My Dog And His Ball

At the moment, we have about a foot of snow in our back yard. As much as my dog loves the snow (being a Husky cross), he loves his ball more. This means that he still insists on having someone throw it for him, regardless of the weather.

In the sun, this is fine. In the rain it's not really fun, but still possible. In the wind, you have to be careful how close to the fence you throw it.

In the snow, you need some kind of infra-red-snow-magic tracking device, or an unusually high tolerance to the sound of madly barking dog.

With EVERY throw, the ball disappears into the depths of the snow. If he sees where it goes (if), he will run to its point of entry and start burrowing like a groundhog. Sometimes he actually finds it.

Most of the time, however, his snow covered head pops up for air, and he looks quizzically at you, waiting for YOU to get down in the snow to root around and find HIS ball.

Uh-huh.

I may have said this before but I'll say it again - he's lucky we love him!!
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My Dog Is In The Bathtub

Not because he's dirty... noooo, you'd have to go outside to get dirty. MY dog is cowering inside the house, crouched down in the tub... 75 pounds of scardy-cat, trying to hide from the gusting, whistling wind.

I'm not sure what he thinks the tub will do for him. The upside, I suppose, is that he hasn't crawled into my lap (he crawled into my husband's lap a few years ago during a dog fight scene in "Snow Dogs"). Yes, it could be worse.

In his defense, we do have a couple of large trees by our house, and a couple of years ago the wind was bad enough here for trees to fall, slicing open rooves like they were butter. The worst of the damage for us was a tree that split in half in our bad yard - nothing touched our house (thank goodness). All the scary stuff was a in a neighbouring community and covered extensively on TV. Hmmm. I had no idea the dog had been watching ;-)
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I Still Love My Dog...

(sigh)

This time it's the clumpy chunks of shedded fur everywhere. Not just individual hairs, but giant, chair sized clumps (ok I exaggerate). If you think "oh, at least you can see those to pick them up, so it's easier to clean than single hairs" think again, because he also sheds single hairs.

Now because I truly do love my dog, I'll look at the upside.

(what, you mean now?) ok ok. Hang on a sec.

Still thinking.

Um... ok, well, thanks to ALL THAT FUR, he's super fun in the snow (being that he's a Spitz dawg and all ;-) He loves the snow as much as the kids and I do. If he didn't have a bum hip, I'd get at harness for our toboggan. The kids would have a riot, and puppy would be completely on board and enthusiastic.

Also, because I truly truly love my doggie, I will rise above and do my best to overlook the fact that we can't walk past any other doggies without mine going BALLISTIC. Given the fact that he's 70 pounds, that means that I have to grab his collar and use most of my strength to DRAG him past the scene of the action. Since this is not my idea of fun, this means that to walk him in peace, I have to wait until at least 11:00 pm, at which time most folks have already returned home from their dog walking duties.

The upside in this case is easier to identify: if you're a burglar scoping out a new neighbourhood and you see me and my crazy canine, you're likely to think "hmmm... that one looks vicious - I'll skip that house."

Plus I'm on a first name basis with all the staff at our local hospitals 'cause of all my recurring dislocated arm joints (again, I exaggerate).

Truthfully, I'd be lost without him. He's my third child. (No wait! That's my Canon 5D. The dog's my fourth child ;-)

In any case, as much as I complain, I couldn't be happier that we're his forever home :-)

A Dog And His Yucky Gross Slimy Things

I love my dog.

Not so much for the tennis balls he chews and salivates all over, and then sneaks in the house.

Yes, I know, that a slimy ball is better than live mice. And while my cat earns her keep through spider killing, my big ol' puppy dawg (70+ lbs) earns his keep by barking loudly when he hears strange sounds around the house.

It's all good. Except for the fact that he protects his balls (tennis ;-) like they were gold, and he hoards as many as he can in the dining room. Bottom line: watch your step, and be prepared to wash your hands after redepositing the balls to the back yard (oh and stand out of the way, because once a ball is thrown, he has no regard as to who or what he knocks over in his quest to chase it). Opening the sliding glass door is also helpful.

At the moment he has only one inside, underneath my chair. It was green when it came home from the store, and now it's an undefinable combination of dirt and dog spit colour. I'm supposed to pick that up???

Yes, I must love my dog.