Tag Archives: furbabies

November 5

Love is . . . braving a torrential downpour to get your dogs from the kennel because they hate thunderstorms and you can’t bear the thought of them being away from you and being afraid.  
Even though you hate driving in torrential downpours and talked to them the entire drive home because you didn’t want them to think you were as afraid as they were.

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November 2

Things I think of while walking the dogs . . .

What in the world do I feed them that makes their poop stink so bad?

What is it about Millie’s personality that she has to be “first” to everything?

How awesome that Rocky is cool enough to let Millie always be the lead dog.

I think it’s hilarious that they remember the one time they found a cat under a big pine tree and have to sniff every time we pass the tree, they know when we get close to the house on the corner that has the dog that always barks at them, and which house their human friends with hugs and treats live at but they aren’t bothered at all to pass the house were the dog that attacked Rocky lived.

When the dogs sniff a spot and then have to pee on that spot, I wonder if that’s a dog version of Facebook.  BTW . . . Millie ALWAYS has to get the last “word” in . . .

I learn something interesting from them every day.

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Conversations With Rocky & Millie

I’m a single girl.  I live alone with two large dogs.  Some of the conversations I have with them are pretty funny.

Yes I’ve actually said all of these things to them on a pretty regular basis.

What are you doing?

You aren’t helping.

I’m not going anywhere without you (when they follow me into the bathroom because they think I’ll sneak out and go walking without them.)

Come back here.

You need to move.

Do you have to poop on a hill?

What are you eating?

You can’t eat that!

Don’t eat that!

Don’t let him pee on you!

Don’t pee on your sister!

You have to wait.  Bubba has to poo

You have to wait.  Sissy has to poo

We aren’t going that way (when they smell something interesting in the area we just passed).

Watch your head (when they aren’t paying attention and about to run into something)

Wait, wait (when we are waiting to cross the street)

Wait, there’s a car (when Millie thinks we’ve waited long enough and she wants to go.)

Careful (when its slick and I need them to stay close to my side)

You have to wait for him to finish (once Rocky walks away from his food dish, anything he leaves is fair game for her.)

That belongs to him!

My finger is in there.

Do not make me put on my shoes and come out there! (Usually when they are out in the yard barking and they won’t come when I call their names.  Last time this happened was a couple of weeks ago . . . there was a possum in the alley playing possum.)

Make up your mind you’re letting out the hot (winter)/cold (summer).  (After Rocky scratches at the back door and wants in but hesitates when I actually open the door to let him in.)

And everyone worries that I’m lonely living here in The Little House all by myself . . .

 

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The Worst Part . . .

of any trip is taking the dogs to the “puppy camp”

I know they will be well taken care of . . . Randy has been taking care of my babies for over 20 years . . . he knows them and loves them as much as I do  . . .

Rocky’s sad face as he looks over his shoulder . . .

Millie scampers off without a second look . . .

Coming home to an empty house because my flight leaves at o’dark thirty tomorrow morning . . .

I can’t believe how much I miss them and I haven’t even left yet.

 

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My Greatest Fear

After Prince Charming died, I often said that I wasn’t afraid of anything because my worst nightmare had happened and I managed to live through it.  I had to bury the love of my life.

I faced a lot of things after he died with a laugh and a smile of my face . . . a bad job, a job change, financial uncertainty, Dad’s final illness and his death . . . really . . . this is the worst you can throw at me . . . you can’t scare me . . .

But that changed today when I realized that my worst nightmare and my greatest fear are two different things.

My greatest fear is something happening to Rocky or Millie.

Maybe it’s because I fought for them during the divorce . . . maybe it’s because it’s just the three of us now here at The Little House . . . maybe it’s because I know that I couldn’t have gotten through the dark days after Prince Charming died that I’m so vigilant about them.  Are they healthy, are they getting enough exercise, am I feeding them the right things?  I make sure they get their shots, I make sure they get all the necessary tests.  Their heartworm meds and meds to control fleas are given on time.

But sometimes . . . no matter how hard I try . . . no matter how vigilant I am about every single detail . . . things happen . . . bad things happen . . .

Rocky was attacked by a pit bull this morning while we were out on our morning walk.  We were minding our own business walking along a route that we walk every day.  We passed a house that we pass every day . . . but today the dog that lives in that house decided she didn’t want us walking past her house and she did something about it.  The dog lunged for all three of us (Me, Rocky and Millie) but Rocky put himself between the dog and me and Millie and took one for the team.  A lot of the details of the attack are still a blur to me but I remember a lot of cursing (from me) a lot of yelping (from Rocky) and a lot of barking (from Millie).  The owner of the dog ran up to us but she couldn’t get the dog to release her grip on Rocky.  I remember looking into Rocky’s eyes and seeing how scared he was and I knew I had to do something – anything – to save my baby.   Yes, I’m the silly lady that put her hand into a pit bull’s mouth to try and pry her jaws off my dog.  It took someone with a stick that looked like an axe handle to get the other dog to release her grip from Rocky’s neck.

The owner apologized profusely, gave me her contact info and assured me she would pay for whatever vet bills I incurred because of the attack.  She also assured me that the dog would be destroyed for coming after us.  (I’m not quite sure how I feel about the dog being destroyed over this attack . . . I’m still trying to process that part.)  She also asked me if I was okay . . . if I had been injured during the attack . . . and I laughed and said that’s the least of my worries right now, but thank you for your concern.

Rocky seemed fine – no gushing blood or obviously serious wounds.  Once the dog let go of his neck, he was ready to finish our walk.  Which we did . . . just a little slower than normal so I could check him out for any wounds that weren’t easily seen.  He seemed to have a goofy smile on his face (Hey, look what I did!) and wouldn’t leave my side.  Millie wasn’t hurt at all since Rocky seemed to push her out of the way . . . during the rest of our walk I discovered I have a scrapped knee and a few scrapes on my wrist.  The fingers survived being in the mouth of a pit bull without any bruises or scrapes at all.

As soon as I got home, I called Lovely Vet and explained what happened.  I told them he didn’t have any obviously serious wounds – no gushing blood or broken bones – but I wanted to make sure Rocky was okay.  They told me to bring him in and they’d look him over.  Lovely Vet looked him over, assured me that my handsome boy is fine, that the extra skin that Rocky has around his neck saved him from very serious injuries.  His neck is going to be stiff a sore for a while and he’s going to hate me for having to shove pills down his throat for the next week or so . . . but he certainly lived up to his name.  Rocky is a fighter that doesn’t give up.

So he’s resting . . . a tad uncomfortably with a sore neck and a sore tushy from the shots he got . . . Millie will only leave his side to come see what I’m doing . . . and Mommy has been checking on him about every 10 minutes.  It could have been much worse . . . I realize that I’m blessed that I didn’t lose Rocky today . . . I learned today what Rocky is willing to do to protect Mommy and Sissy . . . I learned today that there isn’t much I wouldn’t do for those two.

I fully expected to have a complete melt down over this but haven’t yet . . . the full impact of what happened hasn’t hit me yet.  But it will, I’m sure.  It’s gonna be a long weekend.

By the way, I just did an inventory of my injuries . . . I have a scrapped knee, a few scrapes on my left wrist, my legs are sore from planting myself and trying to pull Rocky and Millie away from the dog.  My fingers are sore from tugging on the other dog’s mouth.  My back is sore from being pulled across the ground after the dogs knocked me down.  There’s a few spots of blood on my shirt, a swipe of doggie poo on my leg (I always clean up after the dogs when they poo and I had a bag of poo with me) and a few grass stains on the back of my shirt.

Life here is certainly never boring.

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Not The Leader

You know that old saying . . . “if you aren’t the leader, the scenery never changes”?

 

rocky and millie 2

 

Well . . . apparently I’m not the leader of my pack . . .

 

 

and I’m okay with that . . .

 

 

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Waiting To Exhale

My apologies to the movie with the same name . . .

I took Rocky to the vet on Saturday for his annual wellness check.  Usual stuff – shots, heartworm test, physical exam, check his poo sample for parasites.

While I was there, I talked to our lovely vet about Rocky’s weight.  It seems to me that he’s been losing weight and he seems to be a bit on the thin side to me.  And I’m worried that there might be something wrong with him . . . he seems fine . . . his activity level is fine, his appetite is fine, he acts like he always has but sometimes he just seems a bit “off” and it worries me.  Okay, I’m paranoid and over-reacting because I didn’t notice Fluff was sick until it was too late to do anything to help him.

Lovely Vet explained that Rocky’s weight is fine for him.  He weighed over 90 lbs four years ago and he’s steadily losing weight as part of a program (reduce the amount of food and increase his activity).  Since he and Millie have lost the weight, they are more active, which helps them keep the weight off and lose additional weight.  He assured me that Rocky was fine but ordered some blood work just to be sure.

That was Saturday morning and I’ve been a mess ever since.  I’m convinced “something” is wrong with Rocky and it’s going to be horribly serious and I have to face it alone and . . . and . . . and . . . you name the horrible scenario and I’ve imagined it.

Lovely Vet promised he would call me on Monday morning to let me know the results.  Bless his heart, that’s exactly what he did.  And the news was wonderful.  There is absolutely nothing wrong with any of Rocky’s test results.  I can increase food a little bit as long as he continues to be active and I can take him back in two months for a weight check.  Lovely Vet assured me that Rocky is a very healthy “middle aged” dog and that I’m taking very good care of him.

After spending the weekend convinced I was a horrible dog mother, it’s nice to have someone “in charge” tell me I’m doing something right.

 

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