We do go to dog training, honest.

. . . → Read More: sit]]>

We do go to dog training, honest.

HONEST.

I ONLY HAS A PLASTIC BOTTLE TO LOVE

Honest to god, how big is that dog? 42 kilos, to be exact. He is eating like a sumo wrestler, but at . . . → Read More: long weekend]]> We went to Gippsland for the Queen’s Birthday three-day weekend. Did you go? Funny, I didn’t see you there. I did see a Big Dog there:

I ONLY HAS A PLASTIC BOTTLE TO LOVE

Honest to god, how big is that dog? 42 kilos, to be exact. He is eating like a sumo wrestler, but at least you can see where the food is going. I haven’t had a puppy before and I have been shocked, SHOCKED at how much he eats. When he’s an adult he will eat about half of his current intake; I feel like I’m trying to keep a teenager in Weetbix.

Anyway, apart from chewing on bottles, we did a bit of motorbike riding. Hard-core motorbike riding. Wait, that should be in caps: HARD-CORE motorbike riding. Also to be said with that echo boom voice. Oh yes. Exhibit A below:

I’m not sure what my favourite thing about this photo is: the delight of Mr. T in wresting this bike from a six year old, or said forlorn six year old in the background. What goes around comes around, and (unsurprisingly) Mr. T cracked his knee on the handlebars very soon afterwards. Hey, at least he didn’t ride it into the dam.

Anyway, my most recent absence has been to to . . . → Read More: MIA]]> Look, it’s the internet! HIIII INTERNET. Here I am. Did you miss me? (Great silence) See, that’s what I thought. Fickle internet! Now you’re onto your new sporadic-posting, giant-dog-having blogger of the moment! And I even updated my template (again). For you. FOR YOU, INTERNET. Oh the humanity.

Anyway, my most recent absence has been to to my parents visiting Melbourne for my mum’s 60th birthday, which has been fun. It also means my house has been cleaned to the apex of its possible cleanliness. I don’t know if I’ve mentioned that my mum, and my sister to an even greater extent, are compulsively tidy people.  By that I mean that yes, they clean, but more properly they Neaten. Neither will leave a room if there is a mug or a newspaper or a pair of shoes that should be whisked into their correct place. They will wipe down the bathroom sink before they leave the bathroom. They hang up clothes after they wear them. Me? I am not a Neatener. I am sort of its polar opposite: a Messener. Yes, I’m totally making up words here. You see where I’m going with this. Anyway, it’s not like my mum doesn’t know this, being my mum and all, but she is my houseguest and so if I don’t clean stuff up, she will get up and do it instead, negating the Guest part. So I have been strenuously houseproud for about two weeks now and damn, it does not come naturally. I wish it did, because my house is so much nicer to live in, but it is totally against my slovenly nature. And by that, I mean that I will leave a mug on the side table overnight. For a few days, even. Shoes will build up by the front door (mostly due to Mr. T, who is unfortunately a fellow Messener). The bathroom sink gets hair and toothpaste on it as well as the necklace I wore last week and the glass of water I drank the week before that. Clean washing builds up in a big pile instead of being folded and put away immediately. It’s not a Pit of Filth, but it’s far from the home of a Neatener, if you know what I mean. Anyway, if anyone knows some sort of shock therapy or something to make you enjoy Neatening, please let me know. Or just apply the electrodes directly to my scalp. I love surprises!

I have no more photos of the dog, surprisingly, but here is an update: he is either ripping things to bits (sheepskins, soft toys, bones) or fast asleep after having been to dog daycare. Have I told you the dog goes to daycare? It is HILARIOUS. We want to keep him well socialised around other dogs, so he goes to daycare a couple of days a week and romps around with tiny, tiny puppies. They still class him as a puppy so he’s in with dogs about the size of his head. He’s very gentle apparently, so he gets to stay with them rather than moving in with the big dogs. He comes home completely exhausted, staggers into the house, eats his dinner, and falls asleep immediately for about 14 hours. It’s brilliant. They also give you a little sheet telling you all about what he’s done during the day and who his best friend was. ADORABLE. Hey, I guess if you’re paying for daycare, you get the full daycare experience. No webcam unfortunately but possibly that’s for the best.

And although I can’t find photos of the dog, I have found more of the trip. This one is from one of the freeways, driving into Seattle. State freeways and highways are numbered, of course, and here in Victoria they’re usually in a shield or a circle or something. Nothing so boring for Washington state, however:

The road numbers were in a Big Head. The big head of, you’ll notice, Washington. Big Head! Of Washington! Awesome, I tell you. Hey, if you have a legitimate reason to include Washington in your signage, I am totally in favour of using his Big Head everywhere you can.

FEED ME SEYMOUR

Pssht, you say. He’s only about the size of that cat. That admittedly, fat and fluffy cat. Practically chihuahua-sized, that dog.

The cat, by the way, is . . . → Read More: triffids]]> Oh look! It’s the tiny cute puppy we have living here. Did you miss him? Did you feed him? No, really, did you? because he is HUGE.

FEED ME SEYMOUR

Pssht, you say. He’s only about the size of that cat. That admittedly, fat and fluffy cat. Practically chihuahua-sized, that dog.

The cat, by the way, is sitting in a plant pot, being overgrown by the lawn. Well, more of a triffid than a lawn there, I’ll admit. Triffids everywhere around here. Apparently it rained while we were away and the lawn enjoyed it. Anyway, back to the puppy. I don’t think I can call him a puppy any more. He is more like a Little Dog. The perspective of the cat is skewing my data.

I SCRATCH VIGOROUSLY AT YOUR DATA

Also note the triffid lawn has not been consistent and has left charming dry spots intermingled with muddy spots. Guess who likes the muddy spots. No, guess. He’s the one with the sheepish grin on his face. OK, sorry, I didn’t let you guess. I’ll do better next time.

WATER! BIRDS! WATER!

When you look at him compared to Mr. T, you can start to realise several things:
1. This puppy is six months old and the size of a border collie
2. AAWWWW
3. Wait, go back to the first part, I wasn’t paying attention… BORDER COLLIE. Jesus.

Anyway, in summary, the Little Dog is back with us and all is well. He was staying with his breeder, and her four Brown Dogs, including his mum and his sister. My one concern about boarding him there was that he wouldn’t want to leave. Not unfounded, considering the fun he had. But leave he did, and slept for about three solid days – all that playing, I’m guessing. And even though he has been growing like a WEED, he is only a little bit taller than his sister, and one of his brothers is taller than him; they’re not lying about the giant breed thing, you know. He is a little bit naughtier (he learned it from the other dogs! All the other ones are naughty, not MINE!) and sort of forgot how to sit and drop… but he is just as happy and gentle and smart as he always was. Just, you know, BIGGER.

1 x floor-to-ceiling bathroom cabinet

1 x curious gangly type puppy

1 x thought to self: Must move all the medicines up a few shelves this weekend

1 x husband who often fails to shut the cabinet door (we know this, hence point above)

Mix well for 10 unsupervised minutes. Hilarity ensues!

That is a bottle of Nurofen (ibuprofen) . . . → Read More: object lesson]]> Take:

1 x floor-to-ceiling bathroom cabinet

1 x curious gangly type puppy

1 x thought to self: Must move all the medicines up a few shelves this weekend

1 x husband who often fails to shut the cabinet door (we know this, hence point above)

Mix well for 10 unsupervised minutes. Hilarity ensues!

That is a bottle of Nurofen (ibuprofen) chewed completely flat, with its childproof cap still pristine. Because if you flatten the bottle, the cap pops right off. Did you know this? Now you do. We don’t think the puppy actually swallowed any, but because we couldn’t remember how many were left in the bottle, the vets work on worst-case scenario (bottle of 25 minus 6 pills scattered around the dog, Valley of the Dolls style, leaves a potential dose of 19). So that is how much it costs to make my dog throw up, keep him overnight, give him IV fluids and activated charcoal and do multiple blood tests to make sure his kidneys are fine. He came bouncing home the next day, full of piss and vinegar and with a few shaved patches. His kidneys, needless to say, are tip-top. And he’s headache-free!

I don’t begrudge spending the money, especially on something that was entirely our fault, but we have spent the last few days musing on what the dog could have chewed on that would have worked out to be more expensive, and can only come up with a) the good camera, b) all of our furniture, all at once, or c) nothing, there’s NOTHING. Way to teach us a lesson, dog. You win this round. I’m sure it’s only the first of many.

Yes, I’m standing in the big dog waterbowl. Which is actually a 5-litre stainless steel stockpot inside a concrete planter. The dogs who came before me liked to carry waterbowls around and empty them out, so now I’m stuck with a non-tippable water source. THANKS GUYS.

AIEEE . . . → Read More: my own cute overload]]>

Yes, I’m standing in the big dog waterbowl. Which is actually a 5-litre stainless steel stockpot inside a concrete planter. The dogs who came before me liked to carry waterbowls around and empty them out, so now I’m stuck with a non-tippable water source. THANKS GUYS.

AIEEE ALIENS, ALIENS I SAY!

There were aliens? I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. I’m totally cute now. You saw nothing.

Now I have a wet face. Judging by the grass around here, it’s the only thing that’s seen water for a while.

BAAAAASK IN MY CUTENESS

I am . . . → Read More: fable]]> I don’t know where the puppy is. I mean, there’s no noise or anything, which means he doesn’t have a cat bailed up somewhere; so unless he’s flooding the kitchen or chewing the weatherboards off the side of the house or something, I guess we’re good. Let’s work under that assumption, shall we?

I am a complete angel and have no idea what you might mean.

I have played around with the theme here again so apologies if the feed has gone awry and re-published hundreds of posts. I don’t think it has, but again, I’ll work under the assumption it may have. I finally got the phantasmagoria category in order, which involved creating them all as posts. Because this website was Kickin’ It Old Skool for so long, with its quaint html heritage, there are all sorts of little hanging chads like that.

Cleaning, eh? I understand.

I mean, there’s always so MUCH to do.

That puppy is really stirring up the dust around here.

Well.

I’m not made of STONE, . . . → Read More: quelle surprise]]>

Well.

I’m not made of STONE, you know.