because I don't have a picture of this episode to share, I figure I'd post one of Sam being a goof from his (slightly) younger days. Behold Sam at 9 weeks:
Rawr! I'm a dinosaur!!Monday, June 28, 2010
Sam's First Cat Chase!
Sam found a cat today.
(Oh, don't give him any credit, he didn't do it on purpose.)
Sam was busy growling at one of our pool floats that blew across the yard into the fence when he accidentally flushed a cat from Dad's workshop. I think Sam was more shocked than the cat, but he dutifully changed trajectories and chased the cat across the yard until it hopped the back fence.
So Sam did a good job, but more importantly, where did this cat come from? As far as I know the only outdoor cats in the neighborhood live about a quarter mile up the road and have never come anywhere near our cul-de-sac, which is full of dogs. Which can only mean one thing.
In addition to Sam's natural canine affinity for chasing cats, he also has the ability to summon cats to him. Sam the Cat Conjurer! This has some far-reaching implications. I'll have to do some empirical research and get back to you with my findings.
(Oh, don't give him any credit, he didn't do it on purpose.)
Sam was busy growling at one of our pool floats that blew across the yard into the fence when he accidentally flushed a cat from Dad's workshop. I think Sam was more shocked than the cat, but he dutifully changed trajectories and chased the cat across the yard until it hopped the back fence.
So Sam did a good job, but more importantly, where did this cat come from? As far as I know the only outdoor cats in the neighborhood live about a quarter mile up the road and have never come anywhere near our cul-de-sac, which is full of dogs. Which can only mean one thing.
In addition to Sam's natural canine affinity for chasing cats, he also has the ability to summon cats to him. Sam the Cat Conjurer! This has some far-reaching implications. I'll have to do some empirical research and get back to you with my findings.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Poolside
Sam's becoming a better and better swimmer. He started out afraid of the water (probably because he fell into the pool at 10 weeks old and sank straight to the bottom), then worked his way up to wading, then to swimming, and now to jumping in from the sides and submerging his head underwater to fetch dive rings. His form has gotten a lot better too, from swimming vertically and splashing everywhere to keeping his butt afloat and his paws underwater so he can jet along with surprising rapidity.
All that being said, he still prefers to be as much up in my business as he can, so when I took to floating in the pool peacefully on my little $5 blow-up raft from Wal-Mart, Sam wanted in. He watched me from the side, sticking his paw out in front of him to gauge the distance, then launched onto my raft (he's done this to Mom, as well). The first time he did this we floated in peace for a good twenty minutes before he spotted a beetle and flung us both overboard, and now he thinks he can raft with me anytime.
Yesterday was no exception. I try to keep Sam in the garage and then slip out the back door to the pool so he won't crash my relaxation time, but to no avail. Before I even got a good float in, he was on my raft again.
Of course, this time he didn't want to sit still, and kept smacking me in the face with his tail. And since I'm the one largely responsible for canceling out Sam's awful balancing, taking me out of the picture does not bode well for our overall buoyancy.
So, predictably, Sam tumped us both. And of course as soon as we're both in the water he wants to ride piggyback, since that's the only way he can be close enough to me for his liking without either drowning me or scraping me to pieces with his paws. He seems to enjoy piggyback rides around the shallows, and he's even held on while I've run up the steps and jumped in with him from the side.
So tumping aside, Sam's an all around cool pool dog. (But don't tell him I said that.)
All that being said, he still prefers to be as much up in my business as he can, so when I took to floating in the pool peacefully on my little $5 blow-up raft from Wal-Mart, Sam wanted in. He watched me from the side, sticking his paw out in front of him to gauge the distance, then launched onto my raft (he's done this to Mom, as well). The first time he did this we floated in peace for a good twenty minutes before he spotted a beetle and flung us both overboard, and now he thinks he can raft with me anytime.
Yo-ho-ho and a box of Milkbones
Yesterday was no exception. I try to keep Sam in the garage and then slip out the back door to the pool so he won't crash my relaxation time, but to no avail. Before I even got a good float in, he was on my raft again.
Please keep arms and legs and tails within the raft at all times
Of course, this time he didn't want to sit still, and kept smacking me in the face with his tail. And since I'm the one largely responsible for canceling out Sam's awful balancing, taking me out of the picture does not bode well for our overall buoyancy.
Nice one, Sam.
So, predictably, Sam tumped us both. And of course as soon as we're both in the water he wants to ride piggyback, since that's the only way he can be close enough to me for his liking without either drowning me or scraping me to pieces with his paws. He seems to enjoy piggyback rides around the shallows, and he's even held on while I've run up the steps and jumped in with him from the side.
Sam riding piggyback
So tumping aside, Sam's an all around cool pool dog. (But don't tell him I said that.)
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Another Baby Gate Nemesis--They're Multiplying!
As if Sam weren't already leery enough of the baby gate we use to keep him out of the living room, now he's scared to death of the one we use to pen him in the kitchen at night.
The Gate (dun dun duuuunnnnn!!!)
Last night while playing Sam accidentally knocked into the gate, which fell over on top of him with a loud clattering crash. He scrambled away from it, terrified, and cowered by the door. I put the gate back up and tried to console him, but he was shivering, so I let him outside away from the big scary gate. (He tends to pee a little when he gets that scared, as well, so I'd rather not have to clean up any spills.)
Ten minutes later I tried to bring him back in, but he refused to come inside for fear of an ambush from The Gate. Eventually, with Mom and Dad calling him from inside and me cajoling him from the doorway, he skulked along the far edge of the wall and back into a corner behind the kitchen table. Dad seemed pleased about this, since he thinks Sam needs a healthy fear of barriers. I think so too, but I also didn't want him peeing himself all night when we put him to bed because he was cornered by The Gate.
Eventually I put a few treats next to The Gate in the hopes that Sam's love of food would help conquer his fears, but he refused them and sat cowering a few feet away. Mom and I both got on the floor with him, having him do a few tricks to try to take his mind off things, giving him pieces of treat and slowly luring him back toward The Gate. After half an hour he would crouch and stretch and take a piece of treat from the foot of The Gate, only to immediately retreat to safer ground. And he point blank refused to sit anywhere near us if either of us were touching The Gate.
I worried when it was time for Sam to go to bed, but Dad assured me Sam wouldn't even recognize The Gate that had attacked him was the same one that kept him in at night. And sure enough, Sam's poor recognition skills came through: he didn't even look twice at The Gate when I put him to bed.
There is a silver lining to all of this. At least now if Sam ever gets it into his half-empty head to try to break free from the kitchen in the mornings, and tries to push at or paw at The Gate, it'll make that same sound that scared him so much and hopefully thwart any jailbreaks. Here's hoping!
Ten minutes later I tried to bring him back in, but he refused to come inside for fear of an ambush from The Gate. Eventually, with Mom and Dad calling him from inside and me cajoling him from the doorway, he skulked along the far edge of the wall and back into a corner behind the kitchen table. Dad seemed pleased about this, since he thinks Sam needs a healthy fear of barriers. I think so too, but I also didn't want him peeing himself all night when we put him to bed because he was cornered by The Gate.
Eventually I put a few treats next to The Gate in the hopes that Sam's love of food would help conquer his fears, but he refused them and sat cowering a few feet away. Mom and I both got on the floor with him, having him do a few tricks to try to take his mind off things, giving him pieces of treat and slowly luring him back toward The Gate. After half an hour he would crouch and stretch and take a piece of treat from the foot of The Gate, only to immediately retreat to safer ground. And he point blank refused to sit anywhere near us if either of us were touching The Gate.
I worried when it was time for Sam to go to bed, but Dad assured me Sam wouldn't even recognize The Gate that had attacked him was the same one that kept him in at night. And sure enough, Sam's poor recognition skills came through: he didn't even look twice at The Gate when I put him to bed.
There is a silver lining to all of this. At least now if Sam ever gets it into his half-empty head to try to break free from the kitchen in the mornings, and tries to push at or paw at The Gate, it'll make that same sound that scared him so much and hopefully thwart any jailbreaks. Here's hoping!
Friday, June 25, 2010
Friday Workday (Sam Guest Authors)
Today I think I'll let Sam take you through a typical workday for him, from the time he gets up at 7 to the end of the average workday, 5 pm. Take it away, Sam!
Hi everyone! Sam here. At first I thought it'd be boring to tell you about my day because I've already lived it so why go through things twice? Seems a bit tedious to me. But it's come to my attention that the phrase "it's a dog's life" which used to mean dogs had tough lives now means dogs have easy lives and let me tell you I am here to set the record straight! I work just as hard as you humans, you all just don't always appreciate my efforts.
Anyway. Fridays Bran wakes me up at 7 am when she opens the kitchen window. But she's nice and she opens the one over the sink and not the one across from my bed because the windows face East and that way I don't get blinded in the morning, I get to wake up nice and easy. Anyway then Bran takes the gate down and usually I don't want to get up yet so I roll over and Bran rubs my tummy for a few minutes. It's a great way to wake up and all you people who don't like mornings I suggest you start them with belly rubs and then see how you feel about it.
Anyway then she takes me out to go potty which I do while she walks down to the road to get the paper. I suspect that eventually she'll start trying to get me to fetch the paper but fat chance of that. Morning is prime time for eating the worms off the driveway and I am not giving up my pre-breakfast snack to go fetch some stupid paper.
Usually on the way back to the house she'll say the magic words "Do you want your supper?" which is SUCH a stupid question because OF COURSE I want my supper. Apparently for Bran supper means breakfast and dinner but whatever as long as I get fed I'm not gonna correct her. So she gives me fresh water and my breakfast-supper and goes back inside and I eat my supper and then start my day.
Now, it used to be I'd spent the 7-11am hours in my office to get some good work done for the day. As you can see, my office offers a great view of the recycle bin, which is where I get most of my work done. Newspapers, water bottles, boxes, beer bottles--I take each one out of the bin and spread them around the garage and the yard in beautiful lovely patterns. And of course I chew them a bit too because cardboard boxes are my FAVORITE and they always say when you love what you do for work it's not a job it's a passion. And let me tell you, I am passionate about recycling.
When that's done I usually sniff around for Dad's stuff, because he leaves it in the garage to dry when it's all sweaty so it smells GREAT. I'll usually pull his shirt down and roll in it a bit and then play with the ankle weights he uses to walk in. And then when that's done if I'm still feeling productive I'll pull down my leashes off the old desk where they're kept and maybe pull a few trash bags out of the box by the cans.
That's what I used to do anyway until Bran finally started shutting me out of the garage in the mornings so now I can't get in to my office until the afternoon. So what I do instead is sometimes I'll do some excavating behind the air-conditioner but it's tough because the angle of the dig always gets dirt in my water bowl. I really have to take up that issue with the foreman or something, I should be able to get my digging done without muddying up my own water supply.
If I get bored of excavating I'll make my rounds to visit the neighboring ladies. Usually Zoe will say hi to me (she's a boxer) and sometimes her friend Sadie (a pit bull) will come over too. Zoe's real nice and she plays with me but Sadie plays hard to get. She growls at me like she doesn't want to play but then when I leave her alone she follows me! So who's chasing who Sadie that's what I want to know.
On the other side I'll go visit Nelly who's a French mastiff which means she slobbers a lot. Usually after playing with her I get big loogies all over me and Bran has to wipe them off with a towel. Nelly lives with Tango who's a bull mastiff but we're not allowed to play together because Tango can be territorial and Bran doesn't want us together. I mean, yeah Tango's 250 pounds, but he's also 9 years old and I'm pretty sure I could outrun him. Plus Nelly likes me and she'd put in a good word for me to him. But whatever.
So after visiting the ladies I'll scout for more worms around the pool and some days I'll take a swim if it's hot. Then usually I'll go lay down by the garage until Bran opens it and I can get in to my office.
So that's what I did this morning which Bran always acts so surprised when she lets me in at 11 and I'm wet from the pool. Duh, of course I'm gonna go swimming when it starts to get hot, what kind of working conditions do you think I have? Maybe I should get OSHA involved. Which I think means Other dogS Have Air-conditioning but I'm not sure about that.
So I got to chill out in the kitchen for a little bit this morning and Bran gave me a treat after I did some tricks, and let me tell you this performing on command stuff is tough work. But I ace it and she gives me a weird shaped treat that I'm supposed to chew real slow to clean my gums but I down it in under five minutes because I'm such an overachiever. But the downside to finishing so quick is that you get extra work if you do so Bran gave me a toy filled with kibbles that she needed me to empty. So I spent the next hour working on that.
Anyway Bran had to go out for a few hours in the afternoon and because it was so hot outside I got to stay in the kitchen while she was out which was great because I got to stay in the air conditioning and lay on the cool tiles and chew my rawhide. So I did that and took a nap for a few hours until she came back, and then I went with her and helped her unload the car by climbing in the backseat (you gotta be prepared, you never know when there might be a car trip; I've gotten to go on unplanned rides to Blockbuster and the dry cleaners' using these stealth tactics). And then it was starting to storm so she made me go potty before it started raining too hard and then I got to come back in again.
On rainy days when I'm inside I do different work than my job in the garage, because I'm a multi-talented dogger and I'm working my way toward a promotion. So while Bran ate her lunch I sat real good by her chair and waited because I used to jump up and whine but then I'd get thrown outside or made to sit in the corner so now I sit and wait real nice and sometimes I'll get a treat. This time Bran had Moe's so when she was done I got to lick the leftover cheese out of her queso cup which was SO GOOD.
And of course after she was done I had to check to make sure there wasn't any food left on the table because these humans can be tricky and I pride myself on being thorough. There wasn't any but there were some napkins with crumbs on them which I tried to eat but Bran took them away from me like a total killjoy.
So anyway after that I brought her one of my toys to get some fetch work in, which is arguably the most important work I do. So Bran threw the toy for me all around the kitchen and I got to fetch it which really is not as easy as it looks. You have to watch to see where the toy goes and then run over there without slipping on the tile and then bring it back. That's a lot of steps involved. But then again I'm a bit of a wunderkind so I do a good job anyway.
Eventually I get tired of having to keep giving the toy back to Bran so I make the transition into tug-of-war instead. This is another important bit of work I do because it measures my strength compared to Bran's. And trust me, once I start winning, things are gonna change around here. But for now I'm biding my time.
Anyway after we played tug-of-war it was getting close to four o'clock so Bran shut me in the kitchen and left to change clothes or something I dunno, but when I let myself out of the kitchen through the dining room and followed her she made me go outside. Which it was raining by then so she opened the garage so I wouldn't be stuck in the rain and could access my office.
The great thing about my office is that it's really comfortable so I hang out there a lot even when I'm not working. But since it wasn't five yet I still had to work so I sat in my office and watched the street from the garage (which my office has a great view of) to keep tabs on everything. Which I mean I've never guarded the yard per se but I do like to know when people are going by so I can get some free ear rubs in.
So anyway at five o'clock my workday was done which was good because it was an exhausting day so I took a nap in my office which I will resume as soon as I finish telling you about my day. Usually after work I get to play some outside fetch and go on a walk and get ear rubs from the neighbors who walk Sandy the golden retriever by our yard. And if Bran goes swimming I'll go swimming with her and if she gets the big green ball out I'll play with that to brush up on my soccer skills. Which technically I don't have any hands and there's no rules in soccer about not using your mouth so I think I'm technically a master of the sport. Then before second supper Bran goes over all my tricks and tries to teach me new ones which right now I'm learning to put my toys in a basket without eating the basket which is tough work, let me tell you. It's a good thing I'm so smart because this is like AP Dog Tricks or something.
So that's my workday more or less, so no more saying how you'd love to be a dog because dogs get to do nothing all day. I definitely got some good work in today and unlike you humans I don't take breaks on weekends I work every day. Plus I have night school when I learn new tricks before second supper so I do work AND I learn stuff so what about that? If I got to sit in an office all day like you people do I'd have it easy, let me tell you. So there you have it, my Friday. I'm going to go finish my nap now because I have EARNED it.
Thanks, Sam. Go back to sleep. I'd rather you be asleep than "working"...
P.S. Sam neglected to mention that sometimes when Sadie and Zoe are near or people go by while he's in his "office," he attempts to entice them with his version of a "come hither" pose. Behold Sexy Sam:
Here's lookin' at you, ladies
Hi everyone! Sam here. At first I thought it'd be boring to tell you about my day because I've already lived it so why go through things twice? Seems a bit tedious to me. But it's come to my attention that the phrase "it's a dog's life" which used to mean dogs had tough lives now means dogs have easy lives and let me tell you I am here to set the record straight! I work just as hard as you humans, you all just don't always appreciate my efforts.
Anyway. Fridays Bran wakes me up at 7 am when she opens the kitchen window. But she's nice and she opens the one over the sink and not the one across from my bed because the windows face East and that way I don't get blinded in the morning, I get to wake up nice and easy. Anyway then Bran takes the gate down and usually I don't want to get up yet so I roll over and Bran rubs my tummy for a few minutes. It's a great way to wake up and all you people who don't like mornings I suggest you start them with belly rubs and then see how you feel about it.
Anyway then she takes me out to go potty which I do while she walks down to the road to get the paper. I suspect that eventually she'll start trying to get me to fetch the paper but fat chance of that. Morning is prime time for eating the worms off the driveway and I am not giving up my pre-breakfast snack to go fetch some stupid paper.
Usually on the way back to the house she'll say the magic words "Do you want your supper?" which is SUCH a stupid question because OF COURSE I want my supper. Apparently for Bran supper means breakfast and dinner but whatever as long as I get fed I'm not gonna correct her. So she gives me fresh water and my breakfast-supper and goes back inside and I eat my supper and then start my day.
Me in my office in the garage
Now, it used to be I'd spent the 7-11am hours in my office to get some good work done for the day. As you can see, my office offers a great view of the recycle bin, which is where I get most of my work done. Newspapers, water bottles, boxes, beer bottles--I take each one out of the bin and spread them around the garage and the yard in beautiful lovely patterns. And of course I chew them a bit too because cardboard boxes are my FAVORITE and they always say when you love what you do for work it's not a job it's a passion. And let me tell you, I am passionate about recycling.
When that's done I usually sniff around for Dad's stuff, because he leaves it in the garage to dry when it's all sweaty so it smells GREAT. I'll usually pull his shirt down and roll in it a bit and then play with the ankle weights he uses to walk in. And then when that's done if I'm still feeling productive I'll pull down my leashes off the old desk where they're kept and maybe pull a few trash bags out of the box by the cans.
That's what I used to do anyway until Bran finally started shutting me out of the garage in the mornings so now I can't get in to my office until the afternoon. So what I do instead is sometimes I'll do some excavating behind the air-conditioner but it's tough because the angle of the dig always gets dirt in my water bowl. I really have to take up that issue with the foreman or something, I should be able to get my digging done without muddying up my own water supply.
If I get bored of excavating I'll make my rounds to visit the neighboring ladies. Usually Zoe will say hi to me (she's a boxer) and sometimes her friend Sadie (a pit bull) will come over too. Zoe's real nice and she plays with me but Sadie plays hard to get. She growls at me like she doesn't want to play but then when I leave her alone she follows me! So who's chasing who Sadie that's what I want to know.
Me with Zoe when I was 10 weeks old. Me and my girl go way back
On the other side I'll go visit Nelly who's a French mastiff which means she slobbers a lot. Usually after playing with her I get big loogies all over me and Bran has to wipe them off with a towel. Nelly lives with Tango who's a bull mastiff but we're not allowed to play together because Tango can be territorial and Bran doesn't want us together. I mean, yeah Tango's 250 pounds, but he's also 9 years old and I'm pretty sure I could outrun him. Plus Nelly likes me and she'd put in a good word for me to him. But whatever.
So after visiting the ladies I'll scout for more worms around the pool and some days I'll take a swim if it's hot. Then usually I'll go lay down by the garage until Bran opens it and I can get in to my office.
So that's what I did this morning which Bran always acts so surprised when she lets me in at 11 and I'm wet from the pool. Duh, of course I'm gonna go swimming when it starts to get hot, what kind of working conditions do you think I have? Maybe I should get OSHA involved. Which I think means Other dogS Have Air-conditioning but I'm not sure about that.
Probably whoever makes the child labor laws should be notified too.
Here I am at the office at only 10 weeks old! And look at
all the recyclables to get through on my first day!
Here I am at the office at only 10 weeks old! And look at
all the recyclables to get through on my first day!
So I got to chill out in the kitchen for a little bit this morning and Bran gave me a treat after I did some tricks, and let me tell you this performing on command stuff is tough work. But I ace it and she gives me a weird shaped treat that I'm supposed to chew real slow to clean my gums but I down it in under five minutes because I'm such an overachiever. But the downside to finishing so quick is that you get extra work if you do so Bran gave me a toy filled with kibbles that she needed me to empty. So I spent the next hour working on that.
Step One
Step Two
Anyway Bran had to go out for a few hours in the afternoon and because it was so hot outside I got to stay in the kitchen while she was out which was great because I got to stay in the air conditioning and lay on the cool tiles and chew my rawhide. So I did that and took a nap for a few hours until she came back, and then I went with her and helped her unload the car by climbing in the backseat (you gotta be prepared, you never know when there might be a car trip; I've gotten to go on unplanned rides to Blockbuster and the dry cleaners' using these stealth tactics). And then it was starting to storm so she made me go potty before it started raining too hard and then I got to come back in again.
On rainy days when I'm inside I do different work than my job in the garage, because I'm a multi-talented dogger and I'm working my way toward a promotion. So while Bran ate her lunch I sat real good by her chair and waited because I used to jump up and whine but then I'd get thrown outside or made to sit in the corner so now I sit and wait real nice and sometimes I'll get a treat. This time Bran had Moe's so when she was done I got to lick the leftover cheese out of her queso cup which was SO GOOD.
Got any more?
And of course after she was done I had to check to make sure there wasn't any food left on the table because these humans can be tricky and I pride myself on being thorough. There wasn't any but there were some napkins with crumbs on them which I tried to eat but Bran took them away from me like a total killjoy.
Zombie-Sam wants your naaaapkiiiinssss....
So anyway after that I brought her one of my toys to get some fetch work in, which is arguably the most important work I do. So Bran threw the toy for me all around the kitchen and I got to fetch it which really is not as easy as it looks. You have to watch to see where the toy goes and then run over there without slipping on the tile and then bring it back. That's a lot of steps involved. But then again I'm a bit of a wunderkind so I do a good job anyway.
Eventually I get tired of having to keep giving the toy back to Bran so I make the transition into tug-of-war instead. This is another important bit of work I do because it measures my strength compared to Bran's. And trust me, once I start winning, things are gonna change around here. But for now I'm biding my time.
The slippery tile gives Bran an unfair advantage
Anyway after we played tug-of-war it was getting close to four o'clock so Bran shut me in the kitchen and left to change clothes or something I dunno, but when I let myself out of the kitchen through the dining room and followed her she made me go outside. Which it was raining by then so she opened the garage so I wouldn't be stuck in the rain and could access my office.
The great thing about my office is that it's really comfortable so I hang out there a lot even when I'm not working. But since it wasn't five yet I still had to work so I sat in my office and watched the street from the garage (which my office has a great view of) to keep tabs on everything. Which I mean I've never guarded the yard per se but I do like to know when people are going by so I can get some free ear rubs in.
Multi-tasking: relaxing while serving as a watchdog
So anyway at five o'clock my workday was done which was good because it was an exhausting day so I took a nap in my office which I will resume as soon as I finish telling you about my day. Usually after work I get to play some outside fetch and go on a walk and get ear rubs from the neighbors who walk Sandy the golden retriever by our yard. And if Bran goes swimming I'll go swimming with her and if she gets the big green ball out I'll play with that to brush up on my soccer skills. Which technically I don't have any hands and there's no rules in soccer about not using your mouth so I think I'm technically a master of the sport. Then before second supper Bran goes over all my tricks and tries to teach me new ones which right now I'm learning to put my toys in a basket without eating the basket which is tough work, let me tell you. It's a good thing I'm so smart because this is like AP Dog Tricks or something.
So that's my workday more or less, so no more saying how you'd love to be a dog because dogs get to do nothing all day. I definitely got some good work in today and unlike you humans I don't take breaks on weekends I work every day. Plus I have night school when I learn new tricks before second supper so I do work AND I learn stuff so what about that? If I got to sit in an office all day like you people do I'd have it easy, let me tell you. So there you have it, my Friday. I'm going to go finish my nap now because I have EARNED it.
Thanks, Sam. Go back to sleep. I'd rather you be asleep than "working"...
P.S. Sam neglected to mention that sometimes when Sadie and Zoe are near or people go by while he's in his "office," he attempts to entice them with his version of a "come hither" pose. Behold Sexy Sam:
Here's lookin' at you, ladies
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Thursday Weigh-In!
Wii-Fit Plus has a Pet Stats feature, evidently to help owners spot the onset of pet obesity. (Though really, it's the owners who overfeed their pets, so you'd think they'd have an inkling that their dog was turning into a porkchop without a video game to point it out.) Anyway, I'm using the feature to track Sam's growth, since it's getting a bit out of hand. As of today, Sam weighs 58 pounds!
A quick bit of math reveals that 58 lbs / 23.5 weeks = 2.5 pounds a week, or roughly 10 pounds a month. Since Labs reach their full size at around one or two years of age, I could easily have a 120-pound nutcase on my hands by next year. Sam's mom was 98 lbs and his dad was 120 lbs, so genetics are certainly in favor of this goofball reaching disastrous proportions. (And of course I picked one of the biggest pups of the litter...)
The odds are in favor of his outweighing me in the near future. All the more reason to keep up his training while I can still handle him!
A quick bit of math reveals that 58 lbs / 23.5 weeks = 2.5 pounds a week, or roughly 10 pounds a month. Since Labs reach their full size at around one or two years of age, I could easily have a 120-pound nutcase on my hands by next year. Sam's mom was 98 lbs and his dad was 120 lbs, so genetics are certainly in favor of this goofball reaching disastrous proportions. (And of course I picked one of the biggest pups of the litter...)
The odds are in favor of his outweighing me in the near future. All the more reason to keep up his training while I can still handle him!
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Yes, There's Such a Thing as Too Smart
Evidently Sam wanted to begin this blog on the right paw. This morning after both of us had our breakfasts, I left Sam fast asleep in the kitchen to go get some work done in my room. I closed off all the doors, sealing him in the kitchen (which is the only area of the house he's allowed in, currently), and, after checking that he was still sleeping under the table, went back to my room.
I returned an hour later to find this: (click on pictures for larger view)
Now, this really isn't bad on the scale of Labrador destruction. Our old Labs did much, much worse. But this is the first time Sam has made a mess of the kitchen, so it bears mentioning.
Not only did he jump on the counter to pull down the stack of paper plates we keep there and scatter them around the kitchen, he also managed to get his treat jar down, knock or chew it open, and eat half the milkbones inside. Now, here's where the "too smart" bit comes in.
Sam has a tendency to take the tricks he learns and apply them in devilish ways. For instance, I make him touch his paw to a spot on the wall next to the door when he wants to go out, so he can tell us when he needs a potty break. He has since applied this technique to the doors we shut to keep him in the kitchen: jumping up, pressing down on the door handle, and popping the door open. A brilliant application--he wants to get through the door, so he touches his paw where we touch our hands and the door opens to reward him--but one that can be quite annoying.
In the same manner, Sam has lately been playing with a couple of Kong toys to keep him busy. The smaller one I fill with peanut butter, the larger one with kibble. So he tosses the toy around--pawing it, chewing it, throwing it into walls--and is rewarded with two or three kibbles tumbling out. It seems that Sam has now applied this lesson directly to the source: his treat jar.
I don't know if I should be proud of him for his problem solving skills or just chalk it up to a lucky (for him) accident during a bout of typical Lab misbehavior.
I do think I don't have to worry about him becoming any sort of Einstein dog, though. Despite the fact that he can open closed doors, the kiddie gate we put up between the kitchen and the living room still stymies him. This in itself is ridiculous, because Sam's grown tall enough to leap over it without a problem. In addition, we don't even bother locking it in place anymore, we simply lean it up against the door frame. All he'd have to do is touch it and it'd fall over and let him through. But no, for Sam the baby gate is an unconquerable nemesis, and he sits in front of it, not touching it, not jumping on it, and whines for us to let him through.
I returned an hour later to find this: (click on pictures for larger view)
Now, this really isn't bad on the scale of Labrador destruction. Our old Labs did much, much worse. But this is the first time Sam has made a mess of the kitchen, so it bears mentioning.
Not only did he jump on the counter to pull down the stack of paper plates we keep there and scatter them around the kitchen, he also managed to get his treat jar down, knock or chew it open, and eat half the milkbones inside. Now, here's where the "too smart" bit comes in.
Sam has a tendency to take the tricks he learns and apply them in devilish ways. For instance, I make him touch his paw to a spot on the wall next to the door when he wants to go out, so he can tell us when he needs a potty break. He has since applied this technique to the doors we shut to keep him in the kitchen: jumping up, pressing down on the door handle, and popping the door open. A brilliant application--he wants to get through the door, so he touches his paw where we touch our hands and the door opens to reward him--but one that can be quite annoying.
In the same manner, Sam has lately been playing with a couple of Kong toys to keep him busy. The smaller one I fill with peanut butter, the larger one with kibble. So he tosses the toy around--pawing it, chewing it, throwing it into walls--and is rewarded with two or three kibbles tumbling out. It seems that Sam has now applied this lesson directly to the source: his treat jar.
I don't know if I should be proud of him for his problem solving skills or just chalk it up to a lucky (for him) accident during a bout of typical Lab misbehavior.
I do think I don't have to worry about him becoming any sort of Einstein dog, though. Despite the fact that he can open closed doors, the kiddie gate we put up between the kitchen and the living room still stymies him. This in itself is ridiculous, because Sam's grown tall enough to leap over it without a problem. In addition, we don't even bother locking it in place anymore, we simply lean it up against the door frame. All he'd have to do is touch it and it'd fall over and let him through. But no, for Sam the baby gate is an unconquerable nemesis, and he sits in front of it, not touching it, not jumping on it, and whines for us to let him through.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
A Bit About Us...
By all rights I should have begun this blog back in March when Sam first came home. Instead, you'll be picking up three months later, when Sam is a 50 lb menace instead of a 16 lb cuddlebug. Don't worry, I'll be sure to fill you in as we go along.
Sam at 8 weeks
I suppose I should get all the background out of the way now, in the beginning. I am a 22-year-old college graduate who moved back in with her parents this past February. Prior to that, I was attending graduate school for publishing in Boston, Massachusetts. My life was on track. I had everything lined up. And then, well, my intensity and ambition finally caught up with me.
In late January I was diagnosed with Panic Disorder with Agoraphobia. I won't go into the details, but if you're interested, you can learn more about it here . Essentially, it's a mental disorder where victims suffer acute and seemingly arbitrary panic attacks, which feel like either your heart is going to give out at any moment or you're going to pass out or throw up or all three while simultaneously feeling the intense, irrational, all-encompassing urge to flee. Because of these attacks, sufferers can develop agoraphobia, where they are afraid to leave home or travel anywhere "unsafe" where they could potentially be beset by an attack and left helpless, trapped, ill, and embarrassed. This is, in a very tiny nutshell, what happened to me.
Living alone in Boston was no longer an option. I needed to be back home in Florida with my family, where I could learn to manage this disorder in a supportive environment conducive to recovery. The last minute move wasn't easy. I felt as though I had my will stripped from me. I'd forfeited my right to have a say in most decisions the moment I was no longer able to control my panic-driven behavior. Both of my parents flew up to help me, and without them there I would never have made it through without a complete nervous collapse.
Eventually, after a massive blizzard, a 3-day flight delay, 6 Xanax and a Valium, I arrived back home, defeated. I'd lost all confidence. I've always been the honor student, the girl with her eyes on the prize, the one who knows where she's headed in life. And yet here I was, a grad-school dropout, moving back in with my parents at 22, my confidence completely broken. I couldn't even go to the doctor's office without losing it, both my mother and the doctor concerned as I paced back and forth in the waiting room, clenching and unclenching my fists, nearly hyperventilating, unable to calm down, wanting simply to be out. I embarked on a comprehensive recovery plan of medication, therapy, and concentrated relaxation. But it was still nearly impossible for me to leave the house.
Enter Sam.
The idea of getting a dog had been in my head ever since we lost the golden Labrador I grew up with, Thor, in May of 2009. Thor died a few months shy of his 14th birthday, and he left a Lab-shaped void in the hearts of my family. It didn't seem right to be living at home again without a dog, too. And a dog could help with my recovery. It's proven that pet owners have less stress and are generally healthier than non-pet owners (due to daily walks, puppy kisses, that sort of thing), and that just petting a dog can lower your blood pressure. So I began to look for a dog.
Our Lab, Thor, in his Santa Paws hat
At first I checked local shelters, because I felt rescuing a dog who would in turn rescue me was fitting. I knew I wanted a big dog, I wanted a male, and I wanted him to be one or two years old. I didn't want a puppy, because puppies were a lot of work, and I wasn't keen on going through the housetraining process again. I saw a few dogs, made appointments to interact with them for an hour or two and talk to their handlers, but none of them clicked with me. I played with a beautiful Shepherd-hound mix named Beau, pursued a Dane/Lab mix named Gibson, even submitted a profile to adoptalab.org. But I supposed none of these was meant to be, as I had no connection with Beau, Gibson got adopted out before I could meet him properly, and the lab rescue never found me a match.
At this point it was mid-February, and my mother told me a friend of hers from work had a litter of chocolate lab puppies she was selling. Thrilled, I called the seller, set a date to come visit, and eagerly awaited finding my new companion. Unfortunately, this was at the same time I was beginning my SSRI, and I had awful side effects for the first two weeks. As the date to go meet my puppy drew nearer, I finally had to admit: I wasn't ready for a dog. If I continued to feel like this, there was no way I could care for a puppy. I could barely care for myself. I called the seller to cancel, only to find that she had sold the last pup to another buyer, confusing this newcomer for me. Again, it was not meant to be.
Another of my mother's friends had bought one of the puppies, and she continually e-mailed us with pictures of her new pup Holly. Mom would call me over, but I didn't even want to look. If I couldn't have a dog, I didn't want to look at people who did. And I certainly didn't want to see adorable puppy faces when mine had slipped through my fingers.
The idea of a chocolate Lab stuck with me. Shelter mixes weren't working out for me, and ultimately, I knew that it was fate that I should have another Lab. I grew up with two Lab brothers, Bud (black) and Thor (golden), so it made perfect sense that this new Lab to come into my life should be chocolate. I didn't want to replace my boys, after all. I just wanted to move on.
So I took to browsing the web for chocolate Labs available in my area. And suddenly, out of nowhere, a post for blockheaded chocolate Labs, AKC-certified four generations back, being sold only two miles away from my home. Thrilled, I called the seller, discovered there were three male puppies left, and made an appointment to visit in an hour to take a look.
I took Mom with me. As we went into the backyard, where the Lab parents rested in their roomy kennels and the other six spoken-for pups whined from a different enclosure, I had eyes only for the three little blockheads peering up at me from their wooden playpen. Suddenly, this was real. I knew one of these was going to be my dog. They were perfect.
We let all three loose so we could watch them play. One was smaller and very shy; he was immediately out of the running for me. I wanted a big, lovable goofball of a dog, the way Bud had been, and a sweetheart, the way Thor had been. The other two pups were closer in size, but the larger one tended to dominate in play-fights and always came running to whoever called for him. As the other two pups ignored me and the fattest one came bounding up to me every time I knelt down, I knew this porker was mine. I scooped him up and looked him in the face. "Are you going to be my Sam?" I asked. He wiggled and mouthed my fingers.
Sam his first day home
Sam was 16 pounds when I brought him home. Today he is 5 and a half months old and over 50 pounds of knucklehead. He has been integral in helping me manage my disorder. He loves car rides now, and accompanies me to parks and beaches as well as quick errands to Blockbuster or the dry cleaners'. I never feel nervous when I'm with Sam. Unless, of course, he's eating metal or chewing on beer bottles or doing any of the other myriad things he does without a thought to his own safety. But I love him to death, and he's bonded quite strongly with me, and we're a team.
Here and there I'll fill you in on the three un-chronicled months of Sam's puppyhood, but from here on out, you'll find the joys and challenges I face each day with this wonderful hellion of a pup. I hope that if you have a dog you can relate to at least some of what I write here (especially if you have or have ever had a Lab), and that if you don't have one, you can live the life vicariously. I hope the little things Sam does throughout the day that make me burst into laughter will bring a smile to you, as well.
Feel free to comment on any post you like. Us dog-owners are a close-knit group, and I'd love to hear your dog stories, as well. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy reading mine.
What can I chew next...?
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