Classic Cardigan: I Love Potty Humor and I Can't Help It

But first, here's a photo of the boys that I "swiped" from Jodi, the talented (and award-winning) dog blogger at Kol's Notes - Tips and Tricks from the DIY Dog...

She took it on Saturday, while at the BlogPaws pet blogging and social media conference in Tysons Corner, Virginia. I was not there.          

OK, yes I was! ;) (That's partly why I'm posting this "classic" today...because I'm old and tired, y'all.)

But anyway, about that photo. So, we were in a large dining room at the conference hotel, in the middle of zillions of people (and some other pets), when Jodi kindly gave me a baggie of some of her homemade carob dog treats, and then Dewi got completely fixed on the bag in my hand, and stood up on his haunches (as pictured), and did a show for everyone in the room, which made me a very proud dog mama! (JF did tricks and made me proud, too, by the way.)

And, there you go! The dogs represented at BlogPaws. :) They (and I) had a wonderful time. More on that later.

Today, though, I'd like to re-share a story I wrote over two years ago, which for the longest time (like up until last week), I had forgotten about. Because it's "hiding" under a post title that, other than the word "turd," has nothing to do with why I find potty humor so appealing.
(Hint: It might be genetic...or a product of my upbringing. You decide. ;-)

Originally published on March 2, 2011 (under a somewhat misleading title)...

There's a turd in the litterbox! Somebody celebrate with me!

Made you look! :)     (sorry, I couldn't resist.)

image credit bandofcats.com

Preface: Somewhere, my hubby -- as he reads the blog now and then -- is hanging his head in shame. He thinks that I'm (check that -- my *whole family* on my dad's side) -- is fascinated with poop. For the record, I strongly disagree; however, I will admit that growing up, the subject (poop) was discussed freely. To be exact, my father (quite matter-of-factly) believed that just about any ailment could be attributed to one's being "irregular." Headache? You must be constipated. Bad breath? Constipated. Cranky? Clogged pipes. :) So, we ate a lot of beans and greasy things (no Activia back in that day) to keep things running smoothly. And incidentally, I still had bad breath and got headaches (but was a perfect angel otherwise). (FYI: There's a sucker born every minute. :)

Why there was even that *one* time when -- fairly early in our courtship -- my then boyfriend (now hubby) was over for dinner. He (boyfriend) must have turned down a second helping of butter beans (or some other mushy form of fiber) when my dad -- in his best Sheriff Andy Taylor drawl -- exclaimed, "B___, Ahh SUMtimes wurreh 'bowt yer reg-ye-LAIR-teh!" (Translation: "B___, I sometimes worry about your regularity!")  The rest of the meal was a blur.  I'm surprised I didn't get dumped (pun intended). :)

*****

But, enough about me!  You might recall from yesterday that my old cat, Charlie, has been down with some bad tummy upset (hint: not constipation), which at her age, could have conceivably been her demise. However, this morning, there in her own private litterbox -- a turd! The old girl is still in the game. :) What a relief!

Carry on, y'all. :)


Chocolate, anyone?

In Memoriam: Charlie (Chatting it up in kitty heaven), 1991 - June 2, 2011

Elvis Presley's (Let Me Be Your) Teddy Bear (as Covered by Jon Farleigh)

Preface:

• One year ago I had the crud. So I moaned, Dewi listened and we pretended we were in the movie When Harry Met Sally.
• I wrote a song parody about Dewi called Brown Eyed Merle.
• I have the crud again.
• Jon Farleigh needs his own song.
• I need a teddy bear.

Originally recorded by Elvis Presley in 1957 for the film, Loving You...

(Notes: If you're too young to know it, have a look/listen HERE, now. I beseech you. Also, Jon Farleigh changed two words of the original lyrics.)

(Let Me Be Your) Teddy Bear

Baby let me be

your lovin' teddy bear.

Loop a leash around my neck

and lead me anywhere.

Oh let me be (oh let him be)

Your teddy bear.

I don't wanna be a tiger.

'Cause tigers play too rough.

I don't wanna be a lion.

'Cause lions ain't the kind you love enough.

Baby, let me be...

...Around you you every night.

Run your fingers through my hair...

...And cuddle me real tight.

Oh let me be (oh let him be)

Your teddy bear.

I don't wanna be a tiger.

'Cause tigers play too rough.

Don't wanna be a lion.

'Cause lions ain't the kind you love enough.

Just wanna be...your teddy bear.

Loop a leash around my neck

and lead me anywhere.

Oh let me be (oh let him be)...

...Your teddy bear.

Oh let me be (oh let him be)

Your teddy bear.

/(^.^)\

Happy weekend, poopsies.

Classic Cardigan: Being Sick Isn't So Bad with Dewi and Nora Ephron

First of all, I'm not sick. I'm just feeling heavy hearted about the recent passing of Nora Ephron, who was responsible for (among other things) one of my very favorite films of all time, When Harry Met Sally, upon which, I based one of my favorite posts (despite the fact that I wrote it when I had the bubonic plague crud).

So, in feeble tribute to this great writer, who will be sorely missed, I give you...

Originally posted on March 2, 2012

Wherein Dewi and I Interpret the Sick-in-Bed Moaning Scene from When Harry Met Sally

If I had to describe the state in which my immune system has rendered me today, I'd say imagine that I am a pair of 10-year-old boy's jeans, the virus I have is a bad grass/mud stain, my immune system is a washing machine (an old one with an agitator) and my brain is the hand that just turned the machine setting to Heavy Duty and then pressed Start.

Thank heaven for fabric softener (aka ibuprofen). ;)

But enough whining; this post is about moaning.

So who remembers the scene in When Harry Met Sally when Harry is sick and calls Sally on the phone to moan? (Hint: They were watching Casablanca simultaneously from each other's own bed.)

Image Source

This could be my favorite scene in the whole movie (I know, weird), but until this morning, a few minutes after I took some pain medicine and moaned a little, I never really understood (or cared) why.

Now I do.

It's because in my romantic comedy fantasy, *I* want someone to listen to *me* moan when I've got a cold (or minor body ache, mosquito bite, etc.).

And by listen I mean really listen, with genuine, selfless, devoted concern (like I am the most important thing in the room).

Yes, that is why I love this scene so much. Because it just DOESN'T HAPPEN in real life.

Unless one of the characters in the scene happens to be one's dog.

Allow Dewi and me to demonstrate:

Me (to Dewi on the floor beside my chair): I'm definitely coming down with something. Probably a twenty-four hour tumor; they're going around.

In my movie, we watch Gunsmoke. :)

Dewi: You don't have a tumor.

Me: How do you know?

Dewi: If you're so worried, go see a doctor.

Me: No, he'll just tell me it's nothing.

Dewi: Will you be able to sleep?

Me: If not, I'll be OK.

Dewi: What will you do?

Me: I'll stay up and moan. Maybe I should practice now. [moans....]

Dewi: (Unlike in the movie when Sally cuts Harry off and says goodnight...) Okay, moan all you need to. I'll just be lying down here listening, not judging.

Me: Okay. [moans...and eventually, lights out]

[thinks about eating bacon]

Movie Script Credit

*****

And, wouldn't you know? I don't feel like moaning (or whining) anymore. (hehe)

Have a great weekend, everybody!
*****

UPDATE! (because Red Dog Mom noticed Jon Farleigh was missing from the scene)

Please note that he was actually "directing" the action from the right side of my lap.
('Twas a real blitch to crop him out of the photos.)

You might also note that I decorate my house with piles of folded laundry. You should try it when you need an added pop of color. :)

P.S. Thanks for the well wishes, everyone.

It Is Lame

Unless you read the very last line of yesterday's post, you probably won't get this.

Want to know what else is lame? I took 39 pictures of them with that sign and this was the best I could do. [sigh]

I'm on the mend, but to be on the safe side (because one lame post is all any of us can handle in one week), I'm gonna take tomorrow off (unless I don't). ;-)

Enjoy the day!

See you soon!

The Good News Is That Mashed Pumpkin Is Still Good for Your Dog's 'Hershey'

The bad news is that it doesn't work for bronchitis (yes, seems my head crud is now a head and chest crud).

But, thankfully today, my doctor fixed me up with something that should knock it out in a few days (lest I lose my sense of humor - oh, the horror!).

***

Meanwhile, since I'm here talking about crud remedies anyway, I thought I'd use this opportunity to remind everyone about the benefits of feeding plain (cooked) mashed pumpkin to a dog for optimal digestive health (aka the state of the Hershey, aka Code Brown, aka poo).

You'll find all the sweet details here, in my original article from Nov. 15, 2011:

Eat Some Mashed Pumpkin and Have a Nice 'Hershey'

But wait! As a parting gift to you, Jon Farleigh with a visual:

Have a sweet evening.

P.S. I will probably not die overnight, so therefore, will post something tomorrow. However, it might be lame.

:-)

Wherein Dewi and I Interpret the Sick-in-Bed Moaning Scene from When Harry Met Sally

If I had to describe the state in which my immune system has rendered me today, I'd say imagine that I am a pair of 10-year-old boy's jeans, the virus I have is a bad grass/mud stain, my immune system is a washing machine (an old one with an agitator) and my brain is the hand that just turned the machine setting to Heavy Duty and then pressed Start.

Thank heaven for fabric softener (aka ibuprofen). ;)

But enough whining; this post is about moaning.

So who remembers the scene in When Harry Met Sally when Harry is sick and calls Sally on the phone to moan? (Hint: They were watching Casablanca simultaneously from each other's own bed.)

Image Source

This could be my favorite scene in the whole movie (I know, weird), but until this morning, a few minutes after I took some pain medicine and moaned a little, I never really understood (or cared) why.

Now I do.

It's because in my romantic comedy fantasy, *I* want someone to listen to *me* moan when I've got a cold (or minor body ache, mosquito bite, etc.).

And by listen I mean really listen, with genuine, selfless, devoted concern (like I am the most important thing in the room).

Yes, that is why I love this scene so much. Because it just DOESN'T HAPPEN in real life.

Unless one of the characters in the scene happens to be one's dog.

Allow Dewi and me to demonstrate:

Me (to Dewi on the floor beside my chair): I'm definitely coming down with something. Probably a twenty-four hour tumor; they're going around.

In my movie, we watch Gunsmoke. :)

Dewi: You don't have a tumor.

Me: How do you know?

Dewi: If you're so worried, go see a doctor.

Me: No, he'll just tell me it's nothing.

Dewi: Will you be able to sleep?

Me: If not, I'll be OK.

Dewi: What will you do?

Me: I'll stay up and moan. Maybe I should practice now. [moans....]

Dewi: (Unlike in the movie when Sally cuts Harry off and says goodnight...) Okay, moan all you need to. I'll just be lying down here listening, not judging.

Me: Okay. [moans...and eventually, lights out]

[thinks about eating bacon]

Movie Script Credit

*****

And, wouldn't you know? I don't feel like moaning (or whining) anymore. (hehe)

Have a great weekend, everybody!
*****

UPDATE! (because Red Dog Mom noticed Jon Farleigh was missing from the scene)

Please note that he was actually "directing" the action from the right side of my lap.
('Twas a real blitch to crop him out of the photos.)

You might also note that I decorate my house with piles of folded laundry. You should try it when you need an added pop of color. :)

P.S. Thanks for the well wishes, everyone.

Eat Some Mashed Pumpkin and Have a Nice 'Hershey'

Like I mentioned in my interview on The Daily Corgi yesterday, I often get inspired by other bloggers and sometimes, all it takes is a word. Today's word is "pumpkin." Thank you, 24 Paws of Love! :)

Also, because this is a serious topic, and you are not used to me writing seriously, I have decided that instead of using the word "poop" here, I will instead refer to it as "Hershey." I would appreciate it if you would NOT giggle.  Don't. I mean it.

So as I was saying, 24 Paws of Love recently posted some helpful tips on how to roast and puree your own pumpkin, which when fed in moderation to dogs with upset tummies, works like a charm to firm up the Hershey. I admit, I knew this already. I've tried it before with success; however, unlike 24 Paws of Love, I prefer to take the easy route and buy the pumpkin already cooked and mashed up in the can. 

100% pure, high in fiber and Vitamin A, Hershey-fixer

Why am I bothering to tell you this? Well, coincidentally, a couple days after reading the pumpkin post, Dewi ate an entire (edible-supposed to last a long time-will never give to him again) chewy in two hours and, not surprisingly, wound up with some syrupy Hershey. 

So I gave him two heaping tablespoons of pumpkin with his dinner.

12 hours later, Hershey syrup NO MORE! :)

Mmmm, smells like can!

I love pumpkins. So do Dewi and Jon Farleigh.

I love you with every fiber of my squash-colored being!

Note: Jon Farleigh also had some pumpkin with his dinner, but half as much as Dewi. He missed one of his usual three Hersheys the next day. I would, therefore, recommend feeding it sparingly (not daily and in teaspoon or less quantities) to avoid backing up your dog's Hershey-producing chute. 

*****

Okay, all this talk of pumpkins and Hershey has made me hungry. Does anyone else love pumpkin pie/bread/cheesecake, like I do?

Well, I'm wondering, although never a good idea to feed to one's dog, with the pumpkin pie-laden holidays coming up, wouldn't you think eating its fiber-filled goodness (in moderation, of course) could preempt holiday meal stomach upset? 

I think I'm going to go with "yes." :)

Have great day!

Dude, that cannot be comfortable?



One of the benefits of having no legs: low center of gravity for optimal naptime positioning

I'm pretty sure he's giving me a dirty look in this one.

(Notice the reflective edge on the Comfy Cone? I suppose dogs in cones need extra visibility.)  

Hope your slumber is comfy.

ZZZzzzzzz

The gloomy grey ghost is back...

....only this time it's got Dewi. :(

Spirit of Eeyore, be gone with you!

Poor Dewi has lost his manhood (and dignity)



 

Jon Farleigh channeling Eeyore after losing his dignity
 photo originally appeared on 1/13/11

Jon Farleigh is frustrated and thinks Dewi is an alien.

Dewi is miserable and won't walk wearing the Comfy Cone.

I need a vacation, but I'll settle for a weekend.

Please don't lose your dignity this weekend.

Eeyore might show up.

There's a turd in the litterbox! Somebody celebrate with me!

Made you look! :)     (sorry, I couldn't resist.)

image credit bandofcats.com

Preface: Somewhere, my hubby -- as he reads the blog now and then -- is hanging his head in shame. He thinks that I'm (check that -- my *whole family* on my dad's side) -- is fascinated with poop. For the record, I strongly disagree; however, I will admit that growing up, the subject (poop) was discussed freely. To be exact, my father (quite matter-of-factly) believed that just about any ailment could be attributed to one being "irregular." Headache? You must be constipated. Bad breath? Constipated. Cranky? Clogged pipes. :) So, we ate a lot of beans and greasy things (no Activia back in that day) to keep things running smoothly. And incidentally, I still had bad breath and got headaches (but was a perfect angel otherwise). (FYI: There's a sucker born every minute. :)

Why there was even that *one* time when -- fairly early in our courtship -- my then boyfriend (now hubby) was over for dinner. He (boyfriend) must have turned down a second helping of butter beans (or some other mushy form of fiber) when my dad -- in his best Sheriff Andy Taylor drawl -- exclaimed, "B___, Ahh SUMtimes wurreh 'bowt yer reg-ye-LAIR-teh! (translation: B___, I sometimes worry about your regularity!")  The rest of the meal was a blur.  I'm surprised I didn't get dumped (pun intended). :)

*****

But, enough about me!  You might recall from yesterday that my old cat, Charlie, has been down with some bad tummy upset (hint: not constipation), which at her age, could have conceivably been her demise. However, this morning, there in her own private litterbox -- a turd! The old girl is still in the game. :) What a relief!

Carry on, y'all. :)


Chocolate, anyone?

In Memoriam: Charlie (Chatting it up in kitty heaven), 1991 - June 2, 2011

The Old, Old Girl, She Ain't What She Used to Be

Our 20-year-old girl, Charlie, has been battling tummy yuck today, but still let's nothing get between her and a good belly scritch...

I'd roll over if I could.

Talk to the paw.

 Her motor still purrs, too.  
(Feel better, Charlie.)

I think Jon Farleigh has been posessed

....by the spirit of a gloomy grey donkey.

Eeyore, the old grey Donkey, stood by the side of the stream, and looked at himself in the water.
"Pathetic," he said. "That's what it is. Pathetic."
He turned and walked slowly down the stream for twenty yards, splashed across it, and walked slowly back on the other side. Then he looked at himself in the water again.
"As I thought," he said. "No better from this side. But nobody minds. Nobody cares. Pathetic, that's what it is."

- from Winnie the Pooh

The #1 Reason I Don't Like Antibiotics

Fluffy Butt + Antibiotic Side Effect = The Devil's Work

Eleven more days of antibiotic side effect. :^(
Somebody's getting a haircut today.

How comfy can a cone really be?

Is this one of the saddest things you've ever seen, or what?

If this was the video proudly featured on the Comfy Cone website, I'm not sure they'd still be in business. :)

Here are some more photos of Jon Farleigh modeling his cone. (Go ahead and laugh; you know you want to.)

So versatile

No need to remove for drinking

Or eating a snack

Rolls back to increase cuteness while begging

And as the logo states, it's comfy

Who once was a Studmuffin is now, well, just a Muffin

But a mighty cute muffin!

Jon groggily to Dewi [who's off camera]: "I might be a few ounces lighter, but I can still take you."

Jon is totally giving Dewi the most pitiful "stare" in this shot, and he would not drop that rawhide for anything. :)  I guess testosterone and resource guarding are unrelated.

Seriously, and thankfully, Jon did great during the procedure - had no vomiting while coming out of anesthesia, is pretty alert, has kept down half a meal and has pooped without too much incident.  It did take him nearly two hours to successfully lie down without wincing in pain (poor baby).  I haven't seen the "boys" yet, but was told the incision is internal, so no stitches to worry about.  No cone of shame either (unless he starts licking).  He's so tired though; can hardly keep his eyes open. I hope he can sleep tonight without too much discomfort.

Dewi is so glad his bro is back home, and so are all the rest of us!