Speaking of dumb dogs...

So this morning, I let Oliver out to potty. I stay in the covered porch while he roams around.

Today he ran up and down the fence with the dog next door for a couple minutes.

He usually does this.

But since there's snow on the ground, he wasn't thinking ahead.

See, Oliver has very sensitive paws. He can only take being in the snow for a few minutes before he can no longer stand up.

Because my dog is a wimp.

So because he hadn't pottied yet but instead chose to play with the dog next door, I knew what was coming.

And I thought it might be a lesson for him to learn.

So after a couple minutes of playing, he ran to the END OF THE SNOWY YARD, probably a good 50 feet away, to potty.

I have a long yard.

Now, he could have gone 5 feet and pottied by the house.

Oh no. Not my Oliver.

He got to the fence, went potty, and then that's when it happened.

First his front left paw came up, and started to twist in the air like it was spazzing out and he had no control over it.

I started to call him back in, knowing what was about to happen. He still had three good paws...he could make it.

Well, maybe not.

His left back paw did the same thing, mimicking the movements of the right front paw.

So what we have here, folks, is a dog with both paws on one side of his body writhing in the air because the snow is like FIRE and it HURTS and he can't put them down.

What do you think happened next?

Yup. He fell over into the snow.

He wasn't going to even try and make it back to the house.

He laid there like he was an invalid.

So I walked out to the END OF THE YARD, picked his wimpy little carcass up and carried him back into the house.

As soon as I placed him on the kitchen floor proceeded to dance around as if he deserved a treaty treat.

Um, no, I said. Only brave dogs get treats. Wimpy dogs get laughed at.

Now, mind you, Oliver IS a smart boy.

He knows the names of his many toys - if I tell him to go and get Bear, he fetches the rabbit. If I tell him to get Ducky, he gets the duck.

He knows commands like Sleepytime, Outside, Car, Ice Cream Cone, Bath, Up, Down, Sit, Speak, Lay Down, Beg, High Five, Shake, Get Down, Kisses, Water, Food and Treat.

But the dog doesn't do well with time or distance when it comes to snow.

Smart in some way, challenged in others.

Like most of the people I know, myself included.

Happy Birthday Oliver!

It's Oliver's 6th birthday today. Two years ago today, I went to the Humane Society and picked up my furry little love.

To celebrate, he got a new squeaky toy, some "chickie treats" (rawhide chews) and some Trader Joe treats.

I love my Oliver. Best boy in the world!

Who needs a rooster...

...when you have a one-of-a-kind Shih Tzu alarm clock. Oliver got me up at 4:00, and since I was meeting a friend for an eeeearrrly breakfast before she got back on the road to her home in Chicago, it didn't bother me too much.

I also got my tix to see Dead Weather 4/24. Not balcony, but that's okay - I think for this show I may push my way to the front, old-school.

Lots of meetings today, and some Pappy's. It will be a good day.

Zombie Dog

He's still so sweet, I think I'll leave his head on for awhile and see what happens....

He May Be A Cat...

Sometimes Oliver acts like a cat - he will climb up on the long length of window sill and fall asleep, or he might curl up on top of the sofa and nap (see above). He also likes to jump from the arm of the couch to the arm of the chair, and then walk on the back of the chair behind me and sit.

Weirdo - but I love him.

Oliver Got His Herr Did

Oliver was looking a bit scraggly. Well, more than a bit. A lot. I let his winter coat grow, and grow, and grow. And now that it's getting warm out, it was time for a haircut.

I took him to a new groomer, the 12th Street Animal Hospital on Tucker and 12th, which used is the old Creepy Crawl location. Since Oliver has a punk rock soul (feisty, a real pal to his mates, and is pretty against authority), I thought it was a fitting venue, even if it's changed.

He wanted a mohawk, but he came to the conclusion that it's not about what you look like that makes you a punker - it's all in the attitude. So he want balls to the wall and took it all off.

Here he is before:


And here he is today:

Clown Dog

Oliver is such a silly boy.

The spaz got himself wrapped up in a blanket on the couch. I heard growling, and this is what I found:

Detanglement

Toys!!

The boy and his toys.

See, he has eyes.

So Much For Best Laid Plans...

I went to bed last night early, like Old Lady early. I was under the covers by 9:30, anticipating a jam-packed day of Easter fun.

A car alarm went off twice last night, right under my window, around midnight and 2:00. For some reason, the second time I thought it was mine. So I ran (yes, literally ran) down the hallway, into the living room and cracked my lower leg on the coffee table.

Who put that there?

Then my damn dog was up at 3:00 with that "Pee time" energy he usually reserves for 4:30. I told him to cool it, and slept until 5:00, at which time he was crossing his legs and doing the pee dance, so I took him out.

I then ended up staying up for awhile, messed around on the computer, got sleepy, and went back to bed.

My brother called and woke me up at 10:00 - we have plans to meet at the boat for Easter buffet. Yum!

I shook off sleep, hopped in the shower, puttered around, and started to dry my hair.

I got my bangs done. That's about it. The dryer quit. I don't think it overheated, as there is no firey, charred smell.

I have really long, thick hair. It's awesome when it's dry. Not so much wet.

I called a neighbor to see if I could borrow her dryer. Left a message. Waiting to hear back.

My brother is on the way to pick up Grams in St. Chuck for the boat excursion. I have towel dried my hair, but it still looks way too retarded for a social event, let alone Easter w/Grams.

Debating on whether to just twist up the wet part, hang my head out of the car window and let it air dry on the way to St. Chuck, or crawl back under the covers.

On this day, I have to ask myself........

What would Jesus do?

Dude

Oliver is looking a little scraggly - might need a bath. He spent yesterday and part of today with his papa so I could get some sleep. He said he had lots of fun.

Not having to go outside in our recent winter wonderland was a treat, especially because I'm sicker today than I was yesterday. Bring on the Nyquil.

Small blessings.

Sunday Catch Up

-I just heard that Paul Harvey passed away on Saturday. Paul Harvey was "present" for many good memories in my lifetime. The first time I heard his radio broadcast was when I was very young and riding in the car with my grandpa, Guy Hall Jr., usually around lunchtime. He'd frequently cap off a reading with, "And that's the rest of the story", and my aunt Debby and I use this phrase sometimes when we talk to each other on the phone, after we've finished telling our stories to each other.

When people in your life, whether they are friends, relatives, or even radio personalities pass away, and you realize you'll never hear them again and that their contributions to this world are over, it's just darn sad.


-It's official - my dog Oliver is dog-crazy. He has this inability to relate to other dogs in a calm, non-violent manner. He is a little guy, 15 lbs of pure Shih Tzu, but he exhibits tasmanian devil-like behavior when another dog enters his atmosphere. I am seriously thinking that he needs therapy. Maybe it's my "nervous energy" that travels down the leash when I see another dog, and it transfers onto him (that's what Ceasar says). We had many close calls this weekend, it's become a serious problem.

-My cousin Erica has been chosen to be in a commercial for her success with L.A. Weight Loss. I really admire her dedication and perseverance, and I think she's a natural for this opportunity. They couldn't have picked a better gal for the job, and I look forward to seeing the commercial soon.

-I watched an interesting film yesterday, Frontiére(s), a French Hostel-like horror movie. It was one of the 2007 AfterDark Horrorfest films, I totally overlooked this gem. It was action from start to finish, great ending, and a decent plot. If you liked Brotherhood Of The Wolf, you'll probably enjoy this.

Dead Rabbit (R.I.P Bear)

This rabbit, named Bear, was the first toy ever given to Oliver. It used to have a squeaker into which Oliver could sink his tough little noshers. The squeak was loud, unnerving, and I imagine everytime Oliver got Bear to make that sound, a little bit of Bear died (probably to Oliver's delight).

It's with sadness that I share with you the news of the untimely death of friend Bear. No squeak will ever come from that poor, defenseless friend again. The only sound that emits from his tiny little toy lungs is a wheeze and a click. No squeak. Just a death rattle.

His eyes are gone, as is his nose. His ears, once perky and regal, now hang at odd angles, a broken weathervane.

His coat, once lustrious, now gnarly and patchy.

Even after all of this, the friendship goes on. Oliver will not relinquish Bear - none of his other friends will do. Not Birdie, not Bone. Oliver is steadfast, true-blue to the end.

Bear is now just a faceless, deformed and misshapen shell of what he once was - but for Oliver, that's alright. That's just fine.

There's probably a lesson here. Something along the lines of when friendship gets worn, tattered, and seemingly useless, there's always some shred of good to remember, to hang on to.

Or maybe it's just a dead rabbit.

Chilly Dog

Great morning - what an amazing sight, watching the dollops of white blanket the streets.

It always makes me miss my hometown - snow means no school, pancakes shaped like Mickey Mouse, Aggravation and Battleship, and falling asleep on the sofa watching movies.

Oliver loves the snow. He digs his nose in it, prances around and makes paw tracks.

Boy, he needs a trip to the groomers. Soon.....

Oliver Smallville

My dog Oliver, whose first Adoption Day is approaching fast, continues to delight me with new and interesting traits he chooses to expose me to at random.

Last night, he curled up in a ball next to my head, with his butt in my face. Sleeping so soundly, I didn't have the heart to move the little fella. Well, needless to say I kept waking up to noises and smells that were not meant for this earth. Of course, he couldn't be bothered to apologize, so when I turned over he got up and repositioned himself so that his back lay against the length of my back - a reverse spooning, so to speak.

This act more than made up for his "rear assault" earlier in the evening. Forgiveness was granted.