How to Trim Your Unrealistic, Pre-Blogging Conference To-Do List so You Don't Hurl #BlogPaws

No need to get your hair all wound up in a dremel over pre-BlogPaws planning!
(Image credit: Me, 2 weeks before BlogPaws in 2013, aka crunch time, and I had not planned to get my hair
 cut short that year. The hair unwound, thankfully,
but the ends would never be the same. The dogs' nails, on the other hand, looked great.)

In a few days (I'm not counting, but 10.5), I'll be sitting on a Southwest Airlines jet, somewhere in the sky between Georgia and Arizona, stomach full of helium (figuratively) and head swirling like just beaten scrambled eggs. All my thoughts unintelligible...because I had to get out of bed at 3 a.m...nevertheless! I will have finished packing, and (save forgetting all the bloggers' names I've tried to memorize over the previous weeks, once I get to Phoenix) the planning phase of my fifth BlogPaws conference will have been a success, happily in my past. Leaving me to get on with making this conference my best ever... Thank God!

OK, OK, I know. Planning for a blogging conference (especially one to which one can bring pets, and wear leopard print every day, or sport a "Pugs, not Drugs" t-shirt without anyone giving a second thought, for example) can be crazy exciting. Jump-up-and-down-and-scare-one's-loved-ones exciting, if I'm being honest (especially if it's one's first time). But once the under-two-weeks-left-to-go mark hits, the task of finishing off one's to-do list can quickly morph from producing a fluttery, anticipatory feeling in one's stomach, to full-on shortness of breath and a sudden urge to hurl on the floor.

Classic Cardigan Twofer: The Stupid, Rotten, Very Bad, Humiliating Life Lessons My Dogs Once Learned

Some things a dog only needs to experience once. Here are two separate accounts of such things - one each for Jon Farleigh and Dewi.
(Note: The number of lessons that preceded and followed these particular examples is greater than my patience for writing them down. Let's just say, they're well-educated.)

Originally published on 7/5/11 and 10/4/11, respectively (gasp, they were just babies then!)...

Life Lessons Learned the Hard Way by Dewi - Fruity Soap

The night before last, while I was milling around in the master bathroom, I heard The Hubby exclaim (in the dog version of his "what have you gotten into now" voice)...

The Hubby:  "Boys, what have you gotten into now!?"

[cue slight groan as human lowers himself to carpet and slithers halfway under king size bed]

"Uh, ELIZABETH!?"

 Me [with dread]: "Yeah?"

[cue slight groan as human slithers out from under bed and stands up using only three limbs]

The Hubby (now standing in bathroom with outstretched arm and "how the heck did they get this?" look on his face): 

"How the heck did they get this?!

(Meanwhile, Dewi is smacking his lips - as if he has peanut butter smeared on the roof of his mouth - with an ever-so-slight dollop of suds trailing down his left jowl.)

This is the part where I turn the blog over to Dewi and let him tell his story - in pictures.

I am not laughing, but my people seem to think this is funny. P'shah.

You dogs, pay close attention!

Any questions?

No dogs were physically harmed during the original incident nor during the making of this blog post. The soap, however, needed a thorough rinsing due to dog slobber contamination. Oh yeah, and Dewi swiped the soap out of the walk-in shower when I had my back turned.

~~~~~

Life Lessons Learned the Hard Way by Jon Farleigh - Ingesting Hair

Jon Farleigh swallowed some of his own hair (never mind how I know this), which, this afternoon, led to a series of unfortunate events. 

At this time, Jon Farleigh will take over the blog and tell the story in his own words (okay, mostly pictures).

Hairy dogs, pay attention!

If you eat some hair and get that "not-so-fresh" feeling, DO NOT use this...

carpet

...when you should be using this...

...or else the Mom person will use these...

Any questions?

Please leave me now.

~~~~~

Well? What sorts of life lessons have your pets learned? ☺

I'd Love to Write French Ad Copy for Pet-Related Brands, but I Don't, so I Post Stories Like This on Facebook Instead

In my third year of high school French, we got a pairs assignment: perform a 10-minute skit of your choice, in front of the class, and completely in French. I knew exactly what I wanted to do, and just hoped that I'd be able to spin it well enough for my partner (a friend) to get on board.

A couple weeks, a stack of French-scripted index cards and several rehearsals later, my partner and I were positioned in front of the class - she standing, and I seated, or I should say - perched - on top of a stool, dressed in yellow, as French Morris the cat - the snarky* star of the (80s-era) 9Lives cat food commercials. 

The class hadn't seen it coming, and therefore, was defenseless. ☺

For me, writing and acting in that 10-minute cat food commercial spoof was (and remains) the highlight of my entire high school French career.

How had I not seen the writing on the wall?

Although I went on to take a couple more French classes in college, I never pursued the language, nor pet-industry advertising, as a career.

* The word "snark" didn't exist in the 80s.

This morning on the Today show, in a strange coincidence, there was lighthearted discussion around a British survey that asked respondents to say whether or not they are in the career that they dreamed about as a child. Unsurprisingly, only 6% said they are.

If they'd surveyed me, I'd have been in the 94% majority. I'm not a veterinarian. (Because who in her right mind - between 11-15 years old - aspires to be a French ad copy writer for pet-related brands?!) Besides, I'm pretty sure I wasn't meant to be a vet.

It can be argued, however, that I was meant to write about animals, ad-spoofing very much included. What's still not entirely clear, is whether there will ever be a "career" of it.

By the way, I was born optimistic.

So, what's the moral of this story? Well, it's this: When you find passion as a child - even if it involves talking animals and toilet humor - if you run from it, it will hunt you down and poke you like a stooge, right in both eyes. Only let it poke you once, my friends. Because a true stooge - by the second poke - has mastered the thumb-to-the-nose, sideways-hand, poke-deflecting maneuver.

In other words, don't be a stooge. ☺

And, for the record, I still get the urge to write in French sometimes. Only a little, though, because I'm way out of practice (and the last thing I need is to get shunned by grammarists in both English and French). I had one of those urges yesterday on my Facebook page (such a tolerant bunch, those Facebook peeps). If you recall, I mentioned something about Facebook in the title of this post. Surely, that means I intend to share what I wrote then, right?

Of course! Here it is. It's about Dewi and me. *runs and hides*

Post by The Chronicles of Cardigan.

Still here? Yay!☺

OK, how about a vintage 9Lives, Morris the cat commercial to redirect your thoughts?!


Gosh, I love 70s and 80s pet food commercials, and Morris. ♥

Here's a fun article from BuzzFeed that claims Morris was the original Grumpy Cat. Although, I don't know that I necessarily agree with that. Morris would never agree to be a meme. 

So, has anyone else circled back to a passion you left behind in childhood? Do tell!

NWT Custom Artisan Pet Tag, Engraved With 'Tessa' and My Phone # - Buy It Now, OBO

What have I done?

I told my family that I'd decided to change my 15+-year-old cat Tigger's name. After all these years.

Why?

Because I never got to name her. (She was dumped as a kitten, before I knew her, on a residential construction site, and my future neighbor - who'd been feeding her - had already decided to call her Tigger. When we finally moved into the neighborhood, and I convinced my husband to let me bring Tigger inside forever, I was too worried about offending my neighbor to change it.)

But you guys, I've never liked the name Tigger - for my Tigger. It's the name of a bouncing cartoon tiger, for Pete's sake! With a big, bounding MALE voice! My Tigger, however (although striped, I'll admit that), is small - both in stature and voice, prissy and has never bounced over anything in her life!

She is just simply: not a Tigger.

But my family balked. They told me I was being "insensitive" for changing the old girl's - no, fragile feline flower's name, after fifteen years. And, "who was I to confuse the poor cat at this stage in her life, anyway?"

And I rebutted. I told them I'd picked a new name that wasn't that far away (phonetically) from the current one, and that since we rarely call her by her given name, anyway (preferring Wiggles, Nenga Nenga, Tinkles and Stripey Girl, to name a few), Tigger probably wouldn't even notice!

The new name - I was sure - would be a perfect, feminine moniker: everyone would love it, and Tigger (who - being a cat - has to depend on me to make these types of life-altering decisions for her) would be able to leave this life (in 10 or so years), having a GIRL'S name that she could be proud of!

That name, friends, was: Tessa.

And, as a means to prove my resolve in the matter, I went straight to Etsy, hunted down and ordered, a beautiful new, perfect, shiny, delicate, feminine, distinctly Tigger (except, not Tigger, but Tessa), custom ID tag.

Fetch-A-Passion Tags: So beautiful, but expect at least 3 weeks to ship from Canada.

Just look how lovely it is!

The problem? In the three weeks it took for the tag to arrive from Canada (Canada Post, friends, is a mite slow in getting things to the US), I got this...

Betcha can't guess which one is Tessa.

An itty bitty, mini-Tigger foster kitten from the Richmond SPCA!

And what do you think (even though her shelter name is Josephine) I immediately decided to call her?

Yes (you are SO smart), Tessa!

My family had exactly zero objections. Her name has been Tessa since September 15. The tag arrived about a week after she got here. And since you entertained the thought privately, YES, I fantasized about flunking my fostering duties, leaving Tigger's name as is, and giving my newly-adopted kitten, Tessa Jr., the brand new ID tag! ....One day, when she weighs enough to wear the shiny new purple collar I bought her in a fit of weakness, and not topple over with the weight of all that metal dangling from it.

But, I can't adopt Tessa. Do you know how many cats I already have? And, please? Did you see her?

She's perfect! She won't last a long minute in that shelter, before someone (else) becomes smitten and totes her home*!

So, here I am, with this sweet little Tessa tag. That arrived just a week too late. :(

I can't exactly pass it along to the shelter now, can I? It has my phone number on it, after all.

And, I wouldn't feel right putting it on Tigger, either. Not until the memories of (the much younger) Tessa have faded, anyway.

:::sigh:::

So, there have been crazier things listed on Ebay, right?

Anyone have any sage advice? I don't wanna put the pretty little tag away in a dark drawer. Plus, I still don't like the name Tigger for my Tigger. Would you change your pet's name? What to do? What to do?!

* Tessa is due to be returned to the Richmond SPCA on November 3, at which time (during the week) she'll be spayed, microchipped and placed for adoption. 

Jon Farleigh's first foster kitten kiss. 

☺

I Gave My Dog an Orange (Plus a Few Other Things) and You Won't Believe What Happened

There used to be a time when the dogs never got people food in my house*. Well, except for baby carrots -- who withholds baby carrots from a dog with pleading eyes like Jon Farleigh and Dewi's? Not me, that's who. Anyway, (mostly) because we were trying to avoid the problematic begging dog at the table -- with the exception of the occasional raw veggie -- human food handouts were off limits. Good times, those days.

Please oh please, get in my belly. 

Then one day I peeled a clementine (aka Cuties®, Halos®). (Note: I never used to buy clementines before they were marketed as Cuties.) I suppose it was the first time I'd ever done that in front of the dogs, because for some cockamamie reason (as my previous dog -- and only other canine reference point -- had been adverse to the taste of all foods grown from soil), Jon Farleigh and Dewi got a whiff of that delicate citrus bouquet, became spellbound, and looked at me with an intensity that I had only previously seen when cracking open a can of stinky cat food. What the fudge?!

After about 11 peeled clementines over a few days (and by now, not only longing looks, but accompanying strings of drool from both dogs), I decided, what's the harm? Just like I know that coffee smells WAY better than it tastes (black), what better way to cure those dogs of begging for my clementines than to give them a taste? Bitter apple, anyone? Yeah, there was NO WAY they would ever beg for citrus after that.

Excuse me, it is my birthday. Could you spare a dime...sized dollop of that thing you are eating?

Except that they loved it. Slurped down those clementine wedges like oysters on the half-shell (which I won't eat, by the way, but happen to have a hunch that they would). And neither I, nor my my human family members, have ever been able to eat one in peace since.

I will also have you know that since I caved on the clementines, we have broken our "no-share people food" rule a few other times (in moments of extreme fatigue [Cheez-Its®], guilt that the cat was getting treated better than the dogs [bacon, roast beef and chicken], or at times when my husband thought it would be manly cute to let the dog lick the empty [save for a few drops] beer bottle). (Note: Not an exhaustive list.)

That slipper isn't even food, but I would greatly love to eat it. 

So now? Human meals and snacks are a whole lot livelier around here most days. And, oh yeah, dogs can't read, so if the thing merely sounds like a rattling Cheez-It bag from across the house (e.g., Frosted Mini-Wheats®, frozen Eggo® waffles, box of brown sugar)? Let's just say the resulting conversations (with dogs) have been interesting. ☺

Hello. I heard you playing the Cheez-It song. Mind if I join you?

Have you ever caved in and shared something with your dog(s) that has since made your life "livelier"? 

* Obedience classes were a different story. They (mostly Dewi) got people food in obedience classes (McDonald's cheeseburger, magic Oscar Mayer wiener, anyone?). It was my only defense!

Also, peanut butter in a Kong doesn't count as people food.

Note: This post is a re-write (with updates) of a post I wrote soon after the original clementine debacle (and re-shared Saturday on the Facebook page). Thought someone might gain insight from my shortcomings. ;-)

Second note (for other blog writers): See that title? Yeah, I wrote it that way as an experiment -- to see whether the "experts" on blog writing are correct in saying that that style of (trending) headline gets lots of attention. My original title was: "I Gave My Dog an Orange and Now I Can't Eat One in Peace." I think I can predict -- based on my own mental inclinations -- how this experiment is going to play out. By the way, I am NOT a fan of manipulative headlines (so don't expect to see me going over to the "dark side" any time soon).

The Dog Down the Street Is EATING POOP Again!!, and 5 Other Outrageous Internet Tales

A morning network news program ran a (slightly) cheeky story today about how easily people - in today's gone-viral, gossip-fueled world - can fall for Internet hoaxes, and how to avoid being the next victim. You'll find many of the provided tips (for spotting email and web hoaxes) here.

So today - for (somewhat) practical reasons - I thought it would be fun to see whether you can spot any malarkey in this list of outrageous Chronicles of Cardigan-inspired headlines (that I just made up):

1. Dogs Show Signs of  Stress When Owners Accidentally Eat Black Jellybeans, Survey Shows

2. Welsh Corgi Mistakes Human Kid for Sheep, Herds It Across Residential Backyard, Eyewitness Reports

3. 'Chronicles of Cardigan' Author Sustains Injuries During Theme Park Brawl

4. Fall Food Find: Use Pureed Pumpkin to Turn Hershey Syrup into Spicy M&Ms 

5. LOOK: Dog Teaches Self to Imitate Squid in Attempt to Escape Nail Trim

So, what do you think; which ones (if any) are fact*?

Hint: The links are there for a reason.

Oh, and as for the title of this post? It's true. For every person on my street, besides those who live in my house. And to that, I say: If that's the worst thing my neighbors can spread about me, then I'm hiding stuff better than I thought! 

* Fact: The opposite of a bold-faced (brazen) lie; not full of malarkey.
Note: Neither half-truths nor euphemisms count as bold-faced lies.

I'll include the answers with Thursday's Tacky Cardigan!

Of course, that doesn't mean you should wait until then to spread this post around, if you feel so inclined!

5 Places (besides the obvious, work, etc.) Where You Should NEVER LOL at a Blog

Note: And by LOL, I don't mean that "pretend" stuff we sometimes do in blog comments, just to have something nice to say. I mean real, laughing out loud - from one's gut, which may or may not include simultaneous, embarrassing bodily function(s), i.e. soiling one's pants. 

So by show of hands, how many of you have ever laughed out loud at someone's blog (or website) in an inappropriate place? (My hand is up, BTW; I laugh out loud inappropriately in lots of places.) I'm picturing a few hands waving in the air - some higher than others, no doubt. Well anyway, I thought it might be helpful - since I, for one, have never seen an article like this on any of the many blogging etiquette sites I've visited - to list a few of the places (other than the obvious: work, church services, the library) where, as a blog reader, one should never, ever laugh out loud.

I hope you find this helpful.

1. As a (live, in-person) spectator of the final round (or even worse, sudden-death playoff) at the Masters (golf) Tournament. 

(Now, I know some of you might be thinking that I have overestimated the number of golf fans who bother to read this blog; well, to those of you I say this: Do not tell me that if Ree Drummond - of the [rhymes with] Whyoneer Plummon blog - [hypothetically] gifted you an all-expenses-paid trip for you and a friend to The Masters [because it happened to coincide with one of her book-signings], that you [even if you hate golf] wouldn't be all over that trip like pollen on a car hood! :-) So, what I'm saying is that since more than a few of you - as I do - probably enter Ree's giveaways, and probably don't have intimate experience with spectating etiquette at The Masters, that I'm hopefully saving you a LOAD of potential embarrassment! I mean, is that really how you want to get late-night TV exposure? Getting arrested at an internationally televised sporting event?!)

Blowing bubbles under the water makes bath time fun!

 2. During a boring political science (for example) lecture, in which your professor - with a demented fondness for the Socratic method of teaching...in a giant lecture hall...where shy students suffer from bouts of nausea in anticipation of being called out in front of total strangers - might hear you LOL-ing, and make you read the entire doo doo-laced blog post out loud to the class! Who's laughing then?

(Talk about soiling a perfectly clean pair of pants.)

3. Observing (within earshot of the surgical team) a delicate Operation, in which the surgeon is trying to remove her patient's "wish bone" from the left side of his chest (a most awkward maneuver) using nothing but a pair of electrified tweezers, which, at the slightest slip of her hand, will set off the most annoying buzzer you have ever heard in your life! (Note: This scenario applies to many Operations, including, but not limited to, funny bone replacement and writer's cramp removal.)

4. As a VIP guest or government official (on or near the platform...and a "hot" mic) during a U.S. President's inaugural address (particularly when one has one's sights set on 2016, 20, etc.). (One would think this particular tip, above all, should go without saying. One would think.)

(What? You think politicians don't read [and consequently glean valuable tips - like this one - from] nonsensical dog blogs?)

All business here, folks. My bubble maker's set to torpedo mode.

5. Seated (on the toilet) in a stall in a (multi-stalled) public restroom (and I can't adequately express this next part enough), ESPECIALLY...ESPECIALLY when a person (who has unusually shy bowels, and who would rather suffer from constipation in private than be [audibly and/or olfactorily] detected making poo poo in a public toilet) is seated in the stall next to you!

Or even worse! If that person has innocently entered the stall to take care of #1 on her agenda ONLY, however, to her horror, erroneously emits a blast of hot methane - its sound closely mimicking a rectal trumpet, announcing her impending urination. [Insert me saying, "OMG, I feel SO bad for that woman!"]

Which then, naturally, the horrified person - in a panic-stricken haste - would inevitably wind up running out of the restroom into the busy Target store (for example) with her dress tucked into the back of her (totally hip) textured tights!

(Do you want to be the reason why a sensitive Target shopper has to begin seeing a therapist?!  I didn't think so!)

And there you go, friends. Just me trying to give something back to my awesome readers. ;-)

Oh, and remember, my blog is Pin(terest)-friendly, so feel free to tack this post up on your "blogging tips" board - just in case.

*****

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This post has been brought to you by Maddox, who rarely cracks a smile, much less laughs out loud in public.

*****

And one more thing...for my exceptionally kind friend-who-also-has-a-dog-blog, Kim T.: This is what happens when you admit (in comments) to LOL-ing at my blog in inappropriate places. I hope it was worth it! ((hugs!))

Why Agreeing to Pay Google to Store My (Excessive) Blog Images Was a Wise Decision

Disclosure: I had some trouble deciding what to title this post, and because I find writing blog post titles so enjoyable (really, I do; can't you tell?), I've decided to go ahead and list a few of today's "honorable" almost-a-title mentions. (Of course, by that last sentence I mean that I have spent the last several days wasting time thinking up one brilliant title after another and, therefore, have had precious little time to think of anything else. ahem.)

So in case you've forgotten, the title of this post is:
Why Agreeing to Pay Google to Store My (Excessive) Blog Images Was a Wise Decision 

And here are a few "honorable" mentions: 

Dearly Beloved, We Are Gathered Here Today to Remember My (un-backed-up and deceased) Hard Drive

An Entire Photo Directory (and your not-printed holiday card address list...blah blah) Is a Terrible Thing to Waste!

Been Told Your Dead Hard Drive Took All Your Files to the Grave? Don't Buy It! For the Bargain Price of an Arm and HALF a Leg, Our Skilled Clairvoyants Engineers Can (probably) Get It to Give Up Its Ghost! 

126 Compelling Reasons Why Using a Steno Pad-Sized Mini Laptop (as your back-up blogging tool) Is Inefficient (and will make you cranky)

For $100 and a Free Spin: What are R S T L N and E? The Letters That Stick on My Mini Laptop's Keyboard!

Said My Hard Drive..."I've Shut Down and I Can't Boot Up!"

Said My Hard Drive to Me..."This Might Hurt (you) a Little (bwahahaha!)"

WOE, THEREFORE, UNTO ME!
(P.S. I dare you to say that out loud and not crack a smile.)

and finally,

Dear God, The Dogs Might Have Mistaken the Canada Goose Poop for Manna from Heaven. Please Advise.

[*#%&8#...oops. is my mic still on?]

*****

And now, a message from one of our sponsors:

Be sure to tune in next time when she might actually remember to include a post with her title.

Note: The image of Jon Farleigh (plus editing) is brought to you today by the $5/year Google+ image storage plan. (Now, if only I had proactively organized those 1,500+ images.)

;-p

Happy Work Week! Enjoy a Round of (Corgi) Jon Farleigh Pics on Me!

A little dramatic, perhaps, but loads better than "Jon Farleigh Photo Dump," don't you think? ;)

Anyone want to see some recent shots of Jon Farleigh?! 

Yes?!

Hold on, I need to tell you something important first:

I got my formerly-smashed-and-in-the-shop camera back (with little fanfare, a few weeks ago . . . about a month after I wrote Nikon this letter*). It's taken some tranquilizers effort to get over the fear of dropping it again. So, I got it a leash lanyard (neck strap). And I sit on the floor when I use it (less apt to trip sitting down). Corgis are, thankfully, easy to photograph from a sitting (or prone) position.

Okay, here you go!

Photo. Shoot. Over. ;)

Stay tuned! Dewi is up next!


* @NikonUSA sent me a tweet, asking for my contact info, a few days after I posted the letter. Several days after that, I received a brief e-mail message (from the Nikon service department, under a do-not-reply return address), including an apology for the long wait (but not for never responding to my calls) and explaining that a part had been backordered. Coincidentally, the part in question had arrived that very day and I was assured my camera had been moved to the repair floor. The packaged camera arrived on my porch approximately one week later.