Num Num Num

Looks mighty tasty if I do say so myself.

Dog owner look-a-like

Mr. Mutt used to complain about Beezy preferring me. Since I was the object of her affection I did not realize she was 'neglecting' him. Or that there was even a difference between how she acted between the two of us. I am puddy under the spell of the googley eyes though.

The arrival of the Goon showed me what it was like to be 'second favorite'. Goon is obsessed with Mr. Mutt. I feed him, take him jogging, and play ball with him, but nothing will shake his preference. To me Goon and Mr look alike and share many personality traits. Two Peas in a Pod

Ghetto Thundershirt

The OG developed thunderstorm anxiety when he was about 9-10 years old. I sucks, I feel so bad for him. In our current house we have wooden blinds and with his old dog deafness I can often keep him oblivious of a thunderstorm outside, but during the really loud ones he figures it out. Today I used an old t-shirt to try to simulate the pressure applied by a real Thundershirt. Here is the result (although I will say I think it helped):

new post??

'I'm a crappy blogger'. I've read so many times from new bloggers who start a blog and then neglect it within weeks. I'm really gonna try to turn this in to a real blog... the only failure is in giving up. right?

Pooches are doing well, a bit under exercised as I go thru my post-marathon exercise slump. I was really looking forward to getting back to more walks and training not having to put in the milage, so that's something I need to get myself back in the habit of actually DOING. Of course Atlanta decided to skip spring and go straight to temps in the 90s everyday starting in May. No end of the heat in sight now. The dogs an I both have a hard time adjusting, so that's not helping either. Heat = lots of drinking = lots of peeing = lots of racing out the front door and a brown lawn.

We did have a visitor. Another stray pooch from the street that I thought I would have to make the heartbreaking decision to call animal control to come get. Luckily a rescue stepped up and offered help with his medical expenses and a foster home. This is Buddy; super cute, still a puppy, lots of energy, nice temperament. He is still available for adoption.

Introductions: The O.G.

All of my dogs are mixed breeds, but OG is the only one who's parents I knew so I have a clue as to his heritage. His mother was a purebred Dalmatian. Her owners also had a male Dalmatian who they hoped would sire a nice litter of Dal puppies with her. Nothing was happening on that front though and at some point a stray puppy showed up on their horse farm. He was a sweet black lab mixed with maybe boxer. His head was boxier than a lab but his legs long and lean with the deep boxer chest. Some speculated a pittie type was in his mix. The pitties were not 'everywhere' back in 1997 like the are these days. This pup Dylan looks like the dog who would end up being OG's dad:

Anyway, the product of that union was the stunningly beautiful creature known as the OG and his 12... yes 12... siblings. I adopted OG when he was 8 months old and known as 'Tubs' because he had been the biggest, fattest puppy in the litter. He would attach himself to a teat and never let go. He blew up like a tick. At 8 months though he was lean like the dog above. Please note also that he has never been overweight since then despite the fact that I had him eating free choice before my other dogs came along. He had been returned by his first owners with the old 'moving' excuse. I wanted a dog who could go running with me and I took him on impulse (after resisting the puppies, WTF!). I should have known when the lady emphasized that he needed to be neutered, at only 8 months, that I was in for trouble. He could run though... and run... and run and never stop. By December, his one year birthday, I was training for a marathon with another girl. She had adopted his sister, Tinkerbell, the runt of the litter. Sucker. 

I was 22, still in college, and lived in a house with 3 other girls. They were excited to have a dog, but it was not a great situation for a young dog to grow up in. He was crate trained but still managed to chew some valuable furniture when he was let out of his crate while I was in class. The upside was that he did meet lots of people, all kinds of people, during that time, and to this day he is reliably friendly with everyone he meets. Dogs were a whole other story though. He met and played with many other dogs during that time, but genetics, I suspect, did not dictate a dog tolerant dog in his case. That would have been OK except I did not know how to deal with it. 

I have the same halcyon childhood memories of dogs running loose everywhere and never seeing a dog fights that you hear of from many people. I did not understand why he would play nicely with so many of his buddies, but then 'jump' certain dogs for no apparent reason. I also did not get the help I needed from more experienced people either. At that time though my search for information from books on the problem always came back with the answer that he was 'aggressive' and not fit to live. Instinctively I felt like I could manage his behavior, but in reality I was doing a piss-poor job at it. Periodically he would get away from me and I would end up paying someone's vet bill. A few years later the fourth, maybe fifth time this happened it really came to a head. He attacked my landlady's dog, and I had to move. It was a weird convergence of circumstances where landlady was home on a weekday when she normally worked, I had removed OG's collar for a bath, and the small opening in the fence that I would not have figured OG even knew about...he knew exactly where it was. I moved. We went to a veterinary behaviorist, which was $$$$ for a grad student. I guess I finally got a handle on the problem because that was the last attack in 2003, he was 5.

When he's not trying to kill other dogs his Jekyll incarnation is quite charming, and just gets sweeter with age. He was a cuddler, not as much any more, sadly. He'll still sleep against my legs on the ottoman occasionally. His coat is like one of the seven wonders of the world. People on street make exclamations, people who don't even seem to be dog people. Every year my vet asks if I'm feeding him something new because his coat looks so good. He is smart, very mentally sharp and extremely expressive. He smiles and wags his tail in circles like a propeller. I've noticed that Dalmatians are into gratuitous tail wagging. I've seen them walking down the street just wagging away 'cause their out for a walk. OG does the same. My mom once complained he was 'unpredictable' when we were having all the problems. Unpredictable? No. He lets me, and everyone nearby, know exactly where he is mentally, wether it's happy or murderous. There's no surprises. He is my most self-confident dog. If he's OK with a situation I know I can rely on him to stay that way. His independent, self-reliant streak does make training challenging at times though.

I wish I had done some agility classes with him. He was extremely athletic and fearless back in the day. Things have changed though. We knew his hearing was going when he would not wake up when we got home from a late night out. Walk got easier because he can't see other dogs from a distance as well especially dark colored dogs. His mind seems a bit off, it may just be the deafness though. He's up at night more now, so is Daddy, so that may be part of it. Orthopedically and overall he's in great shape for his age. I think the vet thinks I'm lying or don't know his real age. I know exactly when he was born though; December 31, 1996.

Too hot.

I hate to complain, but spring in Georgia always shows up suddenly and feeling like summer. It's 80˚F with a nasty onslaught of pollen. Heat is worse when you are not acclimated to it, then put allergies on top of that and you are no longer enjoying the season. The dogs have a hard time with the heat too. I have to watch them carefully on trips to the park. Vacuuming is currently a daily chore, and I try to do the Furminator once a week to the ones who will tolerate it. The Furminator works great but it pulls the hair out which seems to irritate if the hair is not really ready to come out. The longer days and late evenings are awesome though, I love spring it's just around here the temperature changes too fast. Fall is probably Georgia's best season, in my opinion.

My other idiotic endeavors.

I ran a marathon yesterday. This is an accomplishment I am proud of. Lots of people run them, but when you really think about it you have to ask why. When you do one yourself then you really ask why. The training is tough. Weekly long runs going up to 20 miles. It takes me over 4 hours to do a 20 mile run. Then the race itself, 5:41:45, over an hour and a half on the final 4 miles (I was shuffling along like an 80 year old woman). Too long, too far. The other thing is I had to slow my pace so much to go that distance that I don't feel like I'm in as good of shape as I was 3 months ago. The half marathons I have done in the past were much more manageable. I just ramp up my usual running and do the race. I have always wanted to do a marathon so I decided it was time to 'get it over with', intending to do one and probably never another. Of course now I'm contemplating one in the fall, they may be far more addictive than I anticipated.

I have been running since I did cross country in high school with a few breaks here and there. I got the OG to be my running partner. He was long legged, lean and short coated. I figured he would be able to run my 4-5 mile daily runs pretty easily. I was right, he could run... and run... and run. The problem was I could not keep up with him. He is half Dalmatian. I learned later that Dalmatians were carriage dogs who ran beneath horse drawn carriages to protect the horses and the occupants. The reason they are associated with fire stations today is a remnant of when fire trucks were horse-drawn fire wagons. Dals were bred for stamina so they could keep up with horses. OG also pulled and became extremely reactive on leash. We did run together for years but it was never as easy or fun as I had hoped.

Beeze runs with me some, and enjoys it but seems to enjoy sprints off-leash at the park more. With her I have to carefully condition her if I want to go more that 1 1/2 2 miles or she is prone to injury. I learned this the hard way. High maintenance.

My new favorite running partner is the Goon. He's a Rottador (Lab x Rottweiler). That's our best guess anyway. He's kinda slow, so am I. He likes to run and fetch, but is just as happy on the leash next to me. He participated in most of my mid week maintenance runs. The long runs were too long for him, which was fine because I had a friend doing the long runs with me. He does have some leash reactivity, but has improved in the 9 months I've been running with him. I feel like we'll work thru most of it. He runs in a no-pull harness with some embarrassing fleece I added to the front so it would not rub. He wasn't pulling but it really helps me if he becomes reactive and starts lunging. He's got the right look for running around our sketchy neighborhood.

I explore more parks a when he's with me than I would with just Beeze. Distance-wise he can't go as far as the OG, neither can I anymore.

OG is of course retired from running at 14. He trots around the block most days, and gets his favorite: nature walks.

The puppy is still too young to run, and I want to finish teaching him to walk on the leash first. I think that is key to not getting in to the pulling.
We do walking and this: