Do the Coooool Whip!

The last of the Thanksgiving pie was polished off today, and with it the tub of Cool Whip that naturally goes with pie. The Mother, to my semi-amusement, semi-dismay, decided to let the dogs lick the empty Cool Whip container clean. I don't think it was healthy for them, but they did share remarkably well:

Brothers sharing

And of course, they both had Cool Whip faces afterward, which was pretty funny.

Sam's Cool Whip face lasted only a few seconds


Marcus' tongue couldn't reach all of his face
to lick, so his Cool Whip face lasted much longer

Sam did have a good first Thanksgiving, though. He got turkey skin and some gravy mixed into his kibble, which he scarfed down immediately. And then he got to finish Marcus' gravy-kibble, since Marcus didn't like it. What dog doesn't like gravy? The only food Sam has ever turned down has been sushi, and that's because he didn't understand the salmon. (He also doesn't understand apples, but he still tries.)

And no, I'm not feeding my dog horrible people food all the time. Sam's diet is 90% big boy kibble (aka large breed puppy chow), 5% milkbones, and 5% scraps. Usually the scraps are meat- or carb-based, but occasionally I'll let him try something random like a piece of apple or spinach. He actually liked the spinach, oddly enough. I know what foods are dangerous for him, and he doesn't get enough of them to affect him, anyway. This kid is bordering 100 pounds; I don't think one french fry's gonna kill him.

Sam vs Marcus

Ever since these two boys have begun playing, there have been some epic battles in the kitchen. Sam and Marcus are both very vocal players, so when they start wrestling, they make a huge racket.

They try to play tug of war, but that tends to be a little one-sided, since Sam can sling Marcus around like a rag doll.



So usually they just wrestle, with Marcus finding an easily-defensible position in a corner or in someone's lap, and Sam trying to fit Marcus' whole head in his mouth.



What knuckleheads.

One Year Weight Contest

Time for the weight-guessing contest to begin!

As of last week, Sam weighed 97 pounds. If you can correctly guess how much he will weigh on his first birthday, January 9, 2011, you'll win! I'm not quite sure what you'll win yet, but it will be Sam-themed and therefore awesome.

To submit your guess, click on the comment button underneath this post and write in your answer. It will be posted anonymously unless you're logged in to a google account, so include a name or nickname to get credit for your guess! All guesses are due by December 1, 2010.

Happy guessing!

Wrong End

Sam has always considered himself a lap dog, despite the fact that I only have twenty pounds on him anymore. He likes to sit with me on the couch, and by sit with me, I mean sit on me, and by sit on me, I mean lay completely backwards so his butt is literally on top of my face.

No, this is not the first time this has happened. And I fear it won't be the last.

Argh! Dog-butt-face!

Also, Sam is a perennial sock thief. Just so you know. Socks are his favorite loot to steal, even if you happen to still be wearing them.

You Talkin' to Me?

Sam weighed in at a hefty 97 pounds as of last Wednesday, which puts him at roughly ten times Marcus' size. (Marcus is 10.5 pounds.) Needless to say, the following happens several times a day:

Huh? What's this annoying thing that
keeps bothering me?

OWNED.

Marcus Gets Accustomed

Sam and Marcus are getting used to each other, slowly but surely. Marcus was crying up a storm last night in his crate, so we just took his bed out and stuck it in with Sam's... no more crying. They both slept soundly through the night. I snapped this picture this morning when I came to let them out:

Bed buddies

Since I'm currently at the library, I also got a chance to upload some videos from yesterday. The following are for your Marcus viewing pleasure; after today I promise the posts will return to a mostly Sam focus. Sam's my babby dogger after all; Marcus is Mom's.

Kid Brother

And the surprise is.... Marcus!

Marcus!

That's right, Sam's got a new kid brother. Marcus Aurelius is a 7-month-old Beagle-Maltese mix from the veterinary school at my alma mater, the University of Florida. His adoption has been in the works for about a month, and today he finally got to come home.

Marcus has lived in a lab all his life, so the hour-long car ride from Gainesville to Jacksonville, the yard and the great outdoors, the house, and Sam were all very strange and new for him. He's learning more and more about grass although he still hops from the driveway to the grass and back, as though there were an actual barrier he had to jump over.

Marcus next to Sam's squirrel toy: this is why Sam's confused

Sam likes Marcus, but is having trouble understanding him. He'll walk over top of Marcus and bat him around with his front paws like Marcus was a soccer ball, and he'll run after him and try to play. Of course, every time Sam comes near, Marcus crouches down and freezes in a submissive posture, fearful of being trampled to death (and given Sam's coordination, that is a very real fear). Then Marcus will bound after Sam, chasing sticks and tennis balls, but immediately freeze again once Sam spots him. I'm sure once they both navigate the size obstacle they'll be great friends.

We smell pizza!

And to clarify: Marcus is not my dog, but my mother's. I'm all for the big goofball doggers myself. Sam hasn't show any jealousy or territorial behavior thus far, which is good. And I made sure to take Sam on a walk on his own today, and to take him for a ride with me when I went to pick up dinner. He's still my dog through and through. Now he just has a new kid brother to bother!

A New Home for the Holidays

Even though it wasn't the change I was referring to yesterday, things certainly got shaken up this morning. Sam woke me up at 7 am barking at a stray dog who was roaming the street in front of our house. I got up, grabbed a couple milkbones, and spent the next twenty minutes sitting at the end of the driveway convincing the stray I wouldn't hurt him.

He trusted me pretty quickly, and I let Sam out to sniff him. They greeted each other, then followed me into the yard. I fed the stray boy a cup of kibble, which he wolfed down, and a few chicken treats from Sam's stash. He was skittish for an hour or two, so I put Sam inside when the new boy was getting overwhelmed and let him figure things out at his own pace. I showed him where the water dish was and he drank, and then I sat down in the yard with him and he immediately crawled into my lap. Definitely a sweetheart.

The stray kid

I took the stray to the vet and he checked out okay--no heartworms or intestinal parasites. He was covered in ticks, and he smelled like a zoo, but other than being a little thin he was in good health. He's around a year and a half old, and probably 40-50 pounds.

Playing with Sam

I called my parents to see if we could foster him, but with the surprise that's happening on Friday, that wasn't an option. So I took him to the Jacksonville ACPS, and it really wrenched my heartstrings to hand him over. He was afraid and trying to get back into my lap, and the workers there treated him as though he might attack at any moment. He's a chow mix, and he's got that big strong head, but not once in the five hours I had him did he show any sign of aggression, even when Sam was jumping all over him and knocking him down trying to play.

Give this boy a chance!

So if any of you readers live in the Jacksonville area and are looking for a new family member for the holidays, please give this boy a shot. You can reach ACPS at 904-255-7387. Thank you!

Change is Coming...

Another week has come and gone! Sam has hit the 10-month mark, and he's nearly hit the 100-pound mark. I'll know for sure tomorrow night, when Sam starts his second round of puppy school. Actually, it isn't puppy school, it's advanced obedience, since Sam did so well in his puppy class that he got to skip the intermediate obedience and go straight to advanced. But that's another post.

Over the weekend Sam had fun with me and some friends at the Arboretum. He's been there twice before, but this time he got to explore the trails with a new dogger friend, Gatsby the Havanese. Gatsby was a little wary of Sam at first (after all Sam is five times his weight), but they quickly became friends and started playing all along the trails at random moments. It was like they had a game going over who could pounce on the other and unexpectedly pull their owner's arm out of socket first. Gatsby began to follow Sam's example (despite my warnings that Sam is an awful influence) and jumped in the creeks after Sam, and rolled in the sand after Sam, and *ahem* relieved himself after Sam. Much to his owner's dismay, I might add, since Gatsby's pretty white fur got all muddy. At least Sam is brown so it blends in.

On the way home from the Arboretum I stopped at the Chick-fil-A drive thru and got Sam some chicken nuggets, which he ate with gusto in the back seat. He also scored a free dog treat at the drive-thru window as usual. Sam's gaining a following at a lot of my frequented fast food places. At the Subway I usually pick up lunch from on Saturdays (with Sam in tow), they always ask if I've got Sam with me and give me an extra piece of turkey or roast beef for him for free. He's just racking up the free food, I tell you.

Now, I don't have any pictures for you of this, since I didn't have my camera, so instead I'm posting a video of Sam from a month ago. I hid in the pantry and Sam tried to get me out. It's a good example of the way Sam changes his bark when he's playing into this high-pitched little baby whine, instead of his normal big deep bark.



Oh, and about the surprise I was hinting at a few weeks back... it makes its debut on Friday, so check back in a few days to see what big change is coming!

Sam vs Kitchen Table

Sam likes to throw his chew toys around and chase after them, presumably to make chew-time more exciting. He particularly likes to toss his toys under the kitchen table, where his massive bulk prevents him from reaching them. He then hunkers down on one side of the table, tail wagging, and whines, talks, growls, sighs, and barks at his toys in an effort to coax them out into the open. Usually he'll keep up this symphony of dogger-sounds until one of us kneels down and retrieves the toys for him.

And yes, they're usually back under the table in less than five minutes.

Sam was cracking us up the other night trying to get at his toys, so here is a video snippet of the tail-end of his quest:



And in case you were curious, this is the view from the other side of the table:

If I can just reach...

Now how to get my head back out without letting go...

Curiosity Painted the Dog

If you're outside and doing something out of the ordinary, Sam wants to know what's going on. He'll be up in your business from the moment you step outside until the moment you come back in, and even then he'll be scratching on the door. He's "helped" the Overhead Doors guys install a garage door on our shed, and he's "helped" the septic tank inspector dig up some pipes.

Today, my parents were re-painting the trim on some of our outside doors, and of course Sam had to help. He systematically brought them each one of his outside toys--including one of my shoes--and when they wouldn't play, he set about figuring out what they were doing that was so much more interesting than playing with him. As you may have guessed, inquisitive sniffing and fresh, wet paint don't mix so well. The end result:

What?


It's "dogger-chic"

I've got to see if I can get it out of his fur tonight, otherwise he's gonna be blue for awhile.

UPDATE: The blue paint came out with some Skin So Soft and quite a bit of elbow grease.

Do... not... want...


Quit fighting Sam!

That Last Step's a Doozy

It's never good news when your dad comes back inside at 9pm with your dog and the first thing he says is, "It wasn't my fault!"

Dad had taken Sam with him outside last night to take some sticks and leaves to the curb for yard pick-up this morning, and Sam was lingering by the pool as usual. Dad warned him twice to get away from the pool--a soaking wet dogger at 9 at night is a nuisance--and on the last warning, Sam showed his true goofball colors. He turned away, missed a step, his left paw stepping unexpectedly off the edge, and the upset in balance caused him to a do a face plant onto the concrete pool deck. Dad said the thunk! of Sam plowing into the concrete was loud enough to make him worry Sam had hurt himself, so he immediately brought my wayward child back inside to me for treatment.

Sam came skulking in, and I checked him to make sure he wasn't limping and hadn't hurt his joints. Then I checked his teeth and tongue from where he'd clonked his face, and finally his chin, where he'd scraped off a dime-sized area of skin that was bleeding. His paw, too, had two scrapes on it that were bleeding. I got out the antiseptic and cleaned him off until the bleeding stopped, then gave him a milkbone for his troubles.

Poor Sam. He's such a goofball. All I could think was he was like a five-year-old kid who ignores warnings to slow down and skins his knee and then comes crying back to mommy. No lasting harm, just some bruised pride.

This is Not the Dogger You're Looking For...

Hmm, what's this? I know Sam was in my bedroom a minute ago but where could he have gone?

Nothing out of the ordinary here...

Sam sometimes slips into my bedroom at night in an attempt to avoid sleeping in his own little den in the kitchen. I don't mind him staying the night in my room (except he tends to sleep either perpendicular on the bed so I can't extend my legs out, or else he sleeps in the exact middle and I'm stuck on an edge). Dad, however, is against it, and will usually find Sam in my room and escort him out. Since the pleading, puppy-dog-eyes look hasn't worked on Dad in the past, Sam seems to be trying out a new tactic: camouflage.

The only problem is Sam's a 95-pound rhinoceros. Not the easiest thing to hide, especially when he's chewing on a tennis ball in his hiding place and making snuffling, chomping noises. Needless to say, Sam had to go night-night in his own room instead of mine. But he gets an A for effort.

For size reference, my bed is a double.
And yes, he's just as wide.