Friday, September 14, 2012

What the Dogs Did

It occurred to me the other day that a photo survey of damage done to my house by dogs might be interesting.

So, here goes.

Everyone remembers Sunny as being perfect.


But he wasn't, because he did this.



I usually just keep a dog bed or a chair on top of that spot to hide it.

This bad, bad dog, foster Aussie Diesel, was responsible for the next couple of acts of destruction.


See that little, tiny hole in the corner of the blinds? 


That used to be a gigantic hole in the CENTER of the blinds.

Diesel didn't like being left alone.

Thank God Rob knows how to fix blinds, otherwise I would've had to put the white trash blanket back up in the window. 

Diesel also did this:



(Those bars are ALL supposed to be straight.)

He did that to two wire crates, by the way, so now they have to be held together by leashes.


Notice how the red leash isn't exactly the right length?


That was the fault of this one.


Oakland didn't approve of being in the crate all day either.

She let me know by eating the leash.

Now she gets to be loose while I'm gone.

So far she hasn't eaten anything else.

See this stain?


This, and a couple hundred or so just like it, are caused by these:


And all the other ones just like them that I've had over the years.

I KNEW buying a house with carpet was a mistake!

I like to display my race bibs on my refrigerator.

I've thrown up on some of them, and dripped snot and spit on all of them, but I've never made them look like this:


Or this:


No, that is Dylan's special brand of destruction.


This scratched door was scratched by...


Oh, wait a second, that was like that when I got here.

Must have been done by the bad dog belonging to the previous owners of this house.

My cats have had and enjoyed this cat tree for 12 years.


But those bottom corners weren't ruined by the cats.


They were ruined by Annie!


This next one was done by Citrus.


I heard chewing but thought she was chewing on her bone.


Nope, it was the chair.


I can see how she got confused; I mean, the bone and the chair look awfully similar.

Know what I notice looking back through this list?

The complete absence of German shepherds.

German shepherds, as opposed to Aussie shepherds, do not chew sh*t they're not supposed to.

I love German shepherds.


Monday, September 10, 2012

Vacuum Cleaner as Temperament Test

You have to excuse the crappy lighting in all of these pictures; I do my vacuuming at 4 a.m. when I have insomnia.

The way a dog reacts to the vacuum cleaner tells you something about the dog.

Frieda runs around it, barking hysterically, and darts at it, trying to bite, but then loses her nerve and runs away.

It's like she's fear biting the vacuum.

Kind of like she tries to do with people.

I couldn't even get a good picture; they all came out blurry because she moves so fast.


That's all I saw too -- just a black and tan blur trying to eat my vacuum.

Arthur, on the other hand, just lies there and refuses to look at it.

Like he thinks if he doesn't acknowledge it, it won't come any closer.


I was very tempted to vacuum up a little of his tail, just to see whether he would react then.

But I didn't.

I moved away from him instead and vacuumed somewhere else.

So in Arthur v. Vacuum, Arthur was the winner.

I do have one sensible dog.

Raider moved to the kitchen and went to sleep there, and ignored the vacuum.


As for Oakland, she was so busy running from door to window to door to window, barking aggressively at the thunder outside, that she never even noticed the vacuum was on.

What a dimwit.

My house is nice and noisy at 4:00 a.m.

Sometimes I feel bad for my neighbors, but then I think about their all-nighters sitting in the front yard smoking pot and listening to salsa music, and I don't really feel bad after all.

Sunday, September 9, 2012

I Hate Dogs That Make a Mess!

How hard is it to drink out of the water bowl without slopping water all over the floor?

Apparently it is very hard, if your name is Frieda.

Look at how cute she is.


She doesn't look like a big mess maker, does she?

Well, she is.

This is a clean bowl of water.



(Just ignore the filthy sink it's sitting in.)

And this is a (mostly clean) feeding stand and floor.



OK, it is a dirty floor, but it's not wet!

This is the water bowl 3 minutes after I set it down (clean) and Frieda had her way with it.



It doesn't show up very well because it's too dark, but those are kibbles of dog food in there, and there is also a bunch of dirt.

And this is the floor around it.



Jesus Christ, Frieda, can't you just drink the water and not slop it all over the place?

It's not that hard; even the dumb dogs can manage it.

It's a good thing I love her.



Because I hate dirty, sloppy dogs.

Just ask Tim and Zsiga if you don't believe me; they can tell you exactly how much I hate dirty, sloppy dogs.


Borzoi Breath

I love my 'Zoi.

But...

There is one BIG but...

His mouth is in bad shape.

And it stinks.

This is not his fault. Look at these teeth:



He has clearly never, ever, had any sort of dental hygiene.

I have always cast a skeptical eye on dog dentistry.

I mean, dogs only live 10-12 years, shouldn't their teeth be able to last that long?

When I was growing up, our dogs lived to old age with no tooth brushing or tooth cleaning at all.

Of course they had bad breath. So do old people. It's part of getting old.

But this breath is in another realm entirely. It smells just like the fly trap outside:



Would you want something that smells like that up close to your face?

I don't.

Arthur loves to give kisses. He loves to poke that long, pointy nose right in your face.

I'm scared to take him to the vet. I believe there will be expensive complications. Extractions for sure.

But I can't let this go.

It's probably hurting him, and it's definitely hurting me. This is where he likes to sleep:



Also here:



Both of them, places where I also like to sleep.

I have started smelling something funny on the sheets and blankets.

I finally realized what it was.

Arthur drools while he sleeps.

And drool oozes out his mouth, past those diseased teeth, onto the same surfaces where I lay my head.

I can't take it anymore.

Yes, I am going to be poor with the new job (if I get it).

No, I can't really afford this.

But it just can't go on like this.

A dog this beautiful should be beautiful inside and out.

He should not smell like something crawled into his mouth and died there.

I'll keep you posted on how big the vet bill is.