Are you my Dog


That is the collective name for my dogs when they misbehave.  Yesterday being no exception.

Since we moved I’ve decided to keep the dogs inside while I’m at work.  On the majority of days it is no drama.  On the other days little Willow has taken to shredding things, usually it’s the mail the thought ful Postie has popped through the front door (he seems unable to re-shut the gate, mind, but that’s another story).

I arrived home yesterday and as I opened the front door to the usual symphony of excited jumping and yelping I saw the day’s mail lying untouched on the carpet.  In my head I punched the air in triumph, ‘hurrah’ I thought, ‘we’ve turned a corner’!

Not so.  This photo shows the knitted lampshade I made a few years back, only now with Willow’s creative influence (she didn’t stop there, it was pulled from the socket and legs akimbo halfway up the hall).  What you can’t see in this image is the shredded tv guide on the floor, the nibbled magazine basket and the grooming comb with a few chunks missing from the handle (I think that was racially motivated though).

So it’s off to the pet shop tomorrow for more doggie friendly things to chew and I’ll be dousing EVERYTHING else in tea tree oil to ward off bugger dogs inc.  Little buggers!!

A tangle of legs

wet noses softly snoring

dreams of open fields

2-14102009759possums, that is.  The dogs have decided that we clearly need to have our own real live example of a feral possum.  Just what exactly they’d do with one if they caught it (apart from crap their pants) I’m not exactly sure. So now every morning and afternoon walk is devoted to the desperate search for one.  To date the locale has been narrowed down to approximately 13 trees that we must dash to at breakneck speed immediately upon entering the off-leash area of Darling Gardens.  After consuming about 95% of the poo the possums have thoughtfully left behind, we stretch ourselves to maximum height up the 30 foot high tree trunk to search valiantly and see if in fact we might be able to catch one unawares lurking near ground level (we’re really not that tall, see exhibit A at left).  At this stage possums : 3 and dogs: 0.  Thank god!

2-15092009679

 

It took a long time, I know.  But I take the re-naming of said pooches verrrry seriously.  After consulting baby naming books, dog naming websites, reading the names in movie credits and even the street directory I have now found a new name for the other dog.

Again in a nod to her origins, it gives me great pleasure to present Miss (Vespa) Paloma nee Rosealine.  But that too is a mouthful, so for now we’ll stick to Paloma, ok? 

Hajimemashite.

2-IMG_7862Yesterday my friend Indy Gurl and I decided to go for a wander with the dogs. We’ve been on the hunt for a dog friendly, walking-distance-from-home watering hole for a while and not surprisingly we eventually ended up in one.  It was quite a feat to get a table and we happened to be near another older, small dog.  The four of them checked each other out and existed in harmony for the next hour or so.  The sun was shining, the beer was cold, life was good.  Then mid-sentence I heard the most blood curdling series of yelps and whines that no pet owner ever wants to hear.  My little Willow was pinned under the other dog, I could have sworn she was trapped in it’s jaws at one point too.  My instinct was just to get my dog out of there and so I broke every rule there is and thrust my hand in to the mellee but I couldn’t tell head nor tail of one dog to the other.  I put Willow on my lap to check her for injuries and noticed some blood above her left eye.  Later at home I bathed it with hot salty water but it was starting to swell and had me worried.  When I checked on her at 3am it was very infected, tender and she yelped in pain as I tried to clean it.  My local vet didn’t appear to be open later in the morning so with no mobile phone to call around for an alternative I decided to go begging at the Lort Smith Animal Hospital.  They were great and managed to squeeze me in and little Willow just lay rather limp in my arms until it was her turn.  Rob the vet was ace, he did some tricky MacGyver test and turns out she has a graze on the eyeball as well as the cut on the eyelid.  She is now very jacked up on get better meds and will hopefully be back to her old self when I get home from work.  Phew, that was the most expensive beer I ever had!

2-13092009671The park I take my dogs to has a generously sized off-leash area.  We meet new friends, both the two and four-legged variety, every day and have oodles of puffed out fun.  Both dogs run around with their noses to the ground in search of treasure and, in between being bowled over by rowdy staffies and slobbered on by boxers, they sometimes find it.  I keep a pocket full of treats to bribe them in to always coming when called and also in the hope they ignore the personal trainer with clients in the mornings (alternating with a bark for him and a slobbery kiss for them – mortifying!).  Lately I’ve noticed little Willow chewing on things when under a particular tree.  In my blissfully ignorant state I thought ‘oh how sweet, she’s getting back to nature and foraging for nuts and seeds for extra nutrients’.  On closer inspection she’s actually gorging herself on possum poo!  Explains the unique err… frangrance she seems to exude!!

2-09092009664Yup, I’ve done it.  FINALLY I’ve settled on a new name for one of my two dogs, the little one.  Yessiree, I’ve decided her new identity should say something about her personality but also pay homage to her origins.  Observing her closely since she’s been with me I’ve noticed that as she’s rather small she tends to get blown around in the wind and so, Ladies and Gentlemen, please charge your glasses and be upstanding to welcome the newly re-named, Willow!  Her full name shall be henceforth, forthwith Miss Pixie Willow nee Roxanne.  But that’s a bit of a mouthful, so for now we’ll just go with Willow. En chanté!

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