10 (Previously Published) Reasons My Dogs Are Strange + One 'Scary-Spice' New One

Note: This post has nothing to do with Mel B.

A few days ago, after posting on Facebook about how the dogs had been particularly barky that morning, a reader brought up in comments how her beloved dog, Nugget, had a few quirky barking habits of his own. One of those habits, she went on to say, even necessitates a psych ritual (as in she has to psych herself up for the impending bark fest) every time she uses the hair dryer. (yikes!)

Post by The Chronicles of Cardigan.

And so, I told her about how I can't open my spice drawer, without Jon Farleigh going ballistic and trying to "kill" all the spice jars with his nose.

We agreed that we both needed to get the spectacles on video.

Today, I have upheld my end of the "bargain." For your viewing pleasure:

Jon Farleigh, Trying to Save Us All From a Dried Parsley Attack

And now, I have a few questions for you:

1. Has anyone else's dog - now or ever, in the collective generations of all your family trees - attacked a spice bottle?
2. Do you think Jon Farleigh needs an intervention, or some seasoning-directed-anger management counseling? Before he actually does "kill" all the spices?
3. Can anyone recommend a dog counselor with those credentials?
4. Does anyone else think Jon Farleigh's still cute, even when he's acting like an angry, canine alien?

By the way, I answered "yes" to that last question, because I'm a crazy dog lady. ☺

So, who wants to revisit 10 other ways my dogs (BOTH of them) are strange? (I swear, I couldn't make this stuff up, even if it came to me in a dream. Also, this is not an exhaustive list.)

OK, YAY! Here you go!

Originally posted on November 4, 2013...

10 (Previously Unpublished) Reasons Why My Dogs Are Strange

Sometimes I go through the better part of a day just scratching my head in wonderment. Is it possible that they are alien, dog impostors?

10 Reasons Why My Dogs Are Strange

1. Jon Farleigh: Carries a "pacifier/binky" (e.g., Kong, bone, sock, stuffie, bottle) everywhere he goes. If it's not in his mouth (like when he's eating/sleeping), it's within easy grasp.

His pacifier du jour.

2. Dewi: When on car rides, prefers to travel with his whole snout shoved into the corner of the backseat.

3. Jon Farleigh: Whenever a cat leaves the room in which he's occupying, charges after the animal, while violently shaking his "pacifier"-toting head. Note: No animals have ever been injured during this process (in fact, the cats mostly roll their eyes); however, some (humans included) have been jarred awake from sound sleep.

4. Dewi: Humps Jon Farleigh every time he (Jon Farleigh) charges a cat leaving the room. (Recap: Cat leaves room; JF charges cat; Dewi humps JF. Repeat, as necessary.)

5. Jon Farleigh: Growls whenever he's enjoying a particularly good back scratch.

6. Dewi: Screams in fear whenever he thinks he's going to get his nails trimmed* (as in, I am holding his paw in one hand and the clippers in the other). And by scream, I mean scream (not whine, not yelp, not bark - scream). Like this baboon scream:

Like this, except not fake. And with clippers.

Like the last time we went to the vet for his annual physical, and they needed some blood for his heartworm check*...

Me to vet assistant: He might scream. He screams when I handle his paws and he sees the nail clippers.

Assistant: That's okay, a lot of dogs do. Just hug him, like so, while we get a little blood from his wrist.

Me: [hugs Dewi]

Dewi: SCREAM SCREAM SCREAM SCREAM SCREAM!!!!!!

Dead people: [wake up]

Me: [soothingly to Dewi] It's okay, buddy, it's all over! What a good boy! 

Vet tech: All we did was swab the site with alcohol; keep hugging him! We need to get the vessel on the first try.

Me: [to myself] Good lord, it was just a swab?!?!

1/2 dozen or so bystanders staring through the examining room door: [wonder whether to call 911] 

Me: [To myself] I told them he'd scream. [to Dewi] It's okay, buddy, just a little bit longer! Good boy! Good boy! [to the Heavens] Please, God, please let that needle go in the vein on the first try.

Dewi: [quiet]

Vet tech: All done! Good job, Dewi! [Straight-up lies, while wiping beads of sweat off her brow.]

The vet'll be by in a few minutes to read the test.

7 minutes later...

Vet: [smiling] I understand this guy got a little upset getting his blood drawn. 

Dewi: [wiggles and beats tail out of sheer joy]

Me: [trying not to giggle] Yeah, but he's okay now. It was just his feet. He'll be perfectly unfazed by the rest of the exam, including his shots. Really.

Vet: OK, but I've got something here that'll keep him busy - just in case - while I give him the shots. [produces jar of ground chicken baby food; proceeds to spoon half of it into a paper bowl, and place it in front of Dewi]

Me: [to myself, as Dewi scarfs down the food] Boy, does that dog know how to work a room. :-/

Addendum: I forgot to mention that - when he doesn't perceive me to have the clippers - Dewi loves to have his paws handled. In fact, he voluntarily "hands" them to me for all-over, between-the-pad massages. And because his feet smell deliciously of Fritos, I happily oblige! How's that for strange?!

* Update 2014: At his last well-check, the vet tech took blood from Dewi's jugular vein (vs. his wrist). It was blissfully drama-free (and, per the vet tech, a completely routine place from which to get blood from a dog). 

...OK, back to the list...

7. Jon Farleigh: Yaps and "pecks" (bonks) Maddox with his nose whenever Maddox walks into the kitchen. Conversely, is afraid to get within 5 feet of Maddox everywhere else in the house.

Like this, except in the kitchen and with a lot more bonks. 

8. Dewi: Is afraid of inflated balloons.

9. Jon Farleigh: Hates so badly when the cats play with string, that he steals the string, shakes it until it's "dead," and then sits on it for safe keeping. 

10. Jon Farleigh and Dewi: Have no fear of loud noises, including (knock knock) thunder. Probably because those loud noises - compared to their loud protests against string and nail clippers, for example - pale in comparison. 

* Dewi has not always screamed (at me) while getting nail trims, nor has he ever experienced a nail injury. However, the screaming and stress is why I (mostly) take him to the groomer for nail trims now, because, for some reason, he does not scream at her.

(And, in case you're wondering, I like my dogs strange. My cats, too. I mean really, like I'm the picture of normalcy!)

So, tell me, what strange things do your dogs (or cats, if you don't have dogs) do?

7 Unexpected Ways Living With Dogs Is Like Living With Babies

Based on my personal experience, having had three of each (dogs and babies). For the record, I came up with a whole page of hand-written ways; these are just a few of the less obvious ones.

1. A formed BM (after a sustained period of "unformed" BMs, aka horrible, explosive s#^t that necessitates a bath/shower/laundry/or infected item(s) thrown--using tongs and rubber gloves--in the outside garbage) is cause for loud celebration.

Soft, warm pretzel, anyone?

2. Leaving the house with either (baby or dog) requires one to tote an ample supply of plastic poo receptacles, both of which--when loaded--are like toxic hot potatoes, and must be thrown far, far away, to avoid olfactory assault, dry heaves and perceived ridicule from random passers-by.

Same sh*#, different butt.

3. They both eat crayons. Which makes for colorful #2.

4. Sometimes, they need a pacifier to satisfy their oral fixations.

5. Even though the toilet is only 5 feet (or less) away, they throw up on the floor/bed/a person.

6. They make accessorizing outfits a breeze.

7. For entirely different reasons, you'll want to bite their feet.

And, lastly (because I can't resist, and I certainly wouldn't want you to think having dogs and/or babies is a bad thing), one obviously AWESOME way living with dogs is like living with babies...

Their mega-watt smiles might make you melt into a quivering pile of goo!

By the way, the resemblance* is uncanny, don't you think?

So for anyone else out there who's had experience with both dogs and babies, got anything to add to the list?

*****

You know what? While I'm at it, living with cats is like living with babies, too. Yeah, they can't keep their clothes/shoes/vital accessories on for 5 minutes!

See what I mean?

Darn cat. ☺


* Really? You think 6-month-old me looks like Jon Farleigh?? (hehe) Perhaps I'll make that collage of the two of us my new profile photo. People be like, "Dang! A baby writes this blog?!"

(Vintage) Tacky Cardigan With Words on It: Bad Dog Inventions

Note: Out of concern that, after seeing it, some readers might like to change the title of this post to, "Bad Dog Owner Is Bad for Making up Bad Dog Inventions," I make the following full disclosure (that I disclosed back on 12/20/11, when I first published this photo, under a different title [good grief, the holidays made my imagination hurt, and I'm still recovering, okay? I mean, thank goodness for reruns!]):

Jon Farleigh chewed the furniture pictured...when he was a puppy. This photo was taken [on 12/19/11, several months after the fact], and while he did chew on the (BPA-free) plastic bottle, he didn't really eat some experimental, canine "lockjaw"-inducing spray. In other words, I'm just a tacky caption writer, so lighten up, Françoise! ☺ 

Just for fun, I made that same face and cracked myself up. Why don't you try making it and see what happens!

If you'd like me to consider your pet(s) photo for a tacky cardigan, just post it to the Facebook page!

It Rhymes With 'Hump' Day: Forrest Gump

Please, allow me to explain today's "hump" day rhyme...

There was a tennis ball under the base of the computer armoire (in front of which I'd been attempting to get some work done). I knew this because, for the previous several minutes, Dewi had been conspicuously alternating between staring up at me longingly and frantically pawing at the crevice between the armoire and the floor. The thing is, I was confused, because the tennis ball I had handed him moments before (to keep him mildly occupied while I was working), was lying right in front of his feet.

So, I thought, okay, maybe there's a "better" ball under there (after all, the one I'd just given him was missing some yellow fuzz, cracked on one side, and practically incapable of bouncing anymore). And, giving him that, I grudgingly got up from my chair, precariously lowered myself to the floor (bad knees), and used a wooden pole to roll the "better" ball out from under the furniture. 

It was obvious from the expression on his face that Dewi approved, so I plopped the "new" ball in front of him and went back to my previous business. 

Seconds later, in my peripheral vision, I saw Dewi - with a ball in his mouth - scuttling toward my legs, and I could hear him nosing around under the desk - at the one place under the armoire where a tennis ball can pass through and get trapped. And, by gosh, if he didn't drop that ball and then shove it up under there with his nose! On purpose! 

So then, I'm thinking, Dewi? Are you that much of a dimwit that you'd intentionally shove your ball under the furniture, where you can't get to it? And if that's not bad enough, dude, make me stop what I'm do...ing? (pause) Get. up.  and... 

Oh. My. GOSH! (looks at Dewi's smiling face.) You're not a dimwit. (crap) I am!

(I'll have you know, Dewi knew exactly what he was doing: roll the ball under the furniture, and the human fetches it every time!)

So, I got the wooden pole, prodded the ball out, and played fetch with both Dewi and Jon Farleigh, until they were tired and ready for a nap. 

~~~~~

And that, my friends, is why today is Forrest Gump day. 

Also, if this morning was in a box of chocolates, it would have been an orange cream. 

;-)

Classic Cardigan: Foster Kittens Terrify Jon Farleigh; Force Him Into Running Shower

At the risk of revealing a photo source, and contradicting a recent theory on dogs and baths (because I'm preoccupied with Halloween-related tacky cardigan stuff today), I'm "treating" you to a classic (aka previously published) post.

The following is a true story.

Originally published on May 31, 2012...

Terrible Tales with Jon Farleigh: Purrassic Park

(As told around a campfire to a bunch of eager "Pup" Scouts with short attention spans.)

Listen up; this is scary stuff.

My best friend Dewi and I could hardly contain our excitement, imagining the thrills we were gonna have chasing the three "clone" kitties that our Mom person had brought home for us the day before. 

We hadn't seen them go into the room-where-it-rains that first day, but we could hear their faint mewing and smell their "not-quite-cat" (because they were created special, just for our amusement) scent from underneath the door. We just knew something wonderful awaited us because of all the time Mom and all our other peeps were spending in there getting things ready. 

On the afternoon that she invited us to follow her through our sleeping room to the door separating us from our adventure, we were so excited that we forgot our manners and shoved past Mom's legs, through the cracked doorway and into A TERRIBLE NIGHTMARE!

They're gonna rush me in 30 seconds.

At first the creatures seemed harmless enough (they were tiny), but then, before I could even decide which one's butt to sniff first, they rushed me!

All three of the tiny carnivorous monsters came at me with such conviction that I began to fear for my safety (no cat in its right mind rushes a strange dog; they had to be mutants out to make a meal out of me)! So I let out a half-chortle, half-cry and scampered away from the beasts as fast as I could!

(It was sadly too late for my friend Dewi, as the menacing fur balls had already transformed him into a minion through mutant feline mind control.)

Dewi: Whatever you ask, I do.

But wherever I went, they came after me (that is, when they weren't lapping up what must have been minced dog meat from a silver platter)! 

nomnomnomnomnom

Alas, there was no where left for me to turn...except the place where it sometimes rains on my people. 

Oh, please no.

I'm doomed.

So, I went in because it wasn't raining, then, BUT THEY FOLLOWED ME! And just when I thought my life was over...

MOM SHOWED UP!

And, wouldn't you know, all those horrible fake cats wheeled around and went straight after her? That's when I slipped out and hid in the room with the big white bowl...and waited.

Then, next thing I knew it was raining, and the noise caused those little terrorists to run back over in my direction. But just inches before I was a goner, I ran straight into the torrential rain and did not budge. I was soaking wet, but safe (because like real cats, the mutants didn't like getting water on their fur). Whew!

If I get in there, my fur will melt.

In the end, Mom made the rain stop and wrapped me up in a towel. 

I was relieved when she said my adventure was over. Dewi was too (once he snapped out of his trance).

I think I'd like to take a break from adventures and eat more snacks.

The End

Sweet dreams, everyone! ;)

I Would Do Anything for a Ball, but I Won't Do That

A few things first:

<> This is not that kind of blog.

<> There is nothing parodic about this post, other than the title, speaking of which...

<> Thanks, Meat Loaf.

<> There is a "permanent" x-pen in my family room; it has felt pads under the corners, to save the floor.

<> This is not a PSA about spaying and neutering your pets, but while I'm on the subject, please do.

<>  According to the book The Intelligence of Dogs by Stanley Coren, Cardigan Welsh Corgis are the 26th most intelligent dog breed.

* * *

'S'my ball. My. Ball. 

I might have mentioned before (about 106 times, here and there) that - aside from eating - Dewi's favorite activity is fetching, preferably his rope. No, let me rephrase that: Dewi is a rope addict and might need an intervention.

I know, I know - lots of dogs are crazy about fetching. You might be lucky enough to have one (or more) of your own (bless your hearts). It's just that I think Dewi might be "special." And by "special," well...

Have you ever seen a dog fetch like this??!

So, do you think Dewi might be "special"?

Hold on to that thought for a couple minutes.

(P.S. Did you get a load of Bertie, the cat? hehe)

Now, I'm no expert on dog IQ, but I've tried a few simple tests on both Dewi and Jon Farleigh. Here's a chart with some of the results.

Test	Passed
Finds way out from under a blanket	Yes
Answers to own name, and not to random words spoken in the same tone Ex. Responds to "Dewwwiii!" but not to "Vacuuuuum!" or Fryiiiing Paaan!" for example	Yes
Understands English	Yes
Can find a treat under a cup, in between the couch cushions, under the refrigerator, in the litter box...	Yes
When playing fetch with a tennis ball, and the ball accidentally lands in an empty (shoulder-high) laundry basket, knows to hop in the basket to retrieve the ball Example:	No
If placed inside an empty (shoulder-high) laundry basket with a tennis ball, and given the command to "bring me the ball," makes an attempt to get out of the basket (with or without ball) Example:	No

And...I don't know, y'all. Based on those results, I'm inclined to think:
they're both "special!" 
Wouldn't you agree? ;-)

Out of immense curiosity, for those who have (or have had) Corgis or any other dwarf breed of dog, would your dog(s) be able to pass that last laundry basket test?

Let me know in the poll below! Thanks!

Your Dog Might Be a Profuse Shedder if...

...your cats need to be taped off with a lint roller, lest they yak up dog hair hairballs.*

NOT a dog hair hairball, but it COULD be.
It's actually just a dry pile of Dewi's undercoat...
He sheds this much twice daily.
OK, not really. Thrice daily.
And that's NOT including his top coat.**

Speaking of hairy balls, yesterday, Jon Farleigh and Dewi were playing outside with a tennis ball (that was hairy, because they drooled on it and then shed all over it, which caused the hair to stick [get your minds out of the gutter]) and this*** went down...

Hi. I'm just making sure Dewi a hawk doesn't fly off with my ball.

Hey, Dewi, wanna play now?

Uh huh, I would love to play, brother...ever so badly!

OK...on three...

[thinking] Must get ready...

"...one, two...SIKE!!!!"

[insert maniacal laughter]

MOOOOOOOOOMMMM!

I heart my ball. And my mom person. 

Kids. ;-)

* I'm joking about taping off the cats. I rarely even tape off myself. Besides, they pass hair through their other ends, the "outcome" of which I don't inspect for dog DNA.  Ew.

** When he's blowing coat, which is most of the time. Oh, and JF sheds just as much. 

*** It really happened! I might have embellished slightly, however.

Have a smiley day!

P.S. Please do not spell "psych" incorrectly, like I did...up there, somewhere. ;-)

And Now 'Chucky' Will Model One of Jon Farleigh's Old Collars

And you thought I only owned weird stuffed cat puppets. Ha! 

Chucky is Jon Farleigh's body double. Can you guess why he's called "Chucky"?

A. He works as a dancing bear at a popular kids' pizza/arcade establishment.

B. He prefers it to "Charles."

C. He up-Chuckies a lot.

D. He is a plush spawn of the devil.

The correct answer is "D. He is a plush spawn of the devil."

At least that's what Jon Farleigh says.

(Note: In case you can't see it in his eyes, JF is scared turdless of Chucky.)

I couldn't say why, for sure, although Chucky's being a "cat corgi" might have something to do with it. ;-)

Either that, or he smells like a foster kitten. 

Poor Jon Farleigh!

P.S. Chucky lives in a closet when not modeling collars and scaring the turds out of Jon Farleigh.

Time-out Happens When Jon Farleigh and Dewi...

• Chase Maddox
• Bark at Maddox for no reason
• Stick their noses on Maddox (when he isn't looking) and startle him
• Jump up on peeps when they are holding Maddox
• Barge in on Maddox while he's eating breakfast or dinner
• Look sideways at Maddox
• Breathe their hot doggie breath toward Maddox while he's sleeping
• Chase Maddox (repeat).

We get lots of timing outs lately.
Please don't tell her we can still see the TV from in here.

How's time out goin' for ya?

Bwahahahaha!

Note: Some of this isn't true. Maddox didn't really laugh. ;)

These are good times, friends! (Really, they are!)

Jon Farleigh's Bottle Addiction, Literally

Jon Farleigh is addicted to empty Baileys coffee creamer bottles*.

I might not have mentioned this before.

He has at least one in every downstairs room. He scoops them up in his teeth, puffs up his chest, makes a lot of noise, and then struts around as if showing off the spoils of his imaginary hunt. 

He can be counted on to go for a bottle when:

1) He hears a child or a cat rounding the corner to climb the stairs 

2) He hears Lulabelle or Tigger moving about (in any room that he is not currently occupying)

3) He hears potential intruders outside (aka any person he hears outside)

4) I am home, but another family member enters the house

5) Anyone in the house says, "Here, kitty, kitty!" or calls out to one of our three cats by name.

In these photos (taken today), he is looking for the imaginary kitty that I so rudely called for in order to get the shots:

I am invincible with my trusty bottle!

This bottle makes me feel 10 feet tall!

Nah na na boo boo, I have a bottle and you don't!

I guess as long as he doesn't start sleeping with the bottles...or sharing his meals with the bottles...or refusing to go out in public without the bottles...

I should probably be thankful it's not a shoe addiction, right? :)

Dumb bottles.

*All bottles are BPA-free, #1 recyclable plastic and are changed out frequently.
Also, I might be addicted to coffee...and Baileys creamer.
I like the other kind of Baileys, too.

But I wouldn't give those bottles to Jon Farleigh.