Squeaks and a Swim

Sahara and Phoenix find this relatively amusing - and I've just discovered their new love for irritatingly squeaky toys.


Disclaimer: That is not my crappy outdoor furniture; it is the couch Sahara is intent on destroying. See HERE for a better look at what I mean by destruction.





Phoenix & Sahara go for a dip this morning.

Photo Fun Vol: II

Phoenix and Sahara tell me they're feeling a tad silly today, so here it is - the {slightly edited} photo fun I had a few giggles with on my other blog yesterday.
Same rules - type in the answer to the question to Google Images, and choose an image from the first page that pops up to represent that answer. Fun fun!



1. With which historical figure do I most identify: P(hoenix): Sherlock Holmes. I've got the jowls, saggy eye sockets and I like wearing brown plaid.




S(ahara): Paris Hilton, because I'm blonde, high maintenance and spread my legs a lot when I sleep.



2. My favorite place: P: Somewhere I can relax and kick back and be waited on hand and paw.


S: anywhere with chickens or feathers.



3. My favorite objects: P: The headrest in the back of the Daddy's car - I adore licking it on long journeys.


S: Feathers. Feathers. Feathers.



4. My favorite food: P & S: Mmmmm....




5. My nickname: P: Big boy, amongst other things.

S: Pudding. Possum. Plumptious. Precious. Pigeon. You get the idea.



6. The place I was born: P: If only I could tell Mummy... S: Puppy Mill.

Hurrah!

I just emailed Kerri Anne Kennerly. As D was randomly flicking through channels this morning, suddenly 4 utterly adorable puppies were on the screen - Kerri was doing a segment with her Vet on problems with pets in the Holiday Season, and suitable toys and treats etc. And those puppies! I was so utterly impressed with the fact they ended the segment mentioning all the puppies were from... RSPCA! Hurrah! I'm so happy they didn't promote 'designer' dogs this Christmas, and are doing some good. I jumped on the website, and there was a list of all the toys they were showcasing, along with numbers for the RSPCA and other pet sites. So of course, I emailed them. I just can't help myself.

Bugger.

I'm more than a little concerned.

D is taking the dogs to his mother's today. All day. Alone. With my dogs. For 24 whole hours.

It's not that I don't trust him. Well, actually, that may just be it.

I've spent every day for the past year with my girl, and I know her quirks, her habits, her feeding regime, and when she needs some cuddles.

D doesn't. As much as he thinks he's a big Doggy Daddy, he's fed them maybe 6 times ever, and has no idea what a ... handful... they can be.

He has plans to take them to Blue Rock Dam, which is a huge bushy lake, no doubt surrounded by rabbits and not much else. I can see Phoenix disappearing within minutes, or being bitten by snakes, or... the list goes on. And on.

I've attempted discussing possible scenarios with him. I don't think they've gotten through.

And as sad as it is, I'm going to attach every single form of ID possible to their collars, and give D a list of emergency veterinary contact numbers for the area, along with their registration and microchip numbers.

Yes, yes. I know. I'm borderline OCD. But those dogs better come back to me in one piece tomorrow morning.

Thankfully, Back in Action.

After all this talk of Thanksgiving in the US, it somewhat made me ponder what I have in my life to be thankful for. There's the usual - mashed potato and cheese, Sex And The City, a super comfy bed and the best mum in the world.

...and my dogs.
So here's a little Thanksgiving tribute to some of my favorite things, even if it's a little overdue.

- S a H a R a -

All the first memories of Sahara - our huge walks each night in the stifling heat, with her collar and leash matching my iPod and discovering all the people and places in the neighbourhood I never knew about. The first time her ears stood up. The way she sneaks her way into bed every morning immediately after D vacates, and crawls her way up under the covers, kneading and prodding the bed like she's a kitten. And the way she eventually steals all my pillow, whilst snuffling in my ear because she knows it makes me giggle and move over. I love the way she reads me, and knows when to be silly and cute, and simply when to give me a cuddle. I adore how she places her toys in her water bowl, then snorkels for them. How she acts dumb and flirts like crazy around new people, and sluttishly jumps and kisses them smack on the gob. I love how she barks when she senses I'm scared, and how her lips flap in the wind when she sticks her head out the car window.
And mostly, since our fight, how she's known to stay away from me, until she right moment, when she climbed on my chair, sat her tush on my lap and placed a paw around each shoulder, and simply sat for minutes on end like she was giving me a hug.


- P H O E N I X -

And where to being with my big man. From the moment I saw him online, I wanted to bring him home. It's taken a while to know I've done the right thing. But since he's come home, he's changed daily. From his terror of being touched on the head and tummy, to the sookiest, cuddliest belly rub loving pooch. His shock at vacuums, windows, TV, Christmas decorations and being fed from a bowl have all been overcome, and it's been amazing watching him in the process of learning a little more how to be a dog. He occasionally picks up a tennis ball. He's learned to chew a bone. And I love that he smacks me with his paw when he's not getting enough attention. I adore that he bites my hands and feet when I won't wake up and cuddle him. I love his big dopey eyes and floppy mouth with too much skin. All the silly little things about him make me smile, because I know he's come such a long way. It's taken months for him to smile, but now there's a light in his eyes and a thudding on undergrowth when he's his happiest - running like a lunatic through blackberries.
But my favorite time with him was the day he overcame his fear of water, and joined me in the surf. I spent hours grabbing his fluffy neck fur and swimming back to shore with him, time after time.

*
I wouldn't change either of them for the world, and I am truly thankful to be able to have two gorgeous who make me smile the way they do.

. . . . . . .

Due to a certain 'family' situation, there will be no blog posts from my dogs for a while.


(check here for more info if you do not read my other blog and want to know all about it).
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Lamb Chops and my Conscience.

I feel like a horrible person, as well as a bad dog mummy.

As I mixed the dogs dinners, I added some hamburgers, mince meat and a succulent lamb chop each - and pondered taking out the bones. I was a vegetarian for 13 years, and am still absolutely repulsed by raw meat. I even attempted hacking the bone out, and got as far as putting on rubber gloves and brandishing a large fork and a paring knife to remove them. But as the blood squirted and I smelled the nastiness, it had an ill effect on my gag reflex, and I decided the bones were staying. Since then, Phoenix has been more than a little ill - I was up til 4am soothing him, letting him out and trying to see if he could go potty, as he was whingeing so much. Then Sahara started having difficulty going to the bathroom. So my night was spent with Phoenix stretched out whimpering on my left, and Sahara snuggled into a tight little pussy cat like ball on my right, and me stroking their belly's and trying not to breathe too loudly so they could get a little sleep. I feel so, so guilty - and of course in the middle of the night I tend to get irrational thoughts, like if they died because I was too squirmish to feed them properly, and how I could live with that on my conscience.

Phoenix is a little better this morning, but Sahara has been sitting and glaring at me. I'm having such massive financial difficulties and it upsets me so much I'm worried about taking them to the vet, as it will mean we will be evicted and end up in court if we can't pay rent by Thursday. Last time Phoenix had an impaction - he and Sahara ate their way through a couch, fabric, stuffing, springs, wood frame and all - and it was nearly $700 to be told he had some feathers in his belly, and time would tell if he passed them or not.

When I get so irrational, I completely forget how much I do for them as it is. I'm sure not many dogs get fresh cuts of meat along with their raw eggs, sardines and fish oil tablets for shiny coats. If they're unwell, they're in bed with me, usually under the covers with my pillow as theirs, as I stroke their belly until they fall asleep, and making them mashed pumpkin and rice in the morning. They get sugar free porridge on Winter's mornings to keep them warm, and both are strapped into their waterproof coats if it's raining out. I could go on. And on.

Yep, I take it too far - but they're my kiddies, and the fact I have no little clock ticking away for real children makes me think they deserve all the love they get.

Remembering Ruby

My dogs truly bring all types of good things (minus the fleas) - today I received a wonderful book in the mail from a lovely woman named Melisa Wells, all the way from the U S of A.
She somehow stumbled across this blog, left me a nice comment, and since then I've been following her process of publishing and promoting her book, Remembering Ruby - For Families Living Beyond The Loss Of A Pet.
The photo were gorgeous, the story; although terribly sad, really was brilliant in tying in relevant information and not being too overwhelming for children. Having said that, it would be a great guide for children of any age - and parents needing a little guidance and advice.

Yep, I'll never be a book reviewer. But in all seriousness, check out Melisa's Remembering Ruby journey here, and then go order yourself a copy.

*melts*

Its 36 degrees, we have no air con so the dogs and I are laying on wet towells huddled around the fan, eating ice cubes. Its almost too hot to contemplate going to the dog beach and wallowing in the surf until the cool change is supposed to hit. Decisions, decisions.

In the summertime when the weather is fine....

I think the dogs are dying of heat exhaustion. It hit 32 out before, and Sahara's laying on the couch propped up on a cushion so her neck fat wobbles every time she pants. She looks like she's on her last gasp, and can barely be bothered getting up to eat the chicken I made for her. ( I don't mean I actually made the chicken; I merely presented it on a plate and offered it to her covered in cheese and honey mustard. And yes, I'm fully aware of just how bad that really is for her, but she's a little underweight at the moment and well...she's a piglet).

Phoenix is flat out by the door on the hardwood, trying to cool down and dribbling in large pools all around him. He's finally calmed down after meeting the rabbit earlier this morning. I've never seen him so excited by life.

Should be fun when it's 38 degrees on Tuesday.

Camping Craziness

I took the dogs camping over Tuesday and Wednesday, and slightly misjudged their size when choosing a tent. I ended up with Sahara on my legs and Phoenix somehow squashing himself along side me.
Sahara pretended she couldn't see the fly mesh door on the tent, and continued to propel herself towards it to get bounced back onto my chest. She found this endlessly amusing, and continued to do it throughout the night until I unwrapped myself from Phoenix and shut the proper door. She also appreciated me drinking my morning coffee in bed, as she got to drink her morning coffee without having to get out from under my blanket, too.
All in all though, we had a good time, and it was super nice to get away from the city and back to my hometown. Phoenix absolutely adores the grass down there, and throws himself down with a grunt every few moments and thrashes his legs around in ecstatic pleasure. And Sahara being the little piglet she is enjoys getting in amongst the rock pools and eating dead things.

I've never seen such concentration...

One of the few rare moments my little darlings sat still during the soccer match.
They were so excited by the ball it was like they were watching a tennis match - 4 huge ears like antennas flickering every time someone kicked it.
Still, I think they had a good time. They had masses of grown men fawning all over them, and feeding them oranges at half time.

This, that and the other (non exciting).

So, we've had a busy few days involving Christmas decorations, walkies and general crazyness.
Phoenix looked more than slightly bewildered by all the Xmas baubles, while Sahara was in heaven, pretending she was a kitten and using them as skittles in between licking and sniffing each and every item in turn.

It did make us wonder if Phoenix has seen a tree or baubles before, not to mention tinsel and the rest of the decorations in my little grotto.

As soon as I washed Sahara today, she went and rolled in the boggy swamp in the river near us. Bush pig.

I'm having fits of excitement about her modeling debut on the 25th, and rashly promised her a sparkly new pink collar if she behaves like a little angel. Hmm.

Muhaha...I mean Ho Ho Ho.

A little preview of the cruelty my little puddings will endure this Christmas.

Yelling @ the Yarra

I can totally relate to my mother now. Whenever I ran off or got lost in a crowd as a small child, she'd always say she aged 10 years through worry.

Last night, whilst walking the mutts, Phoenix went off after a rabbit. This is a pretty normal occurrance, and he normally wanders back panting and drooling when he's had his little gallop. This time, 5 minutes passed, and there was no sign of him. Not even the sound of him crashing through the undergrowth could be heard. I started to worry. 15 minutes of searching and yelling, and calling and whistling and looking in all the thickets and still no sign. 30 minutes passed, Sahara tracking frantically like a deranged Springer Spaniel, and I started to really panic. My mother had called not a day ago to mention all the Tiger snake bites local dogs had received. I knew from the amount of rabbits around there would be traps about. There were cows in adjoining paddocks, and I know how happy farmers are to shoot any trespassing creature disturbing their herd. I also know Phoenix is a lunatic, and doesn't display much intelligence when it comes to getting in sticky situations. I've had to cut him from blackberry bushes many times, when there's a perfectly good path not 3 feet away.

As the realization hit there was only around 20 minutes of light left, I really started worrying. There were very busy roads not far, and we had no way of knowing which direction he had headed in. D and I split up, Sahara running madly between us both, clearly upset she couldn't find her brother. We eventually met up, and decided to head back to the car, both wondering what we could do if we didn't spot him on the way back. By this stage, we'd covered around 6 or 7 kilometers, and both questioned his common sense to return to where we'd started. As I was about to admit defeat and sit howling in the bushes for my lost little man, I heard a yell from D. As I craned my neck to see if I could see Phoenix, I noticed a shadow on the other side of the river. The Yarra river. As in, around 50 metres wide, gushing from the 2 days of rain we'd just received. He heard my frantic yell (Phoenix, I mean) and started lunging towards the bank we were on, which was about 15 metres above him, and all that way away - and boy, the dog who can't stand getting his feet wet and wont even go in the bath swam his little heart out. As he started gaining on us, he hit the current from the river, and was rapidly being taken downstream. As D scrambled down the bank, I ran further down, through the brambles and prickles and loose earth, and slid down the hill to meet him. The poor boy was so tired he couldn't manage the climb up the hill, so I half dragged, half carried him, sobbing into his soaking wet fur. I'm such a sook.

We didn't know whether to smack him for running off, or hug him for being safe, so we compromised on cuddling him and yelling at the same time. Idiot dog. As we slowly started our way back to the car, I wondered how he'd got to the other side of the river - surely he hadn't crossed the massive suspension bridge, run through the car park, and down the bank to wait for us? As I reached the car, it soon became evident he'd done just that - there was masses of white foamy drool all over my door handle, where he'd clearly been asking to climb in.

He really is an absolute idiotic mix of common sense and insanity. But boy, did he sleep well last night. So did I, with him cuddled up in a headlock under the blankets with me. I swore I'd wake up with perfectly white hair after our little adventure.

I can't think why people say I'm too attached my dogs.

Happy Halloween & other terrifying photography.

A while back I took the dogs for a run, and having left their 'proper' leads in D's car, I grabbed two random ones from our pile of dog related stuff (think jumpers, wet weather coats, collars, check chains, leashes, treats, toys etc. They nearly have more crap that I do, and that takes some doing).
As we were happily walking along, they started getting a bit excited at the prospect of frolicking in mud and their usual shenanigans off leash, and started pulling. A lot. My usual method of controlling this is yanking firmly on their leads and stopping, and starting again in a heel. As I launched my arm back to give their leash a tug - they both snapped. Both! I don't know whether this is showcasing my stellar strength, their thick necks, or dodgy Made In China products.
So, being the genius child I am and muttering something about being "worthless youth of today" I constructed a makeshift leash for them both from the remnants of the two leashes. It actually worked suprisingly well, although it was slightly difficult to get them unclipped in a hurry. Here it is.




I needn't have bothered. This was the first warm(ish) day we'd had, and apparently they weren't too impressed with our strenuous exercise.


And of course, I can't go past Halloween without sharing another episode of the cruelty I inflict on my children.

Isn't she just precious?